#anyways i actually really like the black magic explanation but i do have to wonder what sets hunter magic apart then

[vqlisms]

misumi is soooo autism actually i love her

[iwasforcedtomakethisbytum]

So around the same time last year i made designs for my sides and i recently redid them with how i feel they'd be today, i really don't like the old designs but if you had asked me then and even now why they're like that i could give you an explanation of why i gave them an element, but that doesn't mean they were the best designs, mainly due to them not being clear to read or just having elements that don't serve them

Creativity is probably a more inaccurate one, i can see why i liked them being a magical girl but i don't watch those types of anime so it's just not accurate to what my creativity would probably look like, their hair reminds me of old jojo siwa even though i didn't intend it, the hair is messy but it would make more sense for them to have really clean hair, also the rose in the earrings and the rose in the logo seems somehow tacky even though i only have two. Also I'd never wear i corset, i think i did that to break up the pink which i do like but a belt could probably do the same

Morality was gonna be more of a teen character, i feel like they would definitely show selfishness a good bit and have lower empathy but not no empathy, they look sleep deprived, honestly i could probably guess this was a design of anxiety, their glasses aren't something I'm a fan of i think they're creating tangents, the logo was meant to represent them growing and them developing their morals better, he probably had the most change in design aside from logic

So the logo stayed the same, that's about it. I hid their eyes behind their glasses because it makes them look out of it and it's harder to read their emotions, actually I'm giving more of them glasses now because i wear glasses, i did back then as well, i don't know why only morality had them. But anyways my main problem with old logic is that there's too much black without anything to break up the black or even just different shades of black, yellow being on the skates adds too much emphasis on an unimportant part of the design especially since it's the biggest and one of the few bits with yellow, the roller skates were supposed to be because thoughts can race, but i feel mine wonder more than race so i gave them business shoes, now i feel you can actually tell they're logic

Now here's emotions formerly known as anxiety. they're actually pretty similar in design except i gave more shape to there hoodie in this design because it gives them a good silhouette, and since they don't just represent anxiety I gave them a more happy logo and brighter colors and things that make me happy, i removed the patterns because i felt they were kinda pointless and might be too much with all the other changes, felt the shoes and pants changing made them look more childish, i feel it's only reasonable one of them looks childish

[thedeathlysallows]

memento mori

Ch. 8: Poison Ivy

           What the actual fuck is wrong with me? Did I lose my mind when I lost my job? Why did I think coming after Felix was a good idea? Why did I get drunk last night? Why did I let Felix eat me out?

           The answer is, of course, I’m an idiot.

           There’s no other explanation for any of this.

           I’ve spent the last little bit of my life absolutely loathing this man and plotting his demise since the day we met and I just spread my legs for him like some horny teenage girl. I don’t get it. Does he have some crazy mind power I don’t know about? Was I hypnotized?

           Hypnotized by that body maybe, a little voice whispers in my head.

           The shitty part is the voice isn’t wrong.

           Felix’s body is god like. He’s the type of guy I always imagined I’d end up with if I’d had a normal life. And I almost did. I almost had that with Paul, but… well, obviously that just wasn’t meant to be.

           I sigh heavily, smacking my palm against my forehead. “Pull yourself together. You’ve got one last job to do.”

           The only problem is I’m not so sure I can do it anymore. Sure, my anger is still there and I still really want to fuck up Felix’s life the way he fucked up mine, but logic is starting to settle in. I’m human now. I have no plan, no magic, no weapons, nothing. I made it to Italy out of sheer stubbornness.

           What comes next? I can’t just leave. Felix would follow me anyway.

           “Think, Rose, think.” I pace the length of my room, avoiding looking at the spot on the floor where Drew had been last night. Felix was at least kind enough to clean up his mess before ditching me last night.

           Last night…

           Nope! Not thinking about it. I won’t. I can’t. If I do I know I’ll only go looking for him and I don’t want him thinking he broke me that easily.

           “Fuck!” I cry out in frustration and sink down into the plush chair by the window.

Beneath me, Volterra bustles with life and music. Families travel down the cobblestone streets holding souvenirs and each other while musicians play for change. Cafes and shops teem with people going about their day as if there isn’t a nest of vampires nearby. I scan the crowd out of habit, looking for anything that sticks out. At first I don’t see anything. Then, on my third sweep of the street I notice her. A tall woman with bright copper red hair and delicate elven features stares up at me from the alleyway just across from the hotel. She lifts the hood of her black cloak over her hair and motions for me to follow. Before disappearing deeper into the alley.

Her face looks familiar enough that it’s probably not a good idea for me to actually follow her, but I do it anyway. I grab my jacket and bag, nodding at the poor custodian tasked with fixing my door. He mutters something in Italian that’s probably a curse.

Across the street I slip into the dark alley, avoiding puddles and trash. I reach the end without seeing the woman and begin to wonder if I actually have lost my mind. As I turn to leave she steps out from the shadows and removes her hood. Even in the dim light her hair shines brightly.

“You must be Roseanna Swan, yes?” Her voice is kind and musical with a heavy English accent. “My brother Carlisle told me he thought you would be coming here. Something about a fight you’ve picked with Felix?”

“He started it, not me! And if your brother would’ve kept Edward away from my sister I wouldn’t be here at all!” I huff out a breath and cross my arms.

The woman’s eyes light up in delight and she laughs. “Ah, I see. Edward can be quite the handful. One would hope he had matured over the years, but I see he hasn’t.”

“Yeah, well, I guess asking a seventeen year old to be mature is a little difficult… even if they’ve been seventeen forever.” I look the woman up and down, taking in her expensive clothing. The dress she wears beneath her cloak is long and white with little gold detailing embroidered all over. Her cloak is held together by a bronze V inlaid with rubies. She has to be a member of the Volturi… but she said she’s Carlisle’s sister…

She takes a step closer to me, grasping my hands tightly between her own. “Roseanna, tell me, do you believe in magic?”

I laugh. “What like pulling a rabbit out of a hat? Nah, I outgrew that by the time I was seven. Your dad can only do the whole removing his thumb bit so many times.”

There’s a devious flash in her eyes that disappears as quickly as it came. “I’m sorry, I just realized I never introduced myself properly.” She offers her hand to me and looks me right in the eye. “My name is Anne Volturi, formerly Cullen.”

I smile back at her and the world spins, fading to black. The last thing I hear is Anne call for someone named Santiago.

When I come to the first thing I feel is a warm cloth on my arm and a soft bed beneath me. There’s the smell of roses and the sound of a woman humming a song that feels ancient and powerful. I can hear what sounds like a fire crackling in the distance as well. My head is pounding. I can’t feel my legs.

“I can hear your heart, little one,” a woman says. “No need to keep your eyes closed.”

No, not just a woman. It’s Anne. From earlier.

I open my eyes to be met with her kind expression. If she hadn’t kidnapped me or had the eerie red eyes of a vampire I could almost believe she’s an angel. She’s the one cleaning my arm with a warm cloth and the rose smell is coming from the brass bowl of water on the nightstand. Her face is serene as she continues humming and washing me.

“Welcome back.” Anne finally says once she’s finished with my arm. “You weren’t out as long as they usually are. We’ll take that as a wonderful sign.”

“A sign for what?”

Anne smiles softly, grabbing the bowl and walking around the bed to the other side of me. “I imagine working as an Agent for The Society that you have come across more than vampires. Tell me, lovely, what have you seen?”

“It’s easier to say what I haven’t.” I watch her closely as she methodically cleans my other arm, wiping away dirt and debris that must have gotten there after I collapsed in the alley. “What are you? There’s no way you’re just a vampire.”

“I believe the way this game works is you answer my question first. Is that right? I hear the newer coven members refer to this as Twenty Questions.”

My mouth falls open. “Is this real? Did I hit my head too hard on the way down?”

“I made sure to keep you perfectly intact. The difficult part has been hiding your scent from Felix.” Anne flicks her hair over her shoulder with a heavy sigh and sits down on the bed. Her hand is ice cold but smooth as she takes my own. “I have a proposal for you, lovely. I hope you will hear me out.”

I eye her warily, ready to bolt for the door at any second, while she continues.

“When I asked you earlier if you believe in magic I was being sincere. The Society has their magic, I’ve seen it in action, but it’s nothing close to the real thing. It’s dirty. Corrupt. I find it to be destructive in the extreme. There’s no soul to it. Magic, true magic, is full of life and beauty. It’s intertwined with the divine feminine. Do you understand, Ms. Swan?”

I nod. She sounds so certain and passionate. I wish I could feel that way about anything besides revenge. I want to answer her desperately, but there’s a lump in my throat threatening to turn into tears and keeping me from saying anything to her. I know exactly what she means about The Society’s magic. It always felt dark and demanding to me, but Titania would always reassure me it was meant to be that way. Agents are pawns that the magic works through, not the other way around. We don’t use it. It uses us like some soul draining parasite.

Anne clicks her tongue and cups my jaw with her other hand, wiping the stray tear that falls down my cheek with her thumb. “You poor little thing. I can’t imagine what you’ve seen. What they made you do.”

A strange sort of relief settles over my body and I can’t stop the sobs from coming. I can’t help it. The kindness coming from her is overwhelming. I’ve been alone and used like a pawn for so long, completely separated from my real life, and I’ve never been able to actually feel any of it until now. I always pushed the loneliness away, but it creeps up on me in the face of Anne’s motherly nature.

She pulls me close to her in a soothing hug, stroking my hair gingerly. “It’s not every day The Society throws out one of their own and I know you blame it on Felix’s interest in you, but there’s a bigger picture to look at, lovely.”

“What do you mean?” I pull away from her and press my palms to my eyes, forcing out the last few tears.

Anne grasps both my hands between her own. “The Society has been abusing their power for far too long. It’s time for the Tower to fall and the Sun to rise. Let me teach you.”

“I-” I look down at our clasped hands and nod. “Okay. Yeah.”

The same sneaky glint I saw in her eyes back in the alley returns in full force. “I’m a woman who doesn’t often make promises, but one thing I can promise you right now is you’ll never have to feel powerless again, lovely. With my help you can even be on equal footing with Felix once again.”

“What do I need to do?”

“Just listen to me. Learn from me. Together we can be a force for good.”

[taiblogcomics]

A Better World

Hey there, mustard cake. It is now officially the Spooky Month. So what could be spookier than the interminable never-end of Countdown~? Sorry, that's the best you'll get!

Here's the cover:

Everybody meets their superiors, and also Hal Jordan is here! Like, I'm even one of those folks who likes Hal Jordan, but he's not better than Kyle Rayner. Even if they didn't keep building Hal up as "the greatest Green Lantern" (which, again, even as a Hal Jordan fan, I wish they'd stop), Hal wasn't Ion, was he~? Anyways, I actually really like skirt-based Wonder Woman. Even if it exists for older-generation prudishness, it's still kind of an absolute look, isn't it~? And to round everything out on this cover, what expression is everyone conveying?

To no one's surprise, here's the recap. Donna, Jason, and Kyle are dully searching the multiverse for Ray Palmer and got a surprise hitchhiker. Pied Piper and Trickster dully escaped custody, to everyone's surprise. Mary Marvel is dully taking Eclipso's magic lessons, which will surprise no one when it goes poorly. Karate Kid and Una surprised Buddy Blank by showing up in his dull neighbourhood. Jimmy Olsen's dull life has added superpowers that only work when surprised. And Holly Robinson and Harley Quinn's dull plotline includes a surprise training sim. And if this issue isn't dull, we'll be very surprised~

All right, you guys remember Brother Eye, right? The stupid spy satellite Batman built to spy on everyone in Infinite Crisis that became self-aware? It'll eventually come back in the New 52 during Futures End, but for now it's here in Buddy Blank's basement. Damn, for a suburban home, he's got an entire spy satellite down there. Like, it's three times taller than Karate Kid. My basement ceiling doesn't even reach one-and-a-half times my height. At least Bruce Wayne had his stately manor built over a pre-existing cave system, what's Buddy Blank's excuse~?

Blah blah blah, Brother Eye identifies them as from the future and their disease as the Great Disaster being upon them. Now we go over to the aftermath of Green Arrow & Black Canary: The Wedding, where Trickster is being homophobic again. Like, they're in the middle of a major fight, and Trickster still takes the time to comment "You people can never miss a wedding, can you?" and call Piper a nancy. What a lovely and not at all irritating character trait they've given him in this series. I promise I'll cover one of the sections in this issue in a single paragraph at some point~

Blah blah blah, while everyone else is busy with the fight, Piper and Trickster notice a bomb left by the Joker, and realise they're the only ones available to deal with it, despite the fight including such guys like Plastic Man, Hawkman, Batman, and Hal Jordan, man. Over at Cadmus, Jimmy Olsen's powers continue to go out of control, and he begins to display even more new powers, like size-changing and laser vision. He realises the only way to stop activating his powers is to get out of the lab. So he uses a gooey shapeshifting power to drip himself down the drain and into the sewer. Like that's any less hazardous.

So the Multiverse Pals teleport in on Earth-15, just outside Gotham City. While Kyle notes it's a bit weirdly clean for Gotham, the rest wonder what to do with the Jokester. He might draw the other Monitors' eye to them more. Jokester nudges Jason for an explanation, which causes Jason to go into a berserker rage. Poor Jokester is just bewildered, since he's a good guy like them and sincerely wants to help. Jason snaps that the Joker on his world murdered him. Jokester hesitantly apologises, but also explains that he's the Jokester, not the Joker. The discussion is tabled when this world's Batman shows up, and he's not fond of clowns either.

Back at the big wedding brawl, Piper and Trickster decide they have to get rid of Joker's bomb. And fortunately, the Joker of this Earth likes to monologue. This gives them time to heave the bomb on top of Poison Ivy, as payback for that time a few issues ago. They then find a car and escape (with yet another presumably homophobic remark from Trickster). But as they drive off, they suddenly realise they have a stowaway as well. This guy's Double Down, and rather than a chicken sandwich, he's a lesser Flash villain with razor playing cards. He threatens them with said cards to drive him out along with them, and also throws in a few homophobic remarks of his own. Great, he'll fit right in.

Back on Earth-15, Batman-15 notes that he hates Jokers, and is astonished to see one still living in his universe. Jason notices he and Batman-15 have the same voice. And despite the cover, the Green Lantern-15 of this world is also Kyle Rayner, he's just wearing Hal Jordan's costume (the comic correctly gives him Kyle's black hair, unlike the cover). Wonder Woman-15 is Donna Troy, and their Atom is a lady named Jessica Palmer. She's excited that they've now proven her multiversal theory. Batman-15 continues to harass his mainline counterpart for not graduating up to full hero, and since they're both Jason Todd, they get into a fight.

The pair of them continue for a while, with Batman-15 mostly dominating the fight. Superman-15 shows up, and he's Zod in this universe. I don't understand the progression path of characters in this reality. Kyle pipes up that "You're telling me this Earth has Superman and doesn't even need him?" Which I don't know where he's getting that, other than it's foreshadowing for something later. Feels like we skipped a dialogue option. Either way, though, Super-Zod tells them Ray Palmer isn't on this Earth (which raises more questions about Jessica, but I digress).

Yep, that's foreshadowing! In fact, you could even say everything is better on this Earth. Before they depart, Donna and Wonder Woman-15 have a chat with each other. She shares the story of Metis, which relates to Donna's backstory in a metaphorical way. Anyway, the point is that if Donna is destined to be Wonder Woman, she will be. Boy, that'll suck for Cassie Sandsmark, then. Hope she won't be disappointed! The Multiverse Crew depart for another world while everyone exchanges goodbyes, and another Monitor monitors them imperceptibly.

Hey, speaking of Athena (in relation to the Metis myth), we haven't checked in with Holly and Harley in a while. What're they up to? Well, they're taking a boat to Themyscria, home of the Amazons. That's where they're training will begin. Which is to say, their training begins here and now, because they're expected to jump off the boat now and swim to the island. Holly points out that the waters are full of eyeless sharks, and Harley immediately jumps in with a "Cowabunga!" Exasperated, Holly grabs a spear and ends the comic on a splash page of her jumping in as well. Hey, if the comic hadn't already jumped the shark, well, here you go~

Yep, I was right, this issue was pretty dull. Surprised~?

Like, the main conceit is that Earth-15 (which I just noticed the cover tells us which it is) is a "better" Earth. Gotham City isn't dirty! Jason Todd becomes Batman! The Joker is dead! ...Because Jason murdered him (and it's mentioned Bruce is dead too). Donna Troy becomes Wonder Woman! ...Instead of forging her own identity. Kyle Rayner wears Hal Jordan's outfit! ...For some reason. Zod is Superman and doesn't acknowledge being a general! ...So what happened to Kal-El? This doesn't seem so much like an idealised version of Earth as it does one that exists just to reflect our Multiverse Crew. In the wider world of the multiverse, it's very confusing~

Also, boy am I tired of the homophobic stuff with Trickster already. Like, in an already bad comic, this whole thing really sucks. I get it was 2007, but really?

[cilil]

What are your thoughts on Aluin? From the lost Valar? What do you think he’s like? Or looks like? Really curious to hear any thoughts/opinions you have on him!

Also, I hope you’re having an amazing day! I look forward to seeing each notification I get for your blog❤️

Hey anon! First of all thanks so much for your ask, I've unfortunately been struggling recently due to more shit happening irl, but messages like these truly brighten my day and I'm just... in awe that the absolute chaotic madness I'm causing here is enjoyable to others out there too. My day is amazing now thanks to you and I hope yours is too❤️

Anyway - Aluin! I've actually been thinking about him from time to time (haha) over the last few years. He's a bit of an interesting and also odd case to me because:

He may be the one Vala we know by name who didn't descend into Arda (at least some sources claim that)

He had sons but no (known) spouse, unlike the other Valar and their associated Valarindi (who were still a thing at that point)

He was supposed to be the eldest of the Ainur, which I assume would otherwise/in the "newer lore" be Melkor due to the whole medieval cliché that the eldest son is usually the strongest/greatest/most powerful (my explanation for that is always slightly terrible, but I think you get what I mean)

What does Aluin look like? Well, I have no idea - because my headcanon, if I were to incorporate him into canonverse as I usually write it, is that he never appeared in Arda like the other Valar did.

Let me explain (the following will all be headcanons, thoughts and the usual wild ideas).

So if you happen to be into space content, particularly astrophysics and the like, you may have heard that time is often being regarded as a fourth, temporal dimension in addition to the three spatial dimensions we're familiar with. Taking this idea, I'd basically have Aluin be by himself in the fourth dimension, where he isn't really able to be perceived or interacted with by the inhabitants of Arda, possibly including most Ainur.

Character-wise, as well as functionally, Aluin would be very similar to Námo. Being The Judge, Námo is a passive observer, as seen in the Silmarillion: He doesn't attempt to direct people, he waits for them to make their choices and then judges them. Prophecies and random throwaway comments are rare. He's often silent and seems aloof.

Time, as Eru would certainly be aware, is a causality-breaking and timeline-ruining power, so he would make sure Aluin is even more removed from everything than Námo is, which he would be in his dimension. I also think that Aluin, as the one person not stuck on the linear arrow of time, would be the least concerned about whatever divine drama is currently unfolding, possibly not always have the chain of causality in order and seem aloof and impersonal if anyone somehow managed to encounter him. He would have an even greater knowledge of the past and possibly the future than other Valar, though I would say maybe not on the level of Varda's sharp insight and Námo's prophecies, and overall function as a Guardian of Time of sorts, making sure it flows and nobody messes with it too much (I wonder what he thinks about black holes).

I could also picture Aluin (either alternatively or additionally) as a whimsical being who regards the fate of Arda as a neat little tale among many. He might appear either very young or very old depending on the circumstances, which would be a fun contrast and irony compared to the other Ainur's (relative) agelessness.

Additionally, I would be tempted to incorporate some ideas and symbols from the Legend of Zelda, as it also has time travel and magic music which would fit really well with a Time Ainu (Time-nu hehe).

If I had to incorporate Fanuin, Ranuin and Danuin as well, I'd choose one of the following:

They're Maiar of his (same change as the other Valarindi)

They're aspects of Aluin

Corresponding with 2.: They're creations of his similar to Aul��'s Dwarves before Eru adopted them/Melkor's dragons

Either way, they would act as his helpers by focusing on their respective time measurements.

(Small side tangent if I may: Bringing Aluin back into the universe, even if he remains remote and removed, comes with the issue that Melkor, due to his share in everyone's gifts, basically automatically gains time powers as well, which... could be a problem. However, as we see with water, Melkor doesn't necessarily excel in all areas even if he theoretically has access to them, so his time powers could be something fairly minute (pun intended), for example like the recall ability in Zelda TotK. Also you could argue that his introduction of decay and making Elves fade is already the extent of whatever temporal powers he may have. Just something to keep in mind for worldbuilding ^^)

So yeah, those are my thoughts, ideas and possible headcanons for Aluin so far. Maybe something to expand on in the future or feature in fic? We'll see. Either way thanks again for your ask and I hope this was at least... mildly interesting😂💕

[isanarte]

So I've been noticing a lot of people interested in JaunexNeo and I was wondering what is the appeal, if the people following this post might be able to explain to me?

Thats ok I was JUST screaming about it (all day really) and this may give me a good opportunity to let all my fangirling out about these two, so thank you very much about the ask!

TBH It all starts by the fact they both lost a REALLY precious person during the fall of beacon, and since then carry a red memento with them to remind themselves of the person they lost. (For Neo it's Torchwick's hat, while Jaune carries Pyrrha's red scarf (and he melted the gold of her weapons into his weapons but shh)

They both have been pursuing vengueance for the ones they lost since beacon, both their first instinct was to blame Cinder dor it too! And while Jaune had the support of his friends and loved ones and started to move away from that thirst for vengueance since vol 5, realizing his true purpose is more in the lines of supporting his friends and save the world through the process, Neo didn't have that luck since she's alone. She got lied to and got used by Cinder.

Now: BEWARE OF A BIT OF SPOILERS FOR THE END OF V8 ON THE FOLLOWING BIT:

There's a lot of hoping that since both fell into the ✨ Magic Island✨ alongside team RWBY, and that since they're the only ""main characters"" who fell there outside of team RWBY, they may find eachother and have some kind of heart to heart about the people they lost, that she will realize shes been helping the same people who caused Torchwick's death and begrudgingly join team RWBY and finally get that support she's been craving all this time.

(Of course this will most probably happen AFTER Neo kicks Jaune's ass but shh we all want to get a lil kicked by her so no real harm)

Of course, moving away from wishful thinking about how v9 will go, their arcs DO have a lot of things in common, specially with the losing a loved one and coping with the grief and loneliness their loss caused, but what's funny is that their latest character designs also have a lot of things in common!

Now i know what youre thinking: "WHAT!? noooo!!" But it's true. I tell you, who goes into a screaming-into-my-pillow-because-what-the-actual-fuck spree every time i draw them together.

To begin with, both their character designs share a LOT of colors: lots of white, black and that one splash of red on both. LOTS of brown on both. Jaune just uses the white on TOP of the black/brown while Neo wears brown on TOP of the white (you know, as if signaling she still has good inside of her) the only colors they dont share are Jaune's orange that peeks from inside his shirt vs Neo's pink details.

(they both have the SAME shade of brown actually, like ouch!) And the biggest difference between them is that Jaune's armor is lined by Golden details, while Neo's jacket is lined with silver details. (You know. Soon and moon bs. Which RWBY is known to shove into all their main couples smh)

And some smaller shape-design details like, they both have something big attached to their upper arm (similarly shaped as well), both have long gloves, both wear thight pants and boots, both have their shirt/armor shape in an inverted triangle right above the belly button.........

Their weapons are even alike: both have a shield and a sword, in the loose sense of things.... Both the swords going sheated inside the shield.... weapons which they both lost right before the fall in v8....

*SCREAMS*

Like-- CRWBY THERE'S NO EXPLANATION FOR THIS UNLESS YOU'RE MAKING THEM MIRROR EACHOTHER ON PURPOSE HHHHH

Anyways i hope my rambling helped you understand a little more about the canonical, more serious reasons to ship them!

Of course, great part of me just wants Tiny Badass Neo to top our Loveable Himbo Jaune, ((As if you couldn't tell by me drawing Neo sitting on top of him with murder eyes. Twice.)) But that's a talk for another day!

[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.”

[spookypotato]

dont ask why, but

person A having a really bad crush on person B, but they're convinced B doesnt like them at all, not even in a friendly way, so A tries to cope with their crush by talking the B down and trying to convince themselves they dont like B that way

that way B gets the impression A hates them and B genuinely dislikes them at that point, because they keep saying borderline mean things

they get a bit of an enemies dynamic, founded by nothing basically and there are a few words that hurt where the one that said them feels bad even if they never meant it to hurt that much

but the dynamic continues

[enter the supernatural part]

then one day A wishes on... a magic well (idk) they only want to wake up next to B and they cant deal with this hatred anymore, because they've been looking for each other at clubs they go to or the school they're at, just to make the other see that they're ignoring them

therefore the crush doesnt grow any weaker, but B still doesnt like A, but is also kind of fond of their teasing

anyway, so A wishes to only wake up next to B and The Wishing Well (TM) Grant's that wish

next day, they wake up next to each other, both confused and as soon as they recognize who they're next to pissed at the situation

they wonder how they got there, sometimes it's that A magically wakes up in Bs bed, sometimes the other way around

the first time it happens is B in As bed and they cant explain it

they havent moved, theyve never sleepwalked, they didnt get drunk and they just have no explanation

still they wonder if they did something, but they would know right? anyway, let's just forget about it

til it happens again

and again

and again every single morning

at this point A is kind of catching on that they wished for exactly this, but not sure

B is just panicking, thinking they black out on a daily basis

but the thing is, they dont mind as much as they pretend, because after the first initial day of "what the fuck am I doing here", the second time, it's not that bad

theyve grown to like the light weight next to them when they wake up, the arm draped across their torso, the breath ghosting over their shoulder

they just like the contact, no matter who it was with

or that's what they tell themselves, because ofc they're developing a crush at this point

A doesnt mind either, it just stings a bit everytime they decide to break contact and put on an acts of surprise that is completely unnatural at this point, it happend for like 2 weeks straight

and no matter what they did, how far they were apart, one of them always ended up next to the other

then A goes on a trip to another country (maybe with someone, maybe alone) and as magic would have it, B ends up with them the next morning

if A brought a person on the trip, cue A trying to hide B in their room

B stays a day since 'they're gonna wake up together again anyway'

The person A brought travels home, but A planned on staying for a few extra days and so B automatically also stays, because again 'were gonna wake up together again anyway'

they genuinely have a good time there and replace the actual mean comments with flirty teasing

at this point they definitely both like each other

they go home and are reminded of their reality, they literally cannot spend a day apart

B used to have regular sleepovers at their friends house and they hadnt been able to do that in weeks, so Bs friends are confused and worried, if not a bit hurt, because B wont give them an explanation for why they didnt feel like doing thing with their friends for so long

when seeing B this sad, A decides to just try to solve this

they go back to The Wishing Well (TM) and take back their wish

the next morning they wake up alone

B is confused and kind of missed the company in the morning

A thinks it's for the better

after a few days (and awkward hallway glances, that dont seem electric because of the hatred, but because of longing now), B gets the courage to talk about it with A

A confessed what they did and tell B that it's better for B anyway

B takes a leap of faith and disagrees

and that's what happens when you listen to the song Vera by JUNG...

anyone feel free to write this lmao, but tag me, I wanna read it, please

yes, I imagined this with wilmon sh

[boldlyvoid]

Amoreena | chapter one

summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.

Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.

Warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, depressed spencer, reader has a daughter, falling in love, strangers to lovers

word count: 3,147

Read on Ao3

There’s this small, tiny part, of Spencer that wants to run away.

He’s always felt like he’s never truly been home, a never-ending and long yearning, a homesickness for a place he didn't even know, eating him alive day by day. It made him want to drop everything and buy a cottage in the woods, to fill it with books and coffee and never see another person again.

It got worse after prison and after his mom asked to go back into a care facility, it hurt the most when Penelope left the FBI and things with Max fizzled out. Then he was really, truly alone again. His apartment felt cold and uninviting, the BAU felt like a chore, using his brain for anything other than taking care of himself was extremely hard.

He needed a break.

So when he walked out of work and straight to his favourite park for an escape, he wasn’t surprised that he didn’t stop walking. Going further and further down the trail, following the dirt path towards a pond, covered by a beautiful willow tree and surrounded by pink, purple, yellow and white flowers. The contrast of the green grass with the colourful flowers, the blue sky and the light green willow tree reflection dancing on the surface of the pond. It was like he walked into Eden, taking a seat by the tree and picking a book from his satchel.

For the rest of the week, it’s his own little sanctuary, escaping desk work and home cases as fast as he could. Even then it wasn't enough and he started going every afternoon, he’d sneak out for an hour and just relax. Reading his book, feeling the breeze on his face, the sound of ducks and frogs competing with the crickets for loudest being in the area. Eventually bringing his bike on the subway to work so he could get there faster.

It was beautiful.

Almost as beautiful as what he walked in on when he arrived Saturday afternoon. Parking his bike by the tree, looking at them carefully as he took his satchel off his shoulders and placed it by the trunk. Craning his neck so he could look at who it was, seeing the purest display of human affection known to man.

A mother and her daughter were having a picnic, dressed up like Miss Honey and Matilda as they had lemonade and snacks, spread out on a blanket as the mother handed her a sandwich wrapped in checkered red wax paper.

Spencer was in awe, sitting on the other side of the pond by a second tree, pretending to read when really he was glancing at them. Their laugher filling the field, bouncing around the trees and filling his chest with warmth.

It reminded him of all the afternoons with his own mother. His head in her lap, the sound of her voice as she shared worlds wisdom with him. He missed childhood, freedom, hope. The will to continue…

When the little girl finally notices that they’re not alone in this little world she’s creating, he sees her tug on her moms shirt, asking her a question before cheering. She picks something out of the basket and comes running towards Spencer.

“Excuse me, sir?” Her sweet little voice asks. “Are you an archeologist or a palaeontologist?”

It makes him laugh slightly, a large smile erupting on his face as he pushes his glasses up and puts the book down. “No sorry, I’m not, what made you think I was?”

“You have a satchel and glasses like Milo from Atlantis, but you have a dinosaur on your tie, you look like you work at a museum,” she rambled all her thoughts out, much like he did as a child.

“I’m actually an FBI agent,” he whispered.

“Wow,” she whispered back in amazement, “are you like a knight? Do you save princesses?”

“I do," he nodded enthusiastically, "do you know any in need?”

“Her,” she pointed. “I’m Lady Amoreena, the Princess over there says I was a gift to the kingdom but that she’ll never need a prince or king to take care of us, but I think a knight would work!”

He laughed lightly, seeing her mom shake her head as she overheard it, covering her face with her hand, she looked embarrassed.

“It’s nice to meet you, Lady Amoreena,” he put his hand out to shake her’s as soft as possible, noticing the cookie in her hand. “My name is Dr. Spencer Reid,” he added softly.

“Would you like a cookie?”

He smiled as she placed it in his hand, “thank you.”

“Do you like Matilda?”

“It’s one of my favourite books,” he smiles.

“Do you want to have some lemonade and read with us?” Her face lit up, turning back to where her mother was watching from the pond.

“It’s okay, thank you for offering,” not wanting to intrude on their moment.

“We need a voice for Matilda’s father, please?” She begged, overly sweet and incredibly convincing.

“Alright, but I’m warning you if I upstage the princess with my awesome voices, it’s not my fault,” he smiled as he stood up, grabbing his things and starting to follow her over to the blanket.

She took his hand and tugged him along the edge of the pond, dragging him right to were her mother was sitting on the ground.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized softly as he sat down. “She’s very persistent about making new friends. We don’t see many people on this side of the park.”

“It’s fine, honestly, I’m Dr. Spencer Reid, by the way,” he introduced himself. “I work with the FBI, normally I’d advice women and their children to avoid strange men they don’t know when they’re alone in the woods like this.”

She laughed slightly, “Y/N Y/L/N, I’m the head librarian at the DC library, and you don’t seem that strange.”

“Neither did Bundy,” he tried to joke, knowing she got it and trusted him when she bit back a smile, eyes twinkling at him in the sunlight.

“My name is Amoreena, like the Elton John song,” her daughter cut in, noticing how they were staring at each other and trying to get the attention instead.

“It’s a beautiful song, no wonder you love it here,” Spencer smiled at her, “do you come here often?”

She nodded, a blush flowing through her freckled cheeks, “have you ever read Tuck Everlasting? The pond here can make you young forever,” her whisper was the cutest thing. She was so full of life, personality and joy.

“I have, you’re right this feels a lot like the field from the book, what other books do you like?”

“I love books,” she lays back against the blanket ever so dramatically. “Matilda, Anne of Green Gables, Beauty and the Beast, I love every story that ends with true love and happiness, and cats.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at her explanation, knowing that feeling all too well. “I have read almost every book ever, more than the entire DC library probably."

“We dress up every week for what ever book we are reading, next week is Peter Pan if you’d like to join us? We’re here every Saturday at 11,” Y/N offered.

“You haven’t even heard me read Matilda from memory and you’re already asking me to come back?” Spencer smirked as their faces lit up.

“No way, prove it!” Amoreena shouted, shoving him lightly to encourage him to start.

“The Reader of Books,” he began, seeing the pages in his mind as he repeated the words. “It's a funny thing about mothers and fathers. Even when their own child is the most disgusting little blister you could ever imagine, they still think that he or she is wonderful.”

“Okay so you know the beginning,” Y/N teased, opening the book to a random page, “what's on page 32?”

"My name is Jennifer Honey," Miss Honey said. "How do you do, Mrs. Wormwood." Mrs. Wormwood glared at her and said, "What's the trouble then?" Nobody invited Miss Honey to sit down so she chose a chair and sat down anyway. "This", she said, "was your daughter's first day at school." "We know that," Mrs Wormwood said, ratty about missing her programme. "Is that all you came to tell us?" Miss Honey stared hard into the other woman's wet grey eyes, and she allowed the silence to hang in the air until Mrs. Wormwood became uncomfortable. "Do you wish me to explain why I came?" she said.

Amoreena thought it was the coolest thing ever, reading the page and jumping up and down when he was correct, “how did you do that?”

“I can remember every word I’ve ever read, I have a pretty interesting brain,” he explained it as overdramatic as he could, knowing she would find it magical.

“You’re so cool!” She swooned, dropping back against the blanket just as dramatically.

Y/N was all smiles, running her fingers through Amoreena’s hair and giggling slightly at the sight of her silly child. “Spencer, would you like to do the honours today?”

She handed him the book, knowing he didn’t need it. He gently opened it, starting on the first page and starting to read it the way his mother would. Bringing out voices, hand gestures, all the bells and whistles.

They were in the field together until the sun started to set, casting a purple and orange glow over the pond. Amoreena was resting in Y/N’s arms, legs extended over Spencer’s lap as they sat close. It was the most perfect Saturday he has had in a long time. Probably the best day of his life, actually.

“Matilda leapt into Miss Honey's arms and hugged her, and Miss Honey hugged her back, and then the mother and father and brother were inside the car and the car was pulling away with the tyres screaming. The brother gave a wave through the rear window, but the other two didn't even look back. Miss Honey was still hugging the tiny girl in her arms and neither of them said a word as they stood there watching the big black car tearing round the corner at the end of the road and disappearing for ever into the distance. The end.”

He closed the book softly, setting it down on the blanket and looking at them softly, “am I still invited next week?”

“Absolutely,” Y/N smiled, “I’m dressing as Tinker Bell, Amoreena will be Peter Pan, and you can be anyone else of your choosing.”

“I’ll keep it a surprise until next week,” Spencer smiled right back.

Amoreena crawled out of Y/N’s lap and leapt into Spencer’s arms, hugging him tightly in her small arms. “That was the best story ever, thank you!”

Everything in the world felt right then, hugging her back while he smiled at her mother. Y/N had a hand over her heart as she swooned, watching her daughter bond with the man who just happened to wander into their picnic.

“Can I get your number?” Y/N asked softly, “you know, so we can arrange outfits and stories as the week's pass.” She shrugged, licking her lips slightly as she blushed.

“Of course, I’m not on duty for the rest of the month, so if you wanted to go to a museum or anything, I’m free? Since I look so much like I should work there,” he teased Amoreena.

“I’m sure lovey would like that?” Y/N leaned over Amoreena’s shoulder, holding her around her waist and tickling her softly.

Lovey

It was a nickname that made perfect sense in his mind. Amoreena, the keyword being Amore, to love. She was very loveable, incredibly vibrant and full of innocence, a life that was full of possibilities, wonderful like her mother.

“We’re going to the Smithsonian tomorrow to see the Dino’s,” Amoreena’s face lit up. “Do you know anything about them?”

“Surprisingly enough, while I’m not a paleontologist, I know a lot about dinosaurs, and I might have some connections there to see the rare ones,” he exaggerated his voice again, watching her get so excited she started to run around with her arms in the air.

“You don’t have to if you’re busy,” she says softly when Amoreena is far enough away, picking flowers as she ran around.

“I’d love to, actually, thank you,” he whispers towards Y/N. “I haven’t been having the greatest week.”

“Is it okay for me to ask what you do?” She asked, just as softly as Amoreena kept running around the field.

“I’m a profiler, I consult on intense cases.”

“The strange man comment makes more sense now,” she smiled. “we’re looking for a literary historian at the library right now, I’m sure remembering every word in every book would get you hired, you know if you wanted to switch careers for something easier on your soul?”

“I have been thinking of leaving, in all honesty, I’ve actually been having more of a rough 15 years,” he tries to laugh but he just feels frustrated. “It’s been really hard.”

“For everything you see, you’re still a very sweet man, not many people would sit down and occupy his time with an autistic 7-year-old,” she complimented him with a smile, sharing something personal in a way that would fit right into the conversation and not make a big deal. “We really did enjoy your company today.”

He handed her a business card from his pocket, feeling a bit overwhelmed and emotional as he handed it to her, “I've had a wonderful time. I'm also autistic, I know what it's like to want to share the world while no one wants to listen, thank you for letting me join you. Let me know what time you’re going to the museum tomorrow and I will be there.”

Y/N’s face lit up once more, reading the card over before sliding it into her bag. “Do you want a PB&J or a ham and cheese sandwich for lunch tomorrow?”

“PB&J is a great museum lunch,” he bit his lip so he’d stop smiling, it was beginning to feel embarrassing with how much he liked her already. Not used to random kindness from smart and beautiful women.

Amoreena came running back then, handing Spencer a handful of flowers upon her arrival. “For you, Sir Knight,” she bowed as he took them.

“I bid you a good day, my fair ladies,” Spencer plaid along, standing to curtsy back.

“We’ll see you tomorrow then?” Y/N asked from the blanket as Amoreena dove into her arms.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Spencer smiled one last time.

“Bye Spencer!!” Amoreena cheered as he waved, walking back down the path towards the main park entrance.

With his satchel draped over his shoulder, he pushed his sleeves up as he walked towards his bike, overwhelmed by the feeling of joy still swirling in his blood. Peddling his way down the path with a smile on his face, excited to get home and plan for the Smithsonian tomorrow, he was an excellent tour guide.

And he did actually have some connections.

Calling the museum curator, an old friend from years ago who owed him a favour. Asking if there was any way he could show his friend and her kid around the un-displayed dinosaurs and fossils, of course she said yes. People seemed to do anything for Dr. Reid of the FBI.

He thought about her job offer then as he hung up, reaching the train station finally and making his way back to his sad apartment. It would be nice to change things up for a bit, it’s not like he couldn’t go back to the FBI in 20 years like Rossi did.

15 years in the field and a metric fuck ton of trauma later, he was officially fed up. Opening his computer the second he got home, writing his 2 weeks notice to be forwarded to Mateo Cruz.

—

He woke up with excitement, for the first time in years.

Well, at first he was happy, then he thought about it too long. Despair creeping in, it was truly sad to think that he’s been sad for so long, desperately needing the happiness Y/N and Amoreena brought to his life.

Like when he spent time around Henry or Hank, there was something so rewarding about witnessing a child see something for the first time. Explaining the world to them, seeing their eyes widen as they enjoyed the world around them.

It was the best thing someone could do, spending the day living with the happiness of a child.

Y/N had texted him right as he woke up, the chime of a new message actually making him smile instead of panic.

Y/N: hey smartie pants, we’re thinking 11 am today. Can we meet you out front?”

Spencer: sure! You should start preparing to hear me ramble all day long. Also my I suggest bringing proper shoes for lots of walking and a backpack for the things Amoreena will get to bring home!

Y/N: oh you weren’t kidding about those connections huh?

Spencer: nope!

Y/N: well, can’t wait to see what you have in store for us! (And to hear your voice all day ♥︎)

It made his heart swell, he could swear it grew three sizes as it pushed against his ribs. Trying to break free from him and run to her, he hadn’t felt this strongly about another person in a very long time.

It wasn’t lust, it wasn’t greed, it wasn’t desperation. He didn’t just want to sleep with her or use her to fill his time, she wasn’t just another friend to occupy his days and talk to when he had to, she was special. She was interesting, she was kind, she was beautiful, she reminded him of his own mother in a strange way that made him fear Fraud was right.

He found a comfort in her that felt a little like home, like all his running led him to her. She was the end of the finish line, the cold glass of water, the euphoric pride of a job well done. She was everything good wrapped up in a beautiful bow and he was gone.

Feeling like he did when he met Ethan, Derek, or Elle for the first time, even Maeve when they were just talking on the phone, that butterfly feeling that excited him to try something new.

Y/N made him believe in possibilities again.

It felt nice to look ahead, to dream and wish of the future and not see death and destruction. Instead, dreaming of them running through the fields, flowers dancing everywhere as they hear Amoreena’s laughter. It’s how life is supposed to be.

[lucianalight]

I just rewatched Thor 1 (In honor of Loki for his birthday) and one of the main things I noticed was how few lines he actually had. He spoke so little you could almost count the amount of times he did actually speak. And it wasn't because he wasn't in the scene either. There were literally scenes where he either had one line or was just standing there. Obviously this changed closer to the end (not really). I also noticed how illogical people were in the movie on so many levels (*cough* Warriors 4 *cough*). This movie also (better than it intended) illustrated how little/poor Loki and Frigga's relationship really is. (And why I think Loki's reaction to her dying in Thor 2 was over exaggerated) Frigga could/did not help Loki during his mental breakdown and the sad part is that during Frigga's explanation scene, it was clear Loki knew she was lying. And even if she was telling the truth, it brough him no comfort. And after he shot Thor (she could have but it was just off screen) she didn't talk Loki down from destroying Jotunheim. If she did, she failed anyway so it reallydoesn't matter. She as a mother should have been able to stop him if you ask me. This is my short summary of the movie in which everyone and everything was stacked up against Loki for no logical reason, was in Thor's favor (who had no character development what so ever) and how Frigga and Odin are horrible parents. Speaking of Odin, why do he and Thor fight in every movie? Seriously this dude needs to figure out what he wants for his kids. Thanks for coming to my TED talk!

I noticed was how few lines he actually had. He spoke so little you could almost count the amount of times he did actually speak. And it wasn't because he wasn't in the scene either. There were literally scenes where he either had one line or was just standing there.

The fact that Loki has fewer lines and a lot of times he conveys his feelings and thoughts with his expression shows KB's genius choice in directing and Tom's wonderful acting skills. Because it's totally a deliberate choice to show how Loki is always in the shadows, unseen and unheard and also one of the ways to emphasize how his and Thor's personality contrast with each other.

I also noticed how illogical people were in the movie on so many levels (*cough* Warriors 4 *cough*)

Yeah W4 kept making accusations with no proof and dismissed Loki's points as mere jealousy and even his orders as a king just because they didn't like him and they wanted to drag their vulnerable human friend back home while they were on the brink of war. I think they relied on solving everything through battles so much that they weren't used to thinking logically.

This movie also (better than it intended) illustrated how little/poor Loki and Frigga's relationship really is. (And why I think Loki's reaction to her dying in Thor 2 was over exaggerated) Frigga could/did not help Loki during his mental breakdown and the sad part is that during Frigga's explanation scene, it was clear Loki knew she was lying. And even if she was telling the truth, it brough him no comfort.

I wouldn't say their relationship was poor, but rather complicated as it's the same in real world and in families where the children experience abuse. It's not really sth black and white. Loki loved Frigga even though he was hurt by her too, so I don't think his reaction was exaggerated in TDW. Frigga clearly understood how Loki felt to be in the shadows, shared her magic with him, but she didn't understand him enough to realize how deeply Loki was hurt by finding out the truth and how much Frigga's attempt at placating him hurt him too.

And after he shot Thor (she could have but it was just off screen) she didn't talk Loki down from destroying Jotunheim. If she did, she failed anyway so it really doesn't matter. She as a mother should have been able to stop him if you ask me.

I don't think there was time for her to talk Loki down. Most probably Loki went to the Bifrost as soon as he could. And Loki wasn't really in a state to listen to anyone as he didn't trust even her words when she said that they loved him. And parents can't always stop or persuade their children to do things. I don't think that's fair expectation to have from them specially when their child is an adult.

the movie in which everyone and everything was stacked up against Loki for no logical reason, was in Thor's favor (who had no character development what so ever)

I think that was a deliberate choice too because as the screenwriter of the movie said, if you see the events from Loki's pov, he is the hero and they wanted to show that how everyone is against him when he originally just wanted to save Asgard and the nine realms from Thor's rule.

Thor's character development was that he learned genocide is bad and learned humility from humans. The movie's problem regarding Thor's arc is that it's not clear how and why Thor learned genocide of Jotuns is bad, considering they were seen as monsters while humans were seen as ignorant and harmless. So how valuing human lives resulted in valuing Jotuns lives? I think in-universe, Thor doesn't really know the answer himself as it's a new concept for him. He is unable to answer Loki why he can't kill an entire race while Asgard always view people who did genocide as heroes.

Speaking of Odin, why do he and Thor fight in every movie? Seriously this dude needs to figure out what he wants for his kids.

Oh he knows what he wants for his kids. For them to obey him and agree with what he has planned for them. The problem is his kids have ideas of their own that is different from his plans for them! Outrageous! :D

[twistedtranslations]

Cater Diamond - Full of Lies

You can unlock this story by getting Cater’s SSR Scary dress

Big thanks to Rym and Apollo for proofreading!

Translation under the cut

Chapter 1

Main street

/Notification

Cater: Oh? A message on MagiCam? Who would've thought it was that girl! How nostalgic~ The picture those ghosts took at Ramshackle dorm made our college's Halloween event trend -> Jumping onto the bandwagon and posting a lot -> Huge success for Cay's follower-catching strat! So far it's been going well but… Mixed within the comments and DMs of my new followers are a lot of old aquaintances. Even some classmates from middle and elementary school are here.

Cater: "Hey! It's been a while! Oh, would you like to come to our college? Cay welcomes every single one of you! You can always come over to hang at NRC's Halloween event!"

Cater: And now some emoji full of feelings!  (^○^)♪ (ゝω・)☆　d(’ｖ｀*)b

Cater: Everyone is really so casual and easygoing~ Well, it's easier on me, so I'm not complaining.

???: HEY!

Cater: Where did that loud and rowdy voice come from? I've got a bad feeling about this…

Front Gate

Sebek: Humans, don't crowd around the young master! Get out! Leave!

Boy A: Hey, what are you doing, sweptback bro! Don't interfere with our Draconia Challenge.

Boy B: We're putting our lives on the line to show our bravery by uploading a picture of us touching The Malleus!

Boy A: Huh, since when did Malleus disappear?! It's that sweptback bro's fault.

Boy B: Don't be so angry. After all the effort of having a sweptback, let's show the world a huge smile on that face!

Sebek: For humans of your social standing to use the name of the Lord of the esteemed Valley of Thorns in vain…Besides, my hair is swept back like this so I have an unobstructed view to find those like you who behave rudely towards my young master! You shall receive punishment for insulting the Draconia… no, for insulting the young master. My thunder shall shock you all to bits! HAAAAA...

Cater: Okay, stop! I'm part of the Halloween Committee. It's forbidden to fight. Why don't you try talking to this lad if something's up?

Sebek: Don't interrupt me, you frolicking human! I will shock you to bits as well!

Cater: Won't you create a scandal for the Draconia family if you were to harm an ordinary human with magic?

Sebek: W-Well… You're right. Besides, didn't you just say you were part of the Halloween committee? Both the young master and master Lilia are both performing the same duties… They ordered me to listen to the orders of the other committee members. Ok, I shall talk this out.

Cater: Even though you are crossing your arms and puffing your chest out, you are being apologetic right? Anyway, these are our college's precious guests. They have no intention to harm Malleus.

Sebek: These magic-less weaklings were making a spectacle bothering Young Master with a toy. I cannot forgive that!

Cater: Malleus is like super famous, and he's an admirable being, right? So just for this festival, it should be fine to interact with our guests as a little fanservice right?

Sebek: Stop messing around. The young master is a dreadful being who makes everyone kneel and bow down to him. AND THAT'S WHY I WILL NEVER LEAVE HIS SIDE AND PROTECT HIM ALL MY LIFE!

Cater: You're just obsessed!

Boy A: Hey, interfering our Draconia Challenge aside, what are you two squabbling about?

Sebek: Hm? You humans are still here? I told you to leave.

Boy B: Huh? You've got some nerve, talking rudely to us like that!

Cater: Come on guys. Why don't we take some pictures together since it's finally Halloween! We, Heartslabyul are those who rise from the soil in the darkness, the underlings of the night~

Boy A: Wow! Now that you mention it, you do look real good for the camera!

Cater: Cheer up everyone and gather! Let's decide on a pose~~~ Happy Halloween~

¨*shutter noise*

Cater: (Ugh… This is exhausting)

Chapter 2

Classroom

Kalim/Cater/Lilia: *Sigh*… I'm tired….

Cater: This year's Halloween was exhausting. Mainly due to our guests being rowdy..

Kalim: It was fun entertaining the guests, but I was really troubled because Jamil got in a foul mood.

Lilia: Even we, three most gentle boys, have been worn down. The other students must be at the limits of their patience.

Everyone: *Sigh*…

Cater: Now that you say it, by chance all the members of the light music club are also part of the Halloween Committee. Let's have our usual relaxing tea time while also discussing some countermeasures.

Kalim/Lilia: Agreed~

Cater: I got this! Trey's home-made pumpkin pie! It's moderately sweet, so it's my favorite!

Kalim: I have kunafa. It's a cheesecake from the Scalding Sands. It's delicious when it's hot!

Lilia: Oho, these are all sweets befitting of Halloween. As the last one, I have prepared this. Licorice!

Cater: You're always bringing the same thing! You know me and Kalim don't like that.

Kalim: The smell makes my nose shrivel up~

Cater: But you know, since it's black, it does feel like Halloween. Oh, right, let's take a picture together. It's super charming to be in costume and have themed food.

*shutter noise*

Cater: #TheBestHalloween #SelfmadeCostume #HomemadeTreat #LightMusicClub #NRCHalloween

Kalim: The best? Didn't you say you were exhausted earlier, Cater?

Cater: I never said it wasn't exciting and for things like SNS, isn't it better to exaggerate a bit?

Lilia: As expected of you. We live in a period where everyone is connected all around the world. It is most wonderful to spread happiness instead of complaints.

Cater: Oh. The picture I just uploaded got an amazing response! 

*notification*

Cater: Another message from that girl. Was she the kind to keep track of people's activities?

*ringing noise*

Cater: This time it's a call. (How persistent…)

Kalim: Cater, is it from one of your friends? You can pick up if you want.

Cater: Hm~… More like an acquaintance from the past? But it's alright? We're at a very important meeting, after all.

Lilia: We are only eating sweets, taking pictures and uploading them to MagiCam though…

Cater: It's the age of social media where everyone can keep in contact at their own pace, you don't have to go through the pains of having to response in real time to a phone call.

Kalim: Do you have that many people who want to get in touch with you? You're so well connected Cater~

Cater: Well, if you look the amount of aquaintances I have, that might be true? My dad's a banker. The bank he works at has branches all over the world. Therefore, whenever he transferred to a different branch, our entire family would move with him. We moved once every two years, so I kind of feel like a pro at quickly packing things?

Lilia: Commonly said, you are a family who moved a lot for the sake of the breadwinner.

Kalim: So the reason why you have so many friends is because you have travelled around the world since young.

Cater: Yeah, the girl just now said we are friends as well. Having to change schools frequently, I got to meet more people compared to someone staying at one place. From the best to the worst… a lot of people. However, they all had something in common.

Kalim/Lilia: …?

Cater: If I left there, they remained there. That's why I'd rather have a casual and happy time with everyone than to deepen a friendship. It’s like a circus troupe, you know, having fun hanging with people all over the world and then leaving. That's why MagiCam is the best! People from my school from three years ago contacted me out of the blue. My social circle is expanding as well. Cay is getting popular!

Kalim: Even if they're far away, you don't have to hold back you know? I got it! I'll lend you my magic carpet, so you can visit your friends whenever you want.

Cater:… I expected no less of you, Kalim. I'll take you up on that offer next time.

Lilia: I feel like I understand you.

Cater: Hm?

Lilia: The relations between humans are eternal. They are things that cannot be severed. In a new place with no trace of your existence, new relations will continue to be forged. That in itself is nature. However, I think the more precious a relation is, the more lonely it becomes. Why does it feel that way? I have lived a long life but the reason is still unknown to me. But just as Cater said, there may be a perfectly logical explanation for not getting too attached to one person in particular.

Cater: Lilia, what got into you suddenly? What I wanted to say was-

*ringing noise*

Lilia: Hello, this is Lilia speaking? What business do you have?

Cater: He just casually picked up the phone during our conversation.

Lilia: Oh, Sebek. What is it? You are so loud. Right now, I am in a meeting with Cater and Kalim. WHAT?! MALLEUS?!

Kalim/Cater: ?!

Chapter 3

Hall of Mirrors

Silver: Stop pushing. It's forbidden to enter the Hall of Mirrors.

Man A: Huh, really! I came all the way to the Isle of Sages to see Malleus Draconia.

Man B: We are doing the Draconia challenge now! Why can't we enter~

Girl C: He’s inside right! An actual Draconia, the Actual Malleus!

Everyone: MALLEUS! MALLEUS! MALLEUS!

*Lightning and thunder*

Silver: It's a rare event that Master Malleus is participating in. He also agreed to interact with the guests... For it to come to this... Everyone, it’s better if you leave. You have angered master Malleus.

Man A: I paid a lot of travel expenses, did you know that? This is the price of fame.

Everyone: MALLEUS! MALLEUS! MALLEUS!

Exterior Hallway

Cater: Did the visitors who wanted that  MagiCam glory end up angering even Malleus himself?

Sebek: Yes. At first he was gentle and calmed me down when I got angry… but a fool grabbed Malleus by the horns and made fun of him by saying "Look! It's a bicycle from the olden days!"

Lilia/Cater: Gh!

Cater: I don't know if they're brave or just reckless. Were the dark clouds and thunder rampaging in the sky above the Hall of Mirrors due to Malleus' anger? You don't think he overblotted, right…?!

Lilia: Do not worry. Using that amount of magic power shall not make him overblot. He is simply irritated. Back when he was young, mountains would be destroyed by his lightning whenever he threw a tantrum.

Cater: Hahaha… that's on a totally different level. I guess it was a good idea to have Kalim fetch the professors.

Sebek: Upperclassman Vil noticed something was up and isolated the young master. He also casted a defensive spell so the tourists wouldn't be harmed. And it seemed that Upperclassman Jade is persuading the angry young master with some unique methods... Even so, those humans who can't seem to understand the gravity of the situation keep stirring up the young master, they're uncontrollable.

Lilia: This means we must use our last resort. We must put in effort to suppress the onlookers and avoid the worst situation.

Cater: Wait a second, Lilia. I thought of something. It's not like people there dislike Malleus or anything. Despite that, it doesn't mean that they like Malleus as well... They're just interested in trends. Just like my old acquaintances.

Lilia: ?

Cater: First, I'll take a picture of Lilia, who's wearing the same clothes as Malleus!

*shutter noise*

Cater: Next we use something catered to influencers. We'll elongate Lilia's picture with a photo editing app!

*swiping on phone*

Cater: Now we just add some text to finish it up. And then upload a cropped version to MagiCam!!

*Phone SFX*

Cater: #AWildMalleusAppeared #DraconiaChallenge #UnexpectedlyAtSportsGround #NRCHalloween

*Phone SFX*

Hall of Mirrors

Man A: H-Hey. Look at the Draconia challenge tag.

Man B: It seems he's at the Sports Ground now. As expected of Malleus. He's much faster than we are!

Girl C: Okay. Everyone, let's move!

Everyone: YEAH!

Silver: What happened? Master Malleus should still be in the Hall of Mirrors.

Cater: Fu. With this, I hope the storm has passed…?

Vil: Good grief. Accidents are an unavoidable part of stage plays. Letting yourself get influenced by the guests is so amateurish. My work here is done. I will return to the dorm to straighten up my appearance.

Jade: My, that was a close call. Malleus is extremely powerful. I persuaded him to the best of my abilites, trying to get him to understand. But there was no one to turn to if it had failed. Well then, I will also return to my station. I wish everyone a wonderful Halloween.

Malleus: I caused many disturbances between different racial groups during a mere school event. I should restrain myself more…

Sebek: The young master has done nothing wrong! It was the fault of those inferior humans!

Silver: The young master told us to avoid hostility between fae and humans. Why are you getting more hostile?

Sebek: WHAT DID YOU SAY SILVER!

Lilia: Malleus. Did you forget our promise from long ago? Call for us when the tranquility in your mind is disturbed.  Even if we are not related by blood, we are still a family. Got it?

Malleus: Lilia… My apologies. To everyone.

Everyone: …

Cater: ….Family…huh.

Flashback

Lilia: But just as Cater said, there may be a perfectly logical explanation for not getting too attached to one person in particular.

Flashback ends

Cater: (That was full of lies. For a guy who grew up and lived in the same place, he never had to deal with rebuilding relations over and over…He would never understand my worthless and meaningless feelings.)

*ringing*

Cater: Hello, Trey. What's up? Huh? Are we doing our rehearsal for our night show at the stamp rally now? And Deuce, who is also part of the Halloween Committee, was at his wit's end due to the lack of manpower. So Ace is helping him out? Darn, Ace is definitely going to extort me for a favor later!

Cater: Argh! And is Riddle on the verge of a rampage? I'll be back soon, Trey. Please calm him down! I am currently at the site of the biggest crisis yet of this Halloween Week! No, for real! I'm not lying. That's why you don't have to be so cold to me, 'kay? URGH, TREY, YOU'RE SO CRUEL!

Cater: Now that Diasomnia's turmoil has settled, let's change the mood and continue on with work. In any case, we’ll still separate after the fourth year… It would be different if I repeated a year though. Anyway, I should just enjoy the moment to my heart's content! I'll surprise everyone with this charming skeleton costume! I'll show them what I'm capable of!

Cater: Happy Halloween!

[lavender-scent]

BBRae Week Day Two - Poolside

FF.net - AO3

Jealousy, Jealousy (Started Following Me)

“Azar, have mercy on me,” Raven said to herself as she tried to focus on anyone but Beastboy.

The Titans has found themselves dragged to the public pool by none other than their green teammate. He had been trying to get them here for a week now, always turned down by training or an attack somewhere in the city or something else occupying the titans schedule.

Raven was confused at first by his enthusiasm. They already had a pool on the tower, a huge one at that, and there was no need to go to a public one but once they all arrived there she understood why.

He was there for the girls... and Raven hated it.

Throughout the year, Raven had steadily developed a crush on Beast Boy. One she had been trying to keep a secret although her powers had demanded otherwise.

They have been going out of control lately whenever she's close to him. With all the new emotions she’s been experiencing around him, Beast Boy had noticed when objects exploded near him whenever they were in the same room but Raven always brushed off his concern as a lack of meditation.

He was a fan favorite Titan so of course girls liked him and thought he was cute (She did too but he didn’t need to know that.)

Raven was now dealing with a new emotion she never known before.

Jealousy.

Every time a girl approached Beast Boy her dark magic followed.

She really tried to control it but Beastboy flirting and laughing around pretty normal girls wasn’t helping.

Girls that weren’t her.

She had brought a book with her to distract her from him and keep her occupied but even that wasn’t working.

First she blew up his drink when she saw him flirting with the girl at the poolside bar. When he looked at her in confusion she blamed it on the burning sun.

And so it continued with every other girl that even looked at him.

Every girl he talked to was surprised by a explosion that Raven pretended didn’t happen. The blonde girl that was trying to get on his back to play some stupid game she probably made up herself wasn’t any different.

“I don’t think I’ll make it,” she giggled still nowhere near his shoulders.

“Just hold my hands,” Beast Boy laughed as he tried to help her.

Raven tried to look anywhere but them, but it was hard when they kept shouting and giggling like 5 year old kids. Finally her powers decided to take control.

A flying ball surrounded by black shadow came out of nowhere sending them both into water.

Beast Boy was not happy. She could tell by the look he had fixed on her.

“You got me wet,” he complained when he came out of the pool.

“We’re at the pool, Beast Boy. You’re supposed to get wet.”

“Not with a flying ball sent by your half demon teammate!"

Raven didn’t reply.

“Now what’s your problem?”

“I have no problem.”

“Yeah, that’s why your magic keeps either hitting me or exploding something in my face. Now tell me what’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong,” Raven insisted.

Beast Boy knew she was lying. He knew something was up with her powers and he knew it had something to do with him but he couldn’t figure out why her dark magic was suddenly so interested in him. This had never happened before.

Whatever it was, it had to be fixed.

Beast Boy decided to sacrifice what remained of his pool day to help Raven with whatever was going on with her emotions. He was worried about her and he wanted her to be okay.

He tried to get her to swim with him thinking maybe that would help her calm down but she declined.

“What’s wrong Rae? If I didn’t know better I’d say you have a crush on me,” he teased sitting in the lounge chair beside her.

Raven froze, but before she said anything another girl showed up.

“Hey Beast Boy, can you help me put my sunscreen on? My arms aren’t long as yours,” she asked the changeling shyly.

Beast Boy replied grinning, “Of course.”

Raven watched as the girl fixed herself in front of Beast Boy showing him her back.

The brunette girl started giggling the moment Beastboy touched her skin, “I’m a little ticklish, you gotta apply it slow.”

“Okay, I’ll go as slow as I can.”

Beast Boy moved his hands slowly as he was asked but the girl kept giggling anyway.

Raven had seen enough, her powers acting by themselves before she could get a hold on them.

Before Beast Boy got to finish his task, the lounge chair broke and both he and the girl fell to the floor.

Beastboy turned to Raven giving her a glare, “What the hell?”

Raven got up to leave but Beast Boy held her wrist to stop her, “Not this time!”

“Beast Boy, let me go,” she said trying to hide her blush at the sudden contact.

“It’s getting out of control, Raven.”

Their intense stares got cut by the forgotten girl, “What the fuck, freak?”

At that, Beastboy snapped back at her, “Don’t call her that!”

Raven felt the sudden tears that had cropped unbidden almost falling and she didn’t want them to see her like that so she teleported herself back to the tower.

What she didn’t realize was that she had teleported Beast Boy with her. She removed his hand and ran to the hallway but he blocked her way.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“My room.”

“No, I don’t think so. Not after you ruined my pool day.”

“Ruined it? It’s not my fault you’re so invested in my business. No one told you to!”

“Which one of us is invested in the other one? Your magic ruined my every attempt to flirt with any girl!”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t flirt with them!”

Raven realized what she just said and she couldn’t stop the tears falling this time. Did she just admit she was jealous? Her worse fear had come true and Beast Boy knew how she feels now.

Her powers took over her once again and everything around them was either floating in space or exploding.

Beast Boy didn’t know what to do when basically his teammate was breaking down in front of him.

Beast Boy held her arms trying to calm her, “Hey, it’s okay I- I won’t flirt with them, I promise!”

Raven started gaining her control back and the levitating objects stopped moving around. For a moment they both just stared at each other not knowing what the next step is.

Beast Boy was confused and didn’t believe what had just happened. Was she actually mad that he was flirting with other girls?

Neither of them moved as they continued staring into each other’s eyes.

Before either of them said anything, Raven teleported herself to her room, this time without taking Beast Boy with her.

Beast Boy stayed there for long time before he felt his communicator vibrating. Great, now he had to explain what happened to their team.

Beast Boy was sitting in his room later when he heard a soft knock on his door.

He hoped it wasn’t Robin asking for a more detailed explanation on why he and Raven came home earlier than the rest of them but he opened the door to find none other than Raven herself.

She looked like she was trying to stop herself from teleporting back to her room right there and then. “I think I owe you an explanation.”

Beast Boy gave her a nod as she continued, “I know you have noticed my powers acting on themselves lately more than usual and it was because I was experiencing new feelings that I hadn’t full control over and meditation wasn’t much of a help. Today it was more intense because I was jealous.”

“Why were you jealous?” Beast Boy asked.

Raven took a deep breath, she knew he had the right to know especially when her emotions had been effecting him, but it was still hard for her to admit the truth.

“Because I have feelings for you. I have for a while now.”

Raven waited for his reaction. There was none. When he didn't reply she continued.

“I might need time to control these emotions but I promise they won’t bother you anymore,” she finished as she left his room.

He wanted to follow her. Every part of him screamed to, but what would he do after? What would he say to her? All this time she was dealing with her feelings for him and he was too oblivious to even notice.

That’s how it was when he was constantly trying to get her attention by constantly teasing her when she locked herself away. This was her way of getting his.

A week passed since they talked, and Beast Boy was officially losing his mind. When Raven said she'd need some time he didn’t think she meant away from him.

She had been avoiding him wherever he was. The only time she would come out of her room is when he was in his.

He hated this. He was annoyed with her powers before but if that was the only way for them to be close then he didn’t care.

Anything was better than this.

Even though she was very quiet, her absence screamed louder.

Beast Boy wanted nothing more than to have his friend back and that’s how he found himself standing at her door. He opened the door without knocking worrying that she would stop him if he did.

Raven was reading in her bed when he entered. She sat up when she saw him in her room surprised by the action, “What’s wrong, Beast Boy?” It was a testament to how strange she was acting that she didn't even yell at him.

“This, this is what’s wrong! I can’t take it anymore.”

“Beast Boy, you know I have to stay away because of my feelings.” It pained her to bring the subject back up again.

She had been pretending like it didn’t happen the first time for the sake of her sanity. Beast Boy knowing about her feelings was the last thing she wanted but the time she spent away from him helped keep a hold on them for a little.

Beast Boy frowned. “This doesn’t feel like you have feelings for me. IT feels like you hate me.”

“I’m only doing this for you.”

“I don’t want it! I don’t want you hiding in your room from me because you’re worried about your powers.”

“Then what do you want?”

Beast Boy looked conflicted for only a second then: “I want... I want you.”

And without a second thought, Beast Boy’s hands found themselves holding her small face and his lips chased hers. Raven’s eyes widened only a moment before she gave in and kissed him back.

It was a short kiss but it felt like centuries.

Raven was the first to pull away, her eyes fixed on the boy in front her.

Is this real? She wondered. Or have my emotions passed a new level of insanity?

But the smile he gave her was definitely real, “I don’t think your meditation helped much.”

She looked around to find all of her room very different than how it had been before she had closed her eyes.

She cursed her powers. “A new emotion. I just need to adjust.”

He brought her face closer to his, “I think a few more kisses might help.”

And he kissed her again.

nb: this was my first finished fic i hope u guys liked it! and thanks to @oceanspray5 for helping me and always supporting my writing, love u sm <3

my fic for sunny days

also don't forget to check her bbrae week fics coming on day3 and day7!

happy bbrae week everyone <33

(@bbraeweek21 )

[amyscascadingtabs]

don’t want to keep secrets just to keep you [chapter 1]

“Actually, I want to add one more rule.” “Yeah?” Jake leans back in his chair, crossing his arms behind his head and flexing his biceps through the green shirt with a smug grin. “You’re not allowed to fall in love with me.” "Won't be a problem."

Amy Santiago doesn't date cops. Jake Peralta's sworn never to date a lawyer again. When a couple of drinks and the returning of a borrowed shirt ends with the two of them in bed together, Amy decides to take control of the situation the best way she knows how: a comprehensive set of rules. There's just one little thing she hadn't anticipated – Jake Peralta is full of surprises.

Written for the B99 Summer 2021 Fic Exchange.

AO3 link // playlist

My contribution to this year’s fic exchange, for @fezzle​! @b99fandomevents​​ 💛

1. i never saw you coming (and i’ll never be the same)

 He gets out of the car, and before Amy can gather the courage to shout after him, he’s disappeared from her sight.

She leans her forehead against the steering wheel, squeezing her fist and punching it in frustration. It doesn’t feel better, just makes her hand hurt. Amy pretends that’s what’s making her eyes tear up, and not the thought that she just screwed up her chances of ever seeing Jake Peralta again.

 five months earlier.

 The cop is five minutes late entering the courtroom, and Amy vows to dislike him from that point onward.

 What's worse is that he doesn't seem ashamed. He simply gives Judge Stewart an apologetic grin, runs a hand through his already messy hair, and sits down on the bench next to the sergeant Amy recognizes as Terry Jeffords. Amy gives him a polite faked smile to tell him she's noted this presence and she's going to win this case, but the cop doesn't seem to notice the toxicity in her facial expression, because she gets another wide grin back. Judging from the colorful marks on his teeth, it looks like he had candy for breakfast – could it be gummy bears? Either way, Amy's respect for the man sinks even lower.

 At least she won't have to worry about him, she tells herself. She already knows this case is about to be a win.

 That is until it turns out this man has a reply for everything. She’d been certain the evidence against her client was circumstantial at best, nowhere near enough to get him convicted on, and the notes she’d gone through from the initial police questioning had lacked significant information. It had been nothing short of sloppy, and she’d entered the courthouse this morning filled with glowing confidence. That same confidence is now seeping away, dripping onto the polished floors of the courtroom in exchange for heated frustration as it turns out the detective – Jake Peralta, she learns – was present at the scene earlier than Amy had gathered, and from the vantage point he had, saw her client running from the corner store at full speed.

“Would you say it’s possible my client was running for a different reason?” She asks, staring coldly into the detective’s eyes as she speaks. “Such as exercising, perhaps?”

“Well, he was carrying a huge green backpack, identical to the one he was wearing when my partner Charles caught him ten minutes later. So, no,” he says, meeting her look with a smug smile of his own. “I would say that’s unlikely.”

“But not impossible?”

“Considering we also found the stolen goods in that same backpack, I’d say the chance is pretty solid it was him.”

“The bags couldn’t have been switched? Or, as my client claims, the goods couldn’t have been dropped in there by someone who wanted to get rid of them?”

“With all due respect,” says Jake Peralta, and the self-assuredness in his voice is enough for her to know the case is lost. “The streets were more crowded than a Taylor Swift concert, your honor. Someone would have seen something.”

 ~

 It’s late Friday afternoon by the time Amy returns to the office of Newsom & Associates, but there’s still plenty of her coworkers left to watch as she throws her briefcase on top of the chair before closing the door to her office and digging out her pack of shame cigarettes from the bottom drawer of her desk. The only window in the room opens out to a back alley with trash cans and forgotten bikes, which is a drab view most of the time but comes in handy for secret shame-smoking. She closes her eyes and leans back against the wall, trying to savor the first inhale. She hates the habit and always tells herself she’s going to quit soon, but at times when work stresses her out like this, there’s no better fix. It’s all Jake Peralta’s fault, anyway. He’d waved at her when they’d left the courtroom, looking genuinely pleased to see her, and that had only worsened her frustration. It’s one thing being defeated – it’s worse when the winner acts like it wasn’t even a big deal.

 “You should stop that.” The sound of Rosa’s voice appearing in the doorway to Amy’s office causes her to inhale too much smoke, coughing and tearing up as she hurries to extinguish the cigarette butt on the windowsill. “It’s gross.”

“I needed it,” Amy coughs again before drying her eyes with the sleeve of her blazer. “You should’ve been there. That fucking detective ruined my defense.”

“So? It happens. Doesn’t make you a bad lawyer. Stop pitying yourself.”

“You’re just saying that because you win nearly all your cases,” Amy mumbles. “And everyone’s terrified of you.”

Rosa does a little shrug, but Amy thinks she can spot the hint of a smile on her lips. She can’t be certain, though. Rosa almost never smiles, but that’s not nearly the most terrifying thing about her. She also rides her motorcycle to court and wears leather jackets and skin-tight black jeans to trials, and somehow no one's ever dared to police her on it. Amy once asked her out of curiosity if putting on a blazer would really hurt that much, and the stare she got back told her she’d be a fool to make that mistake again.

“Either way, it's not that. It was that cop who ruined everything. I mean, he showed up late, for god’s sake, with candy in his teeth and a wrinkled suit! But he somehow had an answer and explanation for everything,” Amy snorts. “And he smiled the whole time like he’d already won. And he referenced Taylor Swift! During the trial! Who does that?”

Rosa lets out a laugh. “You're a Swift hater? God, please don't tell me you took Kanye’s side too.”

“I didn't – that's beside the point!”

“Which is?”

“That he has zero respect for the sacred rules of a courtroom, and gets away with it all because of that super-charm smile.”

“Yeah, you mentioned the smile. Twice.”

“It was just so…” She clenches her fist until her red nails press into her palm to the point of pain, then releases it. “It's fine. I’ll win my next case, and there are lots of cops in New York. I probably won't ever see him again.”

 ~

 Amy can barely hide her frustration in court the next week when she hears the doors open and looks up from the papers she was sorting, only to see Jake Peralta for the second time in her life. He’s on time today, which she supposes is progress, but there are stains on his shirt that seem to be coming from the can of orange soda he’s holding in his hand. She wonders if it's his breakfast. If that's his diet, he looks surprisingly fit in a grey suit for it.

 He grins again when he sees her, raising his hand in a lazy wave. Amy gives him a forced smile, then returns to her papers. She’ll have to make sure to win this time.

 But despite her confidence and very best efforts, she loses to Jake Peralta yet another time.

And another.

And another.

 It's not that she's suddenly magically unlucky, because she still manages to win several other cases, but every time Jake Peralta shows up to testify, without fault, Amy loses.

It infuriates her.

 The worst part is that Jake seems oblivious to her anger. He smiles at her every time they leave the courtroom, even though she returns them with little to no genuineness at all. She once spots him doing a childish victory gesture outside the courthouse, but he never once takes the opportunity to brag about his win to her face.

 Aside from his surprisingly good manners when it comes to bragging, though, he's a mess. There's always some kind of stain on his shirt or his cheek that he seems unaware of, his ways of describing things involve one too many pop culture references for Amy’s liking, and she starts preparing to meet him every time a detective is five minutes late. She wonders if no one's ever told him how one is supposed to behave in a courtroom, but he’s usually accompanied by the precinct’s sergeant, so that seems unlikely. The more likely option, Amy figures, is that he just doesn't seem to find it that important; especially considering he seems to get away with it every single time.

 She swears it's all because of that stupid infectious smile.

 ~

 It pleases Amy to no end when she learns that Jake Peralta is going to be the witness in one of the strongest cases she’s had in a long while. The client was clearly acting in self-defense, she has a witness of her own who can testify to that, and although she knows that nothing is for certain until the verdict falls, she’s got a good feeling about this one. Finally, the day has come for Jake Peralta to watch her win.

 At first, the state attorney’s case seems solid. Jake is assisted by a short, round-faced man with dark brown hair and an expression that looks like he’s seconds away from apologizing for taking up everyone’s time, but his suit is matched and perfectly straight and he gets right to the point without any odd references, so Amy still earns a fair amount of respect for detective Charles Boyle. He and Jake had entered the subway car after hearing about a fight taking place, and stepped on just in time to watch her client aim a closed-fist punch at the face of the man on top of him. It’s clear and convincing, but Amy knows that after the recess, it will be her time to shine. She loves these moments, when it’s obvious the other side thinks they have it in the bag but she knows something they don’t, and they have no idea what’s coming. She knows trials are about justice and not personal victories – but she’s only human. Winning is always a thrill.

 She’s thinking about how she’s going to be celebrating her win later this evening when Jake Peralta bumps into her at the coffee shop neighboring the courthouse. As in, literally bumps into her, with his elbow when he hurries forward to grab a plastic cup with whipped cream and so much caramel syrup on top of the coffee that Amy pities his dentist.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry… wait, it's you!” He shines up as if he’d just seen a past good friend, and Amy’s once more taken aback by how polite he is. A lot of cops she meets during trials either tend to make fun of her profession or glare bitterly at her from a distance, but Jake's doing neither. He even reaches out his free hand to shake hers, so she accepts. “Jake Peralta – wow, you have a very firm handshake.”

“I took a seminar. Amy Santiago.”

“Where?” He asks, but she ignores him and moves forward in line to order her coffee with milk.

“Nothing for your client? Wow. I’d expected you to have better manners than that, Santiago.”

“I offered, but he wanted to spend recess with his partner for moral support. See?” She raises a brow at him. “I do have manners.”

There's that smile again, up close this time, and Amy's relieved when the barista hands her the coffee so she can hide the involuntary blush in her cheeks. She never noticed he had dimples before.

“So, how are you feeling about the rest of the trial, then? Ready to go defend the guilty guy?”

“Innocent until proven guilty, Peralta. Famously one of the most sacred principles in the American justice system. And I was born ready.”

“And lose. The whole question was, are you ready to go defend the guilty guy and lose, and you said you were born that way.” Jake grins in a way that makes him look like an overgrown mischievous school kid. Maybe not that far off, Amy thinks.

“Twist my words all you want, I am winning this case.” She hesitates for a moment, noticing Jake's detective partner looking at the two of them from a table in the corner of the room. Not normally something she'd be that creeped out by, if it hadn't been for the fact that the man isn’t tearing his eyes away from them, and he looks weirdly overjoyed. “Uhm, is detective Boyle okay? He's staring at us pretty intensely.”

“Huh? Oh yeah, he has… an eye condition.” Jake turns around and mouths something that looks to be BOYLE, and the man rolls his eyes before stalking away. “Ignore him. Anyway… so what do you think about the judge?”

 Amy's about to launch into a description of her good experience with judge Myers when someone brushes past her with their iced coffee in a hurry, losing control of the plastic cup. The unsecured lid wobbles, and before Amy realizes what’s about to happen, cold coffee splashes onto her earlier pristine white blouse. “Fuck!” She reaches for a bunch of paper napkins and tries to dab the worst away with them, but the milky coffee is already seeping through the fabric and leaving an obvious stain that her blazer can’t hide.

“What a jerk,” Jake mutters, glaring in the direction of where the stranger disappeared.

“Never mind that! I don’t have another shirt! I can’t go into a courtroom looking like this! Unlike you, I actually care about whether my clothes have giant stains on them!”

“First of all, rude, and second of all, they’re not giant.”

“I don’t care. I’m screwed. Fuck, I don’t have time to run back home before the trial starts – I guess I could call Rosa –”

“Hey, hey.” Jake holds up his hands as if trying to calm her down, which only makes Amy more frustrated. “I know this is kind of crazy, but, I have a shirt in my car that I was planning to return to my ex. But emphasis on ex, so…” He shrugs. “You could borrow it?”

 Amy considers her options. On the one hand, she figures there’s about an eighty percent chance that whatever Jake has in his car also has some kind of mysterious stain on it, but on the other hand, she took the subway today and there's no way she’ll make it to her apartment and back before the court is back in session. Asking for a longer recess is an option, but making everyone wait simply because she needs a change of clothes makes her too uncomfortable to even consider.

“Fine,” she relents. “Where's your car?”

 Jake's car turns out to be an old Mustang, which Amy can tell even from her strictly limited car-knowledge is pretty impressive, but she doesn't understand how he can find anything in there. The backseat is a mess of empty orange soda bottles, a couple of frisbees, candy wrappers, what looks to be cartoons and old CDs, and the cup holders have shaving foam next to another can of orange soda. She's equally surprised and impressed when he pulls out a clean, dark blue charmeuse blouse. Whoever Jake's ex-girlfriend was, she seems to have both taste and money.

“You're totally saving my day today,” she says as he gives it to her. “You really didn't have to.”

“Prove that cops aren't all bad?” Amy rolls her eyes, and Jake laughs. “Just kidding. You have to give it back, though.”

“As soon as I’ve washed it. Wait, we have to be able to get in touch.” She digs in the inside pocket of her briefcase and pulls out two of her business cards. “I’m assuming you don't have any, so write your number on the back of that one.”

“Rude, but correct.” He scribbles down something on one of the cards before giving it back. “I’ll see you up there, then… Amy Santiago.”

Something about the way he says her name, slowly and with perfect pronunciation, makes her want to hear it again. She hurries back into the building and toward the bathrooms, hopefully before he can tell that she's blushing.

 “The defense may call the next witness.”

“The defense calls Elinor Simons.” Amy can feel everyone's eyes on her as well as the witness as a young girl, no more than eighteen, walks up to the stand. She's pale, but she looks determined, and Amy gives her a comforting smile as she swears the oath.

 Elinor’s voice trembles at her first words, but Amy keeps steady eye contact with her, and soon she’s speaking louder and less hesitant. She had been on her way to her friend’s house when she entered the same subway car as the two young men, and had overheard the two of them fighting over something. Sitting only a few seats away from them in the near-empty car, she’d noticed the defendant looking scared, and out of curiosity, had turned off her music. She’d heard the man who’d later gotten attacked – Mr. Lorentz – scream that the defendant was an asshole, and then she’d seen him push him to the floor, much unlike the way the prosecution had described a course of events in which both men had slipped. It had scared her, so she’d gotten up to walk away, but before she could move she’d seen Mr. Lorentz leaning down.

“It looked like he was about to hit the defendant,” she says without wavering, and Amy can see a few of the jury members nodding in understanding. “And even if they were about the same size, Mr. Lorentz looked really strong. The defendant tried, but it seemed to me like he was unable to get up. I remember thinking this wasn’t going to end well, so I headed for the end of the car before they noticed me.”

“And you’re sure of what you saw?”

“Completely sure. I only found out later that the defendant was a cousin of my sister’s boyfriend, which is how I learned about the trial.”

Amy nods and clasps her hands together, trying to assume a confident stance as she keeps her eyes focused on the witness stand. “Elinor, in the position he was in, do you believe that the defendant would have been scared?”

“I think anyone would have been.”

“So the punch witnesses watched the defendant throw, could it have been in self-defense?”

“Yes. Yes, I think so.”

Amy smiles. “Thank you. No further questions.”

 The prosecution’s closing arguments are short and precise, sticking entirely to the part of the events that took part after the police walked in. The district attorney, a balding man in his fifties, as good as overlooks Elinor’s testimony in favor of focusing in on detailed descriptions of the headaches Mr. Lorentz had experienced after the event, and that alone is enough to make Amy’s blood boil; but instead she just sits there, waiting with a polite smile on her lips.

 Finally, the other attorney sits down, and the judge nods at Amy to stand up. During her very first trials, this moment used to freak her out – everyone’s eyes on her and waiting expectantly – but with time she’s come to love this. It reminds her of the thrill of getting the last word in a heated fight with her siblings when she was younger, only now, she doesn’t have to shout to be heard. Everyone’s already listening.

 “Your Honor, ladies and gentlemen of the jury: it’s correct that the defendant hit Mr. Lorentz on that train. He admits to doing so himself.” Amy nods to the young man sitting next to her, fidgeting nervously with the cuffs on his shirt. “But there is one key aspect which the prosecution has so conveniently chosen to ignore, and that is the events which led up to Mr. Petersen’s actions. A background which he not only has explained clearly himself, but which is also backed up by Ms. Simmons’ testimony.” She gestures with her hand to Elinor.

“You see, Mr. Petersen wasn’t acting unprovoked. When the incident happened, he had been pushed to the floor, and like both my client and the witness described, he was unable to get up. Mr. Lorentz himself admits to practicing weightlifting; he’s not a weak man, and in the moment, he was clearly upset with the defendant. As Ms. Simmons put it… “ She takes a break to gather the attention of everyone in the room. “Anyone in that position would have been terrified.”

“Under New York Law, Penal Law paragraph thirty-five point fifteen, a person is justified in using physical force against another, when that person is under the reasonable belief that the physical force is necessary to defend the person from what they reasonably believe to be the illegal imminent use of force or the illegal use of force. Mr. Petersen was stuck, and under the reasonable belief that Mr. Lorentz could hurt him unless he managed to free himself. He acted in self-defense, which I remind you that the prosecution has not been able to disprove. In fact, the case against Mr. Petersen cannot be proved against reasonable doubt, which means that you must find him… not guilty.”

 From the other side of the room, she swears she can feel Jake’s eyes on her. When she looks up, she sees him mouthing nice job.

 ~

 “What did you say he looked like, now again? Except for crazy hot and adorable?” Kylie takes another sip of her mojito, spying over the crowded bar.

“Okay, I said neither of those things.”

Kylie shrugs. “Didn’t have to.”

“Ugh. Whatever. Brown hair, brown eyes, medium height, I guess kind of a bigger nose… and I don’t know what he wears outside of court, but there was a leather jacket in the front seat of his car, so maybe that?” She strains her neck to try and see through the Friday night crowd. She’s never been to this particular Brooklyn bar before, but Jake had suggested it when Amy asked about a good place to give him back the shirt, and she’d figured after a long week, she might as well treat herself to a couple of after-work drinks with a friend. After being asked about the so-called mystery hottie five times, though, she’s starting to regret bringing Kylie along.

“Mm, that’s like, all the guys in here… oh, wait, that one’s waving to you!” Kylie points to a figure near the door, elbowing Amy in the side and causing her to nearly choke on her wine. She’s still coughing when Jake walks up to them, trying to offer him a smile while drying her eyes. Jake looks politely confused, but shakes Kylie’s hand in the meantime.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” she says with a meaning wink to Amy before sliding off the leather barstool, leaving it for Jake. “Have a good night!”

“Ignore her.” Amy sighs. “Sorry, I…”

“No, no worries,” Jake says, and the honest care in his expression makes her feel oddly warm. “You okay?”

“Yeah, sorry.” She waves a dismissive hand and picks up the dry-cleaning bag hanging on the back of her chair. “Well, here’s the shirt. Thank you for the loan. Or thank your ex, I suppose.”

“Dry-cleaned, really? You truly are type A.”

“What about it?”

“Nothing, it makes sense.” He nods to the glass in her hand. “Celebrating Tuesday’s win?”

“Something like that. It was Monday, though,” she can’t stop herself from correcting him. “I don’t get a lot of time off. Gotta make the best out of it.”

“Yeah, me neither. Do you mind if I join you for another drink? Or maybe you should do water, in case you choke again?”

Something about the way he poses it like a challenge makes her take the glass, put it to her lips, and swallow the rest of the wine in one gulp. “I think I can handle it.”

 They pay for their own drinks, because whatever this meeting is, it’s definitely not a date, and it makes Amy relieved that Jake doesn’t seem to think so either.

“A toast,” he suggests. “To your win this week. I gotta give it to you, those closing statements were solid.”

“To justice,” Amy says, and they raise their beer bottles in unison. “And my win. Finally.”

“Yeah, what has it been, like, five wins for me?”

“Four, but dream on, Peralta.”

Jake laughs. The dimples in his cheeks become even more prominent when he laughs, Amy notes. “Have you always been this intense about winning cases, then? Or is it something that comes with law school? Like there’s a class in being petty about this stuff?”

You’re intense too, she thinks, but doesn’t say it out loud. “Maybe. I have seven brothers, and I was the only girl. I got pretty good at winning fights using other things than physical strength when I was a kid. Actually, sometimes physical strength, too.”

“I feel like you could beat someone up if you wanted to. You could surprise them.”

“Oh, I could most definitely beat someone up if I wanted to. But I stuck to arguing. I got good at it. And I always had good grades, so I ended up at Columbia, and I’ve never really regretted it.” She takes a swig of her beer. “Not even when cops call me the devil.”

“I wouldn’t call you the devil,” Jake says. “I mean, do I think you lack a bit of a moral compass? Probably. But each to their own.”

She leans her head a little bit to the side, eyeing him closely. “Why do you think that?”

“Well, you have to defend people that you know did awful things, right? Doesn’t that make you feel sick sometimes?”

“I don’t have to defend their actions. Most times, it’s not even about that. It’s about making sure the trial is fair, the evidence is sufficient and their rights are respected, so that if there’s a conviction, it’s actually beyond any reasonable doubt. I like to believe most people are better than their worst moments. I see it as my job to make sure they’re treated that way.”

“Huh.” Jake nods slowly. “Guess I never thought of it that way.”

“Plus,” she winks, “someone’s gotta hold you guys accountable, right?”

“Fine.” He shakes his head. “Hey, did you say you went to Columbia? My captain’s husband teaches law there. Did you ever have a Kevin Cozner?”

“No way! Your captain is Raymond Holt?” She’s speaking way too loudly, she can tell from the way other people are glancing at her, but Jake looks entertained. “Sorry, it’s just – Professor Cozner was my favorite constitutional law teacher. I still send him and Raymond Christmas cards every year!”

“That doesn’t surprise me in the slightest.” Jake grins. “But, how weird is that? Almost like the universe is bringing us together or something.”

Amy thinks that it’s not that weird, since Kevin must teach hundreds of students every year that g on to become lawyers, but she kind of wants to keep seeing that smile on Jake’s face forever, so she nods. “So weird.”

 They order another drink, plus some chips and nuts when Jake realizes he forgot to eat dinner, and move to another table in the back of the room. Amy’s surprised how comfortable she feels in his presence. It’s like she can’t wipe the smile off her face but doesn’t want to, and with time and a little more alcohol, jokes that she barely would have noticed on any other day become laugh-out-loud funny. It feels natural, even though she’s not sure how, and she tries not to glance at the clock on the wall when he doesn’t either. She’s got work to do tomorrow and she can’t stay out forever, but she doesn’t want to be reminded that this evening has to end at some point.

 “So what made you become a cop, then?” She asks when she realizes she’s the only one who’s shared her origin story tonight. “Childhood superhero dreams?”

Jake shines up like he’s been waiting for the question all night. “Oh, that’s easy. Die Hard.”

“Really?”

“For sure. Actually, my mom said I was always good at protecting people, so I ended up doing it for a job. But I think that’s bullshit. It was definitely Die Hard.”

“I’ve never seen it,” Amy confesses, and Jake stares at her like she just insulted his entire being. “But if you want a cop movie, my top three’s Training Day, Lethal Weapon, and Fargo.”

“Wrong, wrong, and wrong! How can you not have seen Die Hard? It’s classic, man!”

“I just never did! How many lawyer movies have you seen, then?”

“Uhm…” Jake squints. “Charles made me watch Legally Blonde once? It was pretty good, honestly.”

“Well, duh, that movie is a cinematic masterpiece and a feminist work of art. How feminist is Die Hard, from a scale of one to ten?”

“Hey! Holly Gennaro does plenty of cool stuff throughout the movies! You’re just going to have to watch them yourself.”

“I can almost guarantee you I won’t.”

“Fine, but you’re missing out.” He grabs a couple of peanuts from the jar between them, throwing them in the air and catching them in his mouth. “Cool trick, right?”

Amy raises an eyebrow. “Is this what you do at work all day?”

“I did teach myself that during stakeouts, but no. Whatever. Throw me another one.” She does, and he catches it again, this time almost sliding off the barstool in the process. She laughs a bubbling laugh as he does it another time. “Now you.”

“Fine. Try me.” The peanut flies through the air between them, and she tries to dive for it, but it just ends up landing at her feet. “Okay, another one.” She misses that one too. “Okay, there must be something wrong with these nuts.”

“Title of your sextape.”

“Title of my what?”

“Nevermind.” Jake laughs. “You just need some practice. Maybe at work? It could liven up a trial.”

“Nuh-uh, don’t need practice. Just need a better tactic.” Without thinking, she grabs a handful of them this time, throwing them in the air. This time, she catches a few of them in her mouth, while the rest end up spread over the couch and floor. “The key is volume!”

“Yeah, and the bartender is looking at you like he wants to kill you, so maybe don’t do it again or we’ll get thrown out.”

“It’s fine, I’m a lawyer.”

“That phrase works well to get out of trouble?”

“If you know what you’re doing. We could order more drinks to keep him happy?”

“Shots?”

“I’m down if you’re down.”

 Jake orders a Kamikaze shot for each of them, and as she reaches forward to take the second glass, her hand brushes against the top of his for a moment longer than necessary, resting there. It’s warm, and it feels calloused but somehow soft at the same time. They look at each other, his light brown eyes staring into hers, and she feels instantly hyper-aware that they’re around far, far, too many people.

She lets go of his hand, taking the shot and swallowing it before anyone can notice what’s happening. It smells like sour hand sanitizer and burns going down, and she laughs at Jake’s grimace when he drinks his.

“God, every time.” He shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair. “Hey, I know this is crazy, but… do you maybe want to get out of here? We could have another drink at my place… watch Die Hard… whatever.”

“Mm, yeah. Maybe I should check that the shirt gets back to your place properly?”

“Shirt? What shirt? Oh, right, fuck, the shirt!” Jake spins in place, rushing back to the table where they were just sat. “Shit, I probably spilled beer on it, Sophia’s going to be pissed now...”

“It’s still in the bag, smartass.” Amy shows him. “Ta-da. Shirt’s still clean. Comes in handy being type A sometimes, huh?”

Jake sighs. “I know you're making fun of me, but I could seriously kiss you right now.”

 Maybe it’s the four drinks, maybe it’s the thrill that comes with how rarely she does this, or maybe it’s just sheer and wild impulse, but Amy finds herself whispering,

“Maybe we should get out of here, then.”

 ~

 Amy learns a lot of things that night.

 She learns that Jake Peralta is a seriously good kisser, tasting faintly of orange soda beneath the alcohol and salt, and that being pressed against his front door with his hands protecting her head strikes the perfect balance between feeling adventurous and safe. She learns that he’s never really quiet, soft moans and sighs filling the room in the breaks between their kisses, but that the sound only makes her want more.

 She learns that he wears even more layers than her. Beneath the leather jacket and hoodie is a checkered blue flannel that has way too many buttons for her liking right now, and she curses her slight tipsiness while working at them one by one. When she's finally done, Jake pulls the grey t-shirt over his head, and she barely has time to pause to admire how he somehow can look fit despite that catastrophic diet, or the curls on his chest that are begging for her to run her fingers through them, before he's asking “my turn?”. She learns that Jake Peralta is impatient, that his hands work fast on the buttons of her cerise shirt, and that he gets adorably confused when he can't find the button on her suit pants.

“It's on the side,” she tells him and shows him the zipper, and then they're both giggling until she kisses him like that and it's back on again.

 She learns that his hands feel good, sliding slowly up the sides of her stomach and back and rubbing against her shoulder blades. She unclasps the white t-shirt bra for him, smiling to herself as he swallows quickly.

“God, you’re hot,” he whispers, and the soft bites he trails down her chest and stomach make her feel that way, too.

 They move to his bed, leaving a trail of clothes behind them, and then she’s underneath him and breathing hard as his mouth moves lower, closer. The anticipation of it all is driving her mad, but then he looks up at her and asks “okay?” with the most sincere and caring expression, and Amy’s had very, very few one-night-stands in her life, but she’s certainly never had one like this.

“Okay,” she nods, and there’s that familiar grin again, but this time it makes her feel warm in a very specific place.

 She learns that Jake Peralta can do a whole lot more with his mouth than talking people’s ears off. His breath ghosts over her through her underwear at first, warming her up even though it’s barely even necessary, and then he’s finally pulling down the black material and helping her kick them off. His tongue is careful at first, just tasting her as if to gauge her expression, but then she nods at him to continue and the next second, her head is thrown back as she lets out a gasp.

 She learns that he likes it when she pulls his hair. At first, her hands are just lightly tangling in it for practicality, but then she holds on tighter as a means of control when her legs begin to tense up and the familiar pressure is starting to rise. She’s raising her hips slightly only to lower them again, helping him get her there, and the curls of his hair are just begging to be pulled.

“Do that again,” he pauses to say, so she tugs his hair harder and he straight-up moans.

 She learns that he can make her scream, which she wasn’t expecting, and she rocks through the euphoric waves and pants and practically melts into the bed as she comes down from it.

“That good?” He winks, and she wants to roll her eyes, but he did just make her come harder than she remembers doing in a long time, so she kisses the smile off of him instead, tasting her arousal on his lips.

She learns that he's respectful and a gentleman, telling her that they can stop this here if she'd rather, but she doesn’t want to, and they don’t. He has to rifle through the drawer in his bedside table for a while before he finds a condom – maybe he doesn’t do this as often as she’d thought, maybe it’s another sign of his poor organization skills, but he finds one soon enough so she’s not sure she cares – and then it’s a little bit of a blur, but she rolls it on him with precise strokes and lowers herself on top of him and oh my god.

 She learns that when he looks at her, when he touches her, it makes her feel powerful and special all at once. He plays with her boobs as she sets the pace, his thumbs rolling against her nipples in a way she didn’t realize she liked, and she picks up her rhythm, clenching around him and leaning back on his raised thighs.

 She learns just how enjoyable it is to watch him fall apart underneath her. His pace stutters and he curses, groaning a confession of how close he is, and she could almost come again from watching him alone but she brings two fingers to her clit and touches herself anyway. He finishes before her, spilling out inside the condom with a moan that she can only imitate, collapsing against his chest as she brings herself to orgasm again right after him.

 When they're done learning, they collapse together in his bed. For a moment, Amy considers turning around and calling a cab home, because that would be the most responsible thing to do, but then Jake throws an arm around her to pull her closer, and after all, she's still a little tipsy.

What harm could it possibly do, anyway?

 ~

 Sharp, unforgiving morning light wakes Amy up before her alarm the next morning. She must have forgotten to close the blinds last night, she thinks, and rolls over on the other side so the light doesn't hurt her eyes. She expects the usual greeting of a sea of pillows, and has to stop herself from letting out a yelp of surprise when instead, she's hit with a wall of Jake sleeping with his back to her. A vague memory of them falling asleep like this hits her. He’d wanted to be the little spoon, she remembers.

 At first, knowing that intimate fact about him makes her feel proud. Then it makes her panic.

 She jumps out of bed, throwing off her part of the comforter in search of her clothes. She finds her underwear and bra together with her shirt, trying to dress as quietly as possible, quick before Jake wakes up and discovers that she's half-naked in his apartment and they have to have a very, very awkward talk –

“Amy? What are you doing?”

Too late.

 She freezes on the spot, chewing on her lip as she fumbles for an explanation. Jake’s eyes rake over her with curiosity, which somehow feels a lot more exposing today than it did last night, and it's making her lose track of her words. His bed head curls and disoriented smile is decidedly not helping her focus.

“We slept together last night,” she manages.

Jake’s smile grows wider and prouder as he sits up fully in bed. Amy blushes as she notices the shadow of two hickeys way too close to his neck to be professional.

“Yeah, I was there.”

“Very funny.” She sees her pants thrown across the back of a massage chair and quickly reaches for them. “But this… You know this can’t be a thing, right? Just so we're on the same page about it.”

Jake frowns. “What do you mean with a thing?”

“This – us – we can't date, Jake. I know that. You know that.”

He’s silent for a moment before he fakes a shudder. “Yeah, yeah, no. I’ve dated lawyers before. Never ends well.”

“You have?” The reveal surprises her. “It doesn't matter. This can’t happen.”

“I know.”

“Good,” she exhales. “I’m just going to find my clothes, then, and then I’m going to leave.”

“Hey, wait.” He twists his hands together, bringing them to his chin with a smile. “This is going to sound weird, but… even if nothing can happen between us, I’m still glad we had sex last night.”

 The confession takes her by surprise, and Amy wonders again if she just doesn't know anything about one-night-stands. Sleep together, have fun, sneak out in the morning before anything can go deeper – isn't that how it's supposed to go? If so, she's majorly failing, because she can't stop herself from giving him another shy smile in return.

“Me too. Just because, we were like… really good at it.”

“Stupid good!” Jake exclaims. “It makes no sense!”

“We still can't date, though,” she reminds him. “So how do we work this out?”

“Well, it sort of looked like you were planning to just leave, and I’m not going to stop you if that's your choice, but… there is one more option.”

“What are you thinking?”

“We could be friends with benefits,” he shrugs. “None of the commitment, none of the weird incompatibilities between a cop and a lawyer, just us and some stupid good sex.”

“Friends with benefits? Do the kids really say that, still?”

“I’m saying you could consider it.”

 Amy's first instinct is to protest, to say absolutely not and leave on the spot. Her relationship history may not contain that many names, but at least they’ve all been fairly straightforward and conventional. She's never done something like this before, and the mere idea of jumping into something so unknown with someone like Jake scares her shitless.

 Then again, she's also never been with someone like Jake. Yesterday hadn't been a date, but it had still been better than all the awkward dinners and half-hearted walks she's been at since she broke up with Teddy a year ago. And the sex – well, she'd be lying if she said she wasn't already thinking of doing that again.

 “There would need to be rules,” she says.

“Sure, we can come up with some.”

“I’ll write a contract.”

“We need a contract?”

“Yeah,” she decides. “If this is going to work, we need a comprehensive set of rules, and they need to be written down, because I don't trust you not to adjust them in your head last minute.”

“How am I attracted to you? But, fine.”

Amy shakes her head, closing the last button on the shirt that had been left unbuttoned until now. “So… I’ll put together a draft and bring it over tonight? Your place?”

Jake gapes at her for a moment like he can't believe what he hears, but then he nods. “I’m free.”

“Cool. I’ll see you tonight, then.” With that, she pulls on her socks and shoes, leaving before she can freak out again.

“Cool, cool,” she hears just before closing the door. “Friends with benefits. Cool, cool, cool, cool… cool.”

 ~

[vs-redemption]

This is the first piece out of seven written for the one year anniversary collaboration event for the @konoblog-simps discord. I encourage everyone to check out the masterlist for today's prompt and support the other creators. Some content is not suitable for minors so please pay attention to the warnings.

Prompt: Fluff (Finral Roulacase x Fem!Reader)

Word Count: 1.3K Warnings: None

Anyone could tell by a glance that the mixer wasn’t going well, and by the look on Finral’s face, you knew that he was coming to terms with that unfortunate fact as well. The other two magic knights sitting with him were either the only people in the restaurant oblivious to the disaster, or they just didn’t care as the one who’d likely arranged the gathering in the first place frantically grasped for conversation.

“You know,” Finral looked completely distressed by this point, gesturing desperately to the two who were meant to be acting as his wingmen. “Four members of the Black Bulls were actually recruited into the Royal Knights. Asta and Luck are two of them. They’ve been on some really crazy missions lately.”

The girls sitting across the table just force smiles before going back to picking at their food. No matter how much The Black Bulls had done recently, people were still stuck in their ways and looked down on the squad known for causing a little more trouble than they should. In your opinion, it was really a shame that all the girls Finral had ever invited to his little mixers failed to see what was right in front of them.

Time after time you watched him act like a complete gentleman; making polite conversation, giving just the right amount of respectful compliments, and even using his spatial magic to bring unique flowers or special treats from around the Clover Kingdom, just for girls to turn up their noses because of the Black Bulls symbol on his cloak. Well, that and maybe he did seem to try a little bit too hard at times. It was endearing though and obvious with the way he acted that he was genuinely looking for a real relationship with someone special. The poor boy had so much love to give, but nobody seemed to want it.

“Can I get three slices of chocolate cheesecake for table four?” You peek your head into the kitchen to ask the owner. The man gives you a weird look before checking the receipts.

“Table four didn’t order any chocolate cheesecake,” he folds his arms, “and we usually save that for special customers anyway.”

“You can take it out of my paycheck,” you tell him seriously while grabbing the dessert and skipping back out into the dining area.

Chocolate was a little more expensive since it had to be imported from the Heart Kingdom, but your boss was a hypocrite. By ‘special customers,’ he’d meant magic knights. Finral and his friends fit the criteria, even if they weren’t in one of the more glamorous squads. Taking a hit to your wages wouldn’t set you back too much, and anyway, you hated seeing Finral’s mixer flopping so badly. He didn’t deserve such poor luck, and you hoped maybe you could do this one thing to help him out a little.

“Three slices of chocolate cheesecake, as requested for the lovely ladies,” You gently slide a plate in front of each of the girls. Their eyes light up immediately, hands reaching for their forks so they can dig in as soon as possible. Finral, on the other hand, looked panicked.

“Excuse me, I didn’t order that,” he leans in towards you and whispers.

“Not to worry,” you wink playfully, ignoring the flutter of your heart caused by his closeness. “Consider it a thank you for all your hard work while protecting the kingdom. It’s on the house.” He didn’t seem to believe you, but you don’t give him the chance to ask any more questions. You straighten up and nod to the girls, telling them to enjoy the rest of their evening and then hurrying off to get back to your duties.

Things seemed to pick up for Finral a bit after that. The girls seemed a little more inclined to give him a chance, listening to his stories and being a little more forthcoming when he asked questions about themselves. You had to roll your eyes a little. Seeing the cautious optimism on Finral’s face, and seeing him smile without the usual underlying stress and self-consciousness was worth it, even if you didn’t think those girls deserved a moment of his time or attention.

It was a little before closing time when the mixer finally seemed to be wrapping up. You took that as a good sign and watched curiously as Finral and his friends walked the ladies to the door, thanking them politely and bidding them good night. You turn away, expecting them all to go home for the evening, but jump in surprise when you feel a tap on your shoulder.

“O-oh!” you feel heat rise to your cheeks when you find yourself face to face with Finral. “Can I help you?”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” He smiles, looking embarrassed. “I tried to thank your manager for sending those desserts earlier, but he said to thank you instead.”

“He wasn’t supposed to tell you that,” you mumble, averting your eyes and wishing the owner had just taken the credit. This was such an awkward situation to leave you in.

“I don’t understand,” Finral replies, his soft purple eyes searching your face for an answer. “Why’d you do that?”

“It just looked like your group needed a little pick-me-up,” you shrug, shifting from foot to foot nervously. “Just thought I’d help you out a bit… I don’t know.” Finral looked surprised by your explanation, and regards you in wonder for a moment before his face falls.

“Well,” his shoulders slump in defeat, “I still managed to get denied a second meeting from all of them. I really appreciate the thought though. I’ll pay you back, I promise.”

“That’s not necessary,” you tell him, a mixture of annoyance and relief swelling up inside you. As you’d predicted, those girls didn’t deserve a guy like Finral, and part of you was glad they’d rejected him. “Magic Knights are supposed to get free desserts anyway,” you reveal. “Just don’t tell anyone that I told you that.”

“But, you have to let me do something to repay your kindness,” Finral pleads, that anxious look coming back to his face. You fight the urge to reach out and try to smooth away the wrinkles caused by his stress, and start to fiddle with your hands as a crazy idea comes to mind.

“Well,” you glance up at him shyly, “You could always invite me to your next mixer.”

“What?” His eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline, somehow blown away by the suggestion until it clicks in his brain why someone would insist on inviting themselves to a mixer. Realization blooms across his face and you smile when his cheeks turn red.

“You don’t have to bring your friends though if you don’t want to,” you say, feeling a little bolder now. “Or invite anyone else at all really.”

“But that would be…” Finral blinks at you, struggling to accept what was happening.

“Only if that’s something you’d be comfortable with,” you decide to give him a chance to decline, not wanting to bully him into taking you out.

“I… really?” He stumbled over his words, “I mean, yes. I would be… very comfortable or… are you comfortable?”

“Yes,” you nod your head in confirmation, letting out a small laugh at his nervousness. “So, it’s a date then.” You finally say the “date” word and a look of excitement and disbelief takes over his features.

“O-ok, yeah.” He lets out a breathy chuckle, “Are… you really sure?”

“Yes!” You exclaim in amusement, “Just let me know the time and place and I’ll be there.”

“All right!” He promises, “I’ll make arrangements and let you know as soon as I can.” He pauses to shake his head as if he really thought he was stuck inside a dream. “I’m… really excited.”

“Me too,” you admit.

After a slightly awkward good-bye, Finral finally headed back outside to join his friends while you got back to work. Butterflies danced around your stomach as you tried to imagine what the magic knight would plan. You’d been interested in him for so long, and you hoped things would work out well between you. If it did, perhaps you’d never have to watch him suffer through a failed mixer again.

[fragileizywriting]

New fic is out for this AU!

pairing: Cat!Marinette / Ladybug!Adrien (Lady Noire / Misterbug) word count: 3,247 chapter: 1/1 rating: G summary: “You make me feel safe and wanted.” “You are wanted, little kitty.” “You know what I meant.” “I meant by me. You are wanted by me— and I know you know that— but I want to repeat it anyway. I always want you to be happy here.” AO3 | Start AU Here | Previous Fic in AU

“Kitty?”

“My mom.” It’s all Lady Noire can reply through all of her sniffles. She curls up tighter into a ball on the couch, pinching her eyes shut to the point it hurts, curling up her arms and legs and tail and head so that she becomes a single black smudge on the couch. A stain. Just simply a stain. “My mom. Always my mom. It was my mom again.”

Her head hurts. It’s foggy and full of cotton, so stuffy from everything. She’s grateful for the shade in his room that gets darker and darker as the minutes tick by, casting the space in total darkness, so that way he doesn’t have to see how miserable she is.

It must be horrible to have to live with an east-facing window. Her plants would love it. Her eyes, though, not so much.

She grabs for a decorative couch pillow above her head, swiping it and hiding her face, giving her even a bit of reprieve from the light.

Adrien sits down in front of her on the couch. She hears the noise of his pajama pants crinkling as he sits cross-legged on the rug underneath the coffee table, hears how he drums his fingers on his thighs, and hears how slow and steady his heartbeat is. He’s always so steady. Always so firm and anchoring to her. Even if the world continues in its attempt to rock her boat and tip her over and submerge her. Adrien always holds on for her when she’s too tired and too scared and too lonely to do so. “I’m sorry, kitty.”

“Her idea of comforting me is by telling me to be stronger. Whatever it is.”

He pauses. “Do you… do you want to talk about it?”

“It— it doesn’t matter. What I was upset about in the beginning is gone— I’m more upset at my mom now. Tell me how your day was first.” Because it’s always better to ask first about others than talk about her own problems. She doesn’t want to think about it for so long. If there’s any chance of forgetting about it, even for a little while, she’ll be happy.

And Adrien knows this. He knows this, because he knows her, and knows that her changing the subject is a cry for help. A flag upside down, calling out in distress. She’s sinking. It hurts. She’s injured. It shows. The silence is enough to make her remember the turbulent storms that made her cry in the first place, causing her to coil tighter, causing her to coil smaller, all in an attempt to get rid of the noise in her head.

He puts his hand on her head.

The hand at her scalp is soothing, and still damp from the shower— her lashes flutter when he gets a purr out of her, even if it’s a little watery. “My day was okay.”

“What did you do today?”

“I had school,” he shrugs a bit, jostling the hand that pets the soft parts of her ears. She knows about school. She’d spent the entire day boring a giant hole at the back of his head, chewing on her tongue like it was personally causing her grief, doing her utmost best like she always does to not accidentally tell Adrien that she’s the superhero that vaults through his bedroom window every afternoon. “Nothing, really. No extracurriculars for me today, either.”

She knows that, too.

She’d asked him at school.

He’d managed to stammer out a whole sentence to her today. To Marinette today.

He doesn’t have a problem talking to Lady Noire. But Marinette is an obstacle that he genuinely can’t conquer, no matter how many times she tries.

“I just came home and did homework and went to take a shower and suddenly…”

“And suddenly I’m here crying into your couch. I’m sorry,” she tries to fill in the gaps when he struggles on what to say next. “I’m always showing up with some kind of problem, aren’t I?”

“I don’t mind. You know I don’t. I love taking care of you— you’re my best friend. You know that, right?”

She does. Of course she does. That’s why it hurts so much.

“Some hero of Paris I am, huh?” Oh, she sounds bitter. “Showing up at a civilian’s house crying about personal life?”

“Hey,” he whispers, with something stern in his voice. “Stop that. Don’t talk like that— that’s not nice to yourself. You know you’re allowed to have problems outside of fighting Hawkmoth.”

And that’s it, really. That’s what gets another round of tears to freefall down her cheeks, but they come out sideways because she’s laying on her side— she can’t feel the tears track down on her black hexleather mask, but she knows she’s crying. She knows there are tears sloping across the bridge of her nose and joining with the tear pattern from her other eye, because she can feel how wet the whisps of her baby hairs feel against her ear when the tears finally get there. “I wish I didn’t have this.”

“Oh, kitty— I’m so sorry—”

“My mom just wants what’s best for me,” she feels herself get smaller and smaller, hiccuping hard enough for her to jump. Will she disappear? She wants to. Can she? Will Adrien let her? Probably not. He has a habit of wanting her to be happy, even when she wants to do nothing but disappear forever. “But we get into arguments about what that is all the time.”

“I know.”

“How I should be trying harder in school.”

“Yeah.”

“How I should”—she pauses, trying to think of something, anything, to fill in the gaps—“be trying harder to balance my civilian life and superhero duties.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, kitty.”

“How I need to be better. How I need to stop crying. How I need to do everything except what I’m doing now, because it isn’t enough.”

“Kitty…”

“She wants me to succeed, but instead of comforting me, she keeps adding more stress onto my shoulders by telling me how I should be dealing with my problems instead. And it hurts. And it’s painful. And I’m lonely. And I can’t do anything about it.”

“You have something you can do. You can stay right here with me. You can stay right here until it feels better. All of it. Everything.”

“It’s hard being a superhero,” she whispers. What an understatement of a lifetime. What does she choose to talk about first? What does she pick to say? “I don’t know how Mister Bug does it without breaking down.”

“Maybe he does. Maybe he struggles just as much as you do.”

“I don’t know. It’s hard to imagine that. Do you think he’s okay?”

“Well, he’s just a human. Just like you are. He has problems too, doesn’t he?”

“I can’t picture Mister Bug having problems. I should ask him.”

“I don’t think you need to,” Adrien shrugs. “I think he already knows how much you care about him.”

“Then, should I be going to him and telling him what’s wrong? Do you think he’s upset, knowing that I choose to talk to someone else about my problems?”

“I think he’s happy that you have someone you trust,” he whispers, damp fingers tracing the shell of her hexleather ears. She can’t feel it like her normal skin, because it’s a magical suit, but the little triangles at the top of her head twitch as if they’re sensitive to touch. “I think it makes him feel content, knowing that you go to someone you like and talk about your issues instead of bottling them up.”

“Love,” she corrects. “Everyone knows that I love you.”

“Love,” he repeats back to her with a smile. “Right. Yes. I think it makes him feel good, knowing you go to talk to someone you love about your problems.”

“The whole world knows, you know. Even Hawkmoth knows that you’re my best friend. People talk about it on social media all the time. We’re a pair. We’re a duo. We’re a matching set.”

If only people knew just how close the two of them actually are. Selfies taken on the street when either of them finds each other, pretending to act like simply a celebrity finding another celebrity on the streets of Paris, instead of being two best friends.

“We’re a team,” he whispers.

“Team shark.”

“Exactly,” he talks even softer. “We’re a team, little kitty. You and me.”

“Because no jaw is too strong,” she replies.

“No smile is too full of teeth,” oh, there’s a smile in his voice.

“And no mouth is too wide to keep me away from you. Never. No Akuma. No Lady Noire’s mother. No stupid photoshoots that they pencil you in at the last minute. No world-ending apocalypse that Mister Bug and I have to fix every month. Nothing will keep me from you.” They settle into a silence that is only partially filled with her sniffles and the occasional wipe of her mask with the back of her hand. It’s a shame she can’t feel his fingers on her back, following the lines of her spine like she knows he’s doing— but it’s the sacrifice she pays up in order to stay protected from Akuma battles.

“Nothing will keep me from you, either. No nightmares, no Akuma, no fangirls that drive me crazy.”

She listens to the silence, opening her eyes to the darkening room, watching the sky outside his floor-to-ceiling windows start to orange and purple. It’s such a pretty sight, watching those clouds drift lazily by as Paris turns into a sight reminiscent of a dream. No wonder he doesn’t draw the curtains closed. Or maybe he just wants his room accessible to her at all times. “You know, sunshine, my uncle said that if I bottle up too many emotions I might start to break things.”

His eyes look like stars, looking at her in alarm and worry. “Like, you’re going to get violent?”

“No! No. Never. Not really. You know I wouldn’t.”

“Oh. Wait, then I don’t understand what you mean.”

“It wouldn’t be my choice. It would be just like a misfire of my powers.”

“A misfire?”

“It’s kind of like a protection, or a last-resort. When I’m so stressed out that my body just goes into self-preservation, making sure that it’s impossible to take my miraculous ring in case I’m indisposed.”

“Oh. I never knew this.”

“It’s to stop me from getting Akumatized.” As if the explanation makes this any better. “But it’s still not a good thing. Self-preservation is a pretty selfish thing to happen.”

“What”—she watches him lick his lips, as if he’s trying to choose his next words carefully—“what does it look like?”

“How do I explain this— it’s kind of like— uhm. Do you remember that movie we watched?”

“We watch many movies together,” he snorts, scrunching his nose into something silly when she cracks a smile.

“Come on. The one with the wizard.”

“Do you know how little that narrows it down?”

“The one with the demon.”

“Oh boy. Remind me not to join any charades groups with you— we’d lose every round.” The two of them snicker at each other.

“Okay, it’s the one where the woman who falls in love with—” she pauses. “A guy.”

“Wait a minute. What were you going to say?”

“Just some guy.”

He narrows his eyes. “Some guy you really like.”

“He’s okay.”

“What’s his name?”

She twiddles her thumbs. “Howl.”

Recognition sparks in those beautiful emerald green eyes of his. “Oh. Oh. The love of your life, yes. I’m aware.”

“He’s not—”

“Yes he is.”

“I’m not—”

“Don’t bother lying, little kitty. I know why you love rewatching the movie with me, you little gremlin.”

“The music,” she argues, feeling her cheeks heat under her domino mask. “The atmosphere. The flowers—”

“The magician boys,” Adrien grins. “Howl especially. Admit it. You have a thing for blondes.”

“I— I do not. Anyway,” she tries her hardest not to grin back. If only he knew. If only he knew that she’s not thinking of Mister Bug when he says that. “Shut up. Stop looking at me. Stop it.”

“Am I right? Am I?”

“You’re harassing me.”

“It’s not harassment, it’s endearingly interrogating.”

“I’m moving on! I’m moving on from this topic!” She paws at him when his mouth twitches hard, trying to keep his laughter out. “Do you remember when Howl got so upset that his hair changed color?”

“And there was goo coming off the walls?”

“Yeah! Exactly! The room was shifting super weird and goo was dripping everywhere? Something similar happens with the black cat miraculous when they’re super upset.”

“Similar? Or do you actually make goo?”

“Just similar. I’m not a gooer.”

“Are you sure?”

“I promise, I’m goo free.”

“How free of goo are you?”

“Pretty gooless.”

“I don’t want to see you all gooey,” he ducks his head, smiling at her with a quirk of his mouth like he always does when he’s teasing. “I don’t ever want to see that happen. Ever. And it’s not going to happen, because you and I are a team, and team members don’t turn into goopy sludge.”

Does he know how much that means to her? To hear the words out loud that he doesn’t ever want to see her get to the breaking point where her miraculous powers start to drain and create vacuums in the air around her? That he’s willing to do whatever it takes to make sure that she never gets to the stage where she breaks windows and concrete and whatever surface it is she’s standing on— whatever object she’s holding?

Her smile is so watery.

So, so watery.

“What? The concept of a jelly Lady Noire too strange for you?”

“Anything that isn’t my kitty in her normal and natural form is too strange for me,” he shares a smile with her, those beautiful green eyes looking at hers. “But don’t worry. If it ever gets to that point where you’re a gelatin, I’ll love you. Even when you’re gooey.”

“Gross.”

“And oozy.”

“Ew.”

“And goopy.”

“Ugh. Why do I sound so disgusting?”

“I’ll love you even if you’ve turned into a slime.”

“Watch out, Hawkmoth. Slime Noire is here. Even though I don’t actually turn into slime physically, I am emotionally. Try taking my miraculous now.” They share laughter hard enough to hurt in the spaces between her ribs. His laughter soothes an itch that is somewhere next to her heart— it’s a warm and gentle balm. She loves him. She loves him so much.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he tells her when she finally picks up her head from the couch, wiping at her eyes, smiling down at him. He has to crane his head up to look at her from where he is, sitting on the rug, but it doesn’t look like he minds it. “I’m glad you showed up, kitty. It’s lonely without you here.”

“I like coming here.” As if she even has to admit it. As if he doesn’t know. The only reason why she doesn’t stay permanently in this room is because of all the plants she’s populated her room with. And, of course, the whole problem that Adrien doesn’t know her secret identity. Hard to take a shower in a hexleather suit. It’s not like she would be able to move in and be able to use the bathroom. “You make me feel safe and wanted.”

“You are wanted.”

“You know what I meant.”

“I meant by me. You are wanted by me— and I know you know that— but I want to repeat it anyway. I always want you to be happy here.”

“You already make me feel happy. Always.” Oh, she can feel how her cheeks stain harder underneath her hexleather mask. “I know your house is quiet, but— when I’m here with you— it doesn’t feel so overwhelming. Being in my house makes everything so loud. So many cousins asking me to help them. So many aunts and uncles begging me to cover their shifts or go do errands. And my mom—”

Well.

“You don’t have to do any of that here.” He lifts his arms up, offering himself for a hug when she cuts herself off and starts to think about it all over again. She slips off the couch quick enough to startle him, planting a knee at the side of his hip and another between his legs and crushing his broad shoulders into a hug. His fingers find a way through her braid, just like always, massaging a certain spot on her scalp that makes her eyes role and see stars. “You don’t have to do anything. I want you here.”

“You’re just trying to make sure I don’t turn into Goopy Noire.”

“Maybe I like the idea of being able to save the citizens of Paris from a sludge,” he laughs so warmly into her shoulder. “Being a superhero of my own. Who knows. Or maybe I really do care about you, kitty.”

“What a weirdo.” Oh— her voice is cracking.

He doesn’t mention it. “God, I know. Caring about my best friend is so stupid these days.”

“Yeah. Who does that?”

“People who love one another.”

“Wait. Are you admitting you like me?”

“Don’t tell anyone. No one will hire me for modeling gigs if they found out about my secret.”

“You know what? Just because of that, you’ll be the first one to get consumed by my goo.” She dissolves into laughter so hard that the both of them tumble backwards on the rug from how much the both of them shake, grinning at each other like the idiots they are, snickering and poking fun at each other.

“Ew,” Adrien manages to say at some point during their laughter. “That sounds disgusting.”

“It’s the price to pay.”

“What price? What am I paying for?”

“No idea. But it’s the price you’re going to have to pay,” she wheezes out between snorts, peeling away from their hug just enough to make eye contact.

He can’t see her as well as she can see him. It’s dark now, and it’s way too dark for human eyes to see in his room. She can see him in perfect clarity, of course, because her miraculous allows her to see in the dark as if it were still daytime— so she gives herself the luxury of looking at him without him pulling a face or teasing her.

Just a little snippet.

Just a little indulgence.

Just a little moment that is hers that she won’t share with anyone else.

And yet, it’s as if he knows what she’s thinking about anyway, like he can read her face in this much darkness. His thumb rubs circles on her domino mask, wiping away her tears and her worries and her problems with that smile he only gives her. It’s not his Agreste smile. It’s Adrien’s smile. Toothy and stupid and silly and his— he’s not self conscious about himself in front of her. He never is. “You’re important to me, little kitty.”

“You’re important to me too, Charming,” she wiggles her toes in her boots before tackling him into another hug that makes her feel all warm and fuzzy. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Always. Every day. Gooey or not.”

AO3 | Start AU Here | Previous Fic in AU

[woodelf68]

Five Lokis and a Sif Meet Up In The Void

For the @sifkiweek prompt “Love”. When I teasingly suggested Sif & Lokigator as a pairing, @psychoticgirl said ‘write it’. This started out really short and cracky but then changed to something actually serious. This is for her. Summary: Exactly what it says on the tin. Words; 1431, rating: G. 

-----

Sif had been having a really bad day. She had been ripped from her timeline, unceremoniously stripped naked and dropped into some godawful ugly beige jumpsuit, and condemned for violating something called the Sacred Timeline without having a chance to speak a single word in her defense. Which might have been hard to do anyway, since she didn't know what she had done wrong. And then she had been "pruned", and ended up in some sort of wasteland, lacking any armour or weapons. For lack of any better options, she had begun walking, hoping to find something or someone to help her.

What she had found had been a motley group of people, one of whom she immediately recognised as Loki, although he was subtly different than the one she knew. Part of that, however, may have been due to the fact that he was dressed like one of the agents she had left behind in the TVA, in nondescript slacks and a button down shirt and tie, garments that she scorned as being utterly useless in providing any sort of protection in battle, but which, she had to admit, were still marginally better than the shapeless garment that she wore. At least the clothes seemed to fit him well, and she couldn't help but appreciate how the thin shirt clung to the contours of Loki's chest. Strangely enough, however, he was the only one of the group who wasn't wearing a variation of his familiar horned helmet.

"Sif!" he exclaimed when he saw her, and the next several minutes were filled with both questions and explanations. Apparently all his companions were Loki variants from other universes, from the older man in the odd jester-like costume to the dark-skinned man with the gaudy gold hammer (surely that wasn't some version of Mjõlnir?) to the boy (who at least was dressed in something that looked like what she would have expected a Loki to be wearing) to the low-slung animal on the ground, whom she had at first thought must simply be a very odd pet that the boy had made friends with. She stared at it dubiously, and had to fight back a grin at the sight of the strap keeping his horns secured to his flat reptilian head. It was, she had to admit, one of the most stupidly cute things she had ever seen.

"Are you sure about the alligator?" she asked, just needing to be clear.

"We think so. He had the horns on when he arrived here," said the boy, who had told her to call him Kid Loki. "Be careful, though -- he bites."

"So would I." Sif said matter-of-factly, "If I couldn't hold a blade in my hands."  Curiously she circled the alligator, who pivoted in place to keep her in his line of sight. She realised that he was quite small in size -- she knew they grew much larger than that -- and she wondered if he was much older than the child whose side he kept close to. According to what they had said, none of them would ever be able to see their families again -- something that she wasn't willing to accept just yet -- but she tried to imagine being told that as a child and her heart went out to the pair of them. She squatted down to address the alligator at his own level. If he were a Loki, she would treat him as if he had the same intelligence as her own prince, until he showed otherwise. "But you won't bite me, will you Loki? I mean you no harm. What happened to you? Did you get stuck in a shapeshift? That happened to my Loki once, when he was still new to the skill. He needed his mother to help him shift back. I bet you miss your mother, don't you?" she asked softly. "All your family, but especially her, if you're anything like my Loki. I can't replace them, but we could be friends, if you like?” Not making any sudden movements, she held out her hand, palm up, and let it hang in the air between them.

"Sif -- "

"Be quiet."  

Alligator Loki made a plaintive noise, and then, to everyone's astonishment, moved slowly forward and laid his closed snout in her hand.

"Oh, that's my good boy," Sif crooned, and rubbed the underside of his jaw.  The gator's eyes closed in contentment and a soft chirruping noise escaped from his throat. "That's it, everything will be all right." Even if that weren't true, even if they were stuck here, if he were as young as she suspected, then she knew how comforting it could be just to hear an adult say that.

"Did his tail just wag?" demanded the Loki who looked like hers. "Sif, I can't believe you just did that; he could have taken your hand off!"

"The fact that the youngest of you stood relaxed within easy snapping distance of his jaws told me that he wasn't a mindless beast," said Sif calmly. "And I would far rather have a Loki whom I can trust to have my back in battle than one whom I need to fear stabbing me in it. Or biting me, as the case may be." She smiled and shifted her hand to the top of alligator Loki's head as he ducked his snout back down and shoved his head further under her hand. Gently she stroked the leathery hide. "Honestly, haven't any of you tried to make friends with him?"

"I did," Kid Loki said, beaming at her.

"I really only just got here a short while before you did," said nearly-her-Loki, somewhat defensively. He looked at her and told himself he did not feel envious of the way she was stroking his alligator self.

"We are on affable enough terms," said the older Loki.

The one whom they had called Boastful Loki said nothing. Sif took note of that and stood up, earning a disgruntled hiss from Gator Loki. She glanced down at him and wondered if her shapeshifting idea were wrong. Why would he be wearing a helmet? She had never seen her Loki keep any form of human clothing upon himself when he shifted to an animal form. In fact --

"If you all came through the TVA, why aren't you all wearing something like what I've got on?" She gestured to herself distastefully.

"Oh, sorry -- what would you like to be wearing?" Loki -- since he hadn't given himself a further descriptive name like the others, she supposed she would think of him as just that -- asked.

"What I usually wear," she said. "Tunic. Leggings. Armour. Boots."

"Sounds the same as my Sif," he said, and waved his hand.

Sif felt his magic wrap around her, and the unpleasantly synthetic feeling of the jumpsuit disappeared to be replaced with well-fitting linen and wool and leather-backed steel. The oddly-fastened shoes gave way to familiar, high boots. "I love you," she said fervently, feeling much more comfortable in herself even if she were still unarmed. "But if you can do that -- why are you still dressed like that? Don't tell me that's the fashion in the Asgard that you come from."

"Well, no. They gave me this at the TVA when I was allowed out on a trip to help them hunt down another variant of myself who was causing them trouble. And I just -- " He thought of Sylvie, and hoped she was well, then shrugged. "I suppose I had more on my mind than what I was wearing. But if you don't like it -- " It wasn't his battle armour, but he summoned something of what he would usually wear around the palace from his dimensional pocket, and his form shimmered into one of green and black and gold, the weight of leather and metal replacing the thin garments that he had been wearing. He shook back his cape, and straightened his posture.

"Better?" he asked.

Sif grinned wolfishly. "Much. Now you look like a prince." She judiciously refrained from mentioning that his hair still looked like it could use a good brushing for the moment and looked around. If they were not dead -- and none of them thought so -- then there had to be a way out of here, and that way was apparently guarded by a sentient cloud monster. "And the Loki Odinson that I know would never accept exile in such a desolate place. So tell me, your highness --" She broke off, and made a sweeping gesture that included all of them -- "Your highnesses, how we are going to get out of here."