#i really think they should’ve shown them living their new life together

[ato-dato]

Building a boat can be a very nice father daughter activity

[hazelsmirrorball]

Friendsgiving| Hazel Callahan

Summary: Y/n has always wished to spend the holidays with her family, and as always they are absent, so Hazel wants to make it up to her. Pairings: Hazel Callahan x Fem! Reader Warnings: toxic family.  a/n; second holiday one shot! This year I'm really in the holiday mood. Wishing you guys the best holidays and I hope you guys enjoy this. 

Y/n took a sip of her drink as she jumped her leg up and down thinking of reasons for why they hadn’t shown up. She wanted to give them the benefit of the doubt. Maybe they had been stuck in traffic or got lost in the way. But as Y/n watched the time pass by she got angrier by the minute. They had her number if they got lost or lost track of time they would’ve called her. She had the same number all her life. It simply pissed her off, they were four hours late. Y/n placed her glass down, swirling her fork in the empty plate in front of her. 

The only thing that had entertained her in the past hours was the ticking clock in front of her. The still surprisingly hot food taunted Y/n making her remember why she was alone in the first place. It irked her that the food was still hot. The fact that after all this effort, Y/n was there alone, with no one to share the food she spent hours making, with no one to make beautiful memories, just herself and the goddamn clock.

Y/n pulled out her phone scrolling through her social media in an attempt to live her holidays through other people's instagram stories. But as her scrolling ended up in her sister's thanksgiving post, she felt her heart drop. Her whole family is together having dinner, without her. With a sigh she got up knowing that her family wasn’t going to show up anytime soon. Y/n stared daggers at her phone while she walked towards her room to change into something more comfortable. She was pissed,  all this food, all this time wasted, just for it to be another horrible thanksgiving.

It wasn’t the first year that her family had bailed or canceled on her last minute, by now she should’ve been used to it but she still had hope that they would try to make an effort. Year after year, excuse after excuse. Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Years.  She never felt appreciated by her family but at least she tried to make things right, she pushed past every bad thing they did  and continued to give them several opportunities. Yet there she was, with a kitchen beautifully decorated, with food untouched and a broken heart. 

 Y/n walked towards her room slipping on an oversized T-shirt her Hazel had given her  and the first pajama pants she found. She rubbed her eyes and dragged herself towards the living room  in an attempt to distract herself from the situation at hand. Before she sat down she walked towards her kitchen to serve herself some of the food she had on the table to later put in the fridge but her actions came to a halt when she saw an expensive car outside her house.

She rolled her eyes and angrily walked towards the front door. One of her neighbors always found pleasure in pranking her but quite frankly she didn’t feel like it not today. She was ready to yell at anyone that was behind it, she wasn’t going to accept any excuse, it was fucking over. But her anger disappeared when she saw her group of friends holding different types of beautifully decorated pans.  

“Is the party over?” Josie asked, trying to peek in while she held onto her tray filled with food. Her eyes scanned the group, her once sad exterior quickly changing as she  noticed that the four of them were wearing their pj’s. Y/n instantly smiled softly and looked at the ground, embarrassed.

“It actually never really started” Y/n laughed nervously while hugging herself trying to shield herself from anymore embarrassment.

“Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s get this party started. We will set the table and the mood while you guys talk!” PJ exclaimed while hitting Y/n’s shoulder in a form of hello pushing past her. The other girls followed closed behind PJ to the kitchen but not before both of them greeted her with warm hugs. Y/n smiled as she watched them bicker while they placed the trays on the table.

“You remembered?” Y/n asked, finally breaking the silence between the two of them.

“What do you mean?” Hazel asked innocently, her cheeks quickly turned red as she looked down to her feet avoiding Y/n’s gaze. 

“ You remembered what I told you about my family and the holidays. I thought you weren’t listening when I rambled. ” Y/n  smiled softly while pulling Hazel into a long awaited hug. Hazel hugged her back as she felt Y/n hide her face on her neck. Hse could feel Y/n’s breath on her neck sending shivers down her back. 

“I wanted you to spend it with your family. Well at least your real family. I couldn’t leave my favorite girl alone during the holidays.” Hazel whispered into her ear as she rubbed her back softly. Their bodies swayed back and forth as Isabel slowly turned on the radio to let them hear the Christmas music all over the house.  

“Your favorite girl?” Y/n asked moving her face away to look at Hazel’s flushed face. She quickly looked to the side avoiding her gaze not wanting to die of embarrassment. 

“That’s not the point, Y/n. We love you dearly and we don’t let people we love alone. I know how much you love the holidays and you deserve the best. I love you Y/n and want you to be happy. If I can make it happen I will. I swear I’ll go to the ends of the world to make you happy. As cheesy as that sounds.” Hazel  murmured in your hair while tears threatened to spill from your eyes onto her shirt.

“Stop! Now you’re going to make me cry, Callahan” Y/n said while pulling away softly and quickly holding her hands while they walked together towards the kitchen, closing the door behind them. 

“Save your tears for when you try PJ’s supposed cake, it’s horrendous.” Hazel said with a laugh squeezing her hand softly and with the other one cleaning your tears.

“Hey! I heard that” PJ exclaimed, dropping the piece of turkey she was about to eat. Y/n looked around taking in the table full of food. While all her friends sat around the table wanting for the two of them to get there to start the feast. 

“I brought a backup dessert, so no need to worry.” Brittany replied, as she pointed to the beautiful cake near her side of the table. 

“Thank you, Brittany for underestimating me. I know I can always count on you.” PJ said sarcastically as she rolled her eyes finally sitting down. Y/n and Hazel followed her actions sitting by each other. 

“I’m really thankful for you guys, really. Thank you so much for coming, you guys don’t know how much I appreciate it” 

“Thank Hazel. She was the one that planned this.” Isabel smiled towards the pair as Hazel blushed once again. 

“I think this Christmas we will have more couples under the mistletoe” 

“Shut up, PJ” 

Thanksgiving this year wasn’t what Y/n expected but it was better than she could ever imagine. That’s what she was thankful for her beautiful amazing friends and Hazel.

thank you for reading <3

[marshmallowprotection]

Choi Twins Twitter Event 2022!

I’m actually going to cry, you guys. You don’t understand how I am literally in tears right now because of what I’ve seen tonight. I feel like I’ve been seen and that doesn’t happen often for me. I don’t know how many people are following the Cheritz bot Twitter, so I’ll do what I did last year and go over what’s going on with that. Let’s get into it! 

[Twitter Link]

Alright, coverage starts with the first tweet. As it turns out today, Saeyoung and Saeran are taking turns having banter with each other. Saeyoung comments he hopes we’re doing alright in the summer heat! He’s got work to do, so I can more or less assume that he and Vanderwood work together doing something now in the world after Saeran’s AE. I’ll have to think about that later since I tend to think the twins find work helping other kids like them, but it’s likely Vanderwood could join them! 

I don’t think Vanderwood is going to travel very far at the end of the day. They’re a softie when it comes to the terms, especially Saeyoung. They’ve always been looking out for him and I don’t think that’s changing any time soon. Even if their situation changes, Vanderwood is always going to be there to nag Saeyoung to get to doing his work. Seasons change, but old habits don’t. I think that’s funny but it’s worth the mess that comes with it. 

Saeyoung, you lived in a bunker that should’ve had enough central air to keep you safe from an explosion. Ah, maybe it’s different now that he’s started to look for another place to live. I know that Saeran wants to move in a little house, so it would involve more work to get that taken care of. I always imagine that Saeran and his MC will live in a little house with Saeyoung, too. I can’t imagine putting the twins apart again! 

Do you want to know why I’m screaming right now? That’s a Cowboy Seven. I am seeing a canon drawing of Seven as a cowboy. Me, the writer of the Cowboy AU for Mystic Messenger, I am seeing a drawing of one of the twins as a cowboy in real life. I am having an out of body experience. I am actually in tears right now because of this! My little cowboy story means so much to me and the fact that I am seeing Official Art with Saeyoung as a cowboy is hitting me so hard I’m going to have to lay down in bed and think about my place in the universe. 

I know that it's a silly story I wrote because I could, but it's a concept that is very near and dear to my heart. That story wasn't just a story for me. 

It was an experience that allowed me to learn more about myself and challenge myself. That story gave me the confidence to save myself and to make new friends and bonds that have helped me be happier than I’ve ever been in my life. Yeah, it's just a drawing of Saeyoung as a cowboy. But, to me, it’s more than that. It feels like recognition from the universe that writing that was the right thing to do for me. 

It’s goofy, yeah... but, I’m really happy. 

I think the funniest thing about this interaction between the two of them has a lot to do with the fact that they have quippy banter. Their relationship these days in this ending is built on teasing each other and I think that's really funny. They poked fun at the other for not being cautious enough about their hacker skills. I think it gives you a little bit of insight into how they interact with each other. It isn't a situation where they're awkward. 

They're trying to build back that family relationship that they had and doing that means learning how to have fun again. For them, having fun is teasing each other! The :) face that Saeran used is so passive aggressive, and Saeyoung huffed and puffed in response trying to figure out if he needed to be annoyed or proud.

He’s proud. 

I think it's interesting that they pointed out the gifts in this situation. I think it has a lot to do with what is shown on the official birthday photo this year. I don't know if we're supposed to figure out what's inside of the gifts or if they're going to reveal what's inside of the gifts during the Twitter event.

I am sure you already know how much I love Ray. I think anybody who knows me has enough awareness about me to know that he is my favorite. This is the first time that we have had official art of him in a very long time. I love seeing him and his new style because it is just so adorable. I didn't think that we would get any art of him again specifically, but after seeing Suit Saeran last year, I was hopeful. I am still hopeful that maybe there will be another chance that he will show up. The fact that he showed up this year in any form is enough to make me smile. 

I definitely think that it's odd that they showed him here when it is supposed to be GE Saeran, though. The distinction tends to be important but I guess they're just throwing everything out the window this year and giving us everything. I’m not complaining. I love Ray. I will take Ray content any time of the day. Now I am back to manifesting a Picnic Ray CG because if Vanderwood and Suit can get a title screen, RAY CAN COME BACK AND BE WITH MC ON A TITLE SCREEN FOR ONCE. 

Tune in next time for the next tweets! 

[lochsides]

Midnights review

MEET ME AT MIDNIGHT

It’s that time again. The Midnights release is upon us and I have thoughts so you must hear them. I truly and firmly believe that Midnights is Taylor at her best (even though its not my favourite Taylor album). She has really shown a mastery over her craft on this album. Midnights is sonically cohesive with a distinct production pattern that enhances the overall atmosphere and realm in which the album exists. Many times while writing notes for this review did I write “this sounds like a Midnights song.” That’s what I mean when I say an album has its own sound, as this one does. So all the success it has already garnered is really no surprise at all.

Taylor said in her Instagram post that Midnights is a concept album, and the thread that ties these songs together is the fact that these are Taylor’s late night musings. We can see recurring themes of Taylor’s relationship with fame, love, her desire to be liked and to belong. I think there is a certain amount of obessions explored on this album, which is perfect for its thesis statement of “13 sleepless nights scattered throughout [her] life.” I am so happy we live in an era where Taylor Swift makes new music and the world celebrates it. I’ve been talking to friends and family about the album and have not heard a single person say they don’t like it.

My favourite tracks are Maroon, (and then in no particular order…) Bigger Than The Whole Sky, You’re On Your Own, Kid, Snow On The Beach, Midnight Rain, Would’ve, Could’ve Should’ve, and Labyrinth.

13 SLEEPLESS NIGHTS

Lavender Haze — Not sure why, but Lavender Haze was not at all what I expected. That said, I think Lavender Haze does an amazing job of setting expectations for the rest of the album in terms of the sound of Midnights and the themes explored on this album. In particular, the dichotomy of Taylor and her fame is explored over and over throughout the album.

Maroon — I haven’t seen much said about Maroon, which saddens me becuase this is my initial favourite from the ‘magic 13’ (in Taylor’s own words). I am absolutely obsessed with the production and cadance of this song. Maroon features Taylor’s characteristic storytelling lyricism beautifully. I could picture every word as she sung it playing out like a movie in my head. This song feels like a grown up RED song in so many ways aside from the title. I might do a post all about this so we’ll leave that for that. But this song lives rent free in my mind, constantly.

Anti-Hero — Let’s talk about how Anti-Hero is absolutely perfect lead single material. The witty but vulnerable lyricism, the tone of the song, the production pattern all set the scene of this album to someone entering it through this point. I think within the context of this song being about how her life has taken on this magnitude that she struggles to feel like a person, “I’m the problem, it’s me” is so sad because that was the general public’s ammunition against her for so long. Her assigning that “I’m the problem” part of herself to her public persona in the video is genius.

Snow On The Beach — Snow On The Beach sounds as pretty as it’s title suggests. “Stars by the pocketful” has to be one of the most beautiful uses of imagery to describe emotion ever. I love the lyricism on this track and the gorgeous production choices they took with it. It all served to elevate the magical feeling of realising someone is falling for you as you’re falling for them. I also love the lyric “its fine to fake it ‘til you make it, ‘til you do, ‘til its true.” I think that so perfectly captures that feeling of being “unglued” because you no longer know what to expect.

You’re On Your Own, Kid — Surprise, surprise, a track five that hurt my feelings. You’re On Your Own, Kid tells the tale of a desire to belong and to be loved, going to every length to achieve that and falling short of it every time. Was it fair of her to release this song as I’m actively dismantling my own belief system around being liked in therapy? Absolutely not. Will I have this song on repeat after every session for the foreseeable future? Yeah… Also we need to shout out that incredible production and the way it builds and builds towards the latter part of the song chef’s kiss!! I think every time I play You’re On Your Own, Kid, I fall more in love with it.

Midnight Rain — This was the first track to get stuck in my head, it’s so catchy but I love how understated it is. I love that chorus line so much, from lyric to production to the choice of the synthesizer. It’s a very experimental style for Taylor but worked so well. The way she framed the story of ‘we want different things’ in Midnight Rain is a universal experience retold. We’ve all been there, reflecting on people who we’ve left behind. I also think this song is very interesting in that, Taylor is self-proclaimed romantic and yet this entire song is about her rejecting romance for ambition. I love the way she did this becuase I really fucking feel this.

Question…? — I’ll be honest, Question…? isn’t really for me. Like, it’s fine but it’s just fine. The production for this song is very up and down for me. The first half of the song is just whatever, the second and final chorus are great, but I really don’t like the sonic structure of the bridge at all. Lyrically speaking, I interpretted this song as overthinking given form. Which is clever, given the concept of staying up in the middle of the night because we are all prone to overthinking late at night.

Vigilante Shit — This is Taylor’s bad bitch anthem. Vigilante Shit has big reputation vibes with that heavy bass, those synths and of course, the theme of revenge. Revenge feeds into the concept of the album about her late night obsessions perfectly. The way I interpret the lyric “lately I’ve been dressing for revenge” is as getting ready to exact her vengeance. Its not about the physical act of getting dressed alone, but entering that obessive state of mind that her rage takes her to. Also, I think the lyric “I don’t start shit but I can tell you how it ends” is so clever in its double meaning: a threat and her past experiences of people who’ve done her wrong getting their just desserts.

Bejewled — I love the energy of this song, the theme of contemptuously recognising your own worth. But unfortunately that’s where I tap out. It’s a song that I’m really on the fence about. I don’t really care for it either way. Bejewled probably takes last place in my ranking. I don’t actaully dislike it though, I’m just in different to it. So that tells you just how good I think this album is.

Labyrinth — Does this dreamy, otherworldly production remind anyone else of if The Archer and epiphany had a baby? Labyrinth snuck up on me. I liked it on the first listen but I didn’t expect to be absolutely obsessed with it the way that I am. I love it so fucking much. The way the chorus goes from ‘uh-oh’ to ‘oh no’ to ‘oh!’ and the different feelings that accompany the recognition of falling in love after you’ve just falling apart in a way you didn’t know you could even recover from, never mind so soon, is nothing short of genius. I also love the outro with the layered vocals and the synthesizer. Jack Antonoff really did something with this production.

Karma — Big ‘the universe conspires in my favour’ energy on this track. Karma is a really fun, upbeat song, which was not what I expected at all for this one. I was thinking more dark, heavy sounds instead of the lightheartedness that we got in its place. Karma, as a concept, is something that Taylor has been fascinated with for a very long time. I like this take of it as something that’s got her back, instead of something vengeful to unleash on those who’ve done her wrong.

Sweet Nothing — The piano melody on Sweet Nothing sounds like the most beautiful lullaby. This song is oh-so heart-wrenchingly pretty. I love the the way this entire song is about the simplicity of real love and paired with such elegant and refine production. Real love demands nothing but love in return, “all that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing.” It’s that simple. It can be that easy. My heart was so full listening to this. Sweet Nothing felt like a warm hug from a loved one, perfectly placed towards the end of an album dissecting her relationship with her fame, her fears, and all the parts of her past that she revisits from time to time. In the end, it all comes back to her present and “running home to [his] sweet nothings.”

Mastermind — I’ll be honest, I haven’t listen to Mastermind as much as a few of the other songs on this album. I have no problem with it. It’s just placed between two songs that I really adore (on to the 3 am tracks), I sometimes just end up skipping it just becuase I want to listen to the next track. But we’ll talk about that in a minute. Mastermind, I really do enjoy the production of it, but I’m not the biggest fan of the melody. I love the way Taylor takes a moment to tocuh on the paitriarchical structure of love and how women “were born to be the pawn in every lover’s game.” Also I hate her for the lyric “no one wanted to play with me as a little kid, so I’ve been scheming like a criminal ever since, to make them love me and make it seem effortless.” On the surface, Mastermind is about ensuring you end up with the person you like. But paying even a little bit of proper attention to the lyrics will tell you that there is a lot of insecurity in this song.

3AM THOUGHTS

The Great War — The Great War is just Afterglow (Midnights Version). No wonder its such a superior song. I love this track so much. I don’t know what kind of drugs Aaron Dessner laced this production with, but it hits. The cadance on the chorus is so dynamic. I love the way she uses war imagery to emphasise that this wasn’t just a fight, it could’ve been the fight. But “my hand was the one you reached for, all throughout the great war” says it all. Even in the worst of moments, he was still choosing her. Definitely a top 5 track for me.

Bigger Than The Whole Sky — Another early favourite of mine. The concept of it reminded me of the 1, but sadder. When she sung “I’ve got a lot to pine about, I’ve got a lot to live without. I’m never gonna meet what could’ve been, would’ve been, what should’ve been you,” OUCH! I love how breathy her vocal is and how light and airy the production is, adding to effect of the title. I’m obsessed with the idea of the one that got away, or love lost in someway that feels fleeting. I think that loss feels heavy because of all the lost potential that goes with the person.

Paris — I don’t know how else to describe the production of Paris other than, it’s very Midnights. That beat fits so prefectly within the sonic realm of this album. Lyrically speaking though, its giving big Lover energy. Paris is a fun, different side to the narrative of staying up all night.

High Infidelity — Oooh, this song!!! I think that says it all, iykyk. My favourite part of High Infidelity is when she sings “high infidelity” in that elongated melody. Very classic pop Taylor sound that never fails. Obviously the song is about a relationship that was draining the life out of her and meeting someone else during that time that made her feel again. I think the whole verse of “storm coming, good husband, bad omen, dragged my feet right down the ailse” speaks to me so much. Also “your picked fence is sharp as knives” is one of my favourite lyrics she’s written. All of it talks about how this seemingly perfect looking love was a cage, a prison of sorts.

Glitch — Taylor said ‘real love? sounds fake’. What I really enjoy about Glitch is that the song sounds like a glitch when they switch up the production on the chorus. I love things like that in music. This is a song about a relationship that by all accounts really shouldn’t have happened or lasted but it did. And there are themes of doubt, desperation and desire strung through the lyrics.

Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve — Oh I could write a whole essay about my thoughts on this song (and I might yet). For the purposes of this review, I’ll keep it short and free of speculation. Let’s start with how this production gave me chills! There is this brilliant chaotic energy underlying in it that perfectly captures the feeling of being in the type of relationship Taylor discusses. Would’ve Could’ve Should’ve is a reflection of a formative relationship. I think listening to Taylor scream “give me back my girlhood, it was mine first” collectively fucked us all up. It must be an absolutely bewildering feeling to actually reach the age her ex was when he dated her at 19 and being able to recognise how messed up that situation was. My heart breaks for her when she sings “I miss who I used to be.” There is a real sense of loss, regret and mourning that is taking place even 13 years after the fact. If that doesn’t tell you how much this relationship harmed her, I have nothing left to say. The songwriting on this track is just completely off the radar.

Dear Reader — I haven’t been able to stop thinking about “you should find another guiding light but i shine so bright.” The perfect closing point to the album through lyrical and production perspectives. Also I love the unreliable narrator energy Dear Reader has. She gives advice that she warns the reader not to take because she’s falling apart. The bridge and outro are absolute perfection. Every time she and Jack have used a synthesizer on this album, it’s worked so fucking well in enhancing the effect of the song.

BONUS ROUND...

Hits Different — This one sounds so different to other tracks on Midnights. I love the guitar guiding the whole song. Her vocals are so smooth on the verse. Hits Different is the aftermath of a painful breakup, the going back over every detail in the bridge, the cursing out love in the chorus, the “my sadness is contagious”, the “catastrophoic blues.” It’s the late night depression of the grief cycle. I have to shoutout one of my favourite lyrics from the whole of the Midnights era too, “argumentative, antithetical dream girl.” I enjoyed this as a bonus track, but I don’t really feel its loss on the streaming versions of Midnights the way I would some of the 3 am tracks.

[free-pool-trash]

x of swords - george weasley

part one of three

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

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

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

Word count: 22.9k 

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

mastelist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Scotland.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dear Harry,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lots of love,

(Y/n) xoxo

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, “Dunno.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dear (Y/n),

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

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

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

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

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

Take care,

Harry.

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

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

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

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

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

Hello, Harry’s Pretty Neighbour.

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

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

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

Don’t break my heart, write back?

Yours truly,

George Weasley x

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah he did.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry nodded, “He will be.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry,

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

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

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

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

Lots of love,

Y/n.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dear Y/n,

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

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

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

Thank you again for the warning.

See you soon,

Love, Harry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s her name?” You asked.

“Her name was Marlene,” Sirius answered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s just a friend!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ready, George.”

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

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

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

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

“I don’t think it’s silly, I still get giddy thinking about the time Fred and I got wands of our own,” he pushed the door open and motioned for you to step inside, slowly you walked into the empty shop. It was dark and somewhat dingy but there was something very mystically inclining about it, you could feel the energy and it was utterly exhilarating.

“Wow,” you breathed out, spinning where you stood, gazing at the boxes upon boxes that lined the shelves.

Only a minute passed before an old man stumbled to the front of the shop, smiling at the pair of you from behind the counter, “Ah, Mr. Weasley, it’s good to see you, it’s been some time. What can I do for you this morning? I see you’ve brought a friend,” the older wizard greeted and you smiled in response.

“I’m looking for a wand. I’ve been living in the states for the past few years but I just moved home,” you lied easily, George couldn’t help but smirk, what he’d give to have had you around for some of his and Fred’s pranks at Hogwarts.

The old man nodded in understanding, his eyes scanned you, his eyes were scrutinising and you fought the urge to squirm under his gaze, “Interesting. One moment please,” he said, murmuring to himself as he searched the isles for what he was looking for. A small “aha” sounded from within the isles, he was back in front of you within seconds, an open rectangular box in his hand. It was absolutely gorgeous, it resembled a raw tree branch, wood spiralling up its expanse until it stopped at the top, cutting off in a jagged, dull edge. He must’ve noticed how your jaw dropped, how could he not? He hadn’t been able to take his eyes off you since you’d wandered into his shop. He was an old wizard, but he wasn’t naive, he was well aware you weren’t returning from America, he could sense an energy in you that he hadn’t come in contact with in a long time. “Curious, isn’t it?” He prompted you, causing you to let out an airy laugh. Cecillia was going to tease you big time when you got back to her cabin.

“It’s lovely, what is it?” He offered you the box expectantly and you hesitantly picked up the wand with as much care as you possibly could. It was cool against your skin and was heavier than you’d imagined it would be.

“Thirteen inch, oak; cut from the base of a tree, which at the time, was almost six hundred years old,” he explained, watching happily as you ran your fingers along the wands several ridges,”With a phoenix feather core, quite a rare piece indeed. Unfortunately, this particular wand has been extremely difficult to match to a witch. But something tells me that you might be just the witch for the job,” he held your gaze and you once again got the feeling that he knew something he shouldn’t, “Go on, then. Give it a wave,” he prompted and you looked to George for further encouragement. George laughed at your lost expression, pulling his own wand out and pointing it towards the now empty box on the counter, “Like this, love,” he demonstrated, moving his wrist in a semi-circle motion, making the box levitate off the counter.

Another pet name. You ignored the butterflies in your stomach in favour of clearing your throat, squaring your shoulders and pointing your wand at the same box George had just made float, which was now settled back against the counter. Imitating the boy beside you, you moved your wrist in a swift semi-circle. Suddenly, a golden light poured from the tip of the wand and warm air surrounded you, gently blowing your hair back and forcing a laugh of disbelief to leave your lips. George stood wide eyed beside you, his lips parted slightly. He was amazed really, he went through five wands before he found the one that fit him, yet you’d found yours on the first try, and he had to admit; you looked glorious doing it.

After paying for your wand, you exited the shop, looking around George’s side at the list he was holding. From what you could make out, Cecillia had added a number of items to the originally very short list; 1) a wand, 2) a pendulum (crystal of the ladies choice), 3) crystals: labradorite, lapis lazuli & azurite, 4) mugwort, 5) new tarot deck (again, whatever she wants Sirius can afford it ;)).

“Suppose our next stop is the divination shop,” George said, mostly to himself but gave you a mischievous smile, “If we hurry up and get our shopping done fast we could probably get a butterbeer in before we rejoin the rest of the Order,” he sang, grazing his hand against yours as you walked side by side.

“Beer? You seriously want to drink beer at half eight in the morning?” You asked him, your eyebrow raised and he replied with an exaggerated roll of his eyes and draped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you close against his side and once again leaning his head down so his lips were level with your eye.

“No, you git,” he began with a laugh, “It’s not really beer, it’s pretty sweet; most wizards love it.”

You hummed in acknowledgment, “Sounds nice,” you told him absently, preoccupied with all the intriguing shops that surrounded you. George’s arm remained wrapped around your shoulder as you strolled further into Diagon Alley, seemingly uninterested in his offer for a butterbeer. The pair of you got what you needed from the shop and, since it hadn’t taken long, you decided to take George up on his drinks offer. You noticed that he seemed a little bit crestfallen since your noncommittal answer earlier.

“Hey,” you said, bumping your arm against his.

“Hello,” he replied, returning the gesture.

“So… d’you wanna go get one of those beer things that you were talking about earlier?” You asked nervously, your lip between your teeth. For all you knew, asking someone to grab a butterbeer in the wizarding world was the muggle equivalent to proposing.

George flashed you a grin that was almost childlike, it was mesmerising, so sweet and pure and you almost wished you’d brought your camera to take a picture of it. “I thought you’d never ask.”

With a giggle you let him grab your hand and lead you excitedly towards a building that had “The Leaky Cauldron” written above the door. When you got inside, George led you to a small round table with two chairs and you both sat down opposite each other. As casually as you could, you rested your elbow against the table and let your cheek rest against your fist, for a solid few minutes, while George ordered, you curiously looked around the pub until your gaze finally rested on George who was already looking at you with a soft smile, “Having fun?” He asked, genuinely curious.

You nodded your head, “Mhm, are you? I’m sure getting up at the crack of dawn to take me shopping isn’t something someone like you would usually like to do for fun,” you said, becoming slightly self conscious when you realised that he probably wasn’t enjoying the morning as much as you were. This was all normal for him, you’d nearly forgotten.

George gave you a perplexed look, “Course I’m having fun, love. But, what do you mean someone like me?”

You shrugged, once again pushing down the butterflies that arose in your stomach from the pet name, “I dunno, you’re just- you’re mischievous and fun and… I don’t know, shopping for stuff with me doesn’t seem like it’s something you’d want to do. I just hope Sirius didn’t force you into it,” you admitted shyly, smiling gratefully at the waiter when he placed the mugs of golden liquid on the table.

George chewed on his bottom lip for a second before he shook his head, “He didn’t force me. I sort of, well, I sort of forced him to let me take you. He wanted Professor Lupin to do it but I…” he let out an exaggerated sigh before giving you a smile, “I wanted to spend time with you,” he confessed sweetly, watching happily as a smile formed on your lips and you tried to hide it in the rim of your butterbeer. He laughed when your face lit up once the liquid hit your lips, “Like it?”

“This stuff is amazing,” you almost shouted, taking another large sip from the drink, “No wonder you all love it so much.”

George snickered, “Just in case it wasn’t clear; I’m having a lot of fun with you,” he said all too casually, taking a sip of his drink.

“Where to now?” You wondered, after you’d finished your drinks and set off back towards the floo network.

George shot you a cheeky look and wiggled his eyebrows, “I’m taking you back to headquarters.”

“Sounds ominous,” you commented, following him into the fireplace, nervously.

“D’you want a tip?” George asked out of the blue and you looked up at him expectantly, nodding. “The dizziness isn’t as bad if you keep your eyes open,” he whispered, taking your hand once again and throwing down the same green powder from earlier and shouting a new location that you hadn’t heard before. You cringed as the world began to spin, listening to George’s advice hadn’t helped much as the transportation was just as awful as it had been the first time. Unbeknownst to you, you were squeezing George’s hand like your life depended on it, George’s thumb had resumed brushing circles around your hand in response, the harsh squeezing didn’t bother him at all, not when it was you doing the squeezing. Just like earlier, George led you out of the fireplace and into the unfamiliar sitting room. Though the room was completely unfamiliar it was full of faces you immediately recognised, one face in particular standing out above all the rest.

In a second you’d dropped not only George’s hand, but all of your shopping bags to the floor carelessly and hurled yourself towards the boy who had already begun rushing towards you the second he caught sight of you appearing in the fireplace. Your bodies collided with so much force that you nearly sent each other tumbling to the ground, laughter sounded from both of you as you swayed the other, almost roughly, the way you always did when reuniting after an extended period of time.

“Glad to see you in one piece, Harry,” you told him with a cheeky smile on your lips, opting not to call him Haz in front of all of his wizard friends lest they tease him, not to mention you’d become quite possessive of the nickname, you wouldn’t be too pleased if anyone else started adopting it. Not that you’d ever admit that out loud.

“Yeah, you too,” his smile was as wide as could be when he shook his head, “I can’t believe you’re actually here.”

“Do you want me to pinch you?” You teased, jokingly taking his cheek between your thumb and your pointer, giving the skin between them a gentle squeeze. Harry swatted your hand away with a low chuckle and unraveled his arms from around you.

“Alright, you two, if you’re ready we have some matters we need to discuss with our newest member,” Sirius’ voice sounded from behind you, a knowing look on his face as he watched Harry sneakily pinch your arm in retaliation. He had to fight the urge he felt to reminisce on his old school days; when he’d purposely annoy James, Remus or Peter and receive the exact same mockingly vengeful look that you’d just given Harry.

“I’ll bring your things to the kitchen,” George announced, reminding you of his presence before he walked rather quickly out of the room, bags clutched in his hands.

Harry snorted out a laugh when Sirius followed George out of the room, leaving the both of you alone. Harry wiggled his eyebrows and did his best to make his voice take on a sultry tone, “he’s bringing your things to the kitchen.”

“Shut your mouth, Potter,” you replied, pinching his cheek for the second time and tossing your arm around his shoulder, him doing the same as he led you to what you assumed was the kitchen.

“Do I have your permission to open my mouth to tell you something,” Harry asked lightly, stopping so you were both standing outside a closed wooden door.

“I’ll allow it,” you answered, smiling softly at your best friend.

Harry grinned, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Haz,” the boy groaned at the name but made no further comment, he pushed the wooden door open and walked inside.

The room held a long table where many adults were sat, chatting in hushed whispers when you entered the room, some of whom you recognised and some you didn’t. Mrs. Weasley was fluttering about the table, filling people’s tea cups before she spotted you. The woman, who you’d only ever met briefly at King’s Cross station one year, rushed over to you and greeted you warmly, “Hello, dear! Come, come sit down!” She ushered you to a vacant chair beside George and across from Fred, Harry took the seat on your other side. “I trust you got everything you needed from Diagon Alley? I hope that son of mine didn’t cause any trouble for you,” you gave her a friendly smile and shook your head.

“Yes, we were able to find what we needed and George was very helpful,” Mrs. Weasley, seemingly satisfied with your answer, offered a gentle smile to you and George. She then pushed a cup of tea towards you before sitting down herself.

Beneath the table George bumped his knee lightly against yours, but didn’t break from his conversation with his twin as he left his knee pressed against yours. You didn’t draw attention to it either, simply letting your knee relax against his as the witches and wizards at the long table grew quiet in favour of staring at you wordlessly.

“I’m sure you’ve all heard the news of the seer we’ve acquired,” Sirius’ commanding voice broke the silence as he stood up from his chair, and placed his palms against the table, “I’ve brought her here today so that we may discuss proceedings to ensure her safety.”

“Yes,” a toneless drawl, drawn out nasally from the end of the table drew your attention to a black haired man at the opposite end of the table, “and what of Mr. Potter’s presence?” He asked, almost menacingly. Right off the bat, you didn’t like the greasy haired man. He was rigid and his face sported a permanent snarl and from across the table you could already tell; he wasn’t on your side.

“She’s my best friend, I’m here to make sure she’s not going to be put in any unnecessary danger,” Harry told the man shortly, in a tone that he’d more than likely perfected after having spoken to the man previously.

“As touching as that may be,” the older man snarled, “you are not a member of the Order.”

“Oh, enough, Serverus,” Sirius scoffed, pulling his hand down his face in exasperation before he let his eyes settle on Harry, “Perhaps you should wait upstairs for now. We’ll let you know of any significant updates.”

“I’ll tell you everything later, promise,” you whispered quietly, linking his pinky with yours beneath the table before he stropily took his leave.

“As I was saying,” Sirius spared Severus a glare and continued, “As we know, Yn is an unregistered wizard with an unregistered wand, meaning she won’t be on the radar of The Ministry of Magic. On the downside of this, seeing as her power manifested late, she is also untrained.”

All gazes fell to you once more, only Remus’ eyes were staring softly, crinkled at the edges from the smile on his lips, “I’ll be tutoring her in Defence Against the Dark Arts over the summer. She’ll catch up quickly, no doubt,” you smiled gratefully at him from your spot, relaxing a bit knowing that you’d actually be learning how to defend yourself the wizard way.

“I suppose I will be tasked with teaching the art of Occlumency? A seer with an easily accessible mind is hardly an asset,” Severus drawled. You didn’t have a clue what occlumency was, in all honesty, but you kept your mouth shut in favour of asking Remus when the meeting was over.

The meeting soon drew to a close, the older Order members slinking to one end of the table to arrange the schedule for your glorified summer school while you, Fred and George snuck away to find Harry. You found him sitting against the headboard of a bed in one of the upstairs bedrooms, “How’d it go?”

“Take a guess, mate, Snape had a right sour look on his face the whole time,” Fred answered, sitting on the bed across from Harry’s. George sat beside him and you made your way to sit with Harry.

“Ah, so that was the infamous professor Snape?” All three boys nodded, looks of exhaustion on their faces, “I don’t trust him. Something is very off about him,” you spoke thoughtfully and the boys nodded in agreement once again.

“I don’t like the idea of you being alone with him,” George said, his brows furrowed.

Fred snorted and clapped his twin roughly on the shoulder, “Getting a bit jealous are you, Georgie?” Harry laughed along with Fred while you blushed lightly and George felt heat rising up the nape of his neck.

“Sod off,” he muttered, but made no attempt to deny that he was slightly jealous of all the alone time his old evil potions professor would be getting with the girl he was harbouring feelings for.

The afternoon quickly turned into the evening and before long you were gathering your things and preparing to return to Cecillia’s. Harry would be heading back to the Dursley’s later that night, much to his dismay. You told him you’d be back on Privet Drive at some point the next morning since Cecillia would be dropping you home, as she promised your parents, so he wouldn’t have to suffer alone for too long.

That summer came and went in a bit of a blur. Two days in each week were spent learning how to protect yourself against the dark arts with Remus. He’s an amazing teacher, that couldn’t be disputed. In the space of only two months he had you duelling like you’d been doing it since the day you were born. Of course, you were thrilled to be bonding with your wand and developing (according to Remus) a very impressive skill for Defence Against the Dark Arts. But, on top of that, the shared conversations and exchanging of stories over hefty mugs of hot chocolate with the werewolf had been a huge highlight of your summer, and had caused the two of you to grow exponentially closer.

September was nearing and with it came a stiff breeze that prompted the hair on your arms to stand alert as you waited by the bus stop, the one just down the road from your house. Today was to be an important lesson with Remus, he hadn’t told you what the lesson would entail, but he had said that it was a charm that was “of the utmost importance”.

Although June, July and August were technically your summer holidays, you’d barely had a second to rest. You were, at this point, running on fumes and sheer will power. Extensively using magic was bound to wear you out, however, getting a good night’s rest after a gruelling training session had become something of a luxury for you. Visions of the future and retellings of past torments plagued your dreams and allowed you no time to rest. One vision in particular had been reoccurring, it arrived every night for the past two weeks, taunting you. The autumn chill that dripped down your spine reminded you of the premonition, having your hairs standing due to fright, rather than cold. It was always the same, no details ever shifted or warped and, unfortunately, the experience never grew any less harrowing. The warning that the vision brought about weighed on you heavily and followed you around like a stray cat. Images of a cold, desolate, blue-hued cellar lived behind your eyes, the phantom feeling of freezing metal shackles weighed on your wrists painfully and the undiluted terror combined with the indescribable agony brought about by the unfamiliar wand shoved against your throat had you forcing yourself to stay awake until you physically couldn’t anymore, each and every night. Nobody knew about the vision, you didn’t want to worry them, though, you knew that your distress was beginning to become visible; dark bags were prominent beneath your eyes, Harry had watched you fall asleep in the middle of the day, often on his shoulder, almost everyday that week and Remus could tell by the sluggish movements of your wand that your mind was elsewhere.

A few minutes passed before your bus arrived, the journey to Grimmauld Place was quite long but you couldn’t seem to warm up to floo travel, so going on a regular bus was the better option. When the red double decker pulled up, you greeted the driver with a smile and paid for your ticket. You made your way up to the second story and sat right at the front. The bus, as it normally tended to be, was empty. Resting your head against the window, you let your eyes slip shut, the noises of tree branches brushing against the speeding windows lulling you into a, hopefully, peaceful sleep.

Thankfully when you woke up, no visions lingered. You woke up just in time too as the bus was rounding up to your stop. As usual, Remus waited for you at the bus stop, his hands shoved deep in his tattered jacket pockets and a gentle smile on his lips.

Still groggy from your nap, when you exited the bus you greeted Remus with a tired wave.

“Dare I say you haven’t been sleeping well, dear?” He said gently, walking alongside you towards the house.

You thought about it for a second, perhaps telling someone wouldn’t be the worst idea in the world. “I’ve just, well, I’ve been having this nightmare,” you started, growing nervous just thinking about it.

“Nightmare or vision?” He pressed as you walked into the house.

Guilt creeped into your chest upon seeing the clear worry on his face, “I think it’s a vision.”

Remus nodded quietly, placing his hand on the small of your back and pushing you in the direction of the living room. He gave you a warm smile, when you sat down on the sofa. He grabbed a blanket that hung over the back of the sofa and draped it over your lap. “I’ll make us some hot chocolate and we can discuss this,” he suggested.

“I thought you had an important lesson for today?” He only shook his head, smiling lightly.

He made his way to the door wordlessly and returned within two minutes with two big, steaming mugs in his hands. Remus handed you a mug and sat down beside you on the sofa, accepting your invitation to pull the blanket over his lap too.

“Now tell me; what has been going on in that wonderful mind of yours?”

You took in a deep breath, staring into the hot chocolate and avoiding his understanding gaze, “It happened for the first time around two weeks ago. I thought that it was just a dream, it didn’t feel like a dream but I thought that if I kept telling myself it was I would start to believe it,” you started, taking a sip of your drink before going back to staring at it, “But it kept coming back. Every night for the last two weeks. I haven’t been able to sleep, I’ve been too scared to,” your voice was small as you made the confession. You hated that the feeling of helplessness was beginning to wash over you yet again.

“What happens in this vision?” At his question, you placed your cup on the floor and turned to face him fully, turning on the sofa and pulling your knees up to your chest.

“It’s always the same. I wake up and the first thing I know is that I’m absolutely freezing. I’m in this cellar-like thing. I’m chained up by my wrists and my feet are barely touching the ground… I can’t see anyone but I can feel-“ your breath hitched and you rushed the swipe the tears that were falling away from your cheeks, “I can feel a wand against my throat, it’s pressing hard. There’s a whisper, it’s quiet and ghostly and I can barely make it out but I hear them say; crucio.”

Remus’ eyes widened in horror.

“Then I feel nothing but agonising pain and then I wake up,” Remus’ eyebrows furrowed.

“You’ve had this same vision every night?” You nodded.

“I know I should have said something but I didn’t want anyone to worry,” it was then that Remus grabbed your hands and looked at you with a sense of urgency you didn’t know he could possess.

“I need you to listen to me very carefully,” his eyes were wild and his hands shook lightly as they held yours, “You-Know-Who is back. There are already reports of certain Wizards going missing and none of us have any doubt that it’s his doing. And although I- we- care for you a great deal, it would serve us all well to remember that you’re a detrimental piece in this war. If he catches wind of you, he’ll stop at nothing to take you from us,” your heart was now running at the speed of a hummingbird. “We have a plan in place to keep you safe, I fear we may have to implement it sooner than planned.”

Before you knew it, you were surrounded by the entire Order of the Phoenix, all of whom looked grave. Cecillia sat to your right while Nymphadora Tonks occupied the seat to your left. You had the pink haired auror to thank for your duelling capabilities, as well as Remus of course. Her presence was comforting, she made it a point to shoot you a wink every time she caught your eyes looking more fearful than usual.

“Our original plan will need to be tweaked, I ran into Narcissa Malfoy in Diagon Alley and she very plainly insinuated that I was a person of interest in the death eating community,” Cecillia informed the table, a, for lack of a better word, bitchy tone laced in her voice. She’d told you many of her Hogwarts stories, you could recall her telling you that she and the woman she’d mentioned, Narcissa, had once been good friends until around their fourth year. She hadn’t told you what exactly had happened, only that it had been messy.

“What was the original plan?” You asked, growing frustrated with the Order’s lack of communication skills.

Thankfully, being one of the younger members of the group, Tonks understood your frustrations and spoke up on behalf of the group, regardless of whether they were ready for you to know or not; she understood that it was your life they were coordinating.

“We talked about relocating you to CeCe’s. We also, and far more pressingly, planned on erasing all traces of you from both the muggle and wizard world. Which would mean using a memory charm on your family and friends in the muggle world,” Tonks explained, eyes locked on yours while everyone else in the room glared daggers at the purple haired girl.

“Yes. Though we also planned on telling you this information with a far more delicate approach,” Snapped Molly Weasley from the end of the table, causing Fred, who sat to her left, to roll his eyes.

“She’s been riddled with visions of being ruthlessly tortured with an unforgivable curse for the past two weeks. I think the time for delicacy is long passed,” the older of the two twins practically scoffed. George nodded in agreement.

“Besides,” he set his gaze on you, eyes genuine and unwavering as he spoke, “she’s strong enough to handle the truth. It’s time you all stopped acting like she isn’t.”

The table fell silent. His words hung in the air as many of the adults hung their heads.

“By memory charm I’m assuming you mean obliviate?” You broke the silence, if you could you hoped to start an open conversation with the experienced witches and wizards that surrounded you.

“Yes. They’re completely reversible and once the war is over I’ll restore all of the memories.” Cecillia said.

“We know it’s a huge ask, dear, but it’s our best chance at keeping you out of that wretched creature’s hands,” Molly attempted to soothe both you and herself when she pictured what it would like to be in your shoes, how she’d feel if she had no other choice but to be forgotten by the thing she valued the most; her family. Molly Weasley had never been very good at hiding her maternal instincts, over the summer that fact had become glaringly obvious to you. You and Harry had laughed about how the children of Privet Drive had a special place in her heart.

“I understand,” you told her sadly, chewing on the inside of your lip, “I’m guessing by the atmosphere in the room that I won’t be home to say goodbye before you wipe their memories,” you shifted yours eyes from person to person, stopping when Cecillia took your hand firmly in hers.

Her lips were downturned and her eyes filled with guilt, she shook her head mournfully, “I’m afraid we can’t risk it, my darling. Even being here places you in danger at the moment.”

“Where will she go then? If CeCe’s place isn’t an option we’ll have to find a safe house,” Sirius sounded and, simultaneously, both Fred and George stood up, shoulder to shoulder with very professional expressions on their faces.

“We may be able to help with that, actually. George, if you would,” Fred started, nodding to his twin who straightened his shoulders and puffed his chest out over so slightly.

“Thank you, Fred. As you know, we have a property for Weasley Wizard Wheezes secured and we’ll be living in the flat above where the shop will be,” everyone at the table, including yourself, stared at the twins in confusion, not quite sure where they were going with their little pitch until Fred took over again.

“And that flat has three bedrooms,” he said, a smirk growing on his thin lips.

George spoke again, “Which means there’s one for me and one for Fred.”

“Which means there’s one spare,” Fred grinned wickedly.

Tonks let out an impressed laugh once the penny finally dropped, “We apparate her in and nobody would ever know a thing. Nobody other than those of us in the room know that Y/n is a friend of the Weasley’s, plus us visiting the joke shop wouldn’t raise any suspicion. I have to give it to them, it’s a great idea,”

“And one of the two of us will always be within shouting distance if anything happens,” George added, somewhat pleadingly.

Sirius looked across the table at you, “Y/n, it’s up to you. Whatever you decide will be final, we won’t interfere,” he promised sincerely. It was an easy decision, but still, it weighed heavily on your chest. In all honesty, you weren’t worried about your location, staying with the twins would surely be a light and fun time amidst all the doom and gloom. Your worry was that you would, once again, be handing over your control. Sirius dressed it up as though it was your choice, but you knew that this was probably their best option and in reality you really had no other choice than to move in with Fred and George.

“Sounds good to me,” you whispered halfheartedly, eyes dropping to stare at your lap as your teeth pulled anxiously at the skin of your lips.

“So it’s settled then,” Remus said, “Y/n will go with Fred and George tonight.”

Abruptly, you pushed your chair away from the table and stood up. Sparing nobody a glance, you left the room as quickly as you possibly could, before the lump in your throat could choke you or the tears that pooled in your eyes spilled like water through a broken dam. George made a move to rise from his seat only for Remus to stop him by placing his hand on the boy’s shoulder, “Give her a moment.”

You found yourself locked in the second story bathroom, sitting in the bath. Your legs hung out over the side of the tub while your head was tilted back against the black tiled wall. As hard as you tried to prevent them, tears were streaming down the expense of your cheeks, neck and beneath the neckline of your shirt. The minutes ticked by yet your chest continued to rise and fall rapidly due to the sobs that shook it, your breath uneven. Visions of brutal torture were bad enough when you were in your own home, in your own warm bed, with your parents just a room away and ready to make you a hot cup of tea after you woke up screaming. Now, the visions would without a doubt continue to plague you, unlike before though, you wouldn’t be waking up in a familiar setting, nor would you fall asleep in the comfort of your own mattress, when you woke up screaming so loud that your throat grew raw, your comfort would rely on two seventeen year old boys who seldom took things seriously. It’s not that you didn’t trust them, no, you trusted them with your life- you are trusting them with your life, it’s just that there was already a lot going on in your mind at the moment, moving in with your crush and his identical twin brother isn’t exactly your idea of a nerve killer.

A knock against the bathroom door pulled you from your thoughts. You rushed to wipe your tears with your sleeves, sniffling, “Come in,” you choked out. Cursing your voice for breaking when you spoke.

Remus’ head poked through the door, his body following soon after. Even in an atmosphere as dense as this one, a sense of gentle calm always followed Remus wherever he went. Clumsily, the werewolf slid into the bath beside you with a low “oof” sound, mimicking your position with his much longer legs dangling closer to the wooden floor than your own.

“CeCe has gone to collect your things for you and get Harry, then, I believe, perform the spell,” he eyed you cautiously, hyper aware of your glassy eyes and puffy face. When your eyes widened and you whipped your face towards him, his stomach twisted into knots, he hated seeing you like this. He could sympathise with your feelings. When James and Lily were killed, and Sirius went to Azkaban and even when Peter was presumed dead, Remus had been left with a vicious frustration fuelled by his belief that he was utterly powerless in his own life. He could see in your eyes that that same notion was starting to creep up on you too.

“Already?” You gasped out, pulse rising again, a slight panic setting in. “It won’t hurt them will it? The spell?” You fretted, looking pleadingly to the man beside you.

He shook his head, tenderly taking your hand and placing it against his clothed chest, his beating heart present against the palm of your shaking hand. “I promise you that they won’t feel a thing. They will go on living an exciting life, travelling, seeing the world safely while you’re away. When this is all over we’ll place their memories of you back in their minds and it will be as though you were never gone.” Your teeth found the inside of your cheek again, gnawing relentlessly at the skin as you failed miserably to hold back a fresh set of tears. Remus squeezed the hand he held against his chest. “Let it out, Y/n. It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone,” he whispered, heart sinking lower when your bottom lip quivered and you let a rasped sob leave your body. With a deep sigh, Remus used the hand he was already holding as leverage to pull you into him, wasting no time he enveloped you in his arms, holding you securely as you cried against his chest. Admittedly, it felt good to let it out, Remus’ hand rubbed soothing circles against your heaving back and eventually, you didn’t know how long it had been, you calmed down, your tear ducts all dried out.

Remus held you in his arms for a while longer, even though you’d stopped crying, he could feel your body as it continued to shake. “I can’t promise you it will all be okay, but I can assure you that myself and Sirius, and everyone else for that matter, will be there for you at the drop of a hat; whatever you need,” he spoke against your hair.

“Whatever I need?” You echoed, the pit in your stomach ever growing.

“Of course,” he confirmed.

Remus startled slightly when you suddenly tore yourself away from him. As best you could in your awkward position, you turned to face him and grabbed his hands with as much urgency as he had done with yours. “I need you to do something for me,” Remus furrowed his brows in confusion, but nodded his head anyway.

“If anything happens to me… Don’t make them remember,” you instructed, maybe the request would’ve seemed radical if you had said it to anyone else, but you knew that Remus had experienced losses like no one else you knew, perhaps Harry came close but even his shortcomings couldn’t compare to Remus’. “It’d only cause them pain. If I die and they’re happily living none the wiser, leave them be, please,” the man let out a heavy sigh and took a moment to take you in. Your eyes were hard yet pleading, they left him no room to negotiate and he understood perfectly where you were coming from.

“Alright,” he agreed before raising his eyebrow and readjusting himself to get a better look at you, “However you should know; no matter what may come of this war, none of us will forget about you. In such a short time you’ve given us so much… you gave Harry his first friendship, a friendship that he cherishes more than anything in the world, I might add. You saved Sirius from death, my fiancé and Harry’s godfather. Mentoring you has given Cecillia a new lease of life and Molly Weasley one more child to knit jumpers for at Christmas,” he took a brief pause then went on, “For the sake of saving time I won’t even begin to tell you what you mean to the twins. My point is;” there was a melancholic type of smile on his face when he paused again, as if he was imagining what it would be like to remember you fondly if you did in fact die for the cause, “What you’re asking is incredibly selfless. And while your mother and father may not remember how wonderful you are, we all will.” Remus chuckled lowly when you shuffled your way back into his arms, squeezing his middle tightly. He slung his arm around your shoulders and delicately pressed his lips to the top of your head. You held so much love in your heart for the man who was currently cradling you in his arms. You debated telling him, you weren’t sure if it was entirely appropriate but after the speech he’d just given you couldn’t have cared less, “Remus?”

“Hm?”

“I love you,” you murmured, looking up at him innocently.

He offered you a toothy smile and breathed out a soft laugh, “I love you too.” With a content nod, you rested your head back against his chest, enjoying his soothing heartbeats against your ear. A melodic hum rumbled against your cheek, a quiet giggle left your mouth when you recognised the melody to the song he was humming. The tune of “Rhiannon” by Fleetwood Mac floated through the bathroom bringing a genuine smile to your lips. The werewolf’s humming was interrupted by another knock against the bathroom door, whoever was knocking didn’t wait for a response before entering the room. Sirius stepped in and quietly shut the door behind him. He didn’t question you and Remus' position in the bath but simply slid into the tub on the other side of you, sandwiching you between himself and Remus. The black haired man let out a heavy sigh and leaned his head back against the tiles.

“The mother hens downstairs are worrying up a storm,” he said in exasperation, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Tonks so riled up about someone’s safety. I tasked Molly with making you some hot chocolate to keep her occupied”

“Maybe I should go back down…” you muttered halfheartedly, begrudgingly peeling yourself away from Remus’ warm body.

Sirius gave you an apologetic look, “I held them off for as long as I could.”

“Thanks,” you whispered, bumping your shoulder to his, making him chuckle. After pulling yourself out of the bath, rather clumsily, you took a second to check yourself over in the mirror.

“You’re glowing, darling,” Sirius all but sang from behind you and you couldn’t stop the slight snort that escaped you.

“That’s one way to put it.”

“If you don’t believe me go on downstairs and ask George what he thinks,” Sirius teased, wiggling his eyebrows and receiving a light shove from his fiancé who couldn’t hide his grin.

“Leave her alone, love,” he chastised weakly, “You look perfectly fine, Y/n. Go downstairs and get something to drink, you need to rehydrate.” A bittersweet smile broke out on your lips, his fatherly tone simultaneously soothed you and left you yearning for what you were in the process of losing. Trying not to dwell on the sad fact, you left the bathroom and slowly descended the stairs.

As you assumed, the second you stepped back into the kitchen, Molly began to fret over you as if her life depended on it. Sipping on the hot chocolate she’d given you, you were reminded of how desperately tired you were. All the crying hadn’t helped ease the heaviness in your eyes either. Every bone in your body felt heavy for that matter, you were struggling to even hold your head up.

“You can lean against my shoulder if you’d like,” George’s voice broke you from your hazed state, you’d completely forgotten he was sitting beside you despite his leg that was pressed against yours beneath the table. You gave him a sleepy but grateful smile, as subtly as you could you scooched closer to the ginger and slotted yourself against his side, letting your head fall onto his shoulder. “Will you keep me awake until Harry and Cecillia get here?” You requested in a slurred murmur, your eyes fluttering between open and shut.

“Of course,” was all he said, he looked down at you adoringly, smiling like an idiot when you nuzzled into his shoulder, your nose rubbing against his neck. Try as he might, George couldn’t pull his eyes away from your drowsy face. “What do you propose we do?”

You shrugged your shoulders lightly, “Just talk.”

“How would you like your new room decorated?” He asked quietly, his head tilted down while he spoke to you, so you could hear him and so he wouldn’t ruin the lulled bubble you’d managed to obtain between you by talking too loudly. A sweet smile grew on your face, a smile that all but knocked all the breath out of George’s lungs when you angled your head to make eye contact.

“Can I have a double bed?” George snorted at your question and shook his head no.

“Nothing smaller than a king. What else?”

You pretended to ponder for a moment, “Can we paint it?” The ginger nodded, taking his bottom lip between his teeth.

“If you want to,” he started, almost sounding nervous, “We could paint it together?” Even in your sleep deprived state you hadn’t missed the vulnerability in his voice, it was the same vulnerability that you’d noticed when he’d asked you to go get a butterbeer with him a couple of months ago.

“I’d love that,” you told him, your answer causing his lips to twist into a pleased smile, “How do you feel about the colour green?”

Immediately, his smile dropped and he let out a disgusted scoff, “Green is a Slytherin colour.”

“You keep forgetting that I don’t get the whole house sorty thing,” you reminded him, not happy with his reasoning for hating your favourite colour. “Besides, I love green, it’s my favourite colour.” You told him truthfully. Not content with his disgruntled facial expression you began to defend your preference, “A lot of beautiful things are green; you’ve got grass, trees, emeralds- did you know that emeralds are really useful for enhancing psychic abilities? It also evokes clarity of thought,” you rambled, willing yourself to be quiet when you registered George’s fond expression.

The look of endearment aimed at you brought butterflies to life in your stomach, effectively waking you up somewhat.

“Do you have any emerald?” He asked, you assumed he was only feigning interest, you didn’t know that he could’ve listened to you go on and on about anything and everything for the rest of his life.

“No, not yet. I should probably get some though.” You said through a yawn. Your breath against his neck made him giggle, it was pure and unsuspecting but you took note of it. Everything about George Weasley felt like sunshine to you, his laugh filled your chest with warmth whenever you heard it, his eyes found yours like a lighthouse, guiding your lost mind back to the present each time your gazes connected. His voice, like his laugh, warmed you up when you were cold, giving you a reason to stay awake when you’d rather just slip away. In conjunction with the sun, even if you couldn’t physically see him, you never doubted that he was always there. As well as all of that, like your favourite tarot card; The Sun, he signified good things, hope that hard times will end with you on top, contentment and happiness. While your thoughts consisted of George’s similarities to the sun, his were consumed with the, in his mind, overwhelmingly cheesily romantic notion that you were the moon and the stars, he would’ve cringed if he didn’t wholeheartedly believe it. Everything that made the night sky magnificent was reflected in you. Like the stars, you were mysterious and captivating. Nothing seemed to compare to your glow or beauty, if you were to ask him what he preferred; you or the night sky on a clear night, he’d happily ignore a blank, starless sky in favour of simply staring at you as you went on tangent after tangent about crystals or tarot cards.

The pair of you were pulled from your musings when Harry rushed through the kitchen door looking unmistakably heartbroken, ever the empath when it came to his best friend, Harry’s heart sank the moment he laid eyes on your form, limp against George’s side. The second you saw him you all but ripped yourself from George’s side and the older redhead felt a surge of irrational jealousy begin to build in his chest at how fast you left his hold in favour of the chosen one. He knew it was ridiculous, he’d heard the way each of you respectively talked about each other, at this point you were practically siblings. But he supposed it was rational to be jealous when you liked someone the way he liked you.

Quickly, you crossed the room to Harry who had his arms already outstretched. He knew you were emotionally exhausted when you didn’t bear hug him. You meekly slid your arms beneath his open zip-up hoodie, tucked your head beneath his chin and didn’t say a word. “I shouldn’t bother asking if you’re okay then,” Harry muttered to himself, leaning his cheek against the top of your head and wrapping his lanky arms around your frame.

“Did Cecillia remember to bring Astra?” You asked, it was all you wanted to know about the night’s events.

“She’s in her cage in the living room, darling,” Cecilia said, walking into the room looking guilty.

“C’mon, let’s go have a chat,” Harry suggested, leading you out of the kitchen and upstairs to his unofficial room. Once inside the room you sat down on the edge of the bed, the blue duvet softly creasing beneath you. Harry plopped himself down beside you and offered you a gesture that was always saved for when either of you felt the other was on the edge of something dangerous. Your hands rested against your lap and he deftly slid his pinky over yours, intertwining your two littlest fingers. It was such a familiar experience; he’d done it when your grandparents died, when you’d cried over failed exams that you worked hard for, and in turn, you did it for him when he’d felt as though he had no place in the world, when he’d open up about his parents and when Cedric died and the ministry dragged his name through the mud you’d find your pinky tangled with his almost every night after he’d sneak over to your place after another nightmare or panic attack. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head, “Not tonight. I don’t want to cry anymore,” you croaked out, looking straight ahead of you at the grey painted wall.

“I understand,” he said, sighing and dropping his head onto your shoulder, “Let’s talk about something else then.”

“Like what, Haz?”

Harry snorted out a chuckle, “Like the way George looked like he wanted to hex me when you left him to come to me,” he teased, a smug lilt to his voice.

“He wasn’t teasing me, perhaps I’ll go back to him,” you grumbled, ignoring Harry’s childish giggles.

“Yeah you’d like that wouldn’t you?” You smacked his arm lightly with your free hand, doing a bad job of containing giggles of your own. “Don’t worry, since he’s going to be your new roommate there will be plenty of time for “oh George I’m so sleepy, please hold me until I fall asleep”,” you let out a cackle at Harry’s terrible impression of your voice, laying your cheek against his wild hair.

“That is so not what was going on, Haz,” you defended with a tiny smile.

Harry let out an airy, disbelieving chuckle, “Then what was going on?”

“He just said I could lean on him until you and Cecillia arrived and we just started chatting about how I wanna decorate my room,” you explained truthfully and Harry nodded.

“Riveting,” he mumbled sarcastically. Despite his snarky comment, the boy removed his head from your shoulder and pulled you against his chest. “Jokes aside, I’m glad you’re staying with him, I know he’ll look after you for me,” you rolled your eyes at the sentiment.

“I don’t need to be looked after,” you reminded him, looking up at him with a chastising smile.

He rolled his eyes right back at you, jostling you slightly in his arms, “No. But you like to be.”

You threw your head back in laughter, “Yeah, I suppose I do.” You did. You quite like both doting on people and being doted on, you’d grown up in an affectionate family so it was no wonder really.

“It’s getting late. We should get you settled into your new home,” Harry announced, pulling himself and you up from the bed, “I wasn’t going to say anything but you look terrible. You need sleep.”

“Thank you, Harry. Just what every girl wants to hear before moving in with her crush,” you joked, gently hitting your hip against his.

The kitchen was quiet when you returned, it seemed everyone had grown tired from the dramatic events of the evening.

“Ready to go then?” Fred asked, his coat already on and a handful of your bags in his hands.

“As I’ll ever be I suppose.”

After saying goodbye to everyone you, Fred and George traveled to their apartment by floo, to your dismay. The apartment was bare as they’d only just moved in but you could see it had lots of potential for becoming a cozy home for the twins.

As your first night in your new residence began, your aching eyes and tired mind didn’t leave you with any time to dwell on current events, the second your head made contact with the pillow you were out like a light. A dreamless slumber welcomed you for a while until your peace was broken by the all too familiar nightmare.

The first thing you recognised was the burn coming from your wrists. Shackles adorned them and effectively held your hands high above your head, stretching them uncomfortably. Goosebumps painted the expanse of your arms and legs, due to the freezing temperature in the nondescript cellar. A feeling of hopelessness planted firmly in your chest, the feeling only hightening when the familiar echo of footsteps, heavy and loud, drifted from the corridor outside of your field of vision. You knew who was approaching, you’ve lived this before, and so, you held your lip between your teeth and squeezed your eyes shut. The face of the dark wizard who always brought about your intense suffering was, for the most part, completely fuzzy, unrecognisable, featureless and bone-chillingly terrifying. You’d learned over the last two weeks of having this vision that it was less harrowing if you closed your eyes.

“I’ll ask you once more,” The voice was distorted, like it was being heard through a weedy radio, ominously unplaceable, “Where is he?”

You held no control over your voice, as was the norm during visions, as you felt and heard yourself reply, “I’ll tell you once more; I’d sooner die then sell him to you.” You felt your teeth gritting and your jaw clenching while you spoke. Jaw only tightening when the pointed tip of the wizard’s wand stabbed unforgivingly against the column of your neck.

“And die you will, my dear. But not yet-“ your eyes sealed themselves shut and you did your best to shake yourself out of the vision before what you knew was coming took place, as usual, your attempts were fruitless, “-Crucio.” Just like that your body was consumed by pain, the likes of which you’d never imagined possible, until you couldn’t even register yourself screaming anymore.

You bolted upright, clutching at the sheets of your new bed. Laboured breaths left your mouth and you aimlessly gripped at your neck, where the wand had been pressed, and let the tears spill freely. Momentarily disoriented, you’d forgotten where you were. Deep, heavy bursts of air left your mouth as you hastily scurried out of bed and towards the door. Somewhat aimlessly, you gravitated to the door across the hall. A yellow hue seeped from under the frame into the otherwise dark hallway. Light flooded the hall once you managed to fumble the handle down and pull the door ajar, a discombobulated ginger greeting you with half lidded eyes, obviously having been dozing off before you disturbed his peace.

“Sorry,” you rasped once your peace of mind returned to you and you realised where you were. Despite knowing that you shouldn’t have been standing numbly in his doorway, your feet seemed to be rooted in place, you couldn’t have walked away if you wanted to.

“S’alright,” George called out to you softly, sitting up in his bed, his back against the headboard. “You can come in, you know.”

Shutting the door behind you, you nervously shuffled into the room, stopping when you reached the side of his bed. George’s eyes roamed your face and he took notice of your still somewhat panicked expression, he drew his covers to the side and patted the empty space by his side. Something that always intrigued you was people’s preferred side of the bed, some people gravitated towards the left while others were more biased towards the right, but George Weasley? He slept right in the middle. The twin slept with a huge number of pillows, to the point where it was almost laughable, many of which you could only guess he’d smuggled from the Burrow.

Far too wound up to save face, you slid into his bed and didn’t shy away when he guided you into his side and tucked you tenderly beneath his lean arm. His embrace offered a greatly appreciated warmth as the chill of the dank dungeon always lingered long after the vision itself was over.

“What’re you doing up so late?” You asked, your voice gravelly. As you spoke, George effortlessly shuffled your body and his down so that your backs were resting on the mattress and not the headboard. Your head found it’s home against George’s shoulder and your hair was being tentatively twirled between his fingers.

“It’s our first night actually sleeping here. I couldn’t get to sleep,” he explained, his voice low and laced with fatigue. “I’m not really used to having my own room. It’s strange not hearing Freddie snoring or breathing.”

“I get that,” you whispered, “it’s quite comforting knowing for certain that someone is there with you.”

George nodded then. His eyes were glued to your face and he hadn’t even registered his own thought process before his lips were pressing delicately against your forehead. Today had appeared to be the day for laying all your cards out on the table, yourself and George hadn’t danced around your feelings for each other half as much as you usually did when you’d be in each other’s presence. Neither of you had the energy anymore, besides, if today’s events proved anything it was that; things were getting seriously messy as the war built momentum and it was clear that time was something that could very well be running out.

“Yeah,” he regarded you carefully, a little grin growing on his lips, “It is.”

A comfortable silence overtook the room. George’s twirling of your hair never ceased, every now and then his fingers would ghost over your shoulder and you’d catch yourself smiling against the cotton of his shirt as your eyes grew tired enough that they were close to falling shut.

Just as you were working up the motivation to lift yourself up and trudge back to your own bed, George spoke, “You can sleep here if you want, with me,” there was that innocent vulnerability again. There was never an ulterior motive when it came to him, he did things purely for the sake of making others happy, if he felt he could make a difference he simply needed to. Especially when it came to you, he realised.

“You don’t mind?” You asked, daring to peek up at him.

“Course not. I could use some company anyway.” He reassured you, his lips returning to your forehead, only this time the action held far more intention. “You don’t snore do you, love?”

You snorted out a giggle, looking up at the ginger cheekily, mischief dripping from your little grin that forced George’s heart to stutter rather violently and he hoped you hadn’t noticed. “No. But I drool.”

George’s face contorted, his nose scrunching up adorably in disgust, “Do you really?”

“Suppose you’ll have to find out, won’t you?” You teased and he sighed deeply, his disgruntled expression melting into a soft, adoring smile.

“I should’ve expected this, I knew you couldn’t have been completely perfect,” he said, mockingly sorrowful.

You scoffed, pushing his chest lightly, “You’re doing a lot of sweet talking tonight, Mr. Weasley,” you told him and he shrugged innocently.

“Just wanted to see you smiling again, darling.”

“Yeah, well, you’re doing a good job,” you assured him, the bashful yet tired smile that stretched your lips as you gazed up at him proved that you meant what you’d just said. “I like it by the way, the sweet talking.”

At your words, a huge, shit eating smirk grew on the boy’s freckled face. He managed to rearrange your bodies so that you were still tucked under his arm but you were now facing each other at eye level. “I knew it,” he proclaimed cockily.

You raised a challenging eyebrow, biting back a smirk, “Oh did you?”

George nodded pridefully, “‘Course I did. You see, I’m a little bit psychic,” his words forced a booming laugh from your lips, your cheeks hurting from the smile he’d orchestrated.

You shook your head, smile never dulling as you let out a chastising whisper, “oh sod off.”

“I love your smile,” he said suddenly, his eyes widened in horror when he realised he’d uttered the words out loud. The world could’ve stopped in that moment and you wouldn’t have noticed, all you could take in was George’s face, his eyes searching yours for something.

Carefully, you slid from hand from his chest to his red, blushing face. You cupped his cheek gently, moving your thumb against his cheek bone, almost swooning where you lay when he nuzzled against your touch. Working up some Gryffindor courage, George mimicked your movement, removing his arm from around your shoulder and bringing his palm to rest against the curve of your jaw.

As you stared at each other, you weighed up the pros and cons of telling him that you were completely head over heels for him. Your decision, apparently taking far too long, was made for you when George tugged you impossibly closer to him.

“I wasn’t going to tell you… you’ve had so much going on I didn’t want to overwhelm you,” he said, brown eyes boring into your soul.

“Tell me what?”

He took a deep breath, preparing himself for every possible outcome that may spring once the words on the tip of his tongue are spoken aloud, “That I love you.”

[ellana-ravenwood]

“My fake boyfriend is a billionaire ?!” - Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader

Synopsis : After a few shitty weeks of everything going wrong, you somehow find yourself faking a relationship with the one and only Bruce Wayne. 

That’s it. I did it. After 3 years posting stories on this platform, I finally succumb to one of the biggest fanfiction cliché of all time haha. The infamous fake boyfriend trope. And I really hope you will like it : 

My masterlist : @ella-ravenwood-archives

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The Gap Year of Disaster

Today, you were an utter mess, and you couldn’t care less.

You know, this kind of days where you wish you would just have stayed in bed ?

Where everything goes wrong and you just want to hide under your blanket and pretend you don't have any responsibilities ?

Well today…Today was most definitely this kind of day.

It was suppose to be your first day at an exciting new job and you were so psyched about it, that you hadn’t been able to sleep all night. 

You finally fell into a deep slumber during the very early hours of the day, and…

Of course you woke up late ! You didn't have time to take a shower, or to do your make-up nicely or even to brush your hair. But worst of all you didn't have time to get coffee !

When you got out with your bike….it was pouring outside. Ah but of course, because when one thing goes wrong everything has to follow. Everything WILL go wrong. Murphy's law or some stupid things like that !

It's in those moments you wish you had a car ! Because when it rained in Gotham…It felt like Noah was ordered to built another ark !

So, sleep deprived, soaked, in a bad mood and looking like a mess, you managed, by some miracle, to arrive at your job on time.

Only to discover that this wasn’t at all what you were expecting. It was NOT what was promised to you, which was experience in an exciting workplace and a way to make the most of it. 

Instead, it was a desk job where you ran errand for everyone. Amazing. 

This was supposed to be your first try at “real life”, this was why you took that gap year from college. 

“I want to find myself, find who I really am !” You told everyone around you, ignoring those who were negative and telling you you should finish your study first. 

Now, as you were stuck in a tiny cubicle with an endless list of coffee orders you had to get for everyone else, you felt like maybe they were right, and that this wasn’t quite the way you were going to “find yourself”. 

Then again, wasn’t it through hardship that this sort of things unlocked ? Wasn’t it with great determination and knowing how it was to struggle, that you were going to thrive ? That’s what they said in TED talks dedicated to “success”...

So far in your life, things had been rather normal. Not particularly easy, but not hard either. You grew up in a small town in New Jersey, no troubles on the horizon. You then moved to Gotham for college as you had a scholarship for Gotham’s University, and as you were about to start your third year you sort of questioned wether or not this was your path...

One of your favorite professor told you to maybe take a gap year. A few semesters off, to think things through. Taking advantage of it to do some soul searching and try to know what you really wanted and...It sounded wonderful ! 

That’s when you started to have job interviews in many different fields, and it took you three months to finally find something. Three very stressful months of wondering how long you could live off of your measly savings, and wether or not you’d have to move back in with your parents (anything but that !)...Not a very good start to that gap year for sure. 

And when you landed what you thought was going to be a great job, things definitely were looking up ! Ah, but the fact that you were chosen while you had NO experience and such, should’ve been your first warning that this was too good to be true. 

You were trying to stay positive though. Maybe it was only for the first day ? Maybe their coffee person was sick or something ? It’d get more interesting later ? Yes. Yes let’s keep a positive outlook on everything. 

Except right now, as your entire morning was made of you walking up and down the building (the elevator was not working, but of course), to the coffee shop at the corner of the street, and bringing back orders for people, you didn’t feel in the mood to try and stay cheery. 

And the worst in all that ? You didn't even get ONE cup for yourself…This “real life” thing was not starting very well. 

And so here you were, during your lunch break, looking like a mess, bag under your eyes and still wet from the rain (your trips up and down the street for coffee runs not helping drying yourself off), your morale at its lowest..And…

"That'll be 3 dollars and 50 cents for the large latte with triple espresso shot, m'am."

Catastrophe. 

Proof that things could ALWAYS get worst. 

As you were looking through your bag, you couldn't find your wallet !

Did you leave it at home ?! Maybe. 

People at your work gave you the money to buy them coffee (and not a single tips, bunch of cheapskates). And you didn’t notice you were missing that oh so essential part of your daily life...Your credit card. Or any type of money. 

Damn it ! 

“Um, excuse me miss, that’s 3,50 please ?”

“Oh yes yes, um, you know what I just-” 

“Here, miss, you dropped this.” 

As you were about to explain that in fact, you didn’t need coffee (even if when you asked for it you might’ve mentioned it being a question of “life or death”), too embarrass to admit you didn’t have the money to buy it, a...very handsome man handed you a twenty dollars bill. 

You were a hundred percent sure this wasn’t yours. You never carry lose cash like this. A quick look to his kind deep blue eyes, and soft smile, and you realize...

Oh. Great. A total (very handsome) stranger took pity of you. 

You probably looked even worst than you felt. You were about to say this was a mistake, but before you could, he gave the bill to the barista, and left with a last smile to you, taking his own cup of coffee away with him. 

Damn. You didn’t have time to say “thank you”. He vanished as fast as he appeared, disappearing in the crowd of the busy coffee shop. 

“Here’s your change, m’am.” 

“Ah you know what ? Keep it buddy. Thanks for the coffee.” 

“Wow, thanks !” 

You were pretty sure that barista never had such a big tip, and it oddly made you feel better, to make someone else’s day like that. Your grandma did always say that you found true joy from helping others...

Oh, yeah, ok, you just helped someone out, why was the universe so angry at you ?! 

As you turned around and started to leave, almost at the exist of the shop, mood a little better after this nice encounter with a (again, handsome) stranger, and the barista, you see him. 

Him. One of the reason you sort of decided to take a gap year. 

Him. 

Your ex-boyfriend, Eric, who cheated on you with your friend Monica. Needless to say, it wasn’t a good memory. And you hadn’t seen neither him nor her since you left college, especially not since you heard they actually got together. 

Your FRIEND. With your BOYFRIEND. And it went on for a while, before you finally discovered it (that day was as shitty as today...). 

Oh. And of course Eric wasn’t alone. She, was there too. The one you thought was your friend, and who stabbed you in the back like that. Both of them discarding you like a dirty old sock. 

Great. Really. Awesome. This day was going from “bad” to “please kill me.” 

“(Y/N) !” 

He looks surprised to see you, although also a little pleased. And it makes you want to punch him in the face. You don’t care if it’s because he wished things ended another way, they both betrayed your truth and then never even tried to talk to you again afterward. 

You’re not sure you would’ve forgave them, but at least, it would’ve shown they still cared about you in a way. Nobody chooses who they’re going to fall in love with (that, you’d soon discover for yourself). But she was your best friend. And he was with you for over a year. 

She’s a little more awkward than him, and smiles, clearly embarrassed. You always knew she was a bit of a coward, if she wasn’t, she would’ve face you, right ? 

And that’s when it happened. The decision that would forever change your life.

In this great moment filled with despair and awkwardness.

From the corner of your eyes, you saw that nice stranger who paid for your coffee. The handsome one. He didn’t leave the shop, but instead went to seat at a table that was a little further away than the rest of them. 

His eyes were glued to his phone, and you thought : “Well, fuck it, all this can’t get any worst right ?”

You were sort of hoping that, since he had been nice with you once and offered you those twenty dollars without knowing you (although you were very aware it was probably just pity), maybe he could help again ? 

Maybe it was the fatigue, the fact you were getting sadder and sadder, that you had a terrible day, and that you just saw two people you loved and who threw you away like you meant nothing (oh but not before being super fake to you, pretending they WEREN’T cheating behind your back)...maybe it was a combination of all of that, that made you act crazy. 

But here you found yourself, sitting at that stranger’s table, and saying, as he looked up from his phone clearly surprised : 

“How are you guys ? As you can see, I’m great.” 

You don’t dare to look at the handsome stranger, and hope he’ll be too stunned to say anything, and you can make your ex-friend and ex-boyfriend feel embarrass enough they’ll leave quickly. But then Monica says something that makes your heart skip multiple beats : 

“You...You know Bruce Wayne ?!” 

You turn to the man who gracefully paid for your coffee, and your eyes go wide. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK. How did you NOT recognize him ?! Of course. Chiseled face, beautiful blue eyes, a suit that was definitely worth your entire year’s salary, a very charming aura...

Your hazy mind full of “fuck this day” didn’t register that THE Bruce Wayne, was the one who helped you out. How did you miss that ? His face had been plastered everywhere in Gotham for the past year, since he came back to the city, in fact. 

You hear yourself wish with all your might to be struck by lightning this instant, as the two assholes who hurt you so much are looking at you expectantly and are not about to live (of course, they just met celebrity BRUCE WAYNE !! Could someone be as unlucky as you were today ?!)

And that’s when you hear a chuckle, a beautiful deep chuckle, and finally turn to look at Bruce. He smiles at you, and takes your hand, saying : 

“Honey, who are your friends ?” 

Your brain go full “ERROR 404″, not quite able to grasp the fact that THE Bruce Wayne just ran with what you were trying to do. How ? How was this possible ? You initially went to sit with him in the hope that Eric and Monica would see you were totally ok and with a hot date, not quite sure still yet how you ever thought this was a good idea and...

It was turning out alright ?! 

HOW ?! 

“Oh um, I’m..Eric. And this is my gir...This is Monica.” 

What a piece of shit. Not even brave enough to call her his “girlfriend” when he cheated on you with her for months and months. You glare at him, unable to stop this gut reaction. 

And that’s something Bruce caught. 

In fact, as soon as you sat down, avoiding looking at him and nervously looking at those two people, Bruce sort of knew you were in an uncomfortable situation. One that made you take an irrational decision. 

And oh, he didn’t like the look Eric and Monica gave you. Like they felt superior as they caught you in a bad moment. Bruce hated, people who thought they were superior to others... 

And you clearly seemed in distress and in need of help so...He ran with it. 

Bruce had to pretend to be someone he wasn’t enough that it felt natural, to run along with what your hazy mind thought was a good idea. 

“Nice to meet you, are you friends with-” 

Damn it. He realized he didn’t know your name. Quick thinking saved him, and he managed to keep his tone even, as to hide his hesitation : 

“My love ?” 

His hand around yours felt warm and reassuring, and you still couldn’t believe that, not only a total stranger, but THE Bruce Wayne was helping you out like that. Especially after you had such a bad day. 

Him calling you his “love” made your exes feel very awkward, and they shake their head “no”, suddenly pretending they’re very busy and have to meet up with someone. They leave the coffee shop, clearly stunned, whispering things to each others that you knew were probably : “how did she get a guy like him ?!”

You can’t help but glare at them some more...But then your hand feels cold again, and you realize Bruce let go off it. Well. Duh. Of course he would. 

You turn to him, your feature softening, and say : 

“Are you an angel ?” 

Ah yes. Your defense mechanism. “Humor”. 

He chuckles, and says : 

“Well, I’m afraid not. My butler would think this is very funny. But thank you.” 

Awkwardly, you rub your neck, your free hand nervously turning your cup of coffee clockwise in your palm. You don’t really know how to end this, what : “thanks for that” and leave ? 

“Thanks for the coffee. And for um...Saving my ass, just there.” 

He smiles, and wow hello white teeth and charming dimples ?! 

“You’re very welcome. They looked like they were jerks.” 

“Haha oh you have no idea.” 

“Glad I could help.” 

“Thanks again. Really. This means a lot, especially since we don’t know each others. Well, I know you. Everyone in Gotham does haha. And ok I’m going to leave now, my lunch break is almost over and I don’t want to make this even more awkward.” 

You start to rise up, but he holds you back by catching your sleeve, and says : 

“Actually miss…?”

“(Y/L/N). (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“Miss (Y/L/N), you are kind of saving my life right now.”

“…I am ?”

A flash blinds you. Not a lightning, a camera flash. You turn, just in time to see a guy hastily hiding a camera and running away. 

“What the...” 

“A paparazzi. Good timing, for once.” 

“Huh ?” 

You wish you had some witty come back, or would just know what to say. But you’re confused. And this has been a really weird day. 

“I am sorry if this will seem forward, or like I helped you wanting something in exchange. But I promise I will make it worth your while if you just sit back down and listen to me for a few minutes.” 

You sit back down. More because you’re unsure your leg can still support you in this moment, than because he asked you to. With a smile he continues : 

“Thank you. So. Let me explain a little, and again, sorry if this is too forward. If you don’t want to help of course, I would understand. I’m about to ask you something rather odd, I guess. And I’ll clear things up with paparazzis. I also promise I did not help you with your “friends”-”

“They’re not my friends.” 

“I figured that much. And I promise I didn’t help you with them and ran with whatever you were trying, just so I could ask you this.” 

“Ask me what ?” 

“Well, you see…it’s arranged marriage season.”

“What ?”

“Every year, every single rich family try to make me marry their single daughters. It’s a very tiring season, but I’ve never been able to avoid it…I thought about having a fake fiancee before but could never find the right person.”

What he says does not register with you. His clear proposal doesn’t hit your brain. And you just stare at him, waiting for him to keep going. But he doesn’t, and by the way he looks at you, you slowly starts to understand where he’s getting at. 

You gasp, now pretty sure this is all a dream (or a nightmare) and say : 

“And I’m the right person ?”

“Well, yes. You seem to be a...“normal” person.”

“…Thanks.”

“In that case it’s good. It’s very good. It means that if I’m dating you, a woman that has nothing to bring me, then it must be true love.”

“Wow, stop with the flatteries already mister Wayne, I can’t handle it…”

Ah, your slight wits are back. Good sign that you’re regaining your senses. Everything that happened in the last ten minutes still feel like a bad dream, but you’re back in reality now. 

“No no no, I didn’t mean it in a demeaning way ! But it’s just, you’re not rich, and you’re not famous or have political ties. You’re just a regular person. So they won’t think I’m trying to trick them, even if I am, do you know what I mean ?”

“Gotcha. My broke ass person cannot bring you any value, so it must be love and not just an arranged thing they can break. Cool.”

There’s a slight silence. And you find it a little fun, to play a little bit with the famous Bruce Wayne. He seemed so confident and cocky on TV, you never thought you’d be able to make him look so guilty. 

“I’m sorry if I offended you.”

He says, clearly meaning it. But you shake your head and smile at him (and oh why does he feel his heart tightening slightly at your smile ?), and reassure him instantly (you feel a little bad, actually, to mess with him while he did just really do a huge favor to you while he had no obligations to) : 

“Haha, just messin’ around with ya Mster Wayne. I’m not bothered by it, it’s the truth. I’m really broke, and I don’t think you could find more “regular” than me right now. So, and because you really did save my ass from an extremely displeasing experience back there. And also because you allowed me to see those assholes’ face of surprise and “how did she manage that ?!”, tell me more about your plan, and let’s see if I can help you back.”

And so Bruce starts to explain to you how, every year, this beginning of Fall is the worst time ever, as it’s a moment where everyone seems to want to marry off their daughter. And of course, Bruce Wayne is a good “party”. 

The plan was fairly simple. You’d fake a relationship with him, so he could avoid all of this, and in exchange...Well. You’d gain a lot in exchange. 

This is how you started to really feel like you had fallen into a “romcom” by accident...You and Bruce, became an actual living trope. 

************

“And then when the “marrying season” is done, you can break it off.”

“I ?”

“Well yes, I can assure you you’ll gain quite a rep if you break up with me haha.”

You raise an eyebrow, unsure you like that sort-of overly confident side of him. But you can see something behind his eyes, like a slight unsureness as he looks back at you, trying to see if you’ll agree or not.

“I don’t really need a “reputation”.”

Breaking up with THE Bruce Wayne himself. For sure people would talk about it a lot, and maybe it would help open some doors for you ? But you felt a little odd taking advantage of this like that. 

Seeing that he hadn’t convinced you quite yet, he adds : 

“Of course, I will pay you.” 

What kind of Pretty Woman sort of nonsense was this ?! You were about to protest when he added, realizing how he sounded : 

“I mean, you ARE doing me a great service. You ARE going to have to act, you know ? An...actual job ? And I will be honest with you, it won’t be easy, to find yourself in the public eye. I think it definitely justify a salary.” 

Put that way, you had to admit that, well, yeah it sort of did. Especially since you knew how crazy tabloids were about Bruce Wayne. Becoming his “girlfriend” would definitely put you on the front lines. 

“And it would truly help me tremendously.” 

Your grandma always said it : “True joy comes out from helping others !” So. What if you benefit from it a little ? If it helps you financially, and you can get a little network out of it ? First rule of Alchemy (what a weeb) : “equivalent exchange” ! Plus, he did really help you with your coffee, but also with Eric and Monica so...

And hey, this gap year was meant to help you find what and who you wanted to be. Help you go through this little twenty-something crisis. And this ? Living a literal romantic comedy cliche by faking being someone’s girlfriend ? Well, it definitely felt like the kind of adventure that could help you figure things out.  

With a smile, you finally nod and shake his hand, not knowing quite yet in which mess you actually put yourself into...

Briefing. 

Like every “secret mission”, this one too needed a “briefing”. 

A little meeting to put all the rules down, and the goals too. 

And here you were, feeling very out of place in a huge conference room in the biggest and tallest building in Gotham : “Wayne Tower”.  

The concierge stared at you for a very long time, when you said you were there to see Mister Wayne. No “nobody” like you ever called for his boss. 

Suspicious, as it was his job, he called security on you...Until it was finally cleared up that you DID have a meeting with Bruce Wayne ! 

Both the concierge, and the security guys, stared at you as you left to take the elevators they indicated to you, wondering who the hell had the kind of credentials to go all the way up there to see their boss ?! They didn’t recognize you from anywhere, not a model, not a famous politician or CEO, just...A regular person ? 

That was odd. And they noticed, it was odd. Which you assumed was what Bruce was aiming for, but it felt so awkward, to walk through this huge hall under their scrutiny. 

You finally arrived on the right floor, and oh look, some more staring. 

From his secretary, this time. She was used to see women coming to see her boss. But they’d usually wear Prada, and have plunging necklines full of pearls and fanciness. They weren’t...like you. 

You felt like it was easy, to know that you were just a “normal” person. You were definitely not wearing any designer clothes, and you were pretty sure the way you carried yourself made you super obvious. 

Hence all the staring. You could clearly see in her eyes, that she was wondering who the hell you were... 

She had her answer when Bruce came out of his office, and made a gesture as if he was going to throw his arm around your waist, and kiss you (which made you downright panic). But then, he looked awkwardly at his secretary, and instead just shook your hand. 

Something that DID NOT go unnoticed by his secretary. 

You saw how her eyes widen, and how she clearly hitched to take her phone out and call everyone...and you realized Bruce did this awkward thing because he knew his secretary, and her tendency to be a little gossipy. 

You’d discover later, in fact, that he hired her entirely because he knew if he said something, she would pick up on it and it would help him control rumors and such. Clever. 

For the moment though, he took you to a large conference room with huge windows. 

“I’m sorry for the weird “hello” back there, I wanted Shirley to think I was embarrassed to display affection to you in front of her. Usually, I do not mind at all. So doing it would make her think that-”

“I’m someone special to you.” 

“Exactly !” 

He smiles widely as you understood his plan (not sure how you felt about it, then again, that’s why you were here for, making sure you knew where both of you stood in all this), and then tells you he’ll be back in a few minutes. 

You have time to feel anxious and stressed before he finally comes back. 

“Sorry for the wait.” 

“Oh no, I bet you’re a busy man.” 

“Yes well. Anyway. Let’s get to it shall we ?” 

“Yes.” 

“Ok. So. I thought we’d settle sort of a little contract, so neither of us ever feel uncomfortable ?” 

“Sounds good, mister Wayne.” 

“Yes well first, please call me Bruce.” 

“Only if you call me (Y/N).” 

Oh and you two were still on the path of “romcom cliches”, with this conversation. He smiles, nods, and continues : 

“Ok, then I thought we could-” 

And so your fake relationship started, with some little ground rules. Like he could only kiss you after you gave him permission, if you ever felt overwhelmed everything would be called off, etc etc. 

Most rules were in your favor, to be honest. And WOW the paycheck he was going to give you for this little farce...Hey, maybe this gap year was finally gonna get interesting ?

Meeting the Little Buddy. 

It was sort of necessary. By then, Dick had been his son, officially, for a few months. He wasn’t calling him “dad” yet (and Bruce didn’t particularly want him to, at the time...ah but everything change one day, right ?), but they were already family. 

And it was a needed step. 

It wasn’t in the little “contract” you made, and honestly you could’ve refused to meet him but...Well, you liked kids. In another life, it felt like you could’ve been a teacher (A/N : AH, like in this story ;) : “Can you be my dad’s girlfriend, please ?” ). 

And you’d feel awkward, to fake a relationship and not ever meet his boy. 

The first time he saw you, it was at the Wayne Tower, and his eyes widened as he exclaimed : 

“Wow you’re so pretty ! Are you Bruce’s girlfriend ? You’re too good for him, you know.” 

You could feel your heart melt, how adorable this little guy was, right ? You chuckled, and almost full on laughed as you saw how vexed Bruce was by the comment. 

Not that he thought he was too good for you, no, he was just a little unhappy his son was stealing the show, and thought he couldn’t land someone like you...Oh but that, you couldn’t guess at the time, of course. 

“Nice to meet you, Dick. I’m (Y/N). And...I’m not really his girlfriend.” 

“Can you be mine then ?” 

You laugh again. You and Bruce had decided to tell him the truth, Bruce assuring you that kid was good at pretending too. You answer : 

“No, I’m saving him from marriage proposal.” 

“Oooooh !” 

Good at pretending. Dick had no idea what you were on about, but he was very good at acting as if he knew. 

It’s only way later, that he finally got it. By then, he already accepted you as : “his dad’s girlfriend”, and even knowing the truth, there was no way to change his mind. And to be honest, out of everyone, little Dick Grayson was probably the most aware of what the situation truly was. 

He had a knack, to notice how people felt. 

A “family” outing.

Two months in, and it was going GREAT. Faking a relationship was actually pretty easy. All you had to do was hanging out with him (and he was very nice to hang out with), and when a paparazzi was around, quickly kiss his cheek, or hold his hand, or let him put his hand in your hair...All those cute things new couples do. 

Today was one such small date. 

You could see Bruce was nervous, though.

After hanging around with him that many times, you started to know him a little better. Started to know he wasn’t really that persona he portrayed publicly.

He was actually quite a dork. What a pity, nobody else would ever know his real self...Yet, it made you happy you were one of the few in on the secret.

“Ok, out with it mister, what’s up ?”

He looks at you with such surprise in his eyes, as if it was the first time someone guessed what he was feeling...and, well, yes. It was. It was the first time someone who wasn’t Alfred got it. Someone realized something was on his mind. And asked him about it, didn't just ignore and move on. Actually cared to know. 

“I-Um...”

“Well ? Come on, I think literally nothing can surprise me by now, given you know, I’m faking a relationship with a billionaire, and it’s like, my job now.”

He smiles, and he couldn't possibly know how soft his look was, as he gazed at you.

“I...well, people don’t quite believe in us because-”

“WHAT ?! With all the “dates” and kisses and lovey dovey shit we did ?!”

He chuckles at your reaction, loving how honest you always were, and adds :

“The problem apparently is that you weren’t seen with my son yet, so many don’t believe we’re serious.”

“Oh...”

You met Dick. Because it felt like a necessary step to yours and Bruce’s scheme. And you knew he knew this was all fake...But neither of you wanted to confuse the boy in any way so he was kept mostly out of the plan.

“I talked to him, and it’s actually really up to wether you’re comfortable with it or not. I know he wasn’t part of our contract, and I should’ve probably thought about it, I’m sorry. But um...If you’re ok with it, we could..Do things with him, too ?”

Bruce is really nervous; And you’re pretty sure no one but you (and maybe Alfred) ever saw him like that. It’s kind of...sweet. But you let the silence linger for too long and he hurries to say :

“You really don’t have to ! It’s ok if they don’t think we’re that serious and I get some proposals. I can manage ! You’re still a great help right now. It was just an idea. Dick is a very social kid, he would go along with anything and loves to do activities outside. He would be fine. But if you’re not then we can-”

“No. No no it’s...It’s ok Bruce. The few time I saw him, Dick did seem absolutely a peach to be around. And I always have fun with you, so sure, let’s organize a little something and show those bastards we’re totally real.”

You chuckle a little, your smile and carefree face making his heart skip a beat, for some reasons...Bruce also decided to ignore how happy it made him, to know you were always glad to be with him, and instead, he smiled and settled a date.

************

And here you were. In one of Gotham’s biggest park, opening a basket full of delicious sandwiches made by the one and only Alfred. Pretending to have a great family outing.

“Hey, hey look !”

Dick was absolutely amazing, at acting as if you were really a thing. As if you were really a “family”. Right now, he was doing flips and cartwheels, demanding your attention with avidity.

Bruce made sure to always hide his face from pictures (he was GREAT at noticing where paparazzis were hiding, a life of practice, you assumed), as he wanted to keep as much as he could his son’s privacy (especially after he made all the headlines when he lost his parents).

It was quite adorable. And...You were really having fun.

Dick was such a lively kid, and he was full of talents. The food was good, and it was so comfortable around Bruce. It felt so natural.

This wasn't all that bad. To fake being a family. A good use of your gap year, really. 

You purposefully decided to ignore the glint in the boy’s eyes. The way you sort of suspected for him, this was getting real, and not only pretend.

You and Bruce purposefully ignored it, actually. And you both felt shitty for it. Because not only were you risking to break that little boy’s heart when it was all over but...It was too hard to accept that maybe, maybe he was right.

And that all of this ? Might’ve not been as fake as you’d love to repeat yourself.

First Official outing. 

First gala. You were terrified. So far all you had to do was hang out with Bruce in the afternoon, there and there. It mainly consisted in him buying you coffee, and keeping the addiction to caffeine real, while talking about anything that would come to your mind. The conversations between you two was always fluid and pleasant. 

Or you’d go out with him and Dick, to do some fun things like mini-golf or catching a movie. Nothing too big and scary. It was mainly just you guys, no one else. 

It seemed like he knew where the paparazzis would be (most likely because he was “anonymously” tipping them off himself), and he’d take you on random short dates when he had time in between his work, slowly fueling the rumors Bruce was not a heart to steal anymore. 

And that he was dating a “commoner” ! (He hated this name for you, while you really didn’t mind that much). 

And this gala, was what made it completely official. Finally. It was your idea, to take things “slow”, and hang out with him and his son BEFORE hanging out in public areas like this. 

It was clever, really. To make it seems like you were trying to “hide” your relationship by being low-key, to then finally announce everything in public like that, at such an event. 

Bruce went to get a drink for the both of you, and you were looking around you, horrified at the mere idea that someone would come talk to you. 

But for some reasons, nobody seemed to dare. Maybe Bruce made sure that people would leave you alone ? Even as if you were clearly the talk of the evening, all eyes on you, and not even trying to be subtle ? 

You knew he did the same with little Dickie. That he made sure he was safe from the paparazzi and that no unsolicited journalist would come around him.

Thinking of it, where was the little one ? Usually, according to Bruce, whenever there was a gala he would spend his entire time near the food table, eating as much as he could, and he would come home feeling nauseous because of it...Haha sounded like Dick alright. That kid was so-

Oh oh.

Who was that sleazy looking gal talking to him ? He seemed so uncomfortable, yet too polite to brush her off...Oh no, she wasn’t one of them, was she ?

Without thinking twice about it, wether it was your place to do what you were about to do or not, you resolutely walked towards them.

“-Think it’s because he relates to you ? As both of you lost your parents in horrific situations, you know ?”

“I-I don’t know m’am.”

When you saw Dick’s distressed face, and his eyes slowly filling with tears, there was no doubt in your mind.

This woman was not supposed to be there, and was definitely not supposed to talk to that child...

This woman was a - shiver of disgust- tabloid journalist.

Your blood boiled as you saw her take a picture of the teary eyed Dickie, and you were standing protectively in front of him before you could even think about it. When you felt the boy clutch to your sleeve, hiding behind you and holding on for dear life, you knew you wouldn’t regret it.

“Can I ask you why you’re talking to that boy, please ?”

“What, it’s illegal to talk to fellow guests now ?”

“Lady, you’re well in your thirties. He’s eight. You have no right talking to him. Not only is it weird, but I know what you’re doing.”

“Oh, and pray tell, what am I doing, lovey ?” 

“You’re trying to get a story out of him. And you should be ashamed of yourself. He’s eight ! And from what I heard, you were asking some very disgusting things back there !” 

“I-”

“Shut up.”

Your words came out harsh and determined, and the woman was so shocked she stayed silent for a while. You crouch down to Dick’s level, and ask : 

“Are you ok, my little buddy ?” 

He nods weakly, and then burst into tears as he launches himself in your arms, clinging to you tightly. You turn your head towards the woman, glaring at her so fiercely she doesn’t dare to take a picture of the scene, even as she knows she could sell them for a golden price. 

“You should be ashamed of yourself. He’s just a child !” 

The woman was about to say something else, something you knew would fuel your anger further, when Bruce arrived, and it was clear from his face that he was not happy. 

A quick look to you holding his crying son in your arms, and to the lady with the camera in her hands, and he understand what happened. With a cold voice you never heard him use before, he says : 

“I suggest you leave the area now, before I force you to.” 

There was something almost scary, in his demeanor. Almost like...No. Impossible. In any case, you didn’t worry about it much, drawing soothing circles with your hand on Dick’s back, trying to calm him. 

People around quickly stopped staring as they met Bruce’s assassin glare. It was not secret, that he was very protective of his son. And of his new girlfriend, apparently. 

You picked the little boy in your arms (Dick, at the time, was still so tiny), and Bruce comes closer, trying to soothe him too. And it really looked like all this was real...

Dick fell asleep in Bruce’s arms shortly after that, and was still there when it was time for the gala official pictures. Not wanting to wake him up, for once, Bruce allowed people to photograph the boy, as long as they did not frame his face. 

He laid his free hand on the small of your back, and just like you got used to those past months, you pretend to be head over heels for him and have one of your own arm around his waist.  

“Would you please allow me to kiss you on the cheek, for the cameras ?”

His question is so sweet, softly whispered in your ears. And you felt like a tease tonight, and maybe a little tipsy too. You tell him : 

“On the cheek only ? Let’s give them a show no ? Let them forget about what happened with Dick.”

Of course, you’re only joking, but there’s a light in Bruce’s eyes you haven’t seen before and...It disappears quickly. He chuckles, of that low chuckles that would charm anyone in the world, and says :

“I don’t want to force you to do anything you wouldn’t want to. Actually kissing me, I realize, might be too much.”

You know he caught on your joke, but you can’t brush off that light in his eyes that ignited when you suggested to kiss him...You don’t know why, and it feels you’re not controlling your own words, as you hear yourself say :

“Oh because kissing you would be such a horrible thing wouldn’t it ? Oh my, you’re only one of the handsomest man in Gotham, a rather attractive fella, how could I handle kissing you ? So disgusting !”

Your tone is teasing, and a little bit challenging. He catches on that, too. He answers : 

“But I am merely here to serve. I will do as you wish. You only have to say the words.” 

His smile fills your vision. His face. And the way he softly holds your waist, even as his other arms is carrying his son (the man was BUILT). And you think...Well, fuck it ! It was time for the first (fake) kiss, right ? 

Right here, in front of the cameras, where everyone was seeing you. Making it go full circle. Making it “official”. 

“Kiss me then, if you dare.” 

You simply say. Releasing a breath you were unaware you were keeping in. And he feels his heart squeeze, and as if he’s sweating a bit. When was the last time he was nervous about kissing a woman ? 

He couldn’t remember. 

And then he kisses you, the flashes of cameras slowly fading away as his lips melt onto yours. 

Wow. What a perfect, and nice, first kiss. 

As fake as it might be.

Your room. 

Your room at Wayne Manor was bigger than your entire apartment. 

You and Bruce decided that sometimes, so you wouldn’t raise any suspicion, you’d sleep at the Manor. Paparazzi were so on top of everything, it would seem weird if he was in a “committed relationship” and you never slept at his place. 

So Alfred settled a room for you. 

Oh. Alfred ! You met him not long ago, and he was the best ! 

It felt like he could magically guess what you wanted when you wanted it, and magically appeared with that warm cup of tea you craved, or that meal you’ve been thinking about all day. 

But beyond that, he was genuinely nice and made sure to make you as comfortable as possible. He showed you around, and his conversation was so pleasant ! 

You could actually see a lot of Bruce in him. Or, rather, it was evident that Alfred had raised Bruce most of his life, because they had a lot of similar mannerism, and were both kind and caring (Ah, imagine if Superman knew what you thought of Bruce, how crazy it’d sound to him eh ? But of course, that you’d discover way WAY later). 

You never went to explore much when it was time to go to bed, too afraid to get lost. This place was huge, and you never quite had a good sense of orientation. 

One could only wonder, what would you have discovered if you ever dared to wake up during the night, and explore his home ?

Build a Bear. 

Sometimes, Bruce really had to wrack his brain for original date ideas. Ever since he came back to Gotham, his dating days consist of pretending to sleep with every model in the World. 

He’d take them to fashion shows, to galas, to charity events...All very public places, unsuitable for a “serious” relationship like he was hoping to make yours and his pass for. 

Enter : Clever little Dickiebird, who always had an idea (and who might’ve been the best wingman someone like the Batman needed...that, of course, he’d discover it way, WAY later) :

“You can take her to a build a bear !” 

“Build...a bear ?” 

“Yeah, you know. You go and you make your own teddy bear !” 

“I do know, I took you to get Chester - the name of Dick’s favorite plushie toy now, and maybe with which he slept-. But...For a date ?” 

“What ? It’s cute and intimate !” 

“Huh ?” 

It has been a long time, since Alfred Pennyworth had to hold his laughter in that hard, and try to stay impeccably neutral. And there, faced with his master Bruce, who was known as the “ultimate womanizer”, the “perfect playboy”, and who was currently taking advice from his eight years old son...It was really hard to keep a straight face. 

It was also incredibly adorable. Especially how Bruce seemed to genuinely listen to the little one, unaware that he seemed actually way too interested for things just to be for his “fake relationship” to be more convincing. 

Not that Alfred was going to tell Bruce anything. 

“Dick, you know (Y/N) isn’t really my girlfriend, right ?” 

The way the boy talked about taking you to a date, felt to Bruce like he was forgetting this was all fake. And it was important to remind him.

But Dick had to invoke all the efforts in the world to not roll his eyes as to say : “sure she isn’t”, by now, it was oh so obvious to everyone but you and Bruce that there was a very real thing forming between you two. 

Instead, he said : 

“But you’re suppose to make the public really believe it right ? If you take her to build a bear, I can assure you they will think you guys are the real deal.” 

Bruce pondered this for a little bit, and realized that his son was right. It did seem like a cute and intimate date to bring your girl to, even if she was your fake girl...

Ah. Bruce forgot his own words. “Dick is great at pretending.” He is. He really is. Just like right now, he was pretending his idea was completely innocent, while he knew it would bring you two ever so closer. 

That whenever you’d see those bears you were going to build in your home, you’d think of one another. And remember fondly of the memory. 

And oh. Oh that boy was right. 

Your bear was sitting proudly on your couch, and every time you saw it, you remembered how clumsy Bruce had been, filling his own bear up. And how cute he was, carefully thinking of his options. 

And every time Bruce saw his own bear, that Alfred, for some reason, settled in the Batcave on the “trophy shelves” (and for some reason Bruce didn’t take it off of it...), he couldn’t help but think how he had genuine fun that day. 

Genuine fun, for the first time in what felt like ages. And how your smiling and giggling face didn’t seem to leave his mind, whenever he saw that bear...

Conniving traitors. 

“We both agree, he’s in love with her right ? He’s just too dense to realize it.” 

“Oh yes, young Master Richard, he definitely is. And he is dense, at times.” 

“Should we do anything ?”

“No more than what you’re already doing.” 

“Which is ?” 

“Which is continuing to push them in the...Right direction.”

“Oh ! I get it ! I’ll keep going Al’!” 

“And I’m sure you’ll make miracles, young master.” 

Dick’s smile to the old butler was so pure and happy, that Alfred had a hard time keeping his composure once again. 

And oh. Oh how he wish they were right, and that his Master Bruce would FINALLY allow himself to be happy... 

Rumors and Truth 

Bruce was just a tiny bit older than you. 24, according to his wikipedia page. 

And you couldn't help but be a little jealous, as you were looking at the page to re-enroll yourself in Gotham’s university, knowing he was done with college.

Then again, he was obviously a genius and would’ve been done faster than you anyway, even if you were the same age, since he finished his PhD just the year before, while most people don't even START their doctorate until they're around 23/24. 

Mmmm. Made you think. Was this just yet another rumors about the man ? 

Maybe not, after all it was proven he started college at age 14, and in Ivy Leagues ones, all across the world. 

From Cambridge, to Oxford, without forgetting La Sorbonne (A/N : by the way, this is canon haha, Bruce really did start college that early and went to many different places, and honestly, is anyone surprised ?). 

This wasn't really something you absolutely couldn't believe, compared to other crazy rumors about him. And you knew he WAS smart. 

By then, you couldn't count how many things were circulating about him, and how hard it was to know the truth from just plain old rumors. 

He had over a thousand lovers, he had MORE than one PhD (impossible, right ?), he had died once but survived somehow, he was part of a cult, he often lost his status as a billionaire because he gave so much money to charities and such, but his companies meddled in so many areas that his bank account was always filled more and more…

Honestly that last part didn't really surprise you. You saw him gave his money away to things he cared about (like education and medical care) without a second thoughts, so the fact he constantly oscillated between "billionaire" and "multi-millionaire" didn't really surprise you, not when you knew him like you did now. 

You totally trusted the rumors that said that by now, he gave away more than he currently owned. It sounded like him alright…But how to know the truth from the downright crazy ? Did he really have a PhD or was this just an addition to how special and different Bruce Wayne was in Gotham ? What kind of PhD did he have anyway ? 1000 lovers, really ?!

So many questions. And not a lot of answers. Even if you grew closer (as friends, of course), Bruce was still somewhat of a mystery to you. 

He never really tried to dismiss rumors, even the bad ones (unless they touched his son). Which made you wonder if they were true or not. And you really, really, for some reasons, wanted to know more about him...

“Is something the matter ?” 

He asks. Oh goddamn you, day dreaming on one of your regular “coffee date”. 

You shake your head, sipping on your drink and say : 

“Was just thinking about...Tabloids.” 

“Ah.” 

He frowns. For understandable reasons.

“I was just thinking about wether some rumors were true or not.” 

“What do you think is not true ?” 

“I don’t really know, and you never really say a rumor is false so it’s hard to know.” 

“Do you want to know anything in particular ?” 

Bruce knows it’s dangerous, to let you enter his private life like that. There’s a reason, after all, why he never dismisses any rumors. 

It helped build his fake persona, and take away any suspicions that he might be the infamous Batman. 

But he felt weak, around you. As if he just wanted to please you, no matter what. Sometimes, he felt dangerously close to just tell you : “ask me anything and I’ll tell you the truth”, even if it meant revealing his night activities...

Crazy, right ? 

He knew it was. And that he shouldn’t let it happen. Yet here he was, asking if you wanted to know something. Craving your attention. It felt so unlike him. But...You seemed to unlock a certain part of him. 

The one that didn’t die with his parents, and remained hidden. The one that was the old little Bruce, full of hope, honesty and happiness. Full of wish for the future...Even if he knew there was none. 

“How was college, for you ?” 

You hear yourself asking, really wondering if it was true he was 14 when he started, and if it was...How different you guys were, right ? You were 21 right now, and taking a gap year after two years of college...When he was your age, he had already finished a master (or even maybe two). 

"My college years were actually pretty boring, and unlike some rumors say, weren't particularly wild. I was really young."

"Ah, I heard the rumors."

"Those are true, I'm afraid haha."

"Afraid ? You're a genius !"

Which is why you found, more and more, his "himbo" persona to be odd. WHat was Bruce Wayne trying to hide ? Mmm…

Bruce recognized that look in your eyes. The look of someone who was onto something, and it was too frightening to let it happen. So he said :

"Yes well, I feel I missed a lot, during those years. Which is why I make it up now hahaha !"

His boisterous laughter seemed genuine, and totally fooled you. You couldn't always be on top of everything eh ? And this, did answer your question about his himbo persona…Oh, Bruce was good.

And he knew it. He trained for years, to make sure nobody would ever even suspect him to be Batman.

But he had to be careful with you. He knew it. It was obvious. You weren't that easy to fool…

The Day Batman saved you. 

The fact he had to be careful with you was confirmed not long after. When, as Batman, he came to your rescue.

He should’ve known, that even with a voice changer, and a mask covering most his face, plus a demeanor that was completely different from his usual one, you’d still get suspicious...He should’ve known because he, by then, knew you quite well. 

But, what ? Was he suppose to just let you get mugged ? 

He couldn’t. 

Even if in the grand scheme of things, it would’ve been better, and he would definitely intervene if it got too rough...He couldn’t. 

He couldn’t bear the thought of you getting hurt, or feeling distressed.

He knew this was stupid. That he shouldn’t get so attached. That muggings weren’t really his area of expertise, that to stop them, he had to hit the big bosses. He knew. Small thugs weren’t his target. He had a much bigger vision. And rationally, he should be somewhere else right now. 

Yet he couldn’t resolve himself to. Because, and that was a dangerous thought and feeling, he was in l- 

“Why are we spying on your girlfriend ?” 

Dick’s voice takes him out of his reveries, good. It WAS getting dangerous. Still keeping you in his field of vision (you were slowly going back to your apartment, a few minutes still, and he could leave to do other things knowing you were safe and sound in your home), he answered :  

“We’re not spying on her, we’re making sure she’s safe. And she’s not my girlfriend, you know that.” 

“Oh yeah ? We’ve been following your “totally not girlfriend” since the night started, awfully looks to me like we’re um, you know, stalking her.”

“We’re not.” 

“Suuuuuuuuuure.” 

Bruce gives an annoyed look to his son, who had way too big a smug face right now, and says : 

“The night is calm, if something comes up we’ll go. But right now, it’s alright. And it has been made official, that she and I are a couple.” 

“Fake couple.” 

“Fake one to us, not to the public eye.” 

“Ooooooh !” 

Connections were quickly made in the boy’s head, and he understood why they were following her. After all, this was Gotham. And if THE Bruce Wayne had ONE known lover...Well, it was easy to know it’d attract some nasty business. 

Dick was about to make a smug remark of which he had a talent for, when it happened. He pointed at you, fear in his eyes, and Bruce focused your way again. 

“Stay here.” 

“What why ?! I wanna help her too !” 

“Because she’s too smart not to put two and two if she sees you with me. She knows us in our day lives. She’ll recognize us for sure, if we’re together.”

“Oh...”

“Just stay still, ok ?” 

“Ok.” 

Without a second thought, Bruce jumped down in the street down below, under Dick’s worried eyes. If anything happened to you, he knew his dad would never be the same again. 

And he knew he couldn’t bear to lose yet another person he cared about. Even loved. Yes. Yes Dick loved you, as if you really were part of his family...

The months of “faking” family outings made it so. Your worst fear happened. Dick was getting attached, hardcore. And he really hoped you and Bruce would figure out you were actually in love with each others before the end of your “contract”, and before his sometimes very dense dad would decide to let you go...

For now though, he was anxiously looking at Bruce making his way to you, after he spotted a suspicious group of men genuinely stalking you. 

************

“Hey pretty girl, can we talk ?” 

You stop in your track, turning around, cursing yourself for not having the instinct to just take off running. Oh. But you can see at least one of them has a gun. You can’t run faster than a bullet... 

“Ah it is you, isn’t it ?” 

You don’t answer, knowing what they mean. Bruce sort of warned you against this. But you didn't take his warnings seriously, and here you were, going home at night, something he definitely told you not to do. 

You just couldn’t sleep that night, and needed a walk...And here you were. 

“You’re gonna come nicely with us, right ?” 

“I dont’ think so.” 

Uh ? You’re pretty sure that weird robotic voice wasn’t yours. Even if that’s exactly what you wanted to say. And that’s...oh wow. 

That’s when you see him. Batman. 

Immediately, the atmosphere grow even tenser. And you can see the thugs who wanted to take you with them fearfully looking at him. 

“This has nothing to do with you Batman, leave us alone, we didn’t do anything wrong !” 

“It has everything to do with me. Leave.” 

“We have to-You don’t understand. We have to take her to-” 

“Nowhere. Leave.” 

Even if he was protecting you, you had to admit that, that dude was frightening. He had his back to you, and even then, he looked so intimidating and tall and broad...

Bruce was tall and broad too. But he was soft and sweet, not scary at all.

“OH MY GOD LOOK OUT !!” 

One of the thug had a gun pointed at Batman. Right at his head. He didn’t have the time to enforce his helmet yet, and if he shot around his mouth, he was done for...

A rock coming out of nowhere hit the thug right in the face. 

Coming out of nowhere ? To you, maybe. But Bruce knew that this was little Dickie’s doing. “Robin always has Batman’s back”, he said often...

For the time being, the one taking his gun out being knocked out triggered a “fight or flight” reaction in the others, and as two took off running (and were mysteriously hit by rocks too, knocking them out), three decided to attack Batman. 

Bad move. 

Very bad move. 

In a matter of second, it was over. 

He turns to you, and it’s hard to discern any emotions with his lighted eyes and mask. He asks : 

“Are you alright, (Y/N) ?” 

“How-How do you know my name ?”

“Well, you’re Bruce Wayne’s girlfriend, right ?” 

There was no hesitation in Bruce’s voice as, as soon as he pronounced your name, he knew he messed up...but he trained himself to think quickly. And this “fake” relationship was a perfect excuse, of course. Everyone in Gotham knew about you two, by now. 

“Oh, right, ok.” 

You seemed a bit disappointed, and Bruce couldn’t quite understand why...

It only hits him later, as he was going to bed, why you looked like that. And it made hi heart beat widely. Because he was pretty sure that it was because you sort of hoped Bruce talked to “Batman about you...Oh...Oh this was getting dangerous. 

But of course, Bruce had a reputation to be the one funding Batman’s gadget (a really good cover for the fact he was actually Batman). So they’d know each others...

But right there and then, as he just saved you, you felt so stupid, hoping that Bruce would’ve talked to you to Batman. Why would he ? How the hell would your name even show up in a conversation between Bruce Wayne and Batman (but oh, if you knew you occupied his thoughts many times, and who he really was, maybe you’d feel less bad ? It was, in a way, Bruce talking about you to Batman, right ?). 

You smiled weakly and shyly at this impressive being in front of you, and thanked him one more time. He nods, smiling too (oh ?), and bid you farewell. 

Ah. But Bruce didn’t notice your eyes go wide, as he took off with his grappling hook, and you caught the side of his face in a certain light...

Fake ?

"You know, he smiles more when you’re around.” 

Dick tells you once, you look at him curiously, as he continues : 

“And before you say it’s “all pretend”, let me tell you there’s a difference between this smile and the fake one. Look, that’s how he pretend.” 

On that note, he looked at you and smiled widely, exaggeratedly, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. And it was so like how Bruce portrayed himself in public, that it made you chuckle. 

It also scared you a little. 

Not because there was a possibility Bruce did smile more around you, but because as that little boy was being silly, and now imitating his adopted father further and oh so perfectly...You felt a surge of love for him. 

And that wasn’t good. 

Because the day, which was coming soon now, you’d have to “dump” Bruce Wayne, you wouldn’t be able to see that little one again...why would you ? 

It’d be too weird, right ? Someone like you, once “broken up”, would have no reasons or ways to ever interact with billionaire Bruce Wayne or his son ever again. 

That little boy was the sweetest child you ever met. He suffered a great loss so early in his life, and there he was, making you laugh and being nice by saying you made his dad genuinely smile. 

It hurt, to know that one day, you wouldn’t see him again. That he’d grow up, and you wouldn’t know what he became. 

You were sure he was destined to become a great man, and you wished you could see it...No. No this was bad. This was so bad. 

“I mean it you know.” 

His little voice brings your attention back to him. 

“I think you make him happy. With you, it feels he can be himself. He laughs more, really laughs. And it’s often that he tells me “oh this makes me think of (Y/N)” and calls you. He doesn’t need to call you for the fake relationship thing, right ? Yet he does. That means something. I think he likes you.” 

You shake your head, smiling at this little boy’s wild imagination. No way. No way was THE Bruce Wayne falling for you in any way. Were you guys becoming real friends ? Sure. But it definitely stopped there. Right ?

Oh but if only you knew Dick had a knack to see this kind of things, and to guess people’s real feelings. If only you knew, that yes, Bruce was starting to fall for you...It would make the next episode way less painful for you. 

“Catch me dead before you catch me catching feelings” - You to yourself, a few days before starting a fake relationship with THE Bruce Wayne. 

“Fuck you” - You to yourself, almost six months in faking a relationship with Bruce Wayne. 

This was...bad. 

Soon enough, you and Bruce will break this entire deal off, you will “dump” him, and you’d go on your separate ways. And...

This was bad. 

Why ? WHY COULDN’T YOU JUST HANG OUT WITH THIS AMAZING CHARMING MAN AND THAT’S IT ? Why ? WHY DID YOU HAVE TO GET OUT THERE AND CATCH....

Catch...

Catch those body shivering “feelings”. 

Not just for Bruce though. But for the little buddy too. 

You felt yourself fall for Bruce slowly, and as if it was completely out of your control. But you also felt like if Dick wasn't in your life anymore...You wouldn’t feel whole again. Like he was sort of your son, too, by then. 

This was so bad. How did you get yourself in this mess ? What was that FIRST rule you gave yourself when all this started ? 

Right, “Catch me dead before I catch feelings”. Damn it. 

Thanks GOD the “marrying season” was finally coming to an end. Both you and Bruce settled you’d wait a few weeks after it to make your break-up official, so nobody would be tempted to cancel any wedding plans to try and force their daughter onto him.  

And it couldn’t happen soon enough. 

Being around him now, faking being in love, was torture to you. 

Kissing him knowing he felt nothing. Holding his hand in public while you knew in your heart he was just putting a show still. And hanging out with him feeling that you had absolutely no chance of this ever evolving...

It hurt.

It hurt so bad. 

And you were slowly hoping you never agreed to being his fake girlfriend. Being a living cliche, the money and the fame were REALLY not worth the heartache. 

So not worth it...

The end...?

"Well mister Wayne, it has truly been a pleasure to be your "girlfriend" haha. Seriously, I had a lot of fun, and a little revenge on life. You know, I saw Eric and Monica not long ago. They tried to become my friends again, knowing I was with you. It was great, to ignore them like they ignored them. You’re right, they’re really not worth it. And honestly I still don’t think we’re even after they hurt me like they did but...In the end, they looked so outraged. Win-win, really. Thank you very much."

"Thank YOU, for playing along and doing more than you bargained for. You really saved me a lot of hassle and…I had fun, too."

Your taxi was pulling in front of the Manor, and honked as he parked. Clearly, not a very patient driver.

"Well, see you around, Bruce ! If you're not too busy, you know…I kinda consider you a friend by now ?"

"Me, too."

Bruce lied. A "friend" ? No, it couldn't cover and explain all his feelings for you. A "friend". How ridiculous.

As you walked away, giving him a last smile, Bruce felt a pang in his chest.

A painful and yet happy one. A longing one. One that told him that "friend" wasn't what he wanted to be…Not anymore…

But was there really a future for you and him ? Probably not. His nightly activities would get in the way. You deserve more than the life he could give you. Being his "fake" girlfriend, you only took part in his public matters. Part in a fake world full of nice things, that was far from his actual life.

"Friend", he wished he could be more to you than this.

But he knew.

He knew that for your own good, he had to stay away. And oh, oh how he wished he could be more than just your "friend" or "fake" boyfriend. 

Yet he watched as you walked away. Without doing anything. 

He watched you leave, and felt the hole in his heart expand a little more. But didn’t try to catch you, or stop you from leaving. 

And your taxi was already far, now. On its way to Gotham. 

"So you gonna run after her oooor…??"

Dick's little voice takes him out of his reveries.

“Mmm ?” 

“(Y/N). Are you gonna run after her, or stand there looking like a sad puppy for the rest of your life ?” 

“I do not look like a sad puppy.” 

“Yes you do, and you know it. Come on dad, why are you doing this ?” 

This was the first time Dick called him dad. Which didn’t go unnoticed to Bruce. It meant...It meant something was definitely happening. He felt it in his heart. Something that was dangerous. Oh so dangerous. 

Hope. Like the “old Bruce” had. Hope. Full of it. Before his parents were murdered in front of him, for no reasons. Meaningless. 

Hope. 

To have a family again. Ah. But...Being with you was impossible. And Dick would be enough. He would. He was already enough... 

“How long are ya gonna torture yourself exactly ?” 

That boy was too smart for his own good. Bruce said : 

“I’m not. I just...I can’t be with her.” 

“I cAn’T bE wITh hEr !! ...Why ?!” 

“You saw what happened, when it was made official we were together. She almost died.” 

“And you saved her. Your point being ?” 

“Dick...”

“Don’t -he takes a mock Bruce voice- “Dick” me mister ! You’re afraid to be happy, and I won’t have it. You gave me another chance to have a family. A dad. And I’m not about to let my dad punish himself for feeling good. You told me yourself my parents would like for me to be happy. Well yours would too, you big idiot ! So now, you listen to me.” 

Dick, meaning business, jumps on the stairs’ bannister to sort of be on eye level with Bruce, and says, pointing his finger at him : 

“You take one of those fancy useless sport car, and you run after her. Capish ?” 

There’s a moment of silence. During which Bruce is unsure of what to do. And then...Then he smiles at his son. 

His son. 

“Capish”, he simply says, and he rushes towards the garage’s entrance, under Dick’s happy look. 

Success. 

Bruce’s car was leaving the estate, when Alfred joined Dick at the front door. 

“You did it, Master Richard.” 

“I hope I did !” 

“Oh you did. You did. Thank you. Thank you for taking care of my son...”

Dick turned to Alfred, who couldn’t keep a straight face this time. Small tears gathered in the old man’s eyes, and sweet little Dick did not hesitate one second before jumping into his arms and giving him one of his famous “Grayson special” hug. 

It’s real. 

Back to square one. 

You. A bad day. Looking like a mess (this time not because of the rain, but because you cried a lot). Your gap year almost over and still not knowing who you were. With no coffee, but at least, you had a tub of ice cream. 

You already missed Bruce. And Dick. And Alfred. 

You couldn’t believe those six months of “faking” would end up meaning so much to you, and feel so devastating as they ended. 

You wish you had never met Bruce. And that you’d been ridiculed by Eric and Monica, that your life would still be pathetic...Pathetic maybe, but at least, your heart wasn’t completely shattered. 

You don’t hear the hurried knocks on your door, at first. Entranced by your own sadness. It’s only when they become loud and insistant you react. 

You really hope it’s not a journalist. They sort of tried to talk to you so many times, since you “dumped” Bruce...You knew he made sure that they’d stay away, but some were particularly persistent. 

Including that awful woman from the charity, who was asking Dick those horrible questions. “Vicky Vale”, was her name, apparently. What a witch. 

Clearly, the knocking wasn’t gonna go away, so you stood up, settled your tub of ice cream on your coffee table, and went to the door, ready to fight if need be. 

But there was no need for fights. 

At least, not in the literal sense of the term. 

“Bruce ?” 

He seems out of breath. Incredible, given how in shape he was. He doesn’t really leave you any time to say anything else, as he blurts out :

“I was wrong.”

He blurts out out of nowhere, and you’re even more confused. Before you could ask what was all this about, he adds : 

“I was wrong. When I said you were the right person because you were “normal”. You’re everything, BUT “just a regular person”. You’re the most fantastic woman I’ve ever met. You decided to help a total stranger just because. I know I helped you before, but it doesn’t compare to what you did for me. Especially on a matter that seems so silly to me now. You put yourself in a very awkward position for someone you didn’t even know. In front of the public, for a guy like me. You knew I was a “playboy”, and that I could very well use you. Yet you still put up with it. You accepted my son, even as you didn’t have to. Even as, just like me, you are so young. You were nice to Dick, even if all you needed to do was pretend. You’re...You’re...You’re just something else entirely. It feels like you know me, the real me. Like you can read my very soul. Like you’re the only one for me. I’ve known for a long time. I ignored it because I was afraid of what that meant but...but a certain little one made me realize this was time. It’s time to move on. It’s time to allow myself to be happy. And so, here I am.”

Was this...it ? The point of your gap year ? To discover that finding yourself...Meant finding your soulmate ? 

It sounded silly. While at the same time, not. Because you felt it. You felt it deep within you. From the moment Bruce handed you that twenty dollars bill, fate was in motion. 

You meeting Eric and Monica wasn’t bad luck. It was the opposite. It was the Universe’s push towards your real Destiny. 

Towards Bruce. 

“You’re not saying anything. Is this bad ? Or does it mean I blew your mind away ? I’m clearly hoping for the latter...”

Over the months, you discovered how huge of a dork Bruce Wayne could be. Even as if there was often a darkness right behind his smiles. Deep within his eyes. You discovered he wasn’t always this cocky arrogant man he portrayed himself to be while in public. How he was actually pretty funny and oh so empathetic. How...How so many things, the list seemed endless in your mind. 

And it only added to everything, that he looked so unsure. And so you smile. You just smile at him. And everything you feel is in that smile. 

You don’t even realize you’re holding each others now, and that you’re kissing...

It’s not pretend this time. 

A real first kiss. 

Though maybe all your kisses until now weren’t as fake as you pretended them to be. 

In any case, this, right now, is a real kiss alright. 

A real one. 

Full of all the pent up emotions. Free of all the fear and hurt you both felt as you realized you were in love with the other one, yet you thought things were all “fake”. 

Because it wasn't fake. It wasn’t. 

“I love you.” 

You don’t know who said it first. You, or him. You felt so in sync, that it didn’t matter. What is sure, is that you both said it. Before you closed the door to your apartment, leading him in. 

Before you spend the night in each other’s arms.

Bruce not even thinking about going out as Batman..

For the first time in years, he decided to fully embrace being happy. 

“You always told me my parents would wish for me to be happy, well yours too !” Dick said. And oh, he was so right.

By the way, I’m Batman. Surprise. 

“It’s not like I didn’t know, you know.” 

“Huh ?” 

Oh. Oh the delight to see that surprised expression on Bruce’s face. It was quite a rare one, really. And as he finally gathered the courage to tell you who he really was, risking losing you in the process but wanting to show you his full self...

It was particularly delightful. 

“Busted you on that night you saved me. As if I wasn’t going to recognized that jawline.” 

“Wait, really ? I really thought you bought my lies !” 

“Well now, you know not to underestimate me.” 

“I...Do.”

A natural smile reaches his face, and he approaches you, pulling you to him, and laying a soft kiss on your lips. Feeling fully accepted and loved, like never before. And he could see you-

“Oh NO EWWWWWW !!!” 

You pull away from Bruce’s kiss (noticing his slow grumble, displeased to lose  your warmth), and look at little Dickie (your son too, now !), staring at you two, looking disgusted. 

“Get a ROOOOM !!” 

This makes you laugh. A lot. And oh. Oh how would you ever guess, in that moment, that one day, this “get a room !!” said in such a disgusted tone would be the trademark of your children (SIX OF THEM) whenever they’d see you and Bruce display any sort of affection to one another ? 

You couldn’t guess, of course. But even in that moment, as you softly laughed, in Bruce’s arms, while looking at your son now making exaggerated noises and acting silly, you knew this...

This was what you’ve been looking for during this gap year. 

This was who you were. 

Right there. 

At the heart of a loving family, even if right now, it was just the three of you (four, let’s not forget Alfred !). 

The end. 

_________________________________________________

And here we are. I hope you liked it ? I feel particularly nervous about this one haha. Don’t hesitate to leave a little comment and reblog :),  It’s always greatly appreciated, and encouraging :D. Thanks in advance, and see you soon with a new story ! 

[a-is-for-abel]

“It’s a very odd sensation, standing over your own grave.” prompt from @givethispromptatry

Crows barked, throaty and dry, from their perch high in the gnarled branches of the tree at the head of the cemetery. The letters etched into the granite before him shined and the heavy mist settled over his shoulders, oppressive and thick.

He counted the crows in the tree, a rhyme coming to mind as the black winged birds called into the fog. "One for sorrow, two for mirth, three for a funeral… Four-- Four for..."

A funeral… His brow furrowed. The name on the gravestone drew him back in and he eyed the letters. Bells from the steeple of a church coughed in the distance.

"It's a very odd sensation, standing over your own grave." He turned to see a man leaned against a tall gravestone, a lit cigarette in his fingers. "But you seem to be taking it rather well."

The man flicked a lick of hellish embers off the end and took a long drag. Smoke trailed from his lips and curled over his salt-flat empty eyes. "Say, you haven't died before have you? That'd make this a bit awkward-- See, I don't really do the whole doing someone else's do-over. Those contracts tend to get a little messy, if you know what I mean."

Dressed sharply in a suit jacket and trousers to match, the man didn't stand out quite that oddly against the backdrop of a graveyard. However, with no procession, he was out of place without the rest of the mourners to stand shoulder to shoulder with.

It was even harder not to notice the way he stood a little too tall, a little too pale, and a little too thin...

And the eyes--

He couldn't remember having ever seen eyes like that. Though, he also really couldn't remember how he had gotten here either.

The man frowned, cigarette dangled from his lips. "You're not very talkative are you. That's gonna make this a little hard if you don't at least start asking some questions."

"Who are you?" he asked, voice hoarse.

"Ah, there it is-- Everyone always starts with that one. Never a 'where am I, how'd I get here', it's always the who are you?" The man shrugged. "I got a lot of names, kid. Just make one up, it'll probably be better that way."

Paul. It was the first name that came to mind, risen like the valleys of weathered hands and deep-set wrinkles the name brought with it.

"Paul?" The man hissed, eyes scrunching as he flicked the cigarette onto the ground and ground it out with the toe of his dress shoe. "Wow, you're real bad at this. Look, I'll settle for something like, uh-- How's Paal sound? Good? Great."

Even as Paal dismissed it, he tried to latch onto the name Paul and the hands that came with it. Somehow, he knew those hands had shown him how to hold a chisel and carve with the grain and not against it. That they had smoothed down his hair and lain flat against the crown of his skull as the other drew a new line against the door jamb, and he had childishly smiled at the inch gap that had grown between it and the old one below.

"Well, now that we got names out of the way--" Paal reached into his coat and pulled free a scroll. "Let's get down to business."

The parchment unfurled with a dry cough, ink dripped over the page and rearranged itself into letters that shimmered, ruddy and wet.

"So, for starters, my contracts are pretty straightforward. I don't do all that funny business the others do." Paal pointed to the second line. "The overall payment is going to be your eternal soul, of course. The only exception I'll make here is if you can name something of equal value and I also deem said thing of equal value. Now, don't get all excited. Not a lot of things add up to a human soul. Unless you'll be trading someone's else's soul as your payment. Simple math and all of that."

His eternal soul? He looked at the cross atop the gravestone and wine-dipped stained glass and the pulpit of a church flitted to the forefront along with it.

"We on the same page here? You look a little lost?" Paal asked, tilting his head.

"Sorry, I just--" He furrowed his brow. "Am I dead?"

Paal pointed to the grave. "Is that your body in there?"

"I--" He looked at his hands. "I think so."

"I wouldn't say I'm a genius myself, but I think we can both put two and two together here."

He grit his teeth. "Right…"

"Fantastic-- Now, onto the good stuff." Paal pointed further down the parchment. "So, in exchange for said eternal soul, I grant you a few things. First off, you get to get up on your own two feet and walk out of that grave. A pretty good deal, right?"

"Deals go two ways."

"See, now you're catching on--" Paal pointed at him and then tapped the next line on the scroll. "Alright, so it's pretty damn expensive to bring a soul back to life. Maker's got an idea in mind and tampering with that's always gonna cost you a little extra."

"Do you mean money? I don't exactly..." He held his hands out, the empty state of his pockets hopefully obvious.

Paal laughed. "Money? What the hell am I going to do with money? No, no, no-- I need a favor."

"A favor?" He asked, eyes narrowing.

"Yeah! A favor. something pretty simple, actually. But to get that body back and with all your precious little memories intact, you gotta do something to pay for that. More than just signing off your soul, that is."

"And who exactly am I paying back?"

Paal grimaced. "You're asking questions you really don't want the answers to, kid."

"Fine." He rubbed at his jaw. "What's the favor then?"

"Bounty hunting. Or collecting, I guess?" Paal gestured vaguely. "Whatever-- Basically, a few folks deferred on their contracts and I need to collect on their souls a little early."

"How early is early?" he asked, squinting.

"Well, I'd say I'm a pretty generous dealer. I give you about how much worldly time you should've had-- Had things not gone absolutely shit for you." Paal held up a finger. "So, in this case, I'd be collecting these souls well before they croak from becoming all ripe and old like they normally would've."

"So, I get my life back..." He chewed the inside of his cheek and glanced at the cross on the gravestone. "Is that it?"

"Is that it?'" Paal mocked and then grinned. "Look at you, already driving a hard bargain."

"You wouldn't have come to me if my soul wasn't worth something."

"Did you come to that astonishing conclusion all by yourself?" Paal said flatly.

He glanced over the demon.

Or devil... Or whatever hellish equivalent he was supposed to be. The lack of the classic horns or even a tail made it hard to pin any kind of fiendish charm to him. Besides the eyes and the pallor of someone who's never seen the light of day, he looked rather ordinary...

And his memories, few and far between-- muddled even-- like he was reliving them from underwater-- As unreliable as those memories were, he still remembered sitting upon a pew in a sun-washed room, a pastor at the head of the church, attesting how the devil would always wager in ways that would seem fair and just, but never were.

"What else do I get?"

"Greedy, aren't you? Fine." Paal rolled up the scroll part way and pointed at a line halfway down. "You can't die. At least while you're contracted under me to collect souls. If you call on me and I deem the request reasonable enough I can and will help you. Think of it like, uh-- Praying to a guardian angel. Except I'm absolutely nothing like that and I'll actually show up."

"And collecting on these contracts? What does that entail?"

"Killing them, for starters." Paal said simply. "I can't exactly grab their souls when they're still kicking around like that. And a lot of them have found ways to sort of, eh-- protect themselves from me. But you're just a bag of bones, maybe a little bit juiced up when I'm done with you, but you'll be human enough."

He didn't feel like picking that last aside apart too much. "So, you want me to kill for you?"

"Yes."

"How exactly?"

Paal flicked his hand and the scroll snapped out of sight with a thwick. Reaching into his jacket, he pulled free a revolver. Six-shot, shined, scarred with engravings up and down the muzzle and wrapped around the barrel. Handle a bone-white ivory, pale and unblemished.

Paal held it out to him. "With this."

Dropped into his palms with little fanfare, he cradled it, as if a newborn lamb. He glanced up from the gunmetal shine after a beat. "I can't shoot."

"Oh, you won't have to. You just have to aim." Paal formed his fingers into a mock-gun and pointed it at his forehead before mouthing ‘pow'. "It does all the hard work for you. Unless you're into that kind of thing, then by all means I'll take the training wheels off of it and let you do the trigger pulling."

"No…" he swallowed, careful to keep the muzzle pointed away from himself. "Training wheels is fine."

"Fantastic. Do we have a deal then? All of this--" Paal gestured to the whole of him. "--for the meager, one time price of doing a simple chore for me."

He stared flatly.

"And your eternal soul after you've lived a long and happy life, but that's just semantics," Paal laughed, waving him off.

He tilted the gun in his palms and glanced down at his pockets. It wouldn't exactly fit very well… "Is there a holster?"

"Oh, right--" Paal patted his chest and fished around in his suit jacket before drawing out a belt. "Here. It's a bit used, but at least it's already worn in, right?"

Mottled stains scattered the edges of the leather belt and where intricate markings had been stamped and tooled into the holster itself.

"Thanks…" he said, pinching it between two fingers while trying to find a good way to hold the pistol with his other hand.

"Woah, don't sound too grateful there, champ," Paal said. "You'd think I wasn't about to do you the biggest favor of your life."

He paused in his inspection of the holster and gave Paal the flattest look he could muster.

"Get it?" Paal's grin dropped. "Not a funny guy then… Noted."

Finally, managing to holster the gun he slipped the belt around his waist and fumbled with the buckle before fastening it. "How exactly do we seal the deal?"

"Eager, are we?" Paal held out his hand. "Just shake my hand and that's it. None of that writ in blood nonsense."

He wrinkled his nose.

Paal flexed his fingers and held his hand out further. "Look, if you really need me to draw up a traditional contract and give you a copy, I can do that too, but it's dreadfully boring and I do enough paperwork as it is. I mean, what do you have to lose, honestly? You're already dead. I'm just offering you a second chance… and a little bit of revenge."

"Revenge?"

"No one ends up dead in a ditch with a pack of dogs eating their face without being fucked over somewhere along the road."

"I don't…" He knitted his brow. "It's hard to remember."

"Oh, it'll be like that for a bit. It gets better once we get everything settled. Trust me though, you've got quite the bone to pick with someone back up there. And I for one would love to see how it all pans out."

"This is a form of entertainment for you," he said flatly, eyeing the still outstretched hand.

"What's the harm in mixing business and pleasure?" Paal smirked. "Plus it'll be fun to see what you do."

"Can you not bring back the memories now?"

Paal tutted. "That's quite expensive, and we haven't made a deal yet."

"How do I know I even want to go back then?"

"Does it even matter who you were before if you get a re-do?"

He looked at the name on the gravestone. "Won't they recognize me?"

"Oh, no-- Uh, see, you're not going back into your original body." Paal grimaced. "I can only repair so much and those dogs really did a number on you."

"Great…"

"Don't worry though, I got a good one picked out for you. Close enough to be uncanny even. Just some little differences, barely noticeable."

He grimaced.

"Don't you humans love taking leaps of faith? What's with all the hemming and hawing? What happened to all that stupid recklessness?"

"Not all of us are stupid."

Paal groaned. "I would get stuck with the biggest coward this side of the Mississippi."

'Look, it's lil' yellow-bellied Bern!'

'Just take it from him. He's not gonna do shit-- He'd flinch at a fly if it looked at him wrong.'

'Pa said he's soft. That his own daddy made him like that.'

He blinked, flinching and scrunching up his eyes at the sudden, sharp jab that needled at his skull. "I'm not a coward."

"Then take my hand."

His head pounded, and if he really was dead he wondered why he could still feel that out of everything. If the sweat pricked along the back of his neck was more memory than actual sensation, or if the way his tongue had grown heavy in his jaw was all made up too. He eyed Paal's hand and the discolored fingernails, the sheet white skin, the odd scarring along the knuckles and on the palms.

'Leave and don't you ever come back here. And if I ever see you again, you'll be begging the devil to take your soul from me first.'

He grit his teeth, fingers curling into fists.

The voice bit across his cheek like knuckles, like blood on his tongue and smattered across his hands. It curled like snake oil and melted wax, like the dust settled over the rafters of an ever empty church and like floorboards stained with drying flecks of rust.

He reached for Paal's hand and Paal grabbed his wrist instead, wrapped his fingers around him and squeezed, hard enough he twisted with the motion. Paal didn't budge, no matter how he pried at him, and the hand burned-- Burned the way laying your palm across a sheet of ice stung and wormed its way deeper and deeper the longer you left it there.

He stumbled as Paal released him, clutching at his wrist and hissing. "What the hell?"

"Part of the contract. It'll fade in a second."

The burning stopped and when he let go of his wrist, a coiling band of white took its place. Sat snugly, flat and lined with black, was an ivory snake wrapped three times about his wrist. The head of the serpent rested along the heel of his thumb, eyes a nearly translucent blue. It faded, still standing out against his skin, more like an impossibly pale tattoo and less like the actual snake it was a moment ago. His arm ached dully with it, like he had come in from a long frigid day, and his fingers cramped as the feeling returned to the very tips of him.

"Oh, right-- You'll be needing bullets." Paal grabbed his hand and dropped a freezing piece of metal into it.

More followed as Paal fished around in his suit jacket for them. At the fourth one Paal paused. "What was that little rhyme you were doing before I arrived? I rather enjoy that one. The ending is always my favorite."

He watched where the bullets settled in his palm. The casings a blood-red ebony and the bullet itself the shade of bone.

"And four for birth…" Paal dropped another bullet. "Five for heaven..." Another. "And six for hell," Paal said with a smirk, manually curling his hand around the bullets and patting it. "Now keep track of those, they're not exactly easy to make."

He didn't tell Paal that he didn't finish the poem, that there was still one more line that needed to be said to complete it. Instead, he pocketed the bullets.

"Walk with me a sec--" Paal grabbed his shoulder and nudged him forward.

They meandered along the lines of graves, passing headstones that varied in shape and size, some cared for, with flowers and candles and even worn sepia photos left at their feet. Others were less fortunate. Grown over, dulled, and abandoned.

They stopped before one with a less modest headstone. A large stone cross jutted up from the top and an angel carved above the name of the soul that was laid to rest below their feet.

"You know, I really do think this is the start of a great partnership..."

He raised a brow.

"Marcus J. Bern--" He flinched at the name, not expecting it to fall from Paal's mouth so casually. "It's been a pleasure doing business with you."

He hesitated, shoulders drawing up, hand coming to rest on the gun at his hip. "Uh, you too…?"

Paal smiled, like he found that amusing. And he hadn't noticed how sharp his teeth looked until he was staring the oversized canines dead in the face.

"Now--" Paal said, placing his hands on his shoulders, dusting them off before squeezing lightly. "This might hurt a bit."

"What--"

Paal shoved him.

He fell and fell and the earth swallowed him whole.

Dirt and silt and death surrounded him. Impossibly endless and vast, the grave didn't catch him as it should have. And the chill that bit at his limbs gnawed feverishly, right down to the core of him until he felt a yell clog up with the hallowed ground packed against his tongue. Further and further he descended, gut flipping and twisting with him, until he thought this would be his new forever. That Paal had lied to him, and he would simply be doomed to free fall for the rest of eternity, until all returned to dust as it had once emerged and longer still.

Light broke up the darkness overhead and he reached for it, arm outstretched. The white snake coiled around his wrist writhed and burned at the first touch of it and dripping with pale ichor, his veins stood out a ghastly silver against him. A venom coursed through him as it wound further and further down, closer and closer to where his heart had thrummed to life and kicked against his ribs in a fevered fit. He clutched at his chest as the ground-- as something-- hurtled towards him.

Breath slammed into him with a rattling gasp and his eyes shot open.

Blinded, he blinked and squinted against the grace of a new day, trembling and shaking where he had woken upon the dirt. The cross of the gravestone cast a merciful shadow over him and he could see the tangled fingers of the tree beyond it.

Raucous caws chorused above him. A murder of crows dotted the grey sky overhead, having flighted from their perches high in the dead limbed oak.

One, two, three, four, five, six--

"And seven for the devil, his own self..." he muttered, hand falling to his hip and the gun now holstered there.

[tetrakys]

So... about Elriel and Elucien...

I have finally read everything ACOTAR, including the two excerpts at the end of ACOSF, so I can give my final opinion about this ambiguous situation.

Let me first point out that I really don’t care about Elain and who she ends up with, I’m primarily a Faysand shipper, so my opinion in this matter is objective because I’m not invested, I only care about the characters’ wellbeing which fortunately is something SJM gives us anyway.

My opinion is that this ambiguous situation, is not ambiguous at all. Elucien and Gwynriel are endgame, and here is why.

(And fyi I’m nobody. Just a reader who likes to dissect and analyse plotlines and characters of the media she consumes. 9 times out of 10 I get it right.)

Every writer has a certain style, a bunch of tropes and preferences that are recurrent in their writing and create their own personal trademark. That’s why as readers we are fans of specific authors and tend to read most of what they write, their telltale signs can be found in other stories, other flavours but they are still there. Now, SJM has her own way to write romance and her couples always follow this format:

1) The couple that is ultimately going to end up together starts from a position of opposition and contrast. They initially can’t stand each other, they lie to themselves thinking they want nothing to do with the other person.

2) They ALWAYS start from a position of cowardice and false comfort, and their journey is to open their eyes, understand that the way they are living is wrong, and accept that part of themselves that pushes them toward the other person.

Let’s look at the two canon couples this series:

Feysand: Feyre and Rhys start seemingly as enemies. We then learn that it’s all bullshit, but what is Feyre’s psychological state at the beginning of ACOMAF? She is in a BAD relationship, but she can’t find the strength and the guts to get herself out of that situation. It takes a while for her to open her eyes and see that what she needs is elsewhere. Similarly, when Rhys just got free of 50 years of mental and physical subjugation, the first thing that happens to him is to find out that he is tied to someone else. Someone who isn’t even available. His first instinct is to run. Once they finally admit what they feel for each other, they also embrace a part of themselves they were ignoring or rejecting. We have read 1000 times how Feyre used to draw stars and night skies her whole life before finding herself at peace in the Night Court. And Rhys was so traumatised by all he had been through that loving Feyre forces him to come to terms with it and understand that he is worthy of being loved despite Amarantha.

Nessian: At the beginning of her journey Nesta is a whole train wreak. She hates herself and her only way to get by, the coward comfortable way, is drunkenness and meaningless sex with strangers. Cassian is actually the most grounded character of this whole saga imo, he had already been through his personal journey but he was also scared shitless of Nesta and her reactions. And only when she finally forgives herself, she can accept him.

Now... what does this mean for Elain?

Elain has had her life turned upside down by her transformation. She is heartbroken because the man she was in love with can’t even stand the sight of her. The moment she emerged from the Cauldron she was claimed. Very, very wrong move from Lucien’s part, should’ve bidden his time like Cassian did. Elaine rejects this new life for moths, and of course she rejects Lucien. Lucien is shaken by this, BUT he is also running away. We have seen him being completely lost. He has a sense of responsibility and yes, sure, attraction towards Elain, but he is messed up and in ACOFAS it is mentioned that he also wants to spend as little time with her as possible. 

It’s exactly the same situation as Feysand and Nessian, but in a different context of course. They both have to go through their own journey, accept themselves and then the other.

And we have had the same kind of hints we had with Feyre. Elain is not suited for the Night Court, she looks washed up in black, lifeless, darkness doesn’t suit her. She is light, flowers and sun. She is the Day Court, of which Lucien is in fact the heir.

And what about Azriel?

Azriel and Elain are in a very similar situation at the moment. They are both surviving a terrible heartbreak, they are both quiet and contemplative, they both see more than they let on. They are each other’s easy, comfortable choice. Also they both know that they can’t really be with each other, so if on one side this increases desire, on the other deep down they are happy basking in the knowledge that they won’t have to commit.

Since I started reading ACOSF I realised that the character of Gwyn had been created to be Az’s perfect match. She is also pure and traumatised, but she is already a fighter. Elaine and Azriel don’t work well together because they are too similar where it doesn’t matter, they need a counterpart to balance them when it comes to temperament, but similar enough deep down. Gwyn sees herself as scarred, marked after what happened to her. Just like Az constantly looks at his scarred hands. Elaine is all pureness and this is what attracts him about her, but it’s not what he needs. 

Gwyn and Az are on the same journey: accept the fact that their past does not define them and that they are better people than what they think.

Lucien and Elain are on the same journey: find out who they really are and what kind of life they want.

I’m expecting something to happen between Elain and Azriel in the next book, if SJM had not shown any attraction between them I would’ve thought that maybe she was preparing something meaningful for them later on, but it’s so out there that it’s clear they are each other’s initial position of comfort and complacency, they may even bang (and I’m sure it’s going to be hot if it really happens), but it won’t get further than that. 

Az’s shadows are attracted to Gwyn, they recognise a mating bond that neither of them understands yet. 

And Elain is so focused on rejecting Lucien even when he’s not around that it’s typical SJM couple dynamic 101.

[inkandpen22]

Permanent Chaos (4/?)

Pairing: MGK x Female!Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: mild swearing, mentions of underage drinking 

Part Summary: Sam hosts a party and Y/N makes a not-so-great acquaintance of a certain rock star.

Masterlist

Sam’s house is filled with people. I know the majority of the partiers, the rest I can recognize from whatever field of entertainment they’re in. The music is blasting over the speakers and the voices fill the remaining space.

I search around for him. I manage to find him in the family room on the couch. He’s chatting with a group of people, including Penelope. I make my way over, shuffling between bodies. When I appear out from within the crowd, Sam gleams.

“You made it!”

“I did!” I giggle.

We hug and he introduces me to the girl beside him. “Y/N, this is Cara.”

As if I don't know who Cara Delevigne is, I may be busy but I don't live on Mars. I smile at her kindly. “Nice to meet you!”

“You too! I’m a huge fan of your work on TSL!” She gushes, giving my hand a gentle squeeze.

The Seasons of Life is often shortened to TSL, just a side note.

Cara’s accent is so pretty! She’s already a model then she has to have a British accent as if she wasn’t perfect enough!

“Aw, thank you so much!”

Sam slips by me. “I’m going to go get us a drink!”

"Oh wait, Sam!"

“I know what to do!” He shouts back without stopping. I should know better. With how much time we spend together, he would know my order.

“That kid,” I sigh to Penelope and Cara.

The two giggle and we go on to talk about this and that. Fun enough, Cara leaves for Paris tomorrow for a fashion show. Must be exciting to travel so often and to wear the most amazing clothes. She’s quite funny. Her personality is so vibrant and warm. I can see us being good friends.

A loud voice echoes through the house and the three of us look toward the archway to see who it’s coming from. Bodies block the view so I turn my attention back to the girls. Penelope and I discuss the photoshoot in two days and Cara talks about her experiences with Vanity Fair.

“Hey, Cara!” A voice greets behind me.

I don't turn around, but I can feel their energy hovering over me. They shuffle to stand right beside me. I glance up, but can't recognize them.

Cara stands up to hug them. “Good to see you! How are you?” She keeps him in an embrace.

“Great, great!” The guy, who’s back is to me for some reason seems familiar. I can’t quite put my finger on it.

“You know Sam?” She questions as they part.

“Not really, I came with a few friends.”

I look over at Penelope for a hint as to who it could be. She shrugs and watches the two interact.

“Speaking of, have you seen him? I should say hi.” The man asks.

“He went to the kitchen to get a drink for him and Y/N.”

The man turns around and he peers down at me on the couch. I should’ve guessed it… MGK. The hair and a million tattoos should've been a dead giveaway. That bright blonde mess of a hairstyle.

“Colson, this is Y/N Voss,” Cara introduces us.

He glances down at me with a smile. “We’ve met actually,” he claims.

My head tilts, I can’t recall when we've met properly.

“Today after I performed on James’s show,” he describes, towering over me.

“Oh! Awesome!” Cara sits back down next to me.

All I can do is stare at Colson in confusion. “If you count glancing at one another from across the room once as meeting,” I reply a bit snarky.

He gives me a toothy grin and eases down onto the cushion ottoman right across from me. “It was more than one glance,” he argues.

“You would know, you’re the one that never looked away," I fire back.

Cara and Penelope exchange a glance, snicker, then leave the scene together. They offer their goodbye before giggling away. They're smart.

Colson seems to have not noticed or at least doesn’t care. He moves to take Cara's spot on the cushion next to me. “You would’ve had to been looking to have noticed that I never looked away.”

My head rolls back, with a mocking laugh. “Well aren’t you a genius!”

He rests his arm on the back of the couch behind me. “I like to think so.”

“One vodka tonic.” Sam interrupts, holding out my drink.

I take it bitterly. "Thanks."

“Sam huh?” Colson stands up and the two shake hands. “I’m Colson, nice to officially meet you, man!”

Sam treats him like an old friend which annoys the heck out of me. Colson so far has only shown his arrogance to me. “You too! Great seeing you today at the show. Your performance was amazing.”

“Thanks, your interview was hilarious!” Colson fakes charming better than some actors.

“You watched?” Sam asks.

“Yeah, I stuck around just off-camera. You two are great!”

Watching these two talk each other up is a bromance waiting to happen.

Sam gestures to me with his glass. “Y/N here is the real comedian. There’s never a dull moment with her."

“I'm sure.” Colson peers down at me with a bright smile. "We’ve only just met and she’s already sparked a debate with me.”

I narrow my eyes at Colson, what’s he trying to start?

Sam settles down on the ottoman where Colson was. “What about?” He is all for the conversation and is jumping headfirst into the tiff between us.

Colson smiles but I see the mischief in his eyes.

“It wasn’t a debate” I rise to my feet in front of the boys. “If you would excuse.” I step away from the couch a little irked.

“Oh come on now Baby, I’m only joking,” Colson calls not bothered.

“Oh no,” Sam laughs behind me. “Best not call her that or any pet names for that matter. She hates them!”

I don’t even acknowledge them on my walk out of the room. Cocky, annoying, ugh! It’s been maybe five minutes and he’s already managed to irritate me. Maybe all the things they write in the tabloids about him are true. A spoiled, arrogant, womanizing jerk. A piece of the worst parts of the industry. I'm going to go find the girls and stay far away from Colson Baker.

________________________________________

On the set of the Vanity Fair shoot, the atmosphere is lively and carefree. The theme is an 80’s vintage style and since it’s coming back the magazine is mixing old with the new. Sam and I are in an old-fashioned record store and it’s wicked! The walls are teal and remind me of an old Taco Bell. There are rows and rows of just vinyl records. My hair is teased in an 80’s rock band kind of hairstyle. 80s music has been playing on set all morning to set the mood. I'm living for it!

A lady approaches me with a huge light wash denim jacket.

“No way! I get to wear this!” I gush.

She helps me put it on and I’m dying from how awesome this shoot is.

I immediately go to Sam's trailer. “Sam! I’m rocking the denim on denim look!” I show off my high-waisted light wash denim shorts with a black bulky leather belt around my waist.

He laughs. “I appreciate the denim on denim but I have to say my favorite part is the old Bon Jovi T.”

The photographer, Adam, comes up with this brilliant idea for me to stand on the crates of records. Where the two rows in the middle of the store meet, there’s enough room for me to stand. Once I’m up there and I can find the balance in these red heels, they have Sam join me.

“Sam, grab her leg and look up at her as though you’re keeping an eye on her,” Adam instructs.

The camera flashes and between snaps, I change my facial features.

“Good! Good! Let’s get some shots from the counter!”

Sam helps me down from the crates and I hop down. We get a shot of me laying across the counter with a red sucker in my hand and Sam hovering over me. This shoot is incredibly fun and I can’t wait to see the finished product.

Sam and I change outfits and Adam asks if he can get a video for the website and YouTube channel. Of course, we said yes. It’ll be a montage of an interview of us individually and then of us just messing around throughout the store with 80’s music playing in the background. Adam has me sit on an 80’s style floral couch they set up in front of a backdrop in the back room. The whole setup is very comfortable and intimate. Only us, a few lights and a camera with the radio playing. Sam is in makeup and dress for the part of the video of us being candid.

“You can sit however you like!” Adam instructs, meaning I’m sitting too formal with my posture straight and legs crossed. “Act like we’re just hanging out or something.”

I adjust myself and crisscross my legs, slouching a bit.

“Much better!” he compliments, staring down at the camera. He hits up on a stool and positions his camera on the stand. “What’s it like to be on the cover of Vanity Fair?”

“The whole experience is unreal! I remember having a subscription to Teen Vogue growing up. My friends and I loved them!”

“Would you describe your style as modern or classic?”

“Classic for sure!” I gush.

Adam snickers. “What’s your favorite decade for fashion?”

I laugh and gesture down at my outfit. “The 80’s.”

“Does anyone from the 80’s inspire your style in particular?”

I tap the tips of my fingers together and hum. “That’s a toughy! I guess I would have to say Demi Moore for the hair. Specifically, her haircut from About Last Night… that’s where I got the style for my hair actually. Another big one would be Cindy Crawford, such a fashion icon!” I could talk about fashion all day and the icons idolize.

“Heels or sneakers?”

“Depends on the occasion. Sneakers for everyday things, I could never live without my trusty Converse. Yet, I would wear heels if I’m dressing it up a bit.”

"Are you more of a girly-girl or tomboy?”

“People who know me well would say I’m a girly-girl but I also don’t mind downplaying it from time to time. I’ve gotten better lately at relaxing and no being so “on” all the time.”

“Hair up or down?”

“Half up, half down,” I wiggle my eyebrows playfully looking into the camera.

Adam chuckles behind the camera. He changes topics. “You’re from South Carolina originally...”

My heart sinks a little at the mention of home, but I hide behind a smile. “That I am.”

“You haven’t been back in almost a year, do you miss it?”

I play with the ends of my hair, examining my lap. Avoiding the camera lens. I look at anywhere but there. “If I were to miss anything about South Carolina, it would be the gorgeous landscape and southern food."

“You have three siblings, correct?” Adam asks next.

“I do, an older brother and sister, then a younger brother.” I list.

“What do they think about the show and your career?”

I nod. “They support me but the distance is hard. As you said, we haven’t all been together in almost a year.”

“Do you have any plans to go visit home soon?”

I sigh, “sadly no, my work keeps me quite busy.”

The interview goes on and we discuss how my style has evolved since I was a teen starting out in the business. I’ll admit, the topics about home and family sucked. Work and personal life are two separate jobs, my worlds can’t collide. I never bring South Carolina into it.

______________________________________________

After the shoot, I received a call from Cara when we were finishing up the photoshoot. Last night, Cara, Penelope, and I had a blast! I completely forgot about the whole tiff with Colson once I reached them in the kitchen. Since then, we’ve been three peas in a pod. While we were talking on the phone, she invited Sam and me to dinner at The Ivy.

“A small gathering of friends,” she told me and asked for us to be there by seven.

Jump ahead to now and Sam is parallel parking the car. I hop out and wait on the sidewalk for Sam to walk around. Our hands' interlock and the paparazzi take notice of us when people on the sidewalk pull out their phones.

“Y/N! SAM! SAM! OVER HERE!”

“HOW’S FILMING GOING?”

“It’s good to be back on set!” I cover my eyes with my clutch.

“YOUR INTERVIEW WITH JAMES CORDEN WAS GREAT!”

“SOCIAL BLEW UP AFTER THE INTERVIEW!”

Sam asks for the guys to make a path so we can get through without issues. He releases my hand and presses his palm to my lower back protectively.

“WE’VE ALREADY SEEN Cara AND PENELOPE GO IN!”

“A FEW PEOPLE ACTUALLY!”

“ARE YOU ALL MEETING UP?”

“Maybe, maybe not!” I look into one of the video cameras and wink.

The guy behind it gets a hoot out of my expression.

Sam and I reach the restaurant and the men let us go in unbothered.

“WE’LL LEAVE YOU ALONE TO YOUR DINNER!”

“Thanks guys, see you later!” I wave to them and their cameras shoot rapidly.

The noise dies down when we go back further into the restaurant. Sam spots Cara in the back and guides me back there. Tables are lined up in a long row and the majority of the seats are filled.

Cara, cool as a cucumber pulls me into a hug. “Hey Y/N! So glad you two could come!” She sits Sam and me across from each other near the middle. She insisted that I sit by her so we could chat. We get to talking about the Vanity Fair shoot today then she’s pulled away when another guest arrives.

The waitress comes up behind me and requests my drink order.

“I’ll have a sweet tea please.”

“We only serve unsweetened.”

I hate it when they say that. “That’s fine, thank you!” Sam eyes me and I pout about having no sweet tea.

“You realize there’s sugar right here.” He slides me the packets of sugar.

“Yes but it’s not the same. There’s sweet tea at every restaurant where I’m from and I come here boom! Sweet tea is nonexistent!”

"What’s the drink that’s carbonated?” He’s asking to be annoying because the west coast and the midwest disagree on the name.

“Pop!” I glare at him.

“That’s right! Pop! Sounds like you’re saying pot every time.” He laughs at his own joke, finding himself humorous.

“It’s soda by the way," he corrects.

“Uh uh,” I refuse to change my ways, “it’s pop.”

The empty chair next to me slides back and when I glance up to see who’s doing it, an instant headache hits my brain.

Sam greets Colson warmly with a handshake. I shoot Sam another glare. He’s acting neutral but that shouldn’t be a choice in this case. He was my friend first!

Colson removes black Ray-Bans from his face and positions them on top of his head.

“Hello Y/N.” Colson sends me one of his charming grins so many teen girls swoon over.

“Hi,” I reply, not attempting to hide my disinterest. I curve my body away from him and towards Cara, legitly giving him the cold shoulder.

The dinner goes on without a hitch surprisingly, considering the circumstances. Penelope leans down over the back of my chair to say our goodbyes.

I turn around in my chair to face her. “See ya tomorrow.”

“See ya,” she rubs her hand up and down my arm.

She and I exchange kisses on the cheek. “Love you!” We say in unison as we part.

“Later Sam!” She wiggles her fingers at him in a wave.

Sam and I stick around a while longer since Cara and I have gotten into a deep conversation about our shared love for vintage things. A conversation about our collections of records alone went on for twenty minutes. I hadn't noticed that it was just four of us now. Sam and Colson have been talking most of the dinner.

A pair of hands rest on my shoulders and steal my attention away from Cara. “Y/N, you ready to go?” Sam asks.

“We’ll head out too!” Cara announces with her sights directed behind me.

I look over my shoulder and Colson is standing beside Sam. The four of us walking out together… how convenient.

I grab my clutch, sticking close to Sam to dodge Colson.

The four of us walk toward the front of the restaurant and right when we reach the steps leading outside, Cara announces that she forgot her purse.

“I’ll be right back!” She urges us to go on without her.

The cameras waited for us as I assumed they would. They’re capturing every minute of us waiting for Cara.

I place my hand on Sam’s shoulder, “would you go help her?”

“You sure?” His eyes flicker between me and Colson.

“I’ll be fine,” I assure him and he promises he’ll only be a second.

“Go to the car so you aren’t bothered,” he refers to the paparazzi.

“I’ll walk her,” Colson offers.

Sam gives him the go-ahead as he goes off to help in the search for the purse.

I’m left with the one guy I was avoiding. I grip the keys in my hand and walk down the brick steps to the sidewalk. I hear Colson behind me and stop to address him. “I can walk myself to the car.”

He raises his arms mocking a surrender. “I don’t doubt your ability to walk, just helping out.”

“I don’t need your help,” I scoff, starting to walk again.

“I never said you did,” Colson sassily replies.

*Click* *Click* *Click*

A man runs around me to get a photo of me straight on.

“Y/N! Y/N! WALKING IN WITH SAM AND LEAVING WITH MGK, ANY EXPLANATION?”

I pause for a moment, making eye contact with the man behind the camera. Is he honestly trying to start drama? What lies are he going to sell? I’m only going to the car because Sam requested. The only reason Colson is even near me is that he’s so freaking persistent.

I push back the aggravation and force my lips into a kind smile. I can’t have a single moment of weakness. I can’t give in to my emotions like others. “Sam is helping Cara with something inside. Colson was kind enough to walk me to the car.”

“HOW LONG HAVE YOU GUYS KNOWN EACH OTHER?”

I purposefully answer quickly so Colson doesn’t even have the chance to think of a response. “Not long, we met the other day backstage at The Late Late Show. We have a lot of the same friends and had no idea!” I peek over at Colson and he gives me a knowing look. I dismiss it and go on with my charade. I will not let this jerk mess with my career.

“ANY CHANCE OF HAVING COLSON GUEST STAR ON THE SHOW?”

“That would be great!” I lie my butt off, “having more friends on set would be fun!”

“COLSON, HOW’S YOUR NEW ALBUM COMING ALONG?!”

“We’re in the recording stage right now. Should be released sometime this summer," he answers.

“FOLLOWING UP WITH A TOUR?”

“Of course!” he chuckles.

I unlock the car and move around the guys to reach the door.

“WE’LL LET YOU GUYS GO ON. ENJOY THE REST OF YOUR NIGHT!” One of them departs.

“Thank you! You too!” I wave goodbye.

Some stick behind to get a few last pictures but for the most part, they all disburse. The ones remaining, however, keep their distance.

I yank on the handle of the door and Colson holds it for me. As if he's a gentleman. I begin to climb in, prepared to yank it shut in his face.

“Friends huh?” Colson chuckles.

I turn around abruptly and check around the general area of the sidewalk for any cameras. Seems the remainder of the guys have left. I shut the door and Colson removes his hand in a rush.

“No, not friends! I only said that to please the public," I huff.

“Ouch!” he acts offended, placing his hand on his heart. “I did find it interesting that you claimed we met backstage the other day so I was right!” He chuckles, believing he caught me.

“No, no, no, no!" I shut that thought down quickly. "The only reason I made that up was that it’s not good for my image if I admit I was at a party. People tend to assume that heavy drinking and drugs occur at parties. I can’t be associate with that scene!”

“Oh, so it’s alright to lie?” He crosses his arms and snickers, glancing down the street toward the restaurant.

I roll my eyes, of course, he doesn’t understand, why would he? “You don’t get it” I scoff, dismissing him. I turn and reach for the car handle again.

“So what if you were at a party? People drink, if some have a problem with that, that’s their problem. Oh! I forgot! You're America's Sweetheart! The perfect angel princess with a spotless record,” he mocks.

I slam the car door shut, having hit my limit. I keep my voice hush. “It’s not that simple! I'm not like you! I can't be caught partying! If the country, the world, sees the truth then my image is ruined! I've been doing this since I was a teenager! I worked way too hard for far too long to lose everything over a stupid mistake!”

Colson’s face falters from his usual carefree expression to one of seriousness.

“Found it! Let’s go!” Sam announces loudly to the whole block.

I toss him the keys and glance back to Colson who stands there in a stillness I have yet to see from me. His stare makes me want to hide. I feel as though I’m under a microscope being studied.

“Toodaloo Y/N! ‘Till next time my pals!” Cara strolls down the sidewalk.

It’s evident she’s had a couple of drinks. She sways further down the sidewalk and comes to a stop once she notices Colson isn’t following.

“Later Cara!” Sam shouts over the top of the car behind me.

Colson and I stare at each other I’m guessing for different reasons. He appears lost in thought and I’m desperately trying to figure out why. If I look away, I fear he’ll break to pieces or something.

Cara pauses. “Colson? You coming?”

He holds out for a moment but finally breaks eye contact with me. "Yeah."

When I’m no longer staring into those black works of art I regain my ability to move. I hurry into the car and Sam says his goodbyes again over the top of the car. I buckle my seatbelt when he climbs in. Watching strangers walk up and down the sidewalk, I’m perfectly aware of Sam starring me down.

He pulls onto the street. “Are we gonna talk about it or are we doing silence?”

I reach over and turn up the radio.

“Of course you make your own option.” Sam watches me, waiting for some sort of explanation.

We come in at the end of a song and the next one is oh too recognizable. The classic rock sound that is a part of all of Colson’s music plays through the car speakers. His vocals enter the soundwave and I groan loudly over the music before turning off the radio.

"No music then!" I snap.

__________________________________

Masterlist

Tags: @canyoubuymetoast @bri-3530 @asil1652 @andstilltryingtofindmyself @nadia2021 @olafsidehoe @mgkobsessed @fairywriting101 @ferrell-cat @naylanae-0308 @tonystarkswife10 @alexsa5 @brocksbabyyy @stormrider505 @magnificenthumancopangel @sarcasticfangirlus @lilramencup95beech @missyviolet123 @skeleton-gxr @glitterybearllamaflap @margaritaville20 @amoresix @thysagclub

[dropintomanga]

“Look Back” - 140 Pages of Raw Emotion

Koyoharu Gotoge gets all the attention right now, but the real manga superstar of the future (or soon-to-be) is Tatsuki Fujimoto. His previous known works, Fire Punch and Chainsaw Man, have developed passionate followings. But his one-shot about creativity and the bonds that form as a result, Look Back, solidifies Fujimoto as one of the very best in depicting real human emotions during terrible moments.

Look Back focuses on the artistic journey of Ayumu Fujino, a 4th grader who loves to draw manga. She draws comic strips for her school newspaper. However, Fujino sees that a fellow peer of hers, Kyomoto, draws even better than her. Fujino becomes more determined to be better than Kyomoto. However, family and peer pressure causes Fujino to change her priorities during 6th grade. It isn’t until she is asked by school staff to deliver Kyomoto’s elementary school graduation diploma to the latter’s house that she gets back into drawing manga again. Fujino draws something on a blank 4-panel strip she finds at Kyomoto’s place. Kyomoto, who’s a shut-in, sees the strip and tells Fujino that she’s been a fan of her art since 4th grade. Fujino becomes ecstatic in seeing her work recognized after constant criticism from her peers. Fujino and Kyomoto begin to work together on manga since then. Both got recognized by Shueisha multiple times over the years to the point of having one of their works becoming an anime series.

Shortly after the anime announcement of one of their works, a rift between the two starts to happen when Kyomoto tells Fujino that she wants to go to art school to get better at drawing. Fujino argues that Kyomoto’s social aloofness is too much for the rest of the world and that it’s better for Kyomoto to stick by her. Kyotomo still goes to art school regardless. Years after their separation, Fujino watches the news one day and finds out that someone attacked the art school Kyomoto attended with multiple dead victims. Kyomoto was one of them. Fujino begins to criticize herself for Kyomoto’s death, but after visiting Kyomoto’s drawing space and seeing how much Kyomoto loved her, Fujino continues to draw as a way to move forward.

I can’t speak on the creative process of a mangaka and mangaka relationships (though I know several mangaka have commented on Look Back for its honest take of being a creator), but I can definitely comment on Fujino blaming herself for Kyomoto’s death. “Drawing is useless,” she says. Fujino imagines a scenario where she saves Kyomoto from her attacker. Fujino was once told by her older sister to practice karate and she feels that maybe she should’ve taken it more seriously. What if she didn’t draw that strip back in 6th grade? What if Fujino and Kyomoto actually met during the art school incident instead of 6th grade?

Those “What ifs?” get shown in vivid detail. And it’s heart-wrenching. There’s always constant reminders to treasure those around you because you never know what will happen. It’s hard to do that sometimes when certain cultures always avoid issues like death and the inevitability of it all like they’re not worth talking about. Also, I think we’re always told that we can save someone if we tried hard enough. If they never get better, society will say that it’s our fault. No one wants to talk about how random life gets. That’s because no one wants to admit that they can’t control everything.

The most powerful moment was Fujino realizing that drawing isn’t useless. She notices a small strip at Kyomoto’s place while in grief. This panel says it all.

It’s nice to have someone with the same interests as you be your friend. But more importantly, it’s even nicer to have someone who literally gives a shit about you. Someone’s who willing to guide you, take in your pain, and be vulnerable with. Fujino exposed Kyomoto to the outside world during their early mangaka days and Kyomoto expressed her gratitude for that. It’s so hard to find people like that. I mean, if you know you’re about to die, it’s worth knowing that at the very least, you met someone that loved you and got you to feel life was worth it, right? I often hear there are many people who don’t feel they’re truly being heard among their relationship circles. Their connections aren’t as deep as they would like.

What this also says is that if you’re working on something that almost always feels undervalued, there’s always someone out there who will tell you that they are inspired by your work. Maybe I can speak on this a bit. I sometimes feel that blogging is a drag given all the mass attention is going to other outlets. Like why write? Especially on a platform that’s been crapped on the past few years. I realize that this isn’t the case. There’s people who dislike “hot takes/clickbait tiles/news promoting discourse.” I think about what Roland Kelts said about anime discussion in this interview.

“What sucks is that the discourse on social media is so coarse. When you go back and read exchanges between diehard anime fans on Usenet and old chatrooms and forums from the mid-2000s, they read like middlebrow literature compared to what you see on Twitter, Reddit, and Discord. So many social media posts are made just to get hits, not to communicate or share ideas, and the most provocative, cruel, or just plain daft stuff gets liked and retweeted a thousand times.”

I feel that there’s still a place for me and if I can still communicate ideas worth thinking about, I’ll keep going as long as I can. Plus, trying to appeal to everyone feels like a trap because it sometimes requires sacrificing certain core values that you might hold dear. When I look at Fujino and Kyomoto, they held on to their core values and found solace in one another. Just find “good enough” people who are willing to love and respect you. I’m glad Look Back got published because finding bonds with other like-minded folks and developing very close relationships with them is sadly a rarity during these times. You also can’t put monetary worth on creativity that inspires people to do what they want to do and/or find reasons for living. Hobbies and creative ventures aren’t “side hustles/distractions” - they’re part of a universal cry to be human.

I think it’s safe to to say that we will really look back on this one-shot for years to come.

[defdaily]

BEAUTY+ Magazine May 2021 issue featuring JAY B: The Second Act

Translated by defdaily

Among the past, present, and future, which do you think about the most?

The present. I believe that the present is the most important. The future makes you worry constantly, and the past makes you regret constantly so I try not to think about them. Now, I try to make decisions I won’t regret.

Do you think about your current state and things you want to do?

I contemplate a lot about the state of my emotions or what to do in my current situation. Ever since I was young I thought it’d be good to live like the flowing water, tranquilly. You know how water changes its state based on its surroundings. I want to be someone in the free water-like flow.

Has your life until now been like free-flowing water?

My life itself may seem spectacular, but I think the flow of my life itself has been. There was a lot I was lacking in since debuting with GOT7 but I tried my best to show a colour suitable for GOT7. I changed myself according to the container I was in, and instead of being stagnant in one place, I think I flowed here well.

You seem to be careful with choosing an agency. What factors are you contemplating about?

I think about whether I will suit the company. It might be tiring for others to see because I’m so meticulous, and I may seem selfish but I think that I should be selfish right now. My future depends on it as well as the future of the company I will be going to. I think I will have to be selfish for both sides to produce good results.

The members showed their natural sides in the Encore music video. Looking back to 7 years of GOT7’s activities, what is the most memorable moment?

Since we’re performing artists, I remember a lot of moments on stage. 2-3 years ago in Thailand we performed our solo tracks for 7 days and then performed OUT all together as a group. I think a lot about how we were all so excited to perform. I think of those times we were together as seven.

What kind of team was GOT7? Judging as a leader?

The direction of GOT7 I thought of was a fun and free-spirited team. Since Look came out, I’ve been telling the company that we “shouldn’t try too hard to set the mood or look cool. Songs with a style like Look will be our strength.” I don’t think things turned out the way I thought they would. But as you can see from our last album’s song ‘Breath,’ it feels like we went in circles and came back to our original spot. There is some regret about how it would've been good to go more in that direction, then we could’ve shown a more solidified colour. But as a result, it’s a fact that we became a team capable of pulling off various colors.

Did you make those suggestions thinking about the members, because you thought it was what set you guys apart from other groups?

I talked a lot with my members. It seemed like they had the most fun with bright, fun, and chill performances. With performances like that, we think about harmony rather than how each of us can look cool. It leaves a greater impression on the fans when we are visibly having fun.

It seems like the public has also watched over the growth of JAY B. Starting as a bboy to a main vocalist, and writing many remarkable K-pop songs. You also played a huge role in establishing GOT7’s colour. What led you to grow and develop in that way?

I thought that if I felt like I wasn’t growing, then I should quit music.

Does liking it not serve as a reason?

Because it’s my job. Being able to do what you like as a job is something to be grateful for. But if my skills don’t meet the standards and if there is no growth despite my efforts, it’s only right to do it as a hobby. I didn’t think that there was no growth when listening to my music. I thought it could work if I tried a bit more.

What was a song you feel like you reached a new level?

‘Teenager’ and ‘PAGE.’ I think the team’s color was completed with those songs. It helped me realize that I had the potential to write such songs. At first, I was persistent with sticking to my musical color. Later, I changed my thoughts and decided I should write songs suitable for GOT7. It’s something I should obviously do as a member of the team. I think that’s where ‘Teenager’ and ‘PAGE’ lined up very well.

The album 7 for 7 containing ‘Teenager’ was a turning point for GOT7. Through that album, we got the feeling that you guys found your color and most importantly, the quality of the songs written by the members was great. What happened during that time?

I think that’s when our potential exploded (laughs). GOT7 had three turning points. The first was ‘Stop Stop It.’ We heard the song and thought “Wow, this is it.” But the outfits were a bit regretful. The music and the visuals didn’t really match. We wore overalls (laughs). The second turning point was when the Flight Log trilogy was released, and the third was ‘Teenager’ of 7 for 7. That song later led to ‘Look’ and we got to sing ‘PAGE’ and ‘THURSDAY.’ Then we suddenly tried to change our direction to ‘ECLIPSE’ and ‘You Calling My Name’ but eventually ended up back to ‘Breath.’

When you listen to ‘Look’ or ‘PAGE’, do you feel like GOT7’s musical colour reflects your own preference and style? And you’ve made many GOT7 songs with ØFFSHORE crew.

It’s hard to say it wasn’t reflected. But according to my standards, they are songs I wanted to write for the team. I talked a lot with the crew about what (kind of song) should GOT7 do and what would suit GOT7. ‘Look’ was a song that was released because the mood suited GOT7 well. After that it was ‘PAGE’ and ‘THURSDAY’. Our colour was included naturally.

The 8 members of ØFFSHORE are consistently releasing albums. How is that taking place?

We talk about what we feel and decide on a theme whenever we want to release an album. When we decide on a theme, each person would write songs relating to the theme, we select songs and release an album. The themes usually come up as we are talking casually about life. For example <Scene 1> contains the process of leaving on a trip until coming back. Rather than the lyrics, the moods of the songs are like that. When you start the trip you listen to fun songs then (we) get a little calmer as the trip comes to an end. I organised the order of the songs for <Scene 2>. When talking with friends, you usually start by talking about work then you talk about life, the future and then you end up talking about love and relationships. I organised it as that kind of story. There is no specific goal. We spend the revenue from albums on production for the next album. Because everyone in the group are people who make music, there are things that were settled music-wise through these promotions.

You must have been influenced by your friends a lot not only musically, right?

Yes, of course. Regarding life too. I listen to what my older brothers/friends and my parents have to say. I think about the stories of the people who experienced it first once again. One older friend said “We are not doing this for a huge goal, don’t get stressed and let’s just make music.” When I was pondering about how to do better, I heard that and it hit me. Should I say, those words painted my life with colour. I felt like working with energy and strength didn't suit me at the time.

Is it true that you have made 3 albums? Do you only work on songs every day?

Yes. I usually stay in the studio when I can't do my hobby. And since the people I meet are friends who do music too. I don’t know if I can release an album but I’m preparing and working on it.

What kind of albums are they?

In the past, I made powerful “performance-type” songs, but for this album the mood is calmer and the sound is minimal. There is an acoustic feel too. There is a soft tender album, a sad album and a melancholic album too.

Where did the desperation come from?

The desperation of life. I can’t talk about it in detail but there was a topic I really wanted to talk about when I made the album. It could become an album that people frown upon. But, for the music I do alone, I thought I should include honest stories that match my situation.

Did you write about the pain and difficulties you’ve felt all this time? On the surface, you seem to be a recognised leader of a successful idol group, but you must have faced difficulties.

Yes. It’s one part of my life too. Looking back, the difficulties were caused by my own tendencies rather than external factors.

Is it because of the perfectionism you push onto yourself? It seems like the uncertainty and fear contributed to creating your current self.

Yes, I’ve never thought of myself as a perfectionist but people around me often tell me so. They must have a reason for saying that so I ended up acknowledging it myself. I was really ambitious with GOT7 too so I felt a lot of disappointment and stress. I work hard because I know if I don’t, it’ll come back to me as regret. It’s okay to look back to times when I didn’t know well enough and think, “I should’ve done this, I was naive.” What I hate is doing just enough because of reasons like lack of stamina despite knowing what I need to do and knowing that I’m not yet satisfied.

Until now, you’ve made music with the name Def. and through the JUS2 comeback, you also let us hear dreamlike songs from a baritone. Escaping from the category of idol, you now need to create a new identity – is there a kind of music you would like to do fresh?

It’s hard to say it rashly now but, whatever I do, I want to do it properly and solidly. I do prefer a relaxed and easygoing mood, but when it comes to music genres, R&B, hip hop, urban and pop will definitely be the groundwork. However, I do hope that my image will not be fixed to one (genre). It’s no fun to keep doing the same kind of music. And I’m sure there are times when I’ll have to become a little wilder. It’d be great if (I had) a free image. I also hope it’s an image that I won’t be embarrassed of. After coming to a new company and releasing an album, if it doesn’t do well, I think it would be right for me to leave.

Aren’t you fearing failure too much? How would it be possible to achieve what you wish in one go?

Of course, I’m scared. I’m very afraid of failure. Naturally, it won’t be possible to succeed in one shot, but I do have the standard of my Maginot line*. That is what I am referring to. I am usually the type that thinks of the negative things first. It’s not good to be unprepared for the worst-case scenario.

*Maginot line – taken from the fortifications that created the French line of defence, now coming to mean “a defensive barrier or strategy that inspires a false sense of security”

You’ve said that GOT7 has not disbanded, however since all the members are under new companies, coming back together as GOT7 will not be an easy thing to achieve. What kind of method are you thinking of?

I’ve talked a lot with the members. It’s our goal to write one song each month for GOT7. If it’s 1 year, then that’s 12 songs. All our members write songs, so if each one of us does that, then we can accumulate a lot of songs. Everyone is in different companies which will have their own situations, so I can’t make promises for certain, but our goal is to release one album every year. It would be great for that to happen, and I personally think that it should happen. Because that is the minimum courtesy we should show to our fans. It would be even better if we could have a stage.

It would be a new concept.

We heard that the release of our song ‘Encore’ was in an unprecedented manner, and this made my sense of duty and responsibility bigger. Because the steps we take in the future could influence the direction that others may take in the future too. I thought it was the end, but it’s only just the beginning,

Amongst your many hobbies, is there anything you would like to recommend?

Camping. Activities such as setting up tents and cooking really make you think. Even just sitting down in a chair surrounded by nature is really great. Waking up to the sounds of birds singing is amazing; the sound of water running too. Recently, I bought a folding furnace and create my own little fire space. It could be seen as something embarrassing but while having the fire there, if negative thoughts come up, I write it down and then burn it in the fire. If you think that camping may be tiring, glamping would be good too.

Since the name of the magazine is Beauty+, I wanted to ask, is there something that you thought was beautiful recently?

People passed by me laughing and making some noise, and as I saw that, I thought that laughter was something really beautiful. I realised why smiling and laughing is a beautiful thing. It’s not just laughing or smiling, but the emotions that encompass that are really so beautiful. Everything natural is beautiful.

Translated by defdaily.

[fluffi]

AN INTERVIEW WITH EXES :: HEESEUNG

heeseung x gn!reader. angst, exes-to-friends!au. 1021 words. toxic relationship warning. credit to @by-moonflower​.

the first installment of this untimed and unplanned series. be sure to check out @/by-moonflower’s skz and svt versions!

[how did you meet?]

heeseung: well, it was fate, i guess.

you: not really, now that this fever dream is over.

heeseung: if you could just put your petty feelings aside for a moment then we could do this freaking interview.

you: i didnt know i was going to have to do this with you. i wouldnt have shown up if i knew it was going to be between us.

heeseung:

[cut]

you: you were running out of your training building...

heeseung: and you were walking with your iced coffee. you know what happens next.

you: you didnt look at where you were going and bumped into me and my untouched ice coffee! i hadnt even taken a sip.

heeseung: it spilled all over my shirt. i was about to apologize but you and your courteous self decided to help me clean up and one impromptu date led to another one. before i knew it, you would wait for me outside the building every friday evening to hang out.

you: i wasted time out of my only free day to go shopping for new clothes with you, and then i wasted that same free day every evening to spend time with you, only for it to result in...nothing.

heeseung: you didnt waste your time back then.

you: maybe i didn’t last time, but now i have. i wasted months of time and money that i put into this failed relationship.

heeseung: im sorry

you: why are you only saying it now?

[why did you break up?]

you: i dont want to talk about it.

heeseung: i..was stupid back then.

you: i think its good that youre admitting that now. a few years later.

heeseung:

[cut]

heeseung: i was having a long day. i returned home to see you there, and i was happy, but-

you: theres always a but.

heeseung:

heeseung: i got scolded horribly that day, nothing was just going the way i wanted it to. and then i came back to see you so cheerful. you were excited and kept on clinging onto me. i dont know...i- i lashed out.

you: lashed out is an understatement. maybe i shouldnt have been excited to see you return that day. if i were sad, would we still be together right now?

heeseung: no. i hate to say it...we were, perhaps, never fated to work out.

you:

you: i need a moment.

[cut]

you: he lashed out at me and told me that i was annoying, unbearable, and so clingy. he described me as a leech. then, he-

heeseung: dont say it. please, dont.

you: ...he told me that we should’ve never been together. apparently i was the only thing keeping him from success back then.

you: i hope you’ve succeeded now. i hope youre happy without me. thats what you were looking for. happiness. i couldnt provide that for you.

heeseung: i dont know what was wrong with me. i ended up calling you, texting you, knocked on your door every night, expecting a response, even though i knew that i wasnt deserving of one.

you: ...and you didnt get it. i moved out on my own, made new friends. i lived my life the way i truly wanted to live it. i wasnt just your “leech” anymore, i was my own new person.

heeseung: im happy that youre free now. i truly am. i was toxic back then, wasnt i?

you: i didnt see it back then, but as time went on, i figured that we were both toxic, each in our own different way.

heeseung: i thought it was just me? i seriously dont think you did anything wrong.

you: maybe you were blinded by your major mistake that led to our downfall. perhaps, i really was too clingy.

heeseung:

heeseung: oh.

[when were you happiest together?]

heeseung: this is easy. the start of the relationship. puppy love does weird things to your heart.

you: honestly, i think everything flowed better when we werent seeing each other as much. i couldnt cling onto you, and you couldnt yell at me for clinging onto you.

heeseung: thats also true. everytime we stayed together for more than twenty-four hours, we ended up fighting. then it led to ignoring each other, then you wailing at three in the morning, then me consoling you and apologizing, and repeat.

you: you really didnt have to expose me like that.

heeseung: your wailing was kind of cute, not going to lie.

you:

[cut]

you: we really did better when we were busy doing our own things.

heeseung: the weekly meetups were enough for us. perhaps...more than enough. it felt like our dates were my hiatus from the real world.

you: yeah, to sum it up, our relationship was a fever dream, an escape from our real lives.

heeseung:

heeseung: yeah, you were my source of joy, until i felt like you overstepped your boundaries.

you: and you were my source of freedom, until you blocked me out from your life.

you:

you: are we finally agreeing on something?

[what was unique about your relationship?]

heeseung: so many things!

you: mmhm. our route of communication was nothing like what our friends had.

heeseung: everyone around us were always texting their significant others, telling them that they missed them, kisses through facetime, cheesy things that we never felt comfortable doing.

you: we were different. the only times we’d meet seemed to either be utopia or dystopia. there was no in between.

heeseung: i think we just didn’t match. maybe we weren’t like our friends because...we couldn’t be, maybe we didnt see each other in the same tunnel of affection.

[would you try again?]

you: from what we’ve said earlier...

heeseung: no.

you: oh, good! i thought you were going to say something else.

heeseung: i think it is obvious that we were never meant to be together. even our first encounter was a disaster.

you: wow, you really have to put it that way, dont you?

heeseung: i was just stating the truth! besides, we could always try again...platonically?

you:

you: i’d like that. i really would.

2021 © fluffi

[papers4me]

Fruits Basket Reboot: Analytical  Overview of the Anime

Fruits Basket’s reboot is one of most successful anime reboots since it has:

Amazing story that celebrates human weakness, digs into the depths of human identity & doesn’t shy away from depicting child trauma & abuse. Teaches the values of letting go & walking forward.

The author’s blessing, nostalgia factor from loyal fanbase.

Fixed scheduled 3 season comeback with 63 eps in total planned from the very beginning.

Finished source material with its ending approved by manga fans.

Anime follows the official manga ending.

The “slice of life/shojo” genre doesn’t need budget for fight scenes or big scale realistic animation for its lore.

All these factors contributed to its success, however, this doesn't mean the anime was a masterpiece. It is very good but had issues aren’t in the writing, but rather in the format, overall vision & its effect on characters’ depths.

1. Format:

a. ( Is Fruits Basket an episodic anime or a plot-driving story?) 

-The anime couldn’t decide how to adapt the manga content, should it follow it literally & combine two chapters together each time, or take the core plot & drive it by character, or focus on its vision or what? they KNOW that can’t adapt everything. They have 63 eps in total so they have good number of eps to do any choice. However, since the anime is advertised as “ a faithful adaptation” they wanted to cement this announcement in se01 & chose “character of the day” format. Once, the manga fans are assured & hooked, they can drive the rest wherever.

-Se02 was slightly less episodic (minus the beach arc which had perfect pacing). Afterwards, the yuki content was approached similarly to se1 but centered around “ episodic themes”.  Lots of characters arcs are pushed to se3 to keep the “mother” theme of se2. that’s why all eps ended happily minus few eps such as tohru’s nightmare ending in isuzu’s ep.

-Se03 is where the anime really had the biggest issues & couldn’t decided between keeping themes or rolling like a true well-written drama-infused story. Thus we see them trying to keep the episodic themes as long as possible in 5 eps & once ep 6 starts & they can no longer label a flowing plot into themes, they rolled into the climax. The entirety of tohru’s neglected issues outside of her role as a mother was condensed in one ep via audio narration, since ep 7 should drive akito into the climax spot, ep 8 is kyo’s & ep 9 is female antagonist vs female protagonist clash. The rest of the eps focus around wrapping the growth arcs of kyo, akito, yuki & tohru.

I wish they kept the episodic forma for se01 only. Se01 is episodic by design since you can’t maneuver around character introduction, but they should’ve let season 2 & 3 flow smoothly without imposing episodic themes that a junior high schooler could detect, simply because the theme will choose which character fits this ep & which must be cut. Hardly a smart decision for a drama-focused story. Example: Se02 post-beach arc, being “mother tohru” themed meant the cut content of any “teenage girl tohru content”, focusing only on her role as a mother & shoving the rest of “tohru” into the unbelievably packed se03.

b. ( How the seasons are divided & which one is best?)

Lots of fans believed that: se1 (kyo focus), se2 (yuki focus), se3 (tohru focus), I don’t think this is the correct official anime format at all, but rather the fans wishful thinking, here’s why:

se01 isn’t kyo’s focus at all.  Kyo has ONE focused ep each season: se01:ep24, se3: ep9, & se03: ep8. He gets more screen time in se03 to deal with the aftermath of ep8 & to mark his growth & close his arc. But, yuki had more focused eps in se01 than kyo. Example, se01, ep 12, yuki tells the audience abt his dream of new friends, home & new self, sth he achieved gradually ever since that ep ended, thus, Kisa’s ep is a yuki centered ep as well as it marked the beginning of (a) “mother tohru” issues, (b) him deciding to join student council & get out of his comfort zone which is the beginning of “ new yuki”.

se2 is indeed a yuki centered season.

se03 is not a tohru’s focus at all, we still had (akito, shigure, kyo, kureno, momiji, isuzi, haru, machi, motoko, & more yuki) to start or finish their arcs & it is 13 eps only. tho, Tohru had a self-focused role at last which is good.

-I believe the following format better describes the anime’s seasons’ division since it is driven by themes:

se01: Life teachings for the youngsters, due to the direct format of advise given by mother kyoko thro her daughter to the characters/ audience.

se02: Life teachings thro a coming of age story. The trio are struggling to choose a future, afraid & burdened by their trauma’s. Yuki with the help of “mother tohru” , leaves the nest “youngster stage” & sets his foot into the future & struggles to: have fiends, express himself, face his parents, be honest with himself, form an identity & understand himself.

se03: Life teachings of mature issues to those who have already chosen wrong once or twice. bigger issues are presented such as: guilt, death, trauma, extreme self-loath, self-destructive tendencies (kyo), grief, lack of self-esteem, refusing to let go of the past, abandonment issues, constructed polite girl identity with false happy mask (tohru), superiority complex, false forced identity, sins & misdeeds (akito), other themes such as adultery, manipulation, passiveness & enabling can fit the other characters.

So, naturally, season 3 is the richest in content, extremely entertaining story-focused, plot-driven, multi characters depth, plethora of themes, issues & variety of fascinating character writing to distinguish between various arcs & wrap ups. Honestly, se03 carries the whole success since it IS the story of Fruits Basket ( a basket of different fruits & we get to hear/see them all, including the rice-cake!). Still, se03 suffered from the issues of pacing & format I mentioned above, plus condensed content due to short number of eps dedicated to 12 characters.

2. Overall Vision:

Tohru being the main protagonist carries the story’s vision, however, I think Taklaya-san wanted the vision to expand to all her characters. I duno abt the author’s true vision since I haven’t read the manga, but if I were to guess based on the overall story: it is “the acceptance of human weakness”. Yuki isn't the perfect prince, tohru isn't the angelic mom, kyo isn't the horrible monster. These assumptions are the OTHER characters’ perspective of them. Not their true identity or reality. We later even learn that the abusive akito herself, chose a healthier identity, the atoned family head. However, in the anime, characters’ weakness isn’t the center of the anime’s vision, rather its vision is abt the “nurturing effects of the mother figure”, which is supported by the writing as well, but shouldn't be the core driving plot. The anime is more centered around mothers & more narrowly guided. The characters’ weaknesses takes a second seat until the focus on the mother role is over. This does not affect tohru only, but all characters including yuki himself.

-Tohru being the female protagonist shouldn’t be angelic as this contradicts the core theme, thus tohru is given her own set of (human aspects):  trauma, frustrating character traits, faulty coping mechanism: the fake happy mask. Her role as yuki’s mother is only ONE part of her, as big as it is his life & as huge as it is from his perspective. It should NOT be what the audience can only see & feel from tohru. If it is, then Tohru is forever the 16 year-old mother of her peers, sth a normal teenager shouldn't, contradicting the basic existence of the human aspects mentioned above.

a. How does the overall vision being focused on “tohru’s motherly role” affect characters’ depths?

-For Tohru: In the anime, tohru being yuki’s mother lasted for 2 seasons, during that time, we are ONLY allowed to see HER from HIS perspective. Everything abt her human weakness is either vaguely hinted “ few scenes here & there” or pushed to se03. In se01 & 2, tohru is only allowed to act as a “teenage girl” in front of two male characters: (kyo & momiji):

How is tohru depicted in front of kyo & momiji? If you re-watch the anime, once tohru is around these two, her character is very different & she stops giving advice & instead “listen” to them. She is shown more lively & drawn younger & girly, asking more than talking, receiving advice, they both look at her as a normal girl with burdens on her shoulder rather than “savior/care taker”. Kyo complains to her few times abt that & calls her out on her self-denying antics, momoji takes a different approach & subtly provides chances for her to be a “teenage girl”: going to a hot spring & vacation. She opens up to kyo slowly in all her scenes with him, but while she doesn't open up to momiji, she allows herself to show vulnerability & throw her mask a bit in front of him (se01, ep12: she listened to his talk abt his mom, related to him, cried & hugged him with NO advice even tho she didnt tell him abt her mom), se02, she listened to his talk abt his sister, related to him, cried & gave NO advice even tho she didnt tell him she thought abt her mom).

The anime’s heavy focus on her “motherly”side, contradicts showing her as vulnerable & traumatized, hence her backstory lasted for 4 minutes in her own ep, se03, ep6. Later when she faces akito, tohru’s growth kicks in & she starts relating to her issues of abandonment but all this growth came from those 4 minutes of backstory in ep6. In ep9, in front of akito, tohru was depicted just like how she is depicted in all yuki centered eps, ( giving an advice, smiling, a hallow of light around her, the sun rises, the rain stops & she shines her kindness to heal the wounds). 

-For Yuki: In the anime, Yuki is shown seeking a mother & all the right monologues & issues are perfectly presented. However, his weakness isn’t only wanting a mother!! yuki is depicted as a prince by others, so a huge part of his growth is to leave the princely persona behind, which is sth that was not focused on in the anime. Outside of his issues on viewing tohru as a mother & wanting friends, yuki continued to be depicted as prince & wasn't much allowed the freedom of being “a normal teenage boy”. Machi narrated that part of his growth, motoko too, but it wasnt depicted much on screen & yuki continued to have dashing bubbles, sparkles, hair flowing on wind & extreme focus on beautiful face. Him becoming a dynamic character outside of his “finishing my tohru-mother confession to my friend” is very short lived. This would’ve easily been fixed if less attention was given to his “mom tohru” phase. He is more than “I used to look at tohru as my mom”.

-For kyo: In the anime, kyo never looked at tohru as a mom, hence from the beginning kyo didn’t fit the overall vision. Hence, all his issues are pushed into se03 when tohru’s “mom role” is finished. There is a reason we have ONE kyo centered ep in se1 & 2. it IS contradicting the current tohru-image of being a mom. Also, kyo’s thoughts are blocked completely for dramatic purposes but he didnt need to be absent from tons of eps which he was, even his growth ever since se01 finale is very subtle in order to not derive from tohru’s image as a mom. We have some scenes of kyo & tohru interacting, but they should be sparse se01, ep 23 (soup ep) or se02, ep2, or short scenes such kyoto scene or tohru’s worried abt her grandpa scene in se2, ep14. Most of kyo’s & tohru’s scenes aren’t solely romantic in their nature but they provide in depth peek into their true personality & identity as humans. With her kyo isn’t angry or annoyed & with him tohru isn’t bubbly with the “I’m okay” mask.

Side Notes:

There is no doubt that the anime was made with respect & love to the source material & the author. I can see this clearly & I don’t deny it at all. This isn’t meant to ridicule them at all. I respect them all plenty.

There is no doubt that the anime team were trying their best & if you like everything, then good for you, if you like some parts & don’t agree with others, then that’s fine. Criticizing is a form of loving, too. Just be respectful.

Preferences, tastes, visions, & outlooks, all differ from one human to another. This is normal & healthy.

The director or decision maker in the anime having different vision from the author is fine, too. After all, he’s a different person. His perspective & understanding of her characters is different. Disagreeing with him is fine. All medium of art are exposed to the audience perspective. I disagree with him on lots of creative decisions such as reliance on monologues, wide shots on intense moments, lack of zoom on facial expressions, most parallel scenes are very in the nose, need for exaggerated drama & over dramatic drawing of tohru & akito at times.

You can even differ with the writer herself on some parts of her writing, that’s fine, too.

I enjoyed this anime lots, it helped me make new friends, discuss lots of fascinating content, & practiced writing short critical reviews, which is sth I’ve missed from my college days!

I love the writing for the main male characters: Yuki & Kyo. I love their arcs so much! Yuki got the best focus on his core issues. Kyo, in particular surprised me as I used to think, due to the minimum content on him, that he’s only the secondary rival of the main male protagonist. But kyo’s story turned out fascinating & very psychological informed. 

Still, the anime is lacking to me for its depiction & presentation of women. The main female characters (Tohru & akito) are lacking realistic depiction of their core issues & time dedicated to that.  The focus on tohru’s mom role steals from realistic existence as a character on her own right. Akito is a villain for so long & her atonement is quick & her love story is quicker. Both females didn’t get to tell us their traumatic backstory in detail like the boys & they didn’t have enough focus on their human side.

Altho kyo had (1) way less screen time than yuki or even tohru, (2) his true backstory was only revealed in the climax, (3) his inner thoughts were blocked for suspense, he was written wearing his emotions on his sleeve from ep1, so, we grew to feel for him & dreaded what could’ve broken such endearing boy, hence, once it was shown we understood the psychological trauma that destroyed him. One third of the puzzle of his story was revealed each season gradually. (1) se01 (true form), (2) se02 (his bet with akito, knowing kyoko & loving tohru), (3) se03 (His whole backstory including the abusive father).

I wouldn’t say, I wish tohru was given the (yuki treatment) cuz then we’ll need more than 13 eps for se03, I just wished her story & emotions to at least be given the (kyo treatment): Divided into clear thirds (parts).

The anime is a lovely treat that I can recommend to lots of ppl with ease. You dont have to be into shojo to get into it, but it’ll undoubtedly trick you into its subtle main love story that subvert most shojo tropes. The other love stories are good as well, there’s a type of love for every fan!

There’s a number of platonic friendships which is very refreshing! 

My Final Verdict of the anime: Very Endearing as it tugs at my heart!

[ramzawrites]

Wherever The World Takes Us Part 2 - SBI! Reader Insert

GN

Pairings: none 

Characters included: Wilbur, Jack Manifold, Fundy, Tommy, Tubbo, (mentioned) Philza, (mentioned) Dream, (mentioned) Sapnap, (mentioned) George

Warnings: small mention of death 

Series: Yes, this plays in an AU version of the actual dsmp lore but still follows along the plot. Part 1

Summary: Y/N finally arrives at L’Manberg, talking to Wilbur for the first time after years. They take the chance to get a proper look at L’Manberg and the situation while also resting after the long flight over. Making up their mind that maybe they should stay longer than intended.

Word count: 4586

Authors Note: This is a more calm chapter but the next one should be more action packed and continue to do so. It is a bit of a slow start but the plan is to skip more through the story at important parts. Right now I just want to establish the Reader as a person and their connection to people.

Y/N has been to L’Manberg only once. That was before Wilbur pronounced L’Manberg a nation and started a war with Dream who owned these lands. Back then all they had were some crude builds and a van parked where they apparently lived in. Y/N was at first a bit mad at Wilbur that he would just take Tommy and his son Fundy to some random remote place only to live inside a van for a couple of months. Tommy reassured them that he was okay with it, besides they were in the middle of building up their own home and Wilbur reminded them that in the end he was trying his best and raising Fundy to the best of his abilities after his mom died. Besides Fundy was old enough that for him this was something exciting and saw this more as a camping trip before they properly moved in.

Now as Y/N was approaching the nation in the air they were quite impressed with what they saw. All around the nation stood a huge black wall that simultaneously marked their territory but also protected them from outside forces. Inside the walls were a few of houses, farms and people running around dealing with their own business.

They made a mental note to apologize to Wilbur for accusing him that he was pulling Tommy, Fundy and later even Tubbo into a doomed endeavor. They really should’ve trusted their bigger brother more.

Once Y/N got close enough they angled their wings in such a way that they would stop mid-air, slowly descending towards the ground with a few flaps of their wings. When they touched the ground they gave themself a look-over. Their little bag was still closed, nothing seemed to have flown out. Their sword was still safe against their hip. Honestly they could forgive themself for loosing that bag which almost only included herbs, other medicine with a little of food and a few other necessities but they would never be able to forgive themself if they lost the sword from Techno. Not that they wouldn’t have noticed if suddenly the weight disappeared but you never know.

They landed close to L’Manberg but decided to walk the rest five minutes on foot, stretching their back as they started to walk. Being in the air for three days with breaks was tiring but nothing new to them. One time they managed to fly for almost seven days with only a few breaks but after that their wings and back hurt so much that they needed a month long break. Philza came home from one of his adventures and saw Y/N for the first time in ages. He was happy, of course, but still confused since this only happened rarely. When he found out the reason though he gave them an earful that they should be more careful. Worried that they might have damaged their wings or didn’t get enough to eat.

Y/N subsequently had to let him look through their wings. He actually stayed the whole month at home as well, taking care of them, saying that as much as he was relishing in the freedom after all the kids moved out he did miss sometimes acting like the dad he is.

As they got closer to the gate of the city they really took in how imposing the walls looked. From the air they were already impressive but on ground they looked even more so.

The gate was made from heavy thick wood and was closed which didn’t surprise them seeing that they came over right after a fight against the Dream Team plus the betrayal from inside their group. Who wouldn’t feel paranoid.

Unsure what to do they knocked on the thick wood. Sure, they could fly over the gate but they felt like this would make all the people who didn’t know them wary and scared so they opted to properly trying to get in via the gate.

A small view window opened up giving away to a pair of blue and red colored glasses. Y/N positioned themself properly in front of the person who was silently judging them.

“Hi, my name is (Y/N) and I’m here to visit my family. Can I come in?”

The person behind the gate squinted his eyes “Who exactly would that be?”

Good he was talking to them at least “Oh! My brothers Wilbur, Tommy and my nephew Fundy.”

Suddenly the eyes widened behind the glasses “Give me a minute.” He then closed the little window and presumably left.

If that was an expression of recognition or something else Y/N honestly couldn’t tell. They just hoped it meant something good.

Y/N was awkwardly standing around, looking at everything around them but just ended up taking a better look at their wings. It was a bit of a nervous habit at this point. To be fair after this long flight they should take a good look at them but they didn’t have the mind for that yet.

No, they were too worried about their family. Loosing at least one of your three lives was a normal thing for most people but it still left everyone with their own mental baggage. Y/N couldn’t even imagine how Wilbur must feel. He is in charge of everyone here and then his family members all lost a life. Including his young son.

Wilbur didn’t go into detail of what happened so they hoped that he could fill them in as to what happened.

They were so deep in their thoughts that they didn’t notice how one half of the gate creaked open, revealing Wilbur who immediately crashed into Y/N, giving them a bone-crushing hug as the man with the colored glasses from before was babbling something about “Wait, at least check first!”

Surprised for this sudden hug it took Y/N a moment before they reacted but once they understood what was happening, they wrapped their arms and huge wings protectively around Wilbur.

“I didn’t think you would come visit us.” Wilbur whispered as he held onto them, almost as if he was afraid they would disappear as soon as he let go.

It hurt Y/N so much seeing Wilbur like this.

“After I read your letter I was so worried for you guys.” Y/N opened up their wings again and let go of Wilbur, who only reluctantly followed suit as well. “I needed to make sure and see for myself how you guys were doing. I also need to apologize to you.”

The other man from before was awkwardly scratching his neck as he interrupted them “Um, not to sound rude but don’t you guys want to continue this inside L’Manberg?”

Wilbur took a deep breath in, turned around and nodded “Yeah, you are right, Jack. Let’s get to my home, Y/N. I’ll call Tommy and Tubbo over later so we can talk about everything but you must be tired. If I’m right you definitely flew the whole way over, didn’t you?”

The last part sounded almost accusatory. Though as the older sibling it was his job to look out for them, so all they could do was roll their eyes.

“Yeah, pretty much.” Y/N admitted.

Wilbur smiled at that and begun leading his sibling into the heart of the city.

The city was beautiful. Rustic but beautiful. A few People were running around, greeting Wilbur and chatting happily with each other. Hard to imagine that these people were currently fighting for their freedom against the Dream Team and their people.

Y/N also took the time to get a proper look at Wilbur. He was wearing some sort of revolutionary uniform which only hammered back in how serious this was. How the hell did it go from living in a van to this? How did he manage to do it? It baffled them, it really did.

They were so incredibly proud of Wilbur but just as worried.

Suddenly Wilbur stopped at a beautiful little quaint home. He opened up the door and let himself and Y/N in. Inside he got rid of his jacket and also offered to hang up Y/N’s jacket and bag. They gratefully gave him their things. It felt like a huge weight was off of them.

“Over there is the living room you can sit down there. I’ll bring you something to drink and food.” He wanted to continue talking but he got interrupted by a rumbling sound from upstairs. Wilbur sighed and looked up towards the stairs.

Y/N followed his example only to see an excited Fundy jumping down the stairs “Y/N!”

“Ah! I was wondering where you were! Almost thought my favorite nephew was hiding from me!” they laughed as they opened up their arms.

Fundy didn’t hesitate running straight into them, giving them a hug. Y/N gave them a short hug, including wings only to let go almost immediately and pet his head “Look at you! You grew up quite a bit! Have your ears gotten bigger? Your tail as well!”

Excitedly he nodded in response “Yes! I am also getting better at smelling!”

“Is that true?”

“Yeah.” Surprisingly it was Wilbur who answered tiredly. Oh there was a story to that.

Together with Fundy at their side they walked towards the living room where Y/N gratefully let themself fall unto the couch, basically throwing their shoes off as they put their legs up. Yes, this was nice, now all they needed was some food and a good shower.

Fundy sat down at the end of the couch only to slowly inch closer and closer to them. Y/N had their eyes closed but they noticed the weight shifting around.

“Okay, spit it out Fundy. What is on your mind?”

Opening up one eye they saw how excited Fundy looked. It warmed their heart that even after he lost a life he was still so full of life and with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Though if this was just a shallow observation or the truth would be shown later. They planned to stay for a while. A few weeks at least. After all they had to make sure their family was doing alright at all costs.

“Can you tell me about your adventures?”

For some reason this really took Y/N aback. They supposed you could say they have been a lot around the world and seen some crazy things but they never really thought of them as adventures. It was their way to satisfy their own curiosity and freedom loving behavior. Now that they really thought about it this must run in the family. Philza spends his free time like them traveling around the world working on his own projects, Techno traveled far away to train on his own terms and now Wilbur and Tommy were fighting to free a small nation from the iron grips of a tyrant.

“My adventures, huh. Let me think.” Truth was they spent the most time studying the fauna of the world and learn of new ways to make potions and medicine, as well as treating people who needed it. In fact they actually managed to gain quite the reputation that would gain them the nickname Guardian Angel or in rare cases Angel of Life. Both seemed really cheesy and vague to them. Heal a few people from Zombification and suddenly people believe you are supernatural. Which reminded them.

“Oh! I got a creepy one! Wanna hear it?”

“A creepy what?” Wilbur was suddenly walking in with a glass of water and a few slices of bread just the way Y/N used to eat it for breakfast back when they were kids. It was nice knowing that Wilbur still remembered things like that.

“Y/N was going to tell me a creepy story of one of their adventures!” Fundy explained excitedly.

Wilbur raised one of his eyebrows “Oh, really? You have a creepy story? He put the glass and plate down on the coffee table next to his younger sibling who in return happily moved around on the couch so they sat crossed legged on it. Easier that way to eat and drink.

Fundy moved closer, looking at their wings “So, what about the story?”

“Alright, I’ll tell you about it, you are old enough to hear about zombie stories, right?” Fundy nodded, of course he was. He was twelve years old after all. Just to make sure Y/N looked over to Wilbur who gave them a very nonchalant “Sure, go ahead” shoulder shrug.

With that Y/N begun telling the two about that one time they found an abandoned village. They hoped they could do some trading and resting there but the entire village was just empty. It was only as it became dark that suddenly a ton of zombified villagers came running out. In the end they had to play some sort of cat and mouse game trying their best to find a way to heal them all. Meaning they had to try to heal them before the sun came up, evade their attacks while also brewing potions in the back.

While Fundy was hanging onto every word, interested how Y/N solved this problem, Wilbur begun laughing once they were done telling the story. Both Fundy and Y/N furrowed their brows as they looked at him.

He flailed around with his hand before slapping it down on his leg “I’m sorry it just suddenly really clicked to me why people call you Guardian Angel or Angel of Life. Though to be fair the last one I’m sure they only call you since they know you are related to dad. But, uh, yeah I’m mostly laughing at myself.”

While Fundy waved this off as his dad just being weird Y/N had a shocked expression on their face “You know of these stupid nicknames? You heard of them? How?”

 Now Wilbur looked at them as if they were stupid “Come one, Y/N. You are way more known around the place as you might think. We get a lot of travelers and merchants around here who tell a lot of stories. Now and then we hear them talking about a Guardian Angel that apparently manages to perform miracles. I think I even talked to a person who swore he got saved by you. Said you were quite remarkable and I swear this is in his own words: good on the eyes as well.”

A faint embarrassed blush spread on Y/N’s face “Uh, is that true? I mean kinda weird not gonna lie.”

“Especially since it came from an old geezer.”

“Ender be damned of course it was!”

After this exchange Wilbur led Y/N to his little guest room so they could rest and maybe take a shower only for Y/N to notice that they left in such a hurry they didn’t bring enough clothing with them for multiple weeks. They will definitely get by the next few days but they better get on that.

Y/N was grateful for the hot shower, washing off the grime and dirt from their travel as well as letting their back muscles relax in the warm water. Once they were outside and in fresh clothing they finally took the time to take care of the wings. As much as they loved flying, these damned things were also high maintenance. Even if it was just so they felt more comfortable.

Back when they were a kid Philza would sometimes take the time to do that for them. They tried doing the same thing for him once when he was sick but apparently they did such a horrible job that he banned them from doing that again for at least the next ten years which technically passed years ago already but who is counting.

After a refreshing nap Y/N walked downstairs to find Wilbur sitting in the living room with a ton of maps and other pieces of papers laying around on the coffee table. They slowly approached him and laid a hand on his shoulders. He didn’t react meaning he must have noticed them approaching.

“Hey, you doing alright? What is all this?”

Wilbur let out a tired, weary sigh “Plans on how to strengthen our infrastructure and plans on how to get back at the Dream Team.”

Y/N nodded, fully knowing he can’t see their face and moved on to sit next to him on the couch as well. Taking a look over the papers. There wasn’t anything that really spoke to them nor could they really make out what this all meant, they just simply knew not enough of everything. So they decided to open up a new conversation. Something that was laying heavily on their heart ever since they saw how far L’Manberg has gotten.

“I’m sorry, Wilbur. I was angry at you, that you would take Tommy and your young son away into the middle of nowhere to live in a small van just because you could. Gave you a hard time for that even after Tommy reassured me that everything was fine and you guys were working towards an actual living space. For some reason it wouldn’t get into my thick skull and sure you haven’t fully achieved your current end goal yet but I’m seriously impressed with how far you have gotten. L’Manberg is beautiful and so much bigger than I thought it would ever be. You made something amazing here. I’m sure dad and Techno would be proud of you. I certainly am. So, let me say it again.”

They looked up and made sure to look their older brother directly in the eyes “I am so sorry for doubting you like that and I am so proud of you, Wilbur.”

Wilbur seemed a bit shocked as Y/N just opened up to him like that. Just staring at them, processing the things they just said.

His shocked expression turned into a soft smile “I forgave you a long while ago. You were just worried I get it but I appreciate this nonetheless. You are quite amazing as well, do you know that? I know I made fun of you and your nicknames but I hope you understand that for the simple fact that these things exist you must have really left an impact on people.”

Now it was Y/N’s turn to smile.

“Thank you, Wilby.”

“Now come here!”

Wilbur pulled them close to him again, giving them another one of his huge hugs.

Between the whole family Y/N and Wilbur tended to open up the most and mostly to each other. Technoblade didn’t care much for these things, Philza was a bit in the same boat but he was still there, offering genuine heartfelt counseling when they needed it. Tommy on the other hand liked to avoid these topics in general, feeling uncomfortable with them. That didn’t mean he never talked about these things but it was more rare.

Y/N took a deep breath in as they softly pried Wilbur off of them “I have no idea how to ask so I’m just going to do it. Can you tell me more about what happened that day? But I also understand if you need more time.”

Wilbur returned to stare at the papers in front of him “I first want you to at least talk to Tommy and Tubbo. They missed you a ton and I had to hold them off while you were sleeping. After that I promise you I will tell you everything and I mean absolutely everything. That a deal?”

He sounded sad but also got his, what Y/N and Tommy would call, big brother voice out. He used it rarely but when he did it meant he was serious and it was more of an order even if he used it for a question. The older they got the more annoyed Y/N was with it, seeing how they are closer in age than Tommy and considered themself more mature but they also respected it.

“Okay, deal. I’m guessing they are somewhere around L’Manberg?”

Wilbur visibly relaxed after they answered “Yeah, want me to ask Fundy to show you?”

Y/N shook their head “It’s alright. I’ll take the chance to get a better look of the town. I’ll leave you to it then. Don’t stress yourself out too much alright?”

He just gave them a soft nod before grabbing some of the papers, probably rereading them for the hundredth time.

Reluctantly Y/N stood up and walked towards the door, grabbing their jacket before going out. They loved their jacket it was a gift from Philza. Flying around was a cold endeavor and finding a proper jacket that you could wear with wings was pretty difficult or expensive, so they really treasured this gift from their father.

Outside again they took a good look around. The walls were just as imposing as the last time they saw them. There were only a few houses sprawled around but there was still a ton more space for even more. Wilbur was probably hoping that more people moved in but for that the war between him and Dream had to come to an end. Not a lot of people would dare to move into a town constantly under siege.

Dream was scary as far as Y/N could tell. They heard some things about him on their travels but also via the letters from Wilbur. Apparently he is quite the fighting machine. He owned these lands and ruled over the people there with an iron fist. Always in control over everything.

His best friends, George and Sapnap, form the Dream Team with him. They were also really good fighters. Always standing close to him and follow his lead. Y/N didn’t know much about them besides Sapnap since as far as they have heard he had a love for fire.

It irked them a tiny bit that apparently there really didn’t seem to be a way for both factions to find a more peaceful solution.

As they continued walking they saw the man with the mismatched glasses again. Jack was his name if Y/N remembered correctly. He noticed them walking by and reacted by running towards them with a wave. He seemed way friendlier now.

“Hey! And? What do you think of our own little nation, Y/N?”

Y/N gave him a polite smile “Jack, right? Even as I was seeing it from above I was thinking it looked really amazing. To think this all started out with a van.”

Jack nodded with a satisfied expression on his face “Yeah, it really is amazing what can happen in a few years with some help. Also, yeah, Jack Manifold is my name. I joined a bit later but I’m helping your brothers out. The two, Fundy and even Tubbo were telling me and the others quite a few things about you!”

“I hope only good things and nothing too embarrassing.” They laughed.

“I think they really respect you, from what I can tell, so, I respect you too! Okay, I have some errands to run but I also just wanted to officially greet you and if you have any question don’t hesitate to ask me.”

“Thank you! I will keep that in mind!” They waved him off as he continued on his way.

The people here seem to be friendly, at least once you are inside. Honestly Y/N was really curious of the people that joined L’Manberg in this dangerous time. Why they joined and who they were. They must be some kind of stupid to do that but a kind of stupid that Y/N seriously respected.

It didn’t take long for Y/N to find Tommy and Tubbo huddled up whispering and joking to each other. They were standing around a small carrot farm. Tubbo on the soil with dirty hands and a basket of carrots next to him, leaning against the fence, listening intently to his best friend. Tommy was snacking on a carrot as he was standing on the other side of the fence, wildly gesticulating as he was boasting about something. Both wore the same unform as Wilbur though with a few differences.

It was Tubbo who saw Y/N approaching first. Excitedly he gave them a wave and motioned for them to get over to the little farm. Tommy turned around, surprised to see his older sibling coming closer. A huge grin appearing on his face.

“Y/N!”

“Tommy! You seem to be doing well! You too Tubbo! It’s been quite some time!” It felt like a huge weight was lifted off of them. They were definitely glad that the two looked like they always do and not cooped up at home. The two moved in together and have been a huge help to Wilbur but also quite troublesome as well as far as Y/N could remember from the letters they received.

Tubbo rubbed his hands on a rag, hurriedly trying to clean them as he walked towards the other Hybrid, Tommy close behind. He leaned towards Y/N who in return immediately followed the motion recognizing that he was about to give them a small headbutt. This was shortly followed by a hug from both Tubbo and Tommy at the same time.

The two grew up quite a bit of course but Y/N really marveled at Tubbo’s horns which have grown a lot over time. Curling around his big flappy ears just like Schlatt.

“You are here?” Tommy asked.

Y/N gave themself a look over “Uh, as it seems I am indeed here right now.”

Tommy just rolled his eyes at his older siblings antics.

“For how long?” Tubbo was the one to ask.

To be honest Y/N wasn’t absolutely sure themself so they shrugged “A couple of weeks maybe. We’ll see.”

“Ha! I bet you haven’t talked with Wilbur about that yet! Actually I also bet you just came over without much thinking.” Tommy laughed. They haven’t seen each other in a while but apparently he could still read them like a book.

Y/N slung their arm around the blonde and pressed their other fist on top of his head “We haven’t seen each other in literal years and this is how you treat me the first time we see each other?”

“How about we show them our home Tommy? We both build this up so that’s something cool to show right?”

They sighed and let go off Tommy “I was really hoping once you moved in with Tubbo you would become less cheeky and more nice but I guess some things never change. You make fun of me while Tubbo is actually being a good host.”

“Yeah, yeah. By the way have you had a proper look around L’Manberg?”

“I only walked around a bit in order to find you guys, not a proper tour if that is what you mean.”

This time both Tubbo and Tommy grinned.

“Well then let me show you around!” Tommy was now boasting. He was clearly proud of what he helped build up, of this nation. Y/N was glad that he found something to put his energy in like this. Guilt snuck back in as they remembered how much they doubted Wilbur and Tommy in this.

Sure their situation right now wasn’t optimal but how couldn’t you be amazed or even proud of them. This only used to be a van and now it was a straight up town, a small nation in the works. They couldn’t help but think that maybe having a doctor like them on hand would be quite helpful as well.

[stray-kids-react]

Thier s/o being a vampire

Masterlist

...

Bang Chan

° You were bitten seven years ago, later being forced to join a cult of vampires. The youngest of them all, and also the most sensitive and kind.

° You didn't want to live a vampire lifestyle, and wanted to just live normally. You honestly didn't even enjoy the taste of blood, even animal blood.

° Your master took your sensitivity to his advantages, granting you access to go back to school while they followed behind and bit new victims during their breaks.

° As they formed an army of vampires, you grew connections to new people. Including your desk mate Chan, who seemed to take an interest in you.

° As the university semester went along, you sadly grew attached to Chan. Regretting it since he isn't immortal and has no idea that you are, and your cult could hunt him.

° Just as you walked to class the next day to tell Chan the truth, you realized the seat next to yours was empty. Your heart sank, knowing Chan wouldn't miss a class ever.

° You ran back to the cult mansion, noticing Chan's unconscious body being dragged into the building. Not hesitating, you ran up to your master and grabbed Chan from him.

"I WON'T LET YOU HURT HIM!"

"... Has y/n grown attached? To this... Mortal?" he laughed lowly.

° You dashed into the forest with Chan in your arms, cold tears running down your cheeks. Feeling immense guilt for involving Chan in this, it was your fault.

"Y-y/n?...." He groaned, a raspy voice as he just woke up.

"You're okay, oh thank heavens." You sighed, smiling sweetly. Not realizing your fangs were in plain sight.

° You only caught on that your fangs were showing by his widened eyes, soon covering your mouth in terror. But he didn't seem scared, just...surprised.

° He sat up in your lap, wiping your tear stained cheeks. Chan rested his head against yours as he smiled gently, before interlocking his lips with yours.

"You're not creeped out?"

"No, if you wanted to bite me you would've done it by now." He reassured, booping your nose.

Lee Know

° You and Minho were the newest members of your opposing cults, neither of you ever met. All that was shown was a photo of him to you, telling you to hunt him down.

° When you walked through those university doors, you had no idea that he was on the same mission but to find you instead. You thought he was just a normal human.

° He say next to you in every class you had together, listening to your responses to questions and noting your small habits. As you tried to do the same for him.

° It only took the next day for you to finally say a word to each other, noticing how attractive he truly was. Especially when he showed off his bright smile.

° It was his job to attract you to him, but you seemed different from the other three people he's had to this on. Minho actually felt a connection towards you.

° Minho didn't want to grow attached to you, but he had. So he decided to bite you instead of killing you, that way he couldn't lose you or let someone else kill you.

° But as his fangs protruded and he moved your tshirt down on your sleeping form. Minho noticed two scar marks from another vampire bite, you were already a vampire.

"Shit..." He sighed, realizing the situation he was in.

"Minho? Stop hogging the blankets." You whined, pulling the blankets back.

° Minho stayed silent, staring at the ceiling. Knowing he can't kill you, so he'd have to fake your death or his. He just couldn't betray you like that, you're too nice.

"You should've told me you were like me y/n." He replied, glancing towards your widened eyes.

"... You're the one who was suppose to hunt weren't you?" You asked, knowing the answer isn't a pleasant one.

° He nodded cautiously, flopping back down next to you. Wrapping his arms around your waist as you snuggled into him, his cold touch comforting you completely.

° The silence ate at both of your thoughts, both wondering what to do. Neither one of you cared about why your masters hated each other, instead how to escape.

"Let's runaway together." He suggested, burrowing his face into my neck.

"I'll follow wherever you take me." I replied, hoping our plan to runaway succeeds.

Changbin

° When you went into your vampire form, you almost completely blacked out. Only waking up to the dead body you murdered right next to you, terrifying you immensely.

° Your boyfriend Changbin was curious about the recent murder mysteries, wondering how they haven't found the culprit yet or even any suspects.

° You luckily caught on when you would turn into your form, it was when you ran low on animal blood to satisfy you. And it happened at midnight everytime.

° You kept your blood bags in your basement, locked away in the cooler. If your boyfriend found the bags of blood, you didn't even want to picture his reactions to it.

° But when you went grocery shopping, he visited thinking you'd be home. He made himself comfortable due to the many times he's been to your house.

° The usually closed basement door was opened just a crack, the unknown darkness peeking his interest. Even if he felt his own anxiety fill his brain when he got closer.

° When you go home, you noticed the basement light on. Realizing Changbin must've been visited, and is now in the basement you don't want him to see.

"Y/n... Are you. Are you the killer?" He asked cautiously, gulping loudly.

"Sort of... But I can't control it. I-I'm a vampire and black out when it happens." You sigh, knowing he won't believe you.

° Changbin turned around slowly, holding you close as you began to break down in front of him. He knew you wouldn't do this, so he had to believe you.

"I believe you y/n." He reassured, kissing your head.

"Thank you. You are truly an angel." You whimpered, regaining composure.

° Changbin felt bad for seeing how scared you were of yourself, not being able for your worst fear to be yourself. All he could was supply you with blood and comfort you.

° If it were anyone else to discover your secret, you'd be in prison or dead. But Changbin knew who you were deep down and loved you for who you were.

"I'll help you hide the bodies." He reassured, wiping your tears.

"I love you Binnie." You replied, kissing his knuckles.

Hyunjin

° Hyunjin was bitten years ago, but refused to go near any human. He only used his inhuman abilities to protect you from other vampires who craved your untouched blood.

° You were one of the only humans left in town, most being unnatural creatures from nightmares in disguise. But Hyunjin always made sure Non of them effected you.

° The only people he trusted you with were his best friends, Han, Seungmin, and Felix. But they seemed to be weaker when it comes to the temptation of blood.

° So during a game night at their apartment, Felix followed you into the kitchen. You didn't think much of it since he was your best friend who you trusted quite a bit.

° But the sharp sting of two fangs sinking into your flesh froze your body from fear alone, Hyunjin was the one suppose to be the to bite you. Not Felix.

° You tried to keep the secret from Hyunjin, knowing he'd feel an overwhelming amount of guilt for not being there. Plus you felt guilty for not being more cautious.

° After you and Hyunjin would marry, he would bite you. It was a plan that both of you were excited for, but now you just ruined that important moment for the both of you.

"Y/n... Felix told me what he did." Hyunjin commented, leaning on the door frame.

"I'm so sorry Hyunjin, is should've been more careful." You sighed, guilt building up.

° Hyunjin walked up behind you, resting his chin on top of your head. He swayed you both back and forth, comforting all the sadness and guilt away.

"He apologized over 100 times." He chuckled softly, rubbing your knuckles.

"I think will 1000 times." You replied, leaning into his body.

° Hyunjin didn't hold a grudge against either of you, relieved Felix wasn't so effected by temptation that he killed you. But it still hurt him a bit, wishing he could've been the one.

° You let him bite the marks Felix made, making it his own. Even if it hurt more, you felt more relieved and comfortable with Hyunjin's bite. Feeling at home with him.

"Now you're mine. Forever." He teased, kissing the bleeding marks.

"Just like I've always wanted." You replied, cupping his face.

Han

° You were a killer vampire who didn't really care about your victims ever, only focusing on making sure you got your blood and no one would try to stop you.

° That is until you fell into someone's trap, being trapped in a net as the man revealed himself from the shadows. That prey that you tried to get, was simply a dummy.

° He trapped you in a jail like cell, feeding you nice meals along with dessert. Even going as far to get animal blood for drinks to go along with the meals.

° He couldn't let someone as dangerous as you go back into society, but he didn't want to be rude or anger you either. So it usually consisted of awkward encounters.

° As days went by, you went over all of the things you achieved in life. Realizing you hadn't even lived your life to the full potential it could be with your abilities.

° As your heart grew larger and your mind opened up to humans, you became attached to the man who caught you. It was more like a chance back to reality then a jail.

° He seemed to care about your comfort and safety, as if he knew that there was still a person inside of you. He didn't intend to hurt you, more healing you instead.

"How are you feeling today doll?" He asked, bringing the dinner you requested for.

"Thank you mortal." You huffed, looking sincere for once.

° The smile that embraced his features caused a flutter to your heart, you now know that this one human was impacting you more than the temptation of blood.

"Why did you treat me so well?" You asked, stuffing your cheeks with a bread bun.

"Everyone has a heart with feelings at the end of the day, you are no different." He explained, brushing the hair from your eyes.

° Han let you make yourself at home, even letting you cuddle with him in his bed. You never felt such a joyful feeling when he laughs at one of your lame jokes.

° You were free to go and live your vampire lifestyle once again, but you enjoyed his company far too much to leave. You fell for him hard, and felt happy about it.

"I think I fell for you Han Jisung." You admitted, avoiding his gaze.

"I'm glad I am not the only one who fell for someone." He replied, placing a kiss on your nose.

Felix

° You worked at the movie theatre with a whole bunch of girls who hated you for no reason, and guys who called you weird for not showing skin like the other girls.

° It was hard to act like nothing was wrong when you fight the urge to suck the blood from anyone pissed you off, and to gain confidence in the new form you hate.

° The only person you could rely on was your close co worker Felix, he made it his mission to stick up for you and make your days just a bit brighter than usual.

° Felix liked your quirky habits and differences from other people, he had a crush on you since you first started to work the same shifts as him.

° When your cravings were becoming insane, elf like ears would appear and your energy would decrease immensely. You usually blacked out during those times.

° Felix noticed your unconscious body next to your car, immediately rushing over in a panicked manner. He didn't even question your ears, he just need you to wake up.

° He heard your small unconscious murmurs about blood, licking your lips dryly everytime. Felix had suspicions that you drank blood, due to a lunchbox mix up.

"Oh thank God you're awake." He sighed, crawling off of you.

"I can't remember how I got here, but thank you. How'd you wake me?" You asked, noticing the cut on his palm.

° Felix revealed the lunch box mix up that happened earlier that day, explaining that he cut his palm and dripped some blood into your mouth assuming you had cravings.

"Do you think I'm creepy now?" You asked, leaning against your car door.

"Not really to be honest, you're still y/n. And I like you for who you are." He answered, running a hand through his hair.

° Felix suggested to drive you home since you still seemed a bit dizzy, holding you until you reached the bedroom safely. You flopped onto the bed, sighing comfortably.

° He was about to leave when you gripped his wrist, leaving a small kiss onto his cut palm. Insisting he stayed with you for the night, knowing he must be tired from the day.

"I have a spare mattress if you don't feel comfortable sharing." You reassured, grabbing your pajamas.

"I think I'll like sharing with you." He whispered, leaning onto you as he hugged you softly.

Seungmin

° You were bitten a week ago while going for a walk, you couldn't catch a glimpse at who had bit you. But you were more worried on how you would explain this to Seungmin.

° You were becoming weak, boney, palmy, and tired. All because you would be in the sun for too long, Seungmin noticed this and was scared that something was very wrong.

° He took you to the doctor, but nothing was apparently wrong even if you looked like death. Seungmin's mind raced with possibilities, not wanting to lose you.

° It was only til you fell asleep on the drive home that he noticed the bite marks, his heart sinking realizing what had happened. He bit you while in his vampire form.

° It wasn't common for him to not remember anything after a form switch, unless he was desperate for blood. Seungmin felt terrible for putting this illness upon you.

° It would take one more week of suffering until your body got use to the bite. And he would have to deal with the guilt all throughout those seven days.

° It didn't take a mind reader to realize Seungmin was feeling upset, and you could even tell while still feeling terrible. You assumed he must be apart of your bite.

"Be honest baby, did you bite me?" You asked in a gentle tone.

"I'm so sorry y/n. I feel terrible." He whimpered, nearly tearing up.

° Your limp arms wrapped around his figure, comforting him during those harsh thoughts that must've raced in his mind. You weren't mad with him, and never could be.

"It's okay Seungmin, I'm not mad." You reassured, kissing his shoulder.

"I would be if I were you." He sighed, glancing at your tired eyes.

° His guilt began to clear up as you became healthier again, helping you as much as he could with anything you needed. Even if ti were just simple cuddle sessions.

° When the week passed and your body fused with your new form, he never felt such excitement when you flew around the room squealing in pure joy.

"Baby I'm flying!" you squealed.

"I know baby, you're doing great." He replied, falling deeper in love.

Jeongin

° Jeongin saw you get murdered with his very own eyes, yet there you were sitting on top of your grave stone as he mourned your death. He couldn't believe his eyes.

° He was convinced that he was just going crazy and you were a hallucination to torment him. But all of your touches towards him felt so real, just like when you were alive.

° You had to physically push him to the ground for him to believe you were back from the dead, and wake him up when he passed out from shock alone.

° He couldn't tell anyone that you were alive and kicking, knowing they'd hunt for you or think he's going insane. So he kept it to himself and met you in private.

° Jeongin noticed two bite marks on the side of your neck when he pecked across it lightly, he assumed that you were either bitten or cursed back to life.

° Your confession to being a vampire wasn't surprising to him, the whole scenario seeming so unrealistic. But he was so happy to have you back, that he didn't care one bit.

° Jeongin would let you bite him in an instant, never wanting to lose you again. You are his everything and seeing your lifeless body was too much for him to experience.

"I hope you don't mind keeping me secret." You commented, holding his hand.

"No, I understand why you'd want to stay secret." He replied, pulling you closer to his body.

° As months went by, the craving to be bitten by you crossed his mind more and more often. Jeongin was ready and wanted to be with you forever.

"Can you please bite me?" he asked gently, leaving his neck back for your fangs.

"Are you sure, this isn't exactly something you can take back Jeongin." You explained, holding his face in your hands.

° Jeongin kissed your lips softly and slowly, pulling your hands down from his face. Soon nodding sincerely as he leaned back once more, preparing for the slight sting.

° The sting wasn't as terrible as he assumed it to be, maybe you just went gentle on him. Either way the excitement of becoming like you overpowered the sting in his neck.

"There, now you're like me!" you chuckled, clapping happily.

"Nothing could beat this moment." He replied, kissing your lips once more.

[maybe-itll-be-someday]

After The Rain

For my beautifully bright friend, @sequinsmile-x. 

Happy Birthday, sweet girl. I’d only ever be able to pull 2.5k words out of my math riddled brain for you. 

Read on AO3

--

Aaron always did hate the rain.

The rain always meant that he would have no choice but to stay inside, a witness to the bottles of whiskey that his father would consume and his mother’s indifference to the situation. The rain meant that he’d have to stay home from the library, where he spent hours perusing through books and living in between worn out spines. Instead, he’d stay holed up in his room until his father’s booming voice beckoned him out, the rain aggravating his already delicate temper another notch.

It drizzled the day that they lowered his mother into the ground. Barely 25, his only suit hanging off his shoulders and circles under his eyes from nights he spent reading through cases and making his life more than his father’s ever was. He doesn’t cry as her casket gets lowered six feet beneath them, so the sky softly weeps on his behalf.

It rains the day that Haley leaves him. He comes home to their apartment, a light smattering of rain drops on their window as he takes in the empty space of their living room. Jack’s favorite toys are gone from the living room floor, where he spent hours stacking blocks and attempting to shove shapes into the wrong holes. The clothes she left in their closet were non-essentials - not anything they needed to live their everyday lives.

(It’s only fitting that he gets left behind too.)

It storms the day he makes the decision to send Emily off to Paris, his heart in his throat when he tells their superiors that the only way they could keep her safe is by letting everyone think that she was dead. Tears sting in his eyes and his fingers cramp from the intensity in which he’s holding the pen as he signs away to her new life, one that just recently slotted him in like a neat puzzle piece.

Thunder rumbles above them when he squeezes her hand, promising her that he would find Doyle and that he would bring her home. The skies crack open and the rain starts to fall when he gets to stamp his affection for her on her lips, sealing whispered promises he had no idea if he could keep.

So he takes the assignment in Pakistan, because when the sky splits open on a Wednesday night, he feels like he’s drowning.

At least it didn’t rain in the desert.

--

It rains on their third date, much to his dismay.

He should’ve checked the weather forecast before committing to taking her on a picnic in the park on a rare weekday off. He even goes to a boutique wine store in DC, asking for advice on what kind of wines would go best with which cheese because he wants to impress her. He wants the flavours to melt on her tongue to be the same sharp contrast of salty and sweet that lingered on his tongue when he tasted her. He buys her favorite wine, wrapped in a label that’s worn with time, because he wants to show

He just wants to tell her how he feels, but it’s way too soon. She’s only been back in the States for a few months, their romance rekindled in the past few weeks.

So instead, he tries to plan every moment of their date to the perfection she deserved.

If only he had checked the weather.

Emily had shown up at his door, white linen flowing down from thin straps and cinching around her waist, delicately draping right above her knees and his mouth going dry at the sight of her. She wrapped her fingers around his neck and kissed him in greeting, his own hands greedily grabbing the fabric under his hands and internally debated if they could forgo the picnic and instead eat the overpriced cheese he bought off of her skin.

But her eyes brightened when she saw the picnic basket he had prepared, running a finger and reading the labels of everything he bought in perfect intonation to their native languages.

“Where did you get all of this?” She had asked, cheeks dusted in a light pink at the realization that he had done this all for her.

“Maybe if you’re good, I’ll tell you.” He’s always been attuned to her movements - a careful eye thrown in her direction. It had started just as a precaution, his opinions on her joining the BAU still up for debate.

It had slowly and too easily transformed into something else completely. It was probably the reason why he had gone to four different delis in DC, tracking down cheese he couldn’t pronounce the names of and two bottles of wine that he thinks cost him more than all the wine he’s ever bought in his life.

He remembers the first time he caught it. Reading a report from over her shoulder, their relationship refining its rough edges as they slipped closer and closer together. He remembers the smell of her perfume, the soft scent of something floral in his nose as he read through her report.

“Good.” He had said, a soft hand on her shoulder in approval when her shoulders tightened ever so slightly. Not in annoyance, or in anger, but in a frustration that he thinks had to do with the way her hips shifted in her seat. He was just starting to learn about her, of the mole that was tucked on her collarbone, of the small rose tattoo on her ribs and the dove that flew across her hip bone.

He spent his time exploring which patches of skin produced which noises, which angle of his caused her to grip whichever part of him she was holding tighter, and which words caused his name to roll off of her tongue in a sweet cacophony of moans.

Her pupils darkened at his approval, his touch igniting something under her skin that when he said it later that night, wrapped in her silk sheets - the words good girl dropped in the middle of unintelligible mutters - she had arched into him and her thighs clamped down around his hips as she urged him to go deeper and faster, chasing her release by embedding him under her skin.

Another button he’s learned how to press and his delight grew as her pupils widened at his words.

“As long as I can hold you to that.” He wanted to tug her back into his bedroom, taking advantage of the fact that his apartment was kid-free for once but she just cackled and tugged on his hand, telling him to grab the picnic basket because she was starving .

They find a secluded area of Potomac park and he asks her to explain whatever it is he bought, because he really was only working off of the recommendations of the elderly Italian woman at the first deli who had written down all the cured meats and cheeses that he should buy when he mentioned it would be for his girlfriend.

Emily tells him which wine would go best with which cheese and he feeds her grapes and cherries that stained her lips in a soft pink, stealing soft kisses when he lingers close enough and enjoying the blush that spreads on her skin when his hand draws soft circles on the inside of her knee.

The dark, grey sky looms over them without warning, the clouds splitting open to let fat drops of rain land on the very expensive cheese that he thinks is an absurd amount for pressed curds of milk. Aaron starts to quickly pack their picnic, calculating the amount of time that it’s going to take to get to the car that they’ve parked on the other side of the road and wonders why the rain was determined to ruin what was going to be one of his favorite memories.

“Aaron.” She says, chuckling and running a hand down his back. “It’s only the rain.”

But she also notices the way his body has gone rigid, jaw set in a tight line as he continues to pack the food back into the basket. He flinches when a particularly fat raindrop hits the back of his neck and she frowns at his reaction.

But she doesn’t press, instead helping him pack away all of their food and letting him coral her under a nearby tree just as the rain pelts the ground in heavy, loud waves. The rain was torrential, their visibility limited to the first twenty feet in front of them and Aaron already knows that they won’t make it back to the car without getting soaked, if they could find it in the downpour.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” He mutters, fists curled tightly and Emily pushes the wet curls across his forehead and brushes off his apology.

“It’s not like you can control the weather.”

“I should’ve checked--” He protests.

“It’s okay, I actually like the rain.” Her head cocks, appraising him with a careful eye and Aaron knows that he doesn’t have to tell her that he isn’t a big fan of the rain. She stares at him for a moment longer and as he is about to suggest they sprint back to the car, her hand slips into his and she tugs him out from under the shade of the tree and right into the downpour.

“Emily, what are you doing ?” He asks, his voice loud to try and compete with the rain that was battering the ground beneath them. Emily doesn’t respond, instead keeping a firm grip on his hand as the drops of water soaked her skin, causing the white fabric around her to cling to her skin.

“Dance with me.” She says, a gentle tug on his hand pulling him closer.

“There’s no music.” He says and she just laughs, his pedantics having the opposite effect on her as she steps closer to him, lifting the hand in hers as his arm loops instinctively around her waist. He’s about to protest again, because they really should be getting back to the car because the food is in a wooden basket under a tree, but she tips her lips on his and effectively stops his protests before they begin.

Her temple brushes against his cheek, and the taut pull of his muscles releasing slightly. She curls into him, her hand resting on the small of his back as his palm flattens across her shoulders, his thumb edging the outline of its blade. A shiver runs up her spine at the contact, the warmth of his fingers a sharp contrast to the rain that slid on their skin. She starts leading him in a gentle sway, their movements oddly on beat with the beating of the rain.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never danced in the rain, Hotchner.” He shrugs, a playful smile gracing his lips.

“I’m not in the habit of catching a cold or freezing in wet clothes.” Emily laughs, the soft lilt of it wrapping his heart in a warmth that causes those three words to curl dangerously at the end of his lips.

“The rain isn’t all bad.” She says, glancing up towards the dark sky as she lets the rain pound on her skin. “It brings the flowers. It cleans the air. It helps us savor the sunshine just a little bit more.”

Her fingers twine around a damp strand of his hair at the base of his neck, the scrape of her nails eliciting the release of the tension in his shoulders. He pulls her a little closer, taking the lead her in a soft shuffle

“The rain brings the rainbows.” She says, a soft smile curling at the edge of her lips, as if she was telling him a secret he wasn’t supposed to know about.

He didn’t think he’d ever find himself dancing in the rain. The torrential background of some of his more unpleasant memories is the same background that makes his chest want to split open to let all the light that was building inside of him out. To let the three words that curl dangerously at the edge of his lips to tumble out laced in a million promises and praises he wanted to give to her.

He didn’t think he’d find himself here, her soft figure pressed against his as the rain soaked their skin. He didn’t think he’d get to imprint his affection for her against her lips, tasting the sweet tartness of the cherries that stained her lips. He didn’t think he’d ever get to have her.

The words slip from his lips, his affection for her pouring from him with no warning or forethought. He just needs to tell her because he’s happy, and he doesn’t think he’d ever be this happy in the rain .

“I love you.” He says breathlessly, panic rising in him as she stiffens in his arms. “You don’t have to say it back. I just needed you to know.”

But she giggles, bright and brilliantly, and tugs his lips right onto hers and says that she loves him too.

If this was his rainbow, he’d happily let it storm for the rest of his life.

--

The next time it rains, he is the one to tug her into the park across the street. He takes her hand and leads her in a waltz he definitely doesn’t know, the cadence of her laugh sweet and light in the air. He sings Blackbird in her ear, low and whispered, because she’s always brought out a side of him that he thought he could keep buried under steel-reinforced walls.

He’d give every side of him to her, if she asked.

Maybe they’d make enough of these memories, of the rain soaking them to the bone but they would laugh and he’d make her hot chocolate after and he’d peel the heavy fabric of her dress off of her skin as she laughed and tell him to hurry up because Emily Prentiss was anything but patient.

Maybe they’d make enough memories to clean the stained ones that followed him whenever it rained.

Aaron always did hate the rain.

But with her, he hated it a little bit less.

--