#fred sometimes comes in but I've noticed he did it more often when i was lonely and sad on my days off

[sleepinglionhearts]

Gougar (George) is a photogenic young man

[broken-clover]

5- Sunshine

Ah heck, time sure does get away from me. I had this just about done last night, so far I've been doing pretty good in having these finished ahead of time, but given how early today's shift started it completely slipped my mind. No big deal, though! That's just how it is sometimes.

Continuing in my hopping, today we're stopping at Psychonauts. I still love this series to bits, and the Thorney Towers gang are still some of my favorite characters ever from how much we get to interact with them. I love that so much of the fandom saw the four of them and collectively went 'ah yep pair them all together, they're a matching set and can't be separated.' It's cute.

-

The morning light was one of the few mercies they had been allowed in those blasted ruins. Even trapped in the labyrinthian hellscapes of their own tormented minds, there were tiny fragments of comfort to desperately cling to.

On softer days, those lucky moments when things nearly felt normal, they’d share the feeling together. Though Edgar remained chained to the floor of his studio, he had just enough slack to sit on the rim of the broken mezzanine and watch as the rising sun glowed through the spindles of broken walls. It offered new colors from the ones he stared at for hours on the surface of his paint cans and wooden palette. It eased the strain in his aging eyes, reminded him that there was still a world outside of his own little room stuffed with his looping regrets. He’d offer a warm greeting to the courtyard below.

Napoleon didn’t often give Fred time to rest between their constant battling, but he took whatever he was given with an iron grip (bite? He didn’t exactly have hands to use nowadays…) With how often he was stuck in illusory, dreamlike battlefields, anything that felt concrete and firm was welcome. He sat with his back to the east, feeling how the warmth brushed up his neck and watching the shadows shift. If he was particularly fortunate, Crispin would have fallen asleep by then. He had no hands to wave back up at Edgar, but he responded with the best smile he could muster and a listening ear to whatever he or Gloria wanted to talk about. They were still his patients, he'd do whatever he could to make them feel even the slightest bit more comfortable.

Most of the greenhouse’s windows were broken, just the same as the rest of the asylum’s windows. Though she was typically too distracted to notice, Gloria did note that the sunrise could make the remaining fragments shimmer and paint little rainbows across the floor and on her audience of flowerpots. Something about it reminded her of one of her childhood recitals, and when she ventured out of the greenhouse and into the courtyard to interact with her fellow residents, she’d share her stories with them as long as they were willing to listen. Sometimes she forgot how charming they all were, far more lively even now than some of the stuffy high-rollers that had once attended her opening night performances all those years ago.

Boyd could hear them as he worked. He heard many things. Messages passed between birds as they watched him, recorded him. The radio static caught in his fillings. The things in the water that whispered. Echoes from the courtyard. Boyd knew who was speaking in there, his paranoia warned him that they were just as untrustworthy as everything else, but something else in him just couldn’t be absolutely sure that they were dangerous. They were victims of the conspiracy, too, that’s why they were all there in the first place. That’s why they all had to be there, locked away safe on a secluded island. Why he had to guard the gate to make sure nobody broke in.

Gloria…she talked about how much they all missed him, how they wished he would come inside just to speak for a little bit. He wished they understood, this was all for everyone’s safety. He would do whatever it took to make sure the Milkman was dealt with. Once he figured it all out, nobody would have to worry anymore. He wouldn’t be in danger, none of them would. But he couldn’t bear to tell her to stop coming. Her voice was golden-yellow and warm like honey, like the sun. Boyd hated how the sunlight bleached the stone walls, making it difficult to tell between his chalk diagrams and the place they were written on. Despite that still, there were moments when the light felt like a relief against his skin. If anything, being able to see made it less likely that someone could sneak up on him. It was the closest he could get to safe.

All of those thoughts faded with time in their minds. The asylum was nothing but rubble now. They were more than happy to get that place and those memories as far away from them as they could, even as the four of them stuck together for some sense of familiarity in an unfamiliar world. Acclimating to the outside life again became easier with time, but having each others’ support was really what made everything more bearable in the end.

Edgar, for reasons he wasn’t sure of, found himself waking up at the crack of dawn. He’d slept just fine, and he had nowhere to be for hours, but still he rolled out of bed and decided to get ready early. To his surprise, he spotted the others doing likewise, all sitting at the kitchen table in varying states of wakefulness.

“Mmm…mornin’, Edgar.” Boyd watched him with slow, sleepy eyes.

“Uh…good morning, everyone. It’s awful early, isn’t it? I’m surprised to see you awake.”

“Same to you.” Replied Fred, sipping at his morning coffee. “You sleep okay?”

“I did, yes. For some reason, I simply feel too awake to try and sleep anymore.” He took note of the open blinds. Everyone’s chairs were pointed towards it, despite the abundant space available. “The sunrise? What made you decide to watch it?”

“I dunno,” he replied. “Something about it just feels nice.”

Gloria nodded in agreement. “It feels nice.”

Without any fanfare, Edgar took a chair and squeezed in. “...Dios mio, it’s quite a sight.”

[celestialevie]

Flower Boy // George Weasley x GN! Reader

Summary: AU where y/n is working at the tattoo shop, while their best friend is an owner of a flower shop. What happenes when expecting to see your best friend for lunch, you end up meeting a tall ginger man. Warnings: fluff, mention of food, tattoos, flowers, George being absolute charmer Word count: 1.7k a/n: enjoy this aboslute fluff of a fic!! and again, english is not my first language so if there are any mistakes please do not hestitate to let me know about it!! ' Evangeline ' is an oc of mine, so she might appear in some of my fics as a side charachter. Also credit to @bwbatta for the dividers!!

Being a tattoo artist was one of the things you were proudest of. It wasn't easy to become one after neglecting art for so many years during High School. But after your best friend opened her own flower shop, she helped you get your inspiration for art being constantly surrounded by flowers and stories of why people were getting flowers. You were happy with everything but not knowing that wasn't the end of your happiness. It all started when you were on your lunch break and decided to swing by your best friend's flower shop to visit her. Expecting to see a small blonde girl behind the counter, you were shocked to see a tall ginger man standing there instead. '' Hello, how can I help you today? '' When ginger looked up, he felt as if someone kicked all of the air from his lungs because before him stood a beautiful person with y/h/c hair and y/e/c eyes. Smiling at them as they approached the counter, they were even more beautiful up close. '' Hi, um I'm looking for Evangeline? I didn't know she hired someone new. '' Ginger laughed, nodding his head. '' Ah yes, I'm only here temporarily. Unfortunately, you just missed her, she left to go on a lunch break with my uglier twin. '' You only laughed at that. '' Too bad, but can you please let her know that y/n looked for her? '' He nodded. '' I'll let her know. I'm George by the way. If you ever wanna ask her for me. '' George wiggled his eyebrows, making you shook your head. '' It was nice meeting you, but I have to go now. Please don't break any of her flowers she's not afraid to commit murder if you break something in her shop. '' his eyes widen, making you laugh as you were leaving but his voice stopped you. '' Hey! You come here often? '' he asks '' Considering I use to work here and my best friend owns it, yes. '' and with that, you left the shop, heading back to your workplace.

As the clock turned changed time to 8 pm, you relaxed finally going home after a stressful day. Just as you were open the door, Evangeline barged in. '' Hello, heard you've been looking for me. '' She grinned at her best friend, attacking them with a hug. '' Hello to you too,'' you said returning the hug '' I see the tall ginger you failed to mention to me kept his word. '' smirk appearing in the corner of your mouth as you recall your encounter with him from earlier today. '' It seemed to me you left a trance on Georgie boy. '' Evangeline wiggled her eyebrows, making you laugh '' You can't do that to me, I wanted to have lunch with my best friend only to find she ditched me for and I quote the ginger man '' uglier twin '', leaving me to get almost a heart attack. For a second I thought I walked into a wrong shop. '' Both of you walked out of the shop, heading towards your apartment. '' Speaking of that date, you also failed to mention you were dating someone, and here I thought we tell each other everything, tsk tsk. I'm disappointed. '' you nudged her, blush creeping on her cheeks. '' Oh my god are you blushing? He's making you blush just by thinking of him? You need to tell me about him. '' and so she did. She told you how his name is Fred and along with his twin, he has 6 siblings, making both of them the middle children. It was very interesting to know about a man who took an interest in my best friend. Deciding she'll spend the night at yours, you both got cosy into pyjamas and watched movies until you both crashed. The next morning you went together to work, letting you know she'll come to your work for the lunch break. So when your lunch break came, you didn't expect her to walk in with the same ginger man from yesterday. '' y/n/n, I brought us a bodyguard to keep us safe during our lunch break. '' grin played on her lips, making you shake your head. '' Yeah because we're so in danger that someone is gonna try and kill us while eating Taco Bell. '' George snorted, making you look at him. He looked even cuter than yesterday if that's even possible. Maybe there was something in gingers that you'd yet to discover that makes them so attractive. '' So flower boy, what do you do when you're not being a bodyguard or taking care of Evie's flower shop. '' he was grinning at the nickname. '' I own a joke shop with my brother, but we're currently redecorating inside so we had to close it for a week or two. '' An attractive businessman, that's a first one you snorted to yourself. Spending an hour with two of them, turned into a mostly back and forth conversation between George and you. Soon Evie had to leave, her lunch break coming to an end. To your surprise, George asked you if he could stay for a bit longer, which you said yes to since you had no client for another hour. He asked you about your art style, which, according to George made your eyes sparkle up with happiness, making him chuckle when you started to ramble not even noticing. '' You're rambling. '' he chuckled making you blush a little. '' Sorry, sometimes I can get carried away without even noticing. '' George smiled, taking your hand in his, making you look at him. '' Don't apologise, it's adorable. '' blushing even harder, you looked at the clock making you realise that in 15 minutes your client should be coming. '' Oh shit I didn't even realise how much time has passed already, I have to prepare for the next client. But hey if you ever want a tattoo you know where to come. '' You said and with that, you disappeared somewhere behind in the storage, kind of hiding from flower boy, because he's starting to make you feel things you haven't felt before.

Everything was happening so fast, in the next few days he kept coming either alone or in a company of Evangeline. She knew what she was doing and she was enjoying it. You even got to meet Fred, him wanting to meet the fascinating best friend of his girlfriend and the person who his brother can't seem to stop talking about. So when George asked you out, you said yes having nothing to lose. Deciding on a picnic, both of you packed some food, and he picked you up after work, leading you to a park. He prepared a blanket and put down the baskets where food and drinks were, sitting down and relaxing. '' How was your day? '' you began the conversation. '' It was good, mostly spent the entire day thinking of what to bring for our date tonight. '' a smile appeared on his face. '' How was yours? Any interesting tattoos you did? '' so you told him about this older guy who had half of his back tattooed with some weird game character, which made him laugh. Looking up at the sky, it looked amazing. '' Isn't the view beautiful? '' a grin played on your lips as you looked at the stars. George was only looking at you, and how beautiful you looked under the stars. If he wasn't already falling, he definitely would've now. '' Yeah, it couldn't be more beautiful. '' you looked at him and he was looking at you. '' Stop looking at me like that! '' He grinned at you, placing a hand on your cheek. '' Like what? '' he said softly while looking you in the eyes. '' L-like I've placed all the stars in the sky as if I'm the most unique thing on this planet. '' you were avoiding his eyes, knowing you wouldn't be able to breathe if you do. George had other plans, because he softly placed finger under your chin, making you look up at him. His eyes were filled with so much adoration, making you get lost in them. '' I've been looking at you like that ever since we first met, darling. I've grown quite fond of you from the first time our eyes met. '' a smile was spread on both of your lips '' God how much I love seeing you smile. I like you so much, love. '' placing your hands on both of his cheeks '' Can I tell you something? '' you said quietly almost a whisper. '' You can tell me anything. '' ''I like you too flower boy. '' even bigger smile was on his lips. '' Could you say it again? '' you furrowed your eyebrows. '' Were you not listening? '' he shook his head. ' No, I was, I just like the sound of your voice. '' you shook your head at his goofiness. '' Can you kiss me? '' a grin appeared on his lips '' Thought you'd never ask. '' and with that, he placed his soft lips on top of yours, lips mending with each other. It was like fireworks exploded inside you, from how much happiness you felt in this moment. Everything was perfect.

The next day you decided to visit Evangeline in the shop, expecting to see I guy you've grown s much fond of. And there he was stood with Fred and Evangeline, his beautiful smile playing on his lips. '' Hello, hope I'm not interrupting a big secret meeting. '' you joked as you approached them. George pulled you in his embrace, placing a small kiss on your temple as he sneaked an arm around your shoulder. '' Of course not love. '' you smiled at him, starting a conversation with him, not noticing how Fred and Evangeline were looking at the two of you. '' I haven't seen her smile like that in ages. '' Evie said, '' Hey flower boy, '' Fred began only to be shot by a dirty look by you. '' Hey, only I can call him that,'' you said and with that making everyone laugh including yourself. This is the happiest you've been in forever, and you could only hope it could stay like this forever.

[rogue-durin-16]

THINGS NEVER GO AS PLANNED (Part VI/VII)

"the downfall"

Summary: After Fred's death, George and Y/n lean on each other to carry on. This wasn't the most brilliant idea, though; George was pretty much in love with the girl, and Y/n— well, she had been dating Fred prior to the Battle of Hogwarts.

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Genre: angst mostly

Tags:

Suggested by: @crispykittywitch

Things never go as planned: @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @beautyschoo1dropout @s1ut4georgeweasley @sunshineandshadows @missmulti @accioweaslcy @andreaareynoso @georgeweasley16 @dianarte @skarlettmikaelson

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @just-here-to-escape-from-reality

Warnings: language, allusions to sex

A/N: my apologies for keeping y'all waiting for this one darlings, but here comes the next part YAYY! Enjoy <3

Prologue: the aftermath

Part I: sleepless nights

Part II: candy floss

Part III: shock therapy

Part IV: wrong name

Part V: the perfect excuse

Part VII: apart

Epilogue: I still love you

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

He had left me in the room that morning, alone, with regret and guilt straining my chest, with embarrassment and panic heaving over me, my only company being a terrible headache and a sore body.

I was still waiting for him to come back. Of course, he still lived in the apartment, but the day after, he slept at Shell Cottage because Bill needed help with the chores, and the next night at the Burrow because Molly had asked to keep an eye on 'the kids' —the kids being Ginny, Harry, Ron and Hermione— while she and Arthur were off to visit Andromeda, and at Lee's because Angelina was away and they were going to have a boys' weekend; in summary, he managed to avoid stepping into the flat while I was in there for an entire week.

I would be lying if I said the idea of moving out hadn't crossed my mind, but I knew I was being dramatic— we were being dramatic; we were adults, even if we forgot about it more often than not, and adults talk things out, so I decided to confront him at the only place I would manage to corner him; the shop.

When I descended from the office on the second floor, I spotted the ginger turning the 'CLOSED' to face the glass door. "Oi!" His head snapped to me as I climbed downstairs and he instantly walked to the shelves on the opposite side. "Can I have a word?" I requested, following him, only for George to move on to another shelf.

"Right now I'm quite busy." He replied, seemingly absent-minded as he pretended to check the products in front of him.

"This is important." I insisted, moving to stand besides him.

Not fast enough, though, because he was off to yet another part of the shop as soon as I got close. "I'm sure it can wait."

"You know it can't," I assured intently, stalking after him, only for him to speed up his own pace, moving from product to product without stopping too long in front of him. "George I'm- Oi, stop! We need to talk about this!"

"Well maybe I don't wanna talk about this!" He exclaimed, taking big steps under one of the stairs in order to shamelessly dodge the hand with which I had reached out to stop him.

"George Weasley don't run away from me!"

"I'm not running away from you!"

"You're literally RUNNING AWAY!"

He stopped circling the counter and stood across from me, slamming his palms over the till. "ALRIGHT, LOVE!" for the first time, I didn't like the way the name dripped off his tongue. "Let's talk about how we accidentally FUCKED! That's what you want so badly, isn't it?!" Flush crept up his neck and ears, and I couldn't tell if it was from anger or from timidness. "Go on, darling, lead the bloody way!"

I felt my own cheeks going red, partly because of his straightforward statement but also because I genuinely had never heard George raise his voice like he had just done.

"Cat's got your tongue now?!" My stuttering seemed to fuel his anger more. "C'mon, Y/n, talk! You wanted to talk!"

"SHUT THE HELL UP, GEORGE!" He clenched his jaw as his freckles drowned in a sea of pinkish red. "Yeah I want to talk! 'Cause that's what grown-ups do! We don't know how to act around each other so we just don't spend time together anymore— Fuck, I've barely seen you! AND WE. LIVE. TOGETHER!" I emphasised each word with stomps. "We can either pretend it didn't happen or talk it out to make sure we're on the same page, you choose but for Merlin's sake, don't avoid me!"

"OKAY!" His eyes widened, surprised at his own tone, and then he repeated in a softer, self-conscious one, "Okay." He breathed deeply and then added. "We're on the same page, right?" His eyebrows raised as he looked into my eyes. "It was... A mistake."

I should have noticed the uncertainty and hope in his voice, but I panicked and was too quick to respond, "Yeah! A massive mistake." My words stung my heart and, to my dismay, his own just as much. "Can we go back to being friends? Because I'm going crazy without you." I blamed our watery eyes to the argument we had had, and not to the fact that it had been a mistake.

He circled the counter and walked to me, hesitating before pulling me into a hug. "Can I...?" I tugged him closer, wrapping my arms around his middle. It took a moment for him to ease into my embrace, and I could tell we had fucked up our friendship for good. "It's alright, we'll make it right again." His words made me squeeze him tighter, as if he was about to vanish from my side.

And from then, we tried to make it right, we tried so hard, because it seemed so easy to make it wrong again.

Everytime we stood too close, everytime he leaned on to whisper something, everytime I helped him with his tie, our eyes would fall on each other's lips; I would sometimes drift off the conversation, staring too much at his mouth and hands, wandering if they would feel just as amazing as they had done while we were drunk.

"Y/n are you listening?"

"Uh yeah- I mean, no- sorry, what?"

I was so focused on trying to hide it that I didn't notice George was in the exact same situation, meaning that neither of us could give in, because we would go down together. In all honesty, it was doomed to happen at some point, we were just delaying the inevitable.

The moment came the last night of January, when George showed up in my room due to a really rough nightmare, and I, as always, invited him in so we could lay down together.

"Isn't this... Weird?" He murmured as we scooted closer. We had kept physical contact at bay for obvious reasons, and cuddling had been off the table since New Year.

"It doesn't have to be." I replied, my voice as quiet as his. "We've done this a thousand times."

"Right." He cleared his throat, averting his eyes from mines as we shifted in our places ever so slightly, trying to find a position where the situation turned less awkward.

And it happened, my mind got lost on the way his neck tensed, on the damp locks hanging over his forehead, sweaty due to the nightmare; on his plump lips, which he had just wetted with his tongue in the most subtle way. It was a nervous habit of him, something he would usually do, but that didn't make it any less hot.

"George..." I called his name without noticing, my heart hammering violently against my chest when his gaze landed on my eyes, quickly falling on my lips.

The next thing I knew was that he was holding my thigh over his hip, his other hand on the back of my neck while we shared a hungry kiss that, as soon as my hips involuntarily rocked against his, turned into something more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

GEORGE'S P. O. V.

The next morning we swore to each other that it was just another accident, that it would happen again.

And the next one too.

And the following.

The fifth time that happened, we agreed to call the situation a 'friends with benefits' kind of thing, well aware that it was an euphemism for the downfall of our friendship.

I had longed to be hers for so long, and it that moment, as I lay by her side in her bed, that wish seemed so close yet so far; I could reach out and my fingertips would touch her skin, yet I had never felt that distant towards her.

The moment my eyes were averted from her form, her gaze was laid on me. "You don't have to go."

"I know." I replied in a mumble, already sitting up and reaching for my pants. "But soon we'll have to get up, so I might as well do that and let you sleep." I didn't want to turn around, I didn't want to see her beautiful irises pleading for me to stay by her side, because I knew I would.

I saw on my peripheral vision her fingers attempting to carefully wrap around my wrist, and I was quick to stand up and walk to the door; sadly, I did not miss Y/n burying her face into the pillow, her hands fisting on the fabric ever so subtly.

She tried to hide her tears like that, and I agressively wiped mines as soon as I reached the corridor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Morning, lady!" I light-heartedly greeted Y/n without turning my back to the making of our breakfast when I heard the steps approaching the kitchen.

In the morning it was easier to pretend everything was back to normal; usually, the refreshing sunlight and the drowsiness provided by a night of sleep were enough to wash away the sad truth of our relationship.

"Good morning, sir." She responded with a yawn, rubbing her eyes as she walked to stand besides me, leaning against the counter with her arms folded. "Smells good." She commented, leaning on to take a peek at the scrambled eggs.

I was about to make a cocky, playful comment when it dawned on me what she was wearing; it was my jumper, one of the old ones that I exclusively used for pyjamas.

I knew she didn't do it intently; I had left it on the floor the previous night, and it was probably the first thing she grabbed, but it struck a nerve.

I had seen a similar scene way too many times before; a sleepy, dishevelled Y/n entering the kitchen with an ugly Weasley jumper as only clothing, ready to start the bickering with an almost identical version of me who would be making breakfast.

My head then travelled to the thought that lately crossed my mind more often than not and my heart clenched; In Y/n's eyes, I was, most likely, just a poor replacement for Fred.

"You alright?" That worried furrow appeared between her brows too often lately. We were both walking on eggshells, and it got me on my nerves.

"You don't have to ask if I'm alright every time I'm quiet." I hadn't meant it to come out harsh or curt, but it definitely did.

"You're not quiet, you're overthinking." She responded with a tinge of hostility.

"What's to overthink?" I fought the need to raise my voice.

"Dunno, you tell me." She squinted her eyes with a scrutinising gaze directed to me.

"Can we not do this?" I almost pleaded; heated arguments had become a usual thing between us —yet another sign of the unfixable problem we refused to address.

Y/n was about to reply something that would lead us into a fight when the doorbell rung. "Mister Weasley?" I took that as a cue to go open the door to Verity, already dressed on her uniform. "The Valentine's Day products arrived, should I unpack them or..." Her eyes flickered behind me and her cheeks heated up. "Y/n—" When I looked over my shoulder, I felt my own face flushing out of embarrassment. Y/n was still my employee and Fred's ex, so Verity catching a glimpse of her dressed in my jumper wasn't the best thing for any of us. "I— am I— sorry, am I interrupting?"

"You're not interrupting." I assured her with a reassuring smile. "Leave the boxes on the puking pastries section, we'll be down in ten."

"Alright, sir." Her curious gaze travelled to Y/n one last time, and with that, she was rushing back down to the shop.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

READER'S P. O. V.

The ache that had appeared on my chest the day after New Year would end up killing me, or at least it felt like that.

I had a dreadful gut feeling of knowing what caused that pain, but my mind refused to believe it was that, and kept pushing the sensation back into my heart day by day.

George had gone to relocate the puking pastries in the upper level of the shop so I could prepare the section with the Valentine's Day products.

My eyes dawned on the small packages of Amortentia. I knew it was a terrible idea but I needed to know.

I took a look around, making sure Verity wasn't near and George was up still, and brought one of the Amortentias under my nose. It didn't take long for the scents to besot me, and I had to put all my will on not to fall under the potion's spell.

The first smell to reach my nostrils was gunpowder; my heart skipped a bit when the next scent was vanilla.

Then strawberry and chocolate; candy floss cupcakes and George's cologne.

The tiny, heart-shaped bottle fell from my hands, scattering all over the shop's floor. "Shit!" I rapidly kneeled to pick the shattered glass when I realized it had echoed in the empty establishment.

"Oi! What was that?" George descended from the second floor, using the ladder. "Oh shit—" his hands took a hold on my bicep and pulled me away from the pool of pinkish pearl liquid that seemed to be attracting me. "Don't!" He warned Verity, who had attempted to jog in the potion's direction too. "Verity, can you bring me my wand?" The girl complied running up to the office.

In Verity's absence, George took the chance and cupped my cheeks, tilting my head up to check my eyes. "You alright?" I managed to give him a slow nod, my mind buzzing with the newly acquired information. "Getting the Amortentias was a bad idea, wasn't it?" I nodded again, producing a frown between his eyebrows. "No 'told you so'? Are you sure you're alright?" He chuckled nervously, his hands falling to his sides right in time for Verity to rush back to us.

"Here, Mister Weasley!"

"Thank you, darling." He politely replied, taking the wand and restoring the potion bottle in a swift movement. His eyes peeked at me again; I could see the worry growing on him. "Y/n-"

"I'm gonna go wash my face." The words hastily left my mouth before I dashed off to the restroom.

I closed the door behind me and took a look at the mirror; my pupils were blown and my cheeks pink. I ran the tab and splashed the water on my face a few times until the potion's mild effect was gone and my mind clear.

It was in that moment that it dawned on me that I was in love with George Weasley.

[srivsblk]

strange theories to keep the boys away | george weasley;

summary: after you created a “strange theory” to find a date for the Yule Ball and have fun, George Weasley, your best friend Ron’s brother, is sure that he’s the right guy;

warnings: —;

—

“What are you doing?” asked Ron Weasley sitting right in front of me.

The library had never been this noisy. All the students arrived with the intention of studying for those few subjects in which the professors continued to give homework and inevitably ended up talking about the Yule Ball.

“What do you mean what am I doing?” I asked looking at him confused. “Studying.”

“Well, everyone is talking about the Yule Ball,” Ron shrugged while Harry sat next to him. “You probably already have a date.”

I sighed and placed the quill on the table, paying my attention to Ron. “Actually, no,” I said observing Ron's expression, which went from calm to shock. “Oh, don’t look at me like that!”

“You- You don’t have a date!” Ron exclaimed wide-eyed pointing at me. “How?”

“High expectations regarding boys, I guess,” I shrugged looking around the room. “I mean, it's not like nobody asked me.”

“Did you know it?” I heard Ron asking Harry in a whisper receiving a simple ‘no’ as an answer.

“Have you seen Hermione, by any chance?” I asked frowning and still looking around. “I thought she was with you two.”

Harry shrugged. “Actually, we thought she was with you.”

I nodded with my brows furrowed and realized that Hermione was probably somewhere around the castle talking about her beloved S.P.E.W. Although Hermione remained my best friend and the only one I could talk to about women's issues, lately I found myself spending more time with Harry and Ron. And when I needed Hermione, I went to the library hoping to find her and sometimes failing. For this reason, I had now spent so much time in the library and alone that I had finished my homework and devoted myself to taking notes on future topics.

“How much time did you spend in the library?” asked Ron observing the open page of the Potions book in front of me. “I'm pretty sure Snape hasn't explained those things yet!”

“Well, long enough to be able to say I’m ahead of the schedule.”

“Ahead?” Ron said shocked. “Blimey, Y/N, either Hermione has infected you or you are terribly bored!”

“Thanks, Ron, coming from you it's a real compliment!” I said sarcastically. “And how's the date you don't have because you're too chicken to ask someone to come to the Yule Ball with you?”

Ron, visibly offended in his pride, was about to argue but was suddenly cut off.

“Yes, Ron! How's your date?”

Turning slightly I noticed that Fred and George Weasley were behind me and had probably overheard the last part of the conversation. Being one of Ron's best friends and having spent a lot of time at his home, seeing Fred and George was nothing new. In fact, in the last year I was sometimes surprised not to see them more often, but Ron kept repeating that they had become suspicious since we arrived at Hogwarts. As Fred sat on my left and George on my right, Ron rolled his eyes and sighed.

“I thought you two were busy.” Ron muttered looking between the twins.

“Exactly,” Fred said smirking. “We were.”

“But a little break doesn't kill anyone,” continued George who was mirroring his brother’s expression. Meanwhile, Harry had a smirk on his face and was exchanging amused glances with me.

“Oh, me and my date are perfectly fine,” Ron said with a forced smile, “but let’s talk about Y/N who still doesn't have a date!”

I looked at him tilting my head confused. “I think you didn't listen to me, Ronald,” I sighed. “It was a choice!”

“I can’t believe you,” Ron said shaking his head. “Nobody goes alone to the Yule Ball by choice!”

“What do you mean?” asked Fred curious.

I sighed and turned to Fred explaining myself. “Someone has already asked me to go to the Yule Ball with them and I refused saying I already had a date.” I calmly said before glancing at Ron who was shaking his head. “However, it's a good choice I've made this past week and I have no second thoughts.”

“I still don't understand it!” groaned Ron frustrated. “From what other guys say you are one of the prettiest girls at Hogwarts and even Malfoy would not care about your house and social status to go to the Yule Ball with you. You're wasting your luck, Y/N!”

“What is your choice based on?” asked Harry over Ron’s muttered words.

I looked at him and noticed that he was genuinely curious and so I started telling him what I kept telling myself every day. “The guys who asked me to go to the Yule Ball with them were from Durmstrang. I have nothing against them but... I mean, I didn't know them enough! You know how sad it is to go to the Yule Ball with one of them and spend a boring evening or discover that maybe they are like Karkaroff! I have decided that I will go with a person with whom I know I can have a pleasant evening. Besides, I'm not afraid to go alone.”

I caught my breath after my words and took the time to observe the reactions of the other boys. Harry struggled to understand my reasoning, but Ron had given up as soon as he heard the news and was waiting with his arms folded for a reaction as exaggerated as his. Fred, however, looked at me confused and George, who had listened carefully to my words, was thinking hard about something.

After twenty seconds of pure silence, Ron decided to interrupt the confusion. “Blimey, Y/N, there is no need to make up strange theories to keep the boys away.”

Ron's words sparked a deep rage that caused my body temperature to rise dramatically. My cheeks were probably tinged red with anger because I noticed Harry looking at me worriedly as if I was going to explode. Ron, however, did not notice the effect of his words. He had behaved like this with Harry before the first task, with Hermione more than once and now with me too. I had enough. With all the anger still inside, I got up from my chair causing a noise that attracted the attention of some people in the room and quickly collected my books. I took the bag and looking at Ron with narrowed eyes and pursed lips, I left. At that moment even Hagrid could have mistaken me for an angry dragon. Keep the boys away. How dare he? He knew me well and I would have accepted such words coming from Pansy Parkinson or Draco Malfoy, but not from Ronald Weasley. Was he jealous? Well, it wasn't my fault that he hadn't found the courage to ask Hermione to be his date! Yet it was not a plausible enough excuse to blame me for not accepting two proposals!

“Y/N!” I heard a voice calling me, which made me turn around and stop.

George Weasley had probably run from the library to follow me and was slightly out of breath. His hair slightly longer than last year was disheveled due to running. His bag was about to fall off his shoulder and there was a slight flush on his cheeks. After waiting for him to say something, I looked at him confused.

“What is it, George?” I asked in a kinder tone, regretting the brusque behavior of before. “Listen, if it’s about Ron-”

“Ron?” he asked frowning. “No, nothing about Ron, love! I just had to ask you something.”

I shrugged. “Go on, then.”

He looked around and was struggling to find the right words, but nonetheless he took a deep breath and became serious. “You and I. The Yule Ball. Together.”

George tried not to show his insecurity and was waiting for an answer from me, but he probably noticed my confusion because soon after he started to move his mouth looking for the right words, perhaps afraid of having said something wrong.

“Are you asking me to be your date, George?” I asked slowly understanding.

“Only if you want to!” he said hopeful adjusting the bag on his shoulder. “And don't think it's pity or something. I want to take you to the Yule Ball.”

I watched George closely and noticed small details that I had always overlooked in recent years. George had become a handsome boy and his fame as a prankster had made him known throughout the school. But I only knew him as Ron's brother who had always been nice to me, even defending me from some bad Slytherin pranks. “Yes,” I said satisfied of my choice. “I'll go to the Yule Ball with you!”

The expression on George's face went from nervous to relieved and enthusiastic in less than a second. He kissed me on the cheek and ran away screaming through the halls as if he had won an important Quidditch match. The place where George left the kiss on my cheek was warm and when I touched it I suddenly smiled. Then I turned and continued walking - this time more slowly and cheerfully - towards the common room.

What happened in the following days was a succession of events and voices that created a sort of pause between the moment when George had asked me to go to the Yule Ball and the evening that everyone was waiting for.

Although Hermione was shocked when I told her that same evening that I had accepted George's proposal, she told me that she should actually have foreseen it. However, she told me that I hadn't chosen badly since at least with George I was sure I could have fun. As for her date, Hermione had finally told me that she had agreed to go with Victor Krum and that he wasn't as bad as everyone thought. George, on the other hand, kept an impassive attitude when he met me with Harry and Ron. He had only told Fred and Lee Jordan that I was his date, as only Ginny and Hermione had heard from me. Harry and Ron had not suspected anything, although they had known that I had finally found a date. Apparently, neither Ron nor I wanted to resume that discussion because he was merely commenting on the Yule Ball matters with Harry. Just a few days before the event, I discovered that my two best friends were planning to bring the Patil twins to the Yule Ball. I thought it was a choice to save themselves from the inevitable loneliness, but I never told them. Hermione still didn't talk about her date in front of Ron and she preferred to avoid any conversation about the Ball.

“Who is he?” asked Ron two days before the Yule Ball while playing chess with Harry.

I sighed closing the book I was reading and looked at him. “No need to keep asking, Ron! You'll see him in two days.”

However, even though I kept refusing, Ron was so curious about my date's name that he repeated the names of all male Hogwarts students from our year and up. Still, it was interesting how he skipped his twin brothers, probably sure that neither George nor Fred saw me as a real girl.

On Christmas day, just after waking up and opening the presents, Hermione and I met Harry and Ron and went to breakfast together. Although the general excitement for the Yule Ball, we decided to spend the morning in the Gryffindor tower, where everyone enjoyed their presents, then returned to the Great Hall for a magnificent lunch. The afternoon passed quickly between walks on the grounds of Hogwarts and snow fights. Hermione and I watched Harry and the other Weasleys having snow fights, while Hermione occasionally sneaked a glance at the smiles George and I exchanged. Around five, Hermione checked the time and took my arm as she rose from the ground. Apparently it was already late and we had to get ready for the evening.

“What, you need three hours?” said Ron, looking at Hermione incredulously, and being hit by George with a snowball. “Who’re you two going with?” he yelled after me and Hermione, but she just waved while I smiled at George and shook my head. Then we disappeared up the stone steps into the castle.

It had taken three hours to prepare both me and Hermione. She had been having some problems with her bushy hair as I kept pacing the room, trying not to panic. Hermione, as soon as she noticed my nervousness, tried to calm me down ("Oh, George is a great guy, Y/N! You'll definitely have fun.") and she helped me put on my dress. Looking in the mirror I had never felt this way. Suddenly, Christmas at Hogwarts took on another meaning. I looked at Hermione smiling and we finally headed for the Great Hall.

Arriving at the Great Hall Hermione left me with a hug and walked over to Krum. I peered around looking for George or at least Harry and Ron so as not to feel completely alone. Finally, after a few moments, I found George talking animatedly with Fred, who had a splendid Angelina beside him. As I walked towards them, Angelina said something to George making him turn in my direction and he finally noticed me. My smile widened further and I saw it was the same for George. He walked away from Fred and Angelina and arrived in front of me.

“You’re-” George couldn’t find the words while looking at me. “Merlin, Y/N, you’re wonderful!”

“You're not bad too, George!” I smiled taking his arm. “I've spent the last three hours preparing myself and I'm not going to lie, I'm nervous.”

“Well, no need to be nervous, love,” said George smirking. “It will be an unforgettable evening, trust me!”

“Oh, I trust you,” I said looking around. “Why are they all looking in our direction?”

George shrugged smirking. “Actually, they’re looking at me. They always do like this when they see me, don't worry!”

I laughed and held his arm tighter. “For a moment I had forgotten that you are the funny one.”

“Never forget that, love,” said George closer to my ear as we entered the Great Hall.

I noticed that Harry was nervous next to one of the Patil twins and Hermione was talking to Krum smiling. Many people needed more than a glance to recognize Hermione Granger, but I smiled at her as she did the same when she noticed me not far from her.

The first part of the evening passed quickly between laughter and an exquisite dinner. Fred kept throwing jokes at Angelina who pretended to be angry for a while and then laughed with the others. George and I had relaxed so much that being this close after a while felt more natural. He kept one arm on my chair and I squeezed his hand when he complimented me. When dinner was over and the Champions started dancing with their dates, George kept holding my hand before smiling at me and taking me to the dance floor. We may not have been the best dancers, but dancing with George just made me happy. After more dances together, George and I walked off the dance floor laughing and, noticing Harry and Ron near a table, we walked over to them.

“Why aren’t you two dancing?” I asked frowning and still holding George’s hand.

“We’re bored.” Ron muttered looking between me and George and trying to change the topic. “So you two-”

“What?” I asked curious.

“Nothing,” shrugged Ron sighing. “I didn't know you had a crush on George. That’s all.”

“I-” I tried to find the right words but felt my cheeks flush. “What are you talking about?”

“And you, George,” Ron said narrowing his eyes at George. “I didn't know you were interested in my best friend! Because that's what Y/N is, a sort of sister.”

As my cheeks became more and more red, I felt George boil in anger beside me at Ron's tone. “Well, Ron, maybe she is your sister, but not mine.”

“Whatever,” mumbled Ron sulky. “However, you remain two traitors. You haven't even told me anything about it.”

Harry stood next to Ron watching the scene. He was too smart to criticize us and agree with Ron, but he was too afraid of losing his best friend again to go against him. So I realized that Ron's only intention was to ruin the evening for all his best friends just because he didn't get what he wanted so much.

“You know, I had enough, Ron,” I said firmly looking at him. “Just because you can't have the best night of your life because of your bad mood doesn't mean you have to ruin my night too! For once I'm having fun and you ruin everything. I can’t accept it, I'm sorry.”

I walked away from my two friends and George with my heart pounding with anger. I didn't want to ruin anyone's evening, so my goal was to go outside and get some air and then find George and continue the wonderful evening. I noticed that the air outside was too cold for how I was dressed, so I sat on a sheltered bench observing the people around me. I recognized a fifth year girl walking with a boy from Durmstrang, and a seventh year couple sitting on a bench not far from me.

“Excuse me, is this seat occupied?” asked someone and turning around I found George smirking. As soon as I shook my head, George sat down beside me.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled feeling guilty. “I had a wonderful evening with you and I feel I ruined it by talking to Ron.”

George slightly smiled and took my hand in his. “If anything you made this evening better by silencing Ron in less than two minutes!”

I laughed and looked at him. “Still, I’m sorry.”

“Well, no,” said George frowning. “I’m the one who’s sorry.”

“For what?”

“You deserve someone like Diggory or Krum, and instead you end up with George Weasley, the prankster,” George shrugged looking down.

“I like George Weasley,” I smiled holding his hand. “I don't think I would have had more fun with Diggory or Krum tonight. Or any other night.”

George looked at me smirking. “So did you have fun?”

I laughed nodding. The couple of seventh year students looked at us for a second before turning around. “I had a wonderful evening and you, George,” I pointed a finger towards him. “you were wonderful.”

George stared at me without saying anything for a few seconds. He had a satisfied smile on his face and his eyes were moving from my eyes to my lips. Suddenly he brought his face close to mine and kissed me. It was a small kiss and it didn't last long. But it had stayed on my lips like a tattoo on someone's skin. A golden but small tattoo. I noticed that George's cheeks had turned red to his ears covered in long hair and he seemed eager to have a reaction from me. But all I did was get closer and kiss him more deeply than before. It didn't matter if it was cold and winter or if anyone could see George and Y/N kissing in the courtyard. It was something I wanted to do instinctively when I never did anything instinctively. After years of rational choices, kissing George Weasley was instinctive.

“Do you want to go back to the Great Hall?” George asked after the kiss. “Let's dance a little more and then I'll take you back to the common room.”

I nodded standing up still holding his hand. “What a night,” I said smiling and shaking my head.

“And you haven't seen anything yet, love,” said George walking and hugging me. “George Weasley can do better! Ask me for the moon and I'll bring you the entire galaxy. We still have time, after all!”

And that was true. We still had time. We were young and free and at the start of something which we would later call love. But in that moment it was still too soon. Two young students not knowing what is that feeling when you hang from the lips of the person you like and wait for their proposal or opinion, when you think that no sad moment can ever get over this happy moment. Because that person is your happy moment. And George Weasley became all of my moments.

[lannister-slings-and-arrows]

Chapter Two of See You in the Morning Time

The third in a Rafael Barba/Reader/Frederick Chilton threesome verse written in collaboration with @pascalispretty . Gif by @mrsrafaelbarba . Yep. We did this. Was it necessary? No. Did we enjoy it? Sometimes. Are you going to read it? I sure hope you do and that you like it! Cross posted to ao3!

Part Three of the series So Much Easier than You Realize

Chapter One: A Different Feeling Entirely Chapter Two: Show Me the New

Warnings: Frederick being an anxious (and sad. and repressed) little weenie, discussions of period typical homophobia, bi panic, completely invented backstory (you got on this ride folks lol), Rafael being surprisingly supportive, cuddling, and of course a little bit of teasing Rating: PG-13 Word Count: 2293 Summary: It's not often that Fred instigates anything with Rafael except an argument.

It’s late by the time Fred and Rafael finally make their way to bed. They shower and put pajamas on while waiting for the food to arrive and once they eat, they finish the bottle of wine that Fred had opened earlier and spend the rest of the evening chatting and watching some dumb movie on TV.

Lying in Fred’s bed in his borrowed clothes, Rafael can’t help but smile to himself. After weeks of skittishness from Fred he had finally made it past some of the walls that the doctor had put up. Fred curled close to Rafael while they watched the movie, dragging a blanket over the two of them and cozying up entirely unprompted.

When Fred comes out of the bathroom and flicks the lights off, he’s even more pleased that Fred doesn’t seem to hesitate to lie close to him in bed or reach out for his hand.

“Thank you for letting me stay,” Rafael murmurs, to break the silence more than anything. He hears Fred scoff.

“I was hardly going to kick you out as soon as we were done.” As best as he can, Rafael turns on his side trying to make Fred out in the darkness of the room.

“I know. I just wasn’t sure how you’d feel.” He’s not at his most eloquent or subtle, but he wants to acknowledge what happened between them. “You were… hesitant at first and I just want to make sure you didn’t feel like you had to do this. As of a few days ago you were still pretty clear that you were not comfortable with the two of us having sex.”

Rafael doesn’t want to force a confidence, but he feels like he has to make sure. He’s coming to care too deeply about the arrogant chronically awkward man next to him to just let this go with vague assurances. He hears Fred shift onto his back and wants nothing more than to drag him into his arms and kiss his stupid, conceited face, but he holds himself still and waits for Fred to answer him, giving him the space he clearly wants.

“This wasn’t as sudden as you think it was,” Fred assures him eventually, face still pointed at the ceiling. “I’ve been thinking about this since, you know, that first time.” Rafael can practically feel Fred’s blush from his side of the bed and grins. “And my reticence was never about you, you know that, yes?”

Rafael nods, realizes Fred probably can’t see him, and clears his throat.

“Yeah, I figured as much. I am, after all, a damn catch.”

Rafael yelps as Fred reaches out, faster than he thought was possible for a well-fed psychiatrist who sits behind a desk all day, and smacks him on the chest.

They’re quiet for a few minutes, together in the dark cocoon of Fred’s bedroom, before Rafael sighs. He can’t help but notice the similarities between the blank peacefulness of Fred’s minimalist design and the deliberately organized calm of a therapist’s office and wonders if he did that on purpose. Maybe it’s a natural inclination, he muses idly. It invites honesty. The sharing of secrets.

“I’m only eighteen months younger than Benn, you know,” Fred says eventually, and it’s so unexpected that Rafael finds himself frowning a little in confusion. “All the way through school, I was Bennett Chilton’s younger brother; just the little brother of the handsome quarterback that everyone adored.” Rafael has seen photos of Bennett, tall and painfully handsome. He can see that it might have been hard to grow up in that shadow.

“He came out when he was sixteen, and I was fourteen. And I’m sure you can imagine what that was like at an all-boys Catholic school in Virginia in the eighties.” Rafael winces in the dark. He remembers well enough the attitudes in his own high school, in marginally more liberal New York. He can’t imagine what it must have been like in a place without a visible community to look up to.

“People were mostly smart enough not to say anything to Benn’s face--he was a six foot two starter who never backed down from a fight, they would have had to have been stupid--and our parents were supportive. But the things people said about him behind his back--” Fred shudders, an involuntary shiver that makes Rafael want to wrap his arms around him and never let go.

Instead, he just squeezes Fred’s hand reassuringly and waits for him to continue. For someone who has trouble shutting up at the very best of times--staying silent isn’t Rafael’s forte--he is doing an admirable job tonight. His desire to prove he’s worthy of this unexpected vulnerability from Fred is more than enough to keep him quiet. Rafael is desperate to know more, to know everything about Fred; about what makes him tick, about why he was so reticent, so reserved, when clearly this is something that he enjoys.

“It was awful. The kind of things you never want to hear about somebody you love. And I was hardly in any position to be giving out bloody noses or black eyes whenever someone called him a fag, or made some crack about AIDS.” Rafael shifts slightly nearer, still not saying anything. He smiles to himself when he feels one of Fred’s hands reach up to rest on Rafael’s hip.

“I was a short, scrawny child--I spent a lot of time in the hospital and home sick--and I couldn’t afford to give the other boys in my school one more reason to pick on me so I just… didn’t say anything. I’m not proud of it, but it’s not like Benn had any trouble sticking up for himself. I doubt he would have appreciated anyone stealing his opportunity to get into one more fight anyways.”

Rafael covers the hand Fred has on his hip with his own, deciding now is not the time to joke that he can’t ever imagine Fred as scrawny. Fred clears his throat again and continues in the same calm, rehearsed manner. Like this is something that he witnessed happening to someone else.

“It wasn’t long after that that I had my own month of absolute pure terror and confusion. It was one of Bennett’s teammates from the swim team that actually sent me over the edge. His name was Bobby and he was gorgeous. He had never made any jokes about Bennett, never joked about changing somewhere else in the locker room. He was a little stupid, I can admit that now, but back then I thought he was perfect. I worshipped my brother and this pretty boy clearly did the same.

“Well, I was horrified. Up until then I had been fully and completely in love with a girl I had known practically since infancy. Was all of that a lie? Was being gay genetic? Was Billy going to go through the same thing? It took me a whole month before I had the guts to ask Bennett and I nearly stabbed him with our father’s letter opener when he laughed at me.”

Rafael winces again, knowing how touchy Fred is now, a grown adult well-respected in his professional field and still a little obsessed with slights, perceived and real. Fred huffs, forcing any trace of bitterness out of his voice.

“He told me that you can like girls and boys at the same time and that I should go see if I still liked jerking off to pictures of Jennifer Connolly.” Rafael isn’t able to suppress his snort.

“I always liked Carrie Fisher,” he tells Fred, smiling over at him.

“You would, you pervert,” Fred shoots back. “Probably loved that bikini, didn’t you?”

“I think I’ll plead the Fifth on that one.”

Fred shakes his head and sighs deeply.

“Well, naturally, that was enough humiliation for me for one afternoon and so I threw a throw pillow at him and bolted for my room.”

“Did you jerk off to Jennifer Connolly?”

“Rafael, I can still kick you out of this apartment.”

“Sorry.” Rafael is silent for all of twelve seconds before he asks again, “Come on Fred, I’ve got to know; did you?”

“...Maybe,” Fred reluctantly admits. Rafael laughs and squeezes his hand.

“Moving on from your prurient obsession with my teenaged masturbatory life,” Fred says pointedly, managing to sound arch, offended, and haughty all at the same time. “I contemplated for a while what Benn had told me. A long time actually--that percolated in my brain all throughout the rest of high school. I only ever dated girls, I ignored it completely every time I was even remotely attracted to another boy, but I kept thinking about that. Not only did I have a lifelong conviction that if Bennett said it it must be so, but it just sort of felt right, you know?”

Rafael nods, remembering a similar feeling he had when he was younger. Despite what the other boys in his neighborhood said about “queers”, despite what the Church said, and despite what he knew his father would do to him if he heard Rafael’s thoughts, he was what he was and that was that. Fuck anyone who said different, he remembered thinking. It’s not like he could change it, even if he wanted to.

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” he answers when it’s clear that Fred requires some encouragement to continue. Fred twines his fingers with Rafael’s before carrying on.

“I lived with Benn in college. Our father bought him an apartment in Cambridge the day he got his acceptance letter from Harvard, and it only seemed logical that I’d move in once I got accepted too. And, I don’t know. It was a little easier there.” Rafael thinks he grimaces, but it’s hard to tell in the dark.

“It has been a while though, since I’ve indulged. And I've never participated frequently.” Every word seems like it’s forced out of Fred’s mouth.

“All this to say, Rafael,” Fred murmurs, inching closer across the sheets, “Is that the problem was never you.”

Rafael gathers him into his arms this time. Fred goes willingly, releasing a heavy, shaky breath and clearly relieved to not be talking about this anymore.

“I know,” Rafael reassures him. “I know it wasn’t me. I was just… I don’t know. I was worried.” He smiles, giving Fred another squeeze. “You’re a delicate little flower Freddie, I want to make sure I don’t trample all over you.”

“Get out of this bed this instant.”

Rafael laughs and they settle down to sleep.

***

The three of them celebrate in Rafael’s tiny Brooklyn apartment when Fred returns from Baltimore. He insists that he wants to cook and, though he had his doubts about his equally minuscule kitchen, manages to turn out an incredible ropa vieja. His mother would be proud.

When the empty plates are discarded on his coffee table, stacked haphazardly and waiting to eventually be washed by whoever loses the inevitable game of ‘who had the harder day’, Rafael sinks back into the couch and smiles benignly basking in the praise of the two of them and their company. Four days is starting to become too long to go between times when they’re all together and though he wants to frown at the unpleasant feeling of missing the both of them when they aren’t around he loves it a little bit as well. Every other wandering thought was of the two of them and he can’t deny that it's nice to feel these first desperate stirrings of a relationship again.

“I don’t know how you made all of that, Rafael. I’m pretty sure my cousin Caroline had a bigger kitchen in her dollhouse.” Fred surprises him when he leans closer to Rafael, snuggling contentedly against him. Rafael had told the third of their little trio that he and Fred had finally slept together--hiding things in a threesome was the quickest way to hurt feelings. Everyone was going to eventually do things without everyone involved and it’s best to just let that out in the open--but he hadn’t expected Fred to offer such casual affection so freely.

Rafael catches her looking at the two of them with a soft smile on her face and returns it with one of his own. She hid it well but she was a little disappointed during their FaceTime when he had warned her that Fred might not be overly demonstrative yet. Rafael knew she felt a little--guilty wasn’t the word she would use, he knew, if he could ever get her to talk about it--uncomfortable about how much more open Fred was with her than he was with Rafael. He loves how hard she tries to remind him that Fred is just anxious, cautious, a little scared. Rafael is a grown man and doesn’t need his hand held, but the fact that she tries to anyways makes his heart feel like it’s growing through his ribcage sometimes.

When Rafael looks back down at Fred he looks like he’s about to fall asleep with his head nuzzled against Rafael’s shoulder. He would describe it as endearing until Fred moves one of his hands high onto Rafael’s thigh. Rafael smirks.

“All it took was one night and he’s already falling for me,” he says to her in a stage whisper. Fred is unfortunately still awake enough to jab Rafael in the ribs, settling down only after the air is knocked out of Rafael’s lungs with an “oof”.

“As long as you remember to invite me to the wedding,” she teases. Rafael watches her duck admirably as Fred throws a cushion at her head.

“You’re supposed to throw a bouquet at me, not a pillow!”

[dumblydork]

Summer

Hello! I am SO sorry for having gone MIA all of a sudden on Tumblr and Ao3, but life caught up once exams ended and I was in a deep, dark place for sometime. But not to worry, because I'm definitely better now, and finally got over my writer's block/unmotivation (if that's a word) and what better way to start off writing again if not with a Hinny fic?

As usual, I hope you enjoy this sort of non-magic alternate universe, maybe a modern meet-cute of sorts? From the one and only Ginny Weasley's perspective, of course.

Again, you can find my Ao3 right here where I post quite fluffy Wolfstar one shots!

----

The summer was harsh in Cornwall, which was where Ginny's family home was situated. She went up to university in London, just having recently finished her second year in Drama. Last summer, she was on a long trip with her best friend Luna, and hadn't been able to make it down to be with her family. But this year, she fully intended to spend as much time as possible with them, even if her older twin brothers were being annoying arses.

"Fred, George, just wipe the bloody tables already!" She screamed, exasperated, even though the twins were not even 20 feet away. The only unique cafe-by-day/restaurant-by-night was owned by Ginny's family. It was a quaint place, serving the best coffee to tourists and locals alike, along with not such a sharply contrasted cosy restaurant theme the place adopted when the sun went down.

And currently, the cafe was a few hours away from opening as a restaurant, and was left in the care of Ginny and her older twin brothers. She had another older brother after the twins, but he was off with his university friends (being an year older) and had even MORE older brothers ranked above the twins. Her oldest brother Bill, worked as a vet in New York, also where the second brother Charlie worked as an art curator. The third brother Percy was currently obtaining his PhD in some sort of Math which Ginny was too 'humanities' to understand (in Percy's own words, that subject bigot). The brothers after Percy, twins Fred and George were as stated, being annoying prats but worked in some sort of prank shop, much to their mother and Percy's chagrin (Between us and her, Ginny never understood why Percy felt a need to voice this opinion, because if Ginny also opened her mouth to provide an opinion on every single thing under the sun, working in a prank shop was perfectly acceptable).

Finally the last brother Ron went to university in Devon, having recently finished his degree in Astronomy combined with Philosophy, and that was it. Growing up with 6 older brothers, Ginny was significantly hot tempered, a trait often made fun of because of her (and her whole family's) flaming red hair.

"Oh for God's sake the two of you, just shut up if you don't want to do any work!" She finally snapped, causing two identical pairs of brownish eyes to look at her.

"Okay!" They smirked, before actually rushing away to the back of the cafe. Ginny sighed, wondering for the tenth time that afternoon why she bothered to come down here in summer. The twins, despite being her favourite, were useless gits-

"Ginny! Where are Fred and George?" Her mother's voice flew out from the front of the store, removing Ginny from her trail of thoughts, where Molly stood with hands laden with grocery bags. Her father, Arthur, she saw outside from the huge floor to ceiling windows, was unloading the boot of their car of more paper bags.

"They ran away after being absolutely useless gits." She muttered angrily, almost aggressively wiping a glass and placing it on the shelves behind her.

Her mother let out a long suffering sigh, but nevertheless joined Ginny in tidying up the cafe. "They're quite irresponsible." Molly sighed, wiping down tables at a superhuman speed.

"Mum if it's okay, can I join Ron and his friends at the party happening down at the beach?" Ginny asked apprehensively. The question had been burning at the back of her mind since the morning when Ron actually invited her to the beach party being thrown by one of the local boys. He had brought his uni friends and girlfriend down from Devon, and Ginny had already met Hermione, Ron's soulmate, if their behaviour was anything to go by.

Being in an all girls school, Ginny practically grew up with her girlfriends gushing about boys and celebrities, often almost swooning like some Victorian women when boys from the neighbouring school passed by their grounds.

However, Ginny was smart- if having six brothers had taught her anything, it was that boys were annoying, and only a few handful of them were actually decent. But now, looking at how close Ron and Hermione were, Ginny was starting to long for her own sort of romance. It had been over a year since she broke up with her first and only boyfriend Dean. She was convinced the breakup had solidified her stance on relationships, which was that relationships were okay but there was no need to actively look for one. Ron and Hermione's lovey dovey-ness was revolting, but uncharacteristically had Ginny pining away for her love story as well. Not that she'd ever admit it, of course.

"Well there's nothing really to do, and if it's busy there's a lot of pairs of hands to help. So sure, go on." Molly finally said and Ginny could almost fist pump, if it wasn't for the wet rag she was holding.

The evening rolled around quicker than Ginny anticipated, and before she knew it, her and Hermione stood in Ginny's small attic bedroom, getting ready for the party. "So, tell me, how was Dean?" Hermione asked, looking behind at Ginny through the mirror, where the younger girl stood blinking away extra mascara.

"Oh well, he was alright. Nothing like fireworks or sparkle." Ginny flushed slightly as she processed her own words. Oh, how she sounded like a lovestruck 12 year old.

However, Hermione didn't seem to mind. She simply grinned. "I'm sure with the right person it's more than just sparkles and fireworks." Hermione winked, and Ginny wondered if there was more to the statement than she understood. However, Hermione was already done with the topic, now going on about her course and what plans Ginny had for after university.

They walked downstairs, finding Ron standing at the door, his eyes glued to Hermione as she walked down the stairs. To be fair, Hermione definitely looked stunning- even if it was for a casual beach party. Ginny noted slightly bitterly to herself how the simplest pair of jeans and top could make one gorgeous to the right eyes. She breathed deeply as Ron wrapped an arm around his girlfriend, the girlfriend in question smirking back at Ginny as she followed them. Okay, very confusing.

The walk to the beach from the cafe was short, and there was already a bonfire going in the distance, with some upbeat song playing from someone's phone. "So, where is Harry and everyone else?" Hermione asked, looking around. Ron still had a hand in Hermione's as the two of them looked around for who had to be Ron's friends. "Neville!" Ron suddenly yelled good naturedly, as a tall guy walked towards the three of them with a big grin on his face.

"Ron! Hermione!" Neville hugged each of them in turn, smiling broadly at Ginny.

"Neville, this is my younger sister Ginny. Ginny, that's one of our friends from uni, Neville." Ron introduced. Ginny waved, which was returned by Neville.

"Is your girlfriend here as well?" Hermione asked, to which Ron added, "Oh, do we finally get to meet the elusive To-Be-Mrs. Longbottom?"

Perhaps having noticed Ginny's confusion, Neville clarified. "These two here haven't had the chance to meet my girlfriend- well, fiance as of a week, yet. In answer to your question Ron, no, she unfortunately couldn't make it. But she's been inviting the two of you over for dinner since ages." He turned to Ron.

"Actually yeah, we should definitely go. Anybody seen Harry?" Ron asked, looking around the small crowd of people. Ginny moved away from the couple to sit next to the fire, and grab a cold beer in the process.

She had just made herself comfortable slightly away from the warm fire when a figure sat down next to her, causing shivers to go up her left side. "Hi, you must be Ginny." The figure spoke and Ginny looked to the source of the voice, to be met by the unruliest mop of black hair she had ever seen on a human, and twinkling green eyes. In the soft light from the fire, they glowed slightly amber.

"I am. But I don't think I've met you?"

Ginny didn't get an answer because Ron's voice interrupted them. "Harry, you came!" He shouted, the figure (Harry) getting up to tackle Ron in a hug.

"Of course I did, getting sloshed at your best mate's beach party is always infinitely better than home." Harry grinned, and Ginny started to feel her heart race.

"I see you've met Ginny." Ron said, sitting down in between her and Harry.

"I just did, yeah." Harry smiled mischievously. They had moved closer to the fire, and in the brighter light, Harry's face was more distinct. And boy was he fit. The hair, even though messy, was not unattractive (quite the opposite), and his face was slightly round, made rounder by the permanent grin which seemed to reside there. And his eyes were covered by round glasses, reflecting off the orange from the fire.

"Well anyway, Gin, this is Harry, my best mate from university. He just made it down here to Cornwall." Ron said, and suddenly got up to fetch more drinks, but Ginny didn't miss the glares Hermione was shooting Ron from across the fire.

"Do you reckon we go a bit further away?" Ginny, being so busy interpreting the look Hermione was giving Ron, hadn't noticed the boy had shifted closer to her.

"Uh, sure." She found herself slightly tongue tied, staring into green amber.

"Brilliant, Let's go?" Harry got up, and lent Ginny a hand. She took it, and a slight warmth, probably not from the fire, ran down her spine when their hands remained connected.

They walked away from the party, not too far that a search team would be required, but just far enough to hold a conversation in peace. The music slightly played in the background, a slower guitar theme, and Ginny turned around to see Ron and Hermione swaying around the fire, the brightest smile settled on both their faces. Ginny simply let out a happy sigh, attention darting down to entwined hands.

"So, Ron tells me you're in drama?" He asked, as they sat down near the water with their legs bent, just that the waves touched their toes and washed back.

"Yes, I am, final year now. Although I haven't heard a lot about you?" Ginny teased. Harry simply chuckled, a sound she realised she found much more attractive than she should have.

"Well it's a shame since I am his best mate but, Harry Potter, third year medic, at your service." He lightly bowed his head, eliciting a giggle out of the girl.

"Medicine huh, that definitely sounds hectic." She commented, as her fingers drew an absent minded pattern in the sand separating their sitting figures.

"I also captain the football team." He replied, eyes shining with humor. Ginny looked up, wondering if it was a coincidence that the man she found extremely fit also checked off all her criterion of 'boyfriend'.

"Oh- well I don't know how you found the time to be here, what with studying and football." Ginny smiled. Harry looked back at her, eyes boring into her brown ones. "Only because I was told someone stunning was going to be here." He said in a lower voice. Ginny flushed under the stare.

"I'm sure having those feelings for your best mate's girlfriend is not a good idea." She teased, feeling some confidence seeping into her. Harry scooted closer, placing a hand on Ginny's.

"And what if I said they weren't for the girlfriend, but for the sister?" His eyes darted down to her lips, her own pulse quickening. Then continuing with her sudden confidence, she unconsciously leaned in, her lips just millimeters away from Harry's. "The sister would definitely like that because she thinks you're extremely fit too." Ginny whispered, her lips just brushing against Harry's before he closed the distance completely.

The two of them sat there, away from the party, lips moving in slow sync as if they were doing the communicating. Getting to know each other in silent movements, a dance of attraction and dominance. Thee music faded in the background, as behind her closed eyes Ginny saw stars, and faintly made out the sound of fireworks exploding behind them. Not that she'd admit it to anyone, of course.

But in that moment, it was just her, Harry and the cool water playing with their feet. And when they finally pulled apart, Ginny secretly swore that she saw her reflection in green pools glow and sparkle.

Not that she'd ever admit it, obviously.

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TAGLIST: @amy-herondale-chase // @purplepygmypuffskein // @ginnypxtter // @alwaysmagica1 // @norakelly // @her-blazing-look //

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Okay, I hope you guys enjoyed that! I wrote that when I was half asleep, so I'm not even sure if most of it makes sense haha.

As usual, if you want to join the taglist and be notified whenever I write a new Hinny story (which will be much more frequently now), please interact with the pinned TAGLIST post on my account!

Thank you for reading, and please interact with the post! Reblogs are always appreciated but likes and comments are just as amazing! Loads of virtual hugs xxx

[rocksandrobots]

Of Rocks and Robots Ch. 20 - Therapy

Varian sat on the leather couch inside the doctor’s office nervously bouncing his knee up and down. He didn’t want to be here. He wanted to run, but he knew that would upset Aunt Cass who was seated on the chair next to the door.

This was meant to be his first therapy session and he didn’t know what to expect, or to say, or what to do. Both Hiro and Wasabi had told him that all he had to do was talk to the doctor about his problems, but Varian didn’t really feel like talking. He didn’t feel like delving into his past and reliving those painful memories. Moreover, he didn’t want anyone in this world to know of his mistakes, even if they were just a stranger.

Just then the door opened and a tall woman with short bobbed hair and glasses walked in. She wore a white lab coat and held in her hand a clipboard and pen.

“Hello, Miss Templeton. Are we here to see Hiro today?” The woman asked Aunt Cass.

“Oh hi, Dr. Mcguire.” Aunt Cass stood up to shake her hand. “No, I called earlier and told the secretary this, but I’d like you to meet Varian. Varian this is Dr. Mcguire. She’s our family therapist.”The woman smiled and shook his hand as well, as Aunt Cass contunited. “Varian is from Europe and I’m fostering him while he’s here in the states.”  

“Oh exciting!” The woman enthused. “Is this your first therapy session, Varian?”

Varian nodded his head numbly, still too unsure of himself to speak.

“Well there’s many different types of therapy. I’m a grief counselor. I use different techniques to help people deal with loss or trauma, such as, listening to people talk about their feelings and problems, helping people develop healthy coping mechanisms for anxiety or depression, helping people pinpoint or understand where their underlying issues are and what might cause them to react the way they do to certain situations, and basically anything else that helps the patient cope with their grief.”

Varian listened to the woman intently but none of what she said made any sense to him. He knew what all those words individually meant on their own but all together it just sounded like a word salad to him. He had no idea what any of that actually entailed in practice.

"Well, now Varian, tell me a little about yourself?" The doctor asked as she sat at her desk.

Varian only stared blankly at her, unsure what she wanted to hear.

Dr. Mcguire expounded "Do you have any interests or hobbies?"

Varian looked back to Aunt Cass questionly and she gave him an encouraging smile and a go on motion with her hands.

"Ummm...I like alchemy."

"Alchemy? Like the history of it, or is that some new video game I haven't heard of yet?" Dr. Mcguire gently laughed at herself. "My kids are always trying to get me into the lastest gaming craze and I can never seem to get the hang of it."

Varian once again could only stare. He'd played a few video games with Hiro and Fred, but he had no idea what was deemed popular or not. Nor did he know how to explain to this woman that he was a practitioner of a long dead science.

When this didn't elect a response from him the doctor tried a new line of questioning.

"Do you have a favorite video game?"

Varian shrugged. "I don't know. I haven't played many of them. We didn't have video games back in Old Corona."

"That's the city he came from." Aunt Cass explained. "Varian is from a Russia territory."

"Oh. Well, what did you play in Old Corona?" Dr. Mcguire asked.

"Not much." Varian racked his brain for a childhood game, but there had been no other kids to play with and his dad was not much for chess.

"My cellmate and I would play 'Noughts and Crosses' to pass the time. It's a little like Gomoku, but you try to get three in a row instead of five, and you just draw an X or O on to a grid you drew in the sand instead of having a board and colored pieces.'

"Oh we call that tic-tac-toe here." Aunt Cass cheerfully said, not immediately picking up on his mention of being in jail.

The doctor however did notice. "Cellmate?" She asked with concern.

Varian clamped his mouth shut at that. He didn't want to go into why he had been in prison, certainly not with Aunt Cass there.

Sensing the Varian's discomfort and seeing Dr. Mcguire's confusion, Aunt Cass spoke up. "I'm guessing the secretary didn't give you the forms we filled out?"

"No, I'm afraid not. I saw your name on the appointment and just assumed it was time again for Hiro's session. I'm sorry, that was unprofessional of me to assume and not come prepared. Would you like to reschedule?"

Aunt Cass looked to Varian. "It's up to you, sweetie."

Varian really didn't want to go through all this again. "No. I'm good."

"Well do you feel like talking about what's wrong then?" Asked Mcguire.

Varian tightened his jaw, unsure how to say no to the woman. But Dr. Mcguire knew her business and understood what Varian meant even without words.

"It's ok." She soothed. "You don't have to talk about anything you don't want to. We're not here to make you feel uncomfortable. Therapy is supposed to help, not hurt."

This relaxed Varian a little, but only a little. He didn't know what either adult wanted from him then.

"Varian, would it help if I left?" Aunt Cass offered. "Or would you prefer that I stay? Either one is fine. It's your choice."

Varian looked back and forth between both women trying to decide. He honestly didn't know which would be more stressful; dealing with the doctor alone or risking slipping up again and having Aunt Cass find out about his past crimes.

"I...maybe?" He eventually answered.

"Alright then. I'll be just right outside the door if you need me." She stood up, walked over to Varian, gave him a peck on the forehead and an encouraging smile before closing the door and leaving.

Varian had to admit, he could breath more easily now that she'd left the room.

"Well," Dr. Mcguire spoke back up, "if you rather not talk about your issues right now, would you like to write about them instead?"

Varian gave her a confused look and in response she dug into a drawer in her desk and pulled out a notebook.

"Sometimes people find it easier to write about things than to talk about them. I often give my patiences journals, so that they can get out their feelings about stuff, make goals and plans, or to help keep track of their triggers and their responses."

She handed the notebook to Varian. It was thin and curiously printed on the front were images of lizards with hats and sunglasses riding upon skateboards. Varian might have thought it absurd looking but he was distracted by something that the doctor had said.

"Triggers?" He asked.

"A 'trigger' is anything that might make someone remember their trauma. It can be anything from a familiar sound or object, to an action or situation that is similar to an event that the person went through. When someone who's been through trauma comes across one of their triggers they might experience a panic attack, flashbacks, get angry or upset, or even completely shut down so to speak."

Varian studied the woman thoughtfully. Wasabi had described what a panic attack felt like and it sounded eerily similar to what he had felt when he ran away that day. The way he felt after having a nightmare. The way he'd felt when he had come home to find his dad unmoving in the amber.

“Do..do nightmares count?” He asked hesitantly.

“Well, yes, in a way. Nightmares are often associated with PTSD. They are a way for your mind to process what has happened to you. But they can also be caused by other things, like stress, anxiety, or just a lack of sleep. You’d have to dream about something multiple times and analyze those dreams in order to figure out their cause.”

She paused and studied Varian intently before continuing. "Some people write dream diaries to track the patterns of what they dream and when. You write what you've dreamed, good or bad, when you wake up. You also may write things like what time you went to bed, how long did you sleep, or what you may have eaten that day as those can affect how well you sleep."

"You could use your journal for that." She gently suggested.

"Then...then I show it to you?" He asked in kind.

"If you want to. Though, once again, you don't have to do anything that you don't want to."

"But, if I did, would it help?" Varian pressed, "Would it get rid of them?"

"It might help." The woman said measuredly. "Though it might not. Or you may need to do that along with a combination of things. The only way to find out is to try it."

Dr. Mcguire gave him a soft smile and Varian turned her words over in his mind. He would love for the nightmares to stop. They had only become more frequent since he moved in with the Hamada's. As if deep down he feared this new change in his life would become permanent and his subconscious was warning him to return home before it was too late. But, even still, while the doctor was right about not knowing till you tried, he worried over his past and what she or others might think of him once known. Then again, no reason to take a dream literally, right?

"I've..I...I've been having nightmares lately." He finally admitted. Dr. Mcguire only nodded along. She most likely had already guessed as much, but she didn't interrupt.

"They're always different. Like they're about different things. Sometimes they're about my home or my dad, sometimes about my friends, both old and new, and sometimes about, ummm, being in jail." He muttered this last part but then quickly contunited on, "They all end the same way though. With me being alone."

He met the doctor's eyes questioningly, wondering how she might respond. She looked to be contemplating over what he'd just confessed.

"Hmmm…Well dreams are rarely the same each time. It's usually just the repeated elements that we look for when analyzing. That's how the journal would help. But it looks like you figured out one of those elements on your own. Does being alone scare you?"

Varian looked at her wide eyed. He didn't know how to feel about having one of his greatest fears pointed out to him. It was true of course, but he didn't like to admit it.

"A, little." He admitted sheepishly.

"A lot of people fear being alone. We're social creatures. Humans need other humans and so we seek out relationships. It's nothing to be embarrassed about." Mcguire tried to ease his fear.

"Were you on your own in jail? Did you feel alone there?" She pressed.

"No, well sometimes, but like I said I at least had a cellmate. That's better than when I was completely on my own before then."

Dr. Mcguire face grew more concerned but she didn't pursue anything else about his time alone. Instead she asked, "Were you friends with your cellmate?"

"No." Varian scoffed, complaining about Andrew was easier than talking about his time spent on the run. "Dude was a creep."

"Oh, did you fight with him often?"

"Not usually. In fact we got along fine, but that's only because he'd pretend to be nice to get what he wanted. I always knew that's what he was doing, but I, guess I just went along with it because….because it was better than not talking to anybody at all."

Dr. Mcguire furrowed her brow, "What did he want from you then?"

Varian wiggled in his seat at that. He didn't want to go into the prison break and what followed thereafter. "Just….stuff."

This did not ease the doctor's fear. "How old were you when you went to jail?"

"I had just turned fifteen." He didn't know where this was going.

"And your cellmate was what, also fifteen, sixteen?" She guessed.

"Oh no. Corona doesn't have, what did the policeman call it, 'juvenile detention center.' Anyways, uh, I'm not sure what age Andrew was. He never said, but I would guess, like, late twenties?" Varian shrugged but he only became even more confused when he noted the look of horror on Dr Mcguire's face.

"And where were the guards when he was making you do… stuff?" She tried to hide it but Varian could still hear the way her voice shook.

"Ummm...well the guards make their rounds of the cells every ten minutes and stand guard at the door between then. Or they're supposed to, anyways. Sometimes they're late or they're switching shifts, or even sometimes asleep." He broke from his matter of fact statement with a little laugh. "I once saw Pete the guard fall asleep while standing up and Stan, the other guard, had to prop him up with his spear to keep the Captain from noticing." He whispered conspiratorially as if imparting some juicy bit of gossip.

But the doctor wasn't amused.

"It would appear that your home country has a very different legal system than ours." She stated as if trying to find a way to navigate Varian's revelations.

"I'll say." He snorted. Complaining about the conditions of the dungeon itself didn't bother him as much as admitting how he'd got there. He supposed it was because everyone suffered the same indignity as he did while there. So he didn't feel singled out.

"I saw what those cells down at the police station here looked like last week. Let me tell you. They were pristine." He began to number the differences on his fingers." Clean, not drafty, there were toilets, electric lights. I was on the bottom floor of the dungeon and all we had was a grate on the ceiling that let the tiniest bit of light and air in from the cell above us. Of course that wasn't much cause that cell only had a small window to begin with."

The doctor interrupted his ramble. "But what about when you were aloud outside?"

"Outside?" He echoed in confusion. "We never went outside. Who'd let criminals out of their cells willingly?"

Dr. Mcguire darted her eyes back and forth as if equally flabbergasted. "But, but what about for exercise!? Showers!? Mealtimes!?"

Varian looked at her unsure how to answer, now only realising just how vastly different the two realities really were.

"We ate in the cells." He said flatly in lieu of anything else. "Is the food better here too?"

"I don't know? What did they serve you?"

"Usually gruel, or bread and water. Sometimes we'd get scraps from the castle's kitchen. Like leftover bone broth before it went bad. I guess not to starve us completely."

"Castle?" She echoed hollowly.

"The jail is underneath the government's palace." He explained.

"And is that the only prison? Wouldn't that get over full?"

"Yeah, it does. That's why they only keep people there until they ship them off on the prison barge or…. til they hang them." He quietly admitted.

This seemed to be the last straw for the doctor.

She took a deep, shuddering breath and tried to compose herself.

"Well, that..uh..we seem to be reaching near the end of our session. How about we bring Miss. Templeton back in?" She flashed him a strained grin, but Varian knew she was rattled and he feared he'd said too much or had done the wrong thing.

"You mean Aunt Cass?" He asked.

"Yes. So you call her 'aunt' too?" He nodded. " Well let's get your aunt in here and we'll talk about how best to continue your therapy."

Dr. Mcguire walked out and Varian could hear her and Aunt Cass having a hushed and hurried conversion. He couldn't make out what they were saying, but he knew it was about him. Soon after, they both reentered the room and Aunt Cass took a seat next to him on the couch.

Dr. Mcguire sat at her desk again and proceeded to make an announcement.

"So Varian and I have talked a little and he's decided that he's going to keep a dream diary, which he can share with me during our next few sessions if he would like. However, I feel that Varian might benefit from seeing a specialist."

Varian heart dropped. He was being turned away? He'd somehow managed to screw up his first therapy session so bad the doctor was pawning him off to someone else.

"But, aren't you a specialist?" Aunt Cass asked, equally confused.

"Yes, but I deal with post trauma, sudden events, like a car accident or the recent death of a family member. After talking to Varian, it appears he's been through prolonged trauma. It'll take a few more sessions to confirm this but, he may have Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. It's related to regular PTSD, there is some overlap in symptoms, but ultimately it requires different treatment."

Varian's stomach began to churn and he felt his heartbeat quicken. All he heard, behind the doctor's unfamiliar terminology, was that he was somehow, wrong or broken, more so than even the troubled patients she normally worked with. He wanted to cry, but instead he blinked back tears as Dr. Mcguire contunited.

"I have the name of a psychiatrist that I can recommend. I've worked with him before alongside other patients."

She handed a business card to Aunt Cass who leaned forward to take from her. As she read it the doctor went on.

"Dr. Brown deals with former soldiers, war refugees, abuse victims, and others who've had to endure extremely harsh conditions. He's better experienced in such cases and as a psychiatrist he can also prescribe any medicine that Varian might need."

"Medicine!?" Varian exploded and both women looked at him with concern. "But, but I'm not sick." He whined in protest.

Dr. Mcguire stood up and walked over to him. She knelt down to his level and looked him in the eye.

"I don't know if you are or aren't, diagnoses of mental illnesses take time, but you might still need prescribed medication even if you don't have an illness. You mentioned not sleeping well, something as simple as a herbal tea with added melatonin could help with that. However as a psychologist, and not a psychiatrist, I can legally write you a prescription for that, nor should I."

Varian darted his eyes about the room in confusion. Logically what the woman said made sense, he supposed, but that didn't stop his anxiety from raising. He felt cornered. He wanted to run again, but the gentle hand of Aunt Cass upon his shoulder rooted him to the couch.

"Look, you're still welcome to come see me." Dr. Mcguire reassured him. "I'll gladly help you in any way that I can. I just think Dr. Brown could do even more to help you."

"We just want what's best for you." Aunt Cass interjected. "Thank you, Dr. Mcguire. I'll give this Dr. Brown a call today when we get home."

And that was the end of it. They said their goodbyes and left.

On the whole way home, Varian sulked in the passenger seat as he stared dispondingly out the window. He could feel Aunt Cass nervously stealing glances of him, probably afraid he may jump out of the car again and try to run away.

She attempted to say something a few times, but thought better of it and kept quiet. The uncomfortable silence weighing upon them both until they arrived back at the Luck Cat.

Varian tore out of the car, pounded up the stairs, and was just about to run towards his new room, when he heard Aunt Cass say. "We need to talk."

Varian found himself sitting on a couch for the second time that day. This one in Hamada living room. He eyed Aunt Cass pensively and waited for yet another lecture.

"Sooo, I know that didn't go as well as we hoped today, but hey, we made some progress!" She gave him a plastered grin as she tried to find the silver lining. Varian only gave her a look as if she was crazy and rolled his eyes.

She heaved a heavy sigh.

"Varian, there's nothing to be embarrassed about. Lots of people see special psychiatrists. That's what they're for. They wouldn't exist if people didn't need them."

Varian still refused to meet her gaze.

"Also, not everyone finds the right therapist on their first try. It took me a whole year and three different doctors before I found Dr. Mcguire."

Varian did look at her upon that revelation, this time with surprise on his face.

Aunt Cass gave him a small smile.

"Did you think you were the only one who needed therapy?" She gently teased, before admitting, "I was only 24 when I took in Tadashi and Hiro. I didn't know how to be a parent. I didn't know how to handle two grieving little boys nor the emotional roller coaster I was on as well. I had to get help. I had to try out different doctors, different types of therapy, even took medication for a little while, and it took time but in the end it did make things better for all of us. I just want you to get better as well."

Varian processed this confession as he wrestled with his growing sense of shame and despair.

"But...but…you never did anything to deserve that. It was just a bad thing that happened to you.. I… I on the other hand…I wasn't in that jail for no reason." He confessed before bursting into tears.

"I don't care." Aunt Cass quietly said.

Varian looked back in surprise again. She stood before him with worry etched onto her face.

"I don't care what you did." She reiterated. "It doesn't matter."

She bent down and cupped Varian's face into her hand, just as she did when he returned after running away.

"Varian, no one deserves to be treated the way you were. Especially a child. That..that was just cruel." Her voice broke. "Cruel, and inhumane, and oh god, what ever did they do to you to make you think you deserved it?" It was her turn to cry as she scooped Varian into a hug.

Varian blinked rapidly, both because of the tears and because he hadn't been expecting this reaction. He knew he was at fault. Everyone in the kingdom knew it. They all blamed him for what happened and threw nothing but scorn his way. The only reason that Aunt Cass and everyone else didn't hate him too was because they didn't know, surely. But the sincerity in her voice, the tender loving embrace, the way she put up with him and his stupid mistakes around the house, all made him desperate to believe her. So he hugged her tightly back.

"But.. But.. I'm not 'no one'" The tears flowed freely now. "I'm...I'm…I'm not like anyone. The doctor said so herself, today."

"No!" She pulled away from the embrace to look him dead in the eye. "No. She said you needed help that she couldn't give. Dr. Brown, though, can. He deals with people who've been through what you've been through. You're not alone. You're not broken. You're not weird. And you are most certainly not deserving of being thrown in a dungeon."

She wiped her fingers through his bangs, a sign of affection he'd come to recognize from her, and blinking back tears said, "Oh how I wish I could have been there for you sooner. But I'm here now. And so is Hiro, all your friends, Chief Cruz, Professor Granville, and Dr. Mcguire. Ok? We are all here for you now, and we love you, and nothing is going to change that. And now Dr. Brown will be there for you too. So please, let us help you."

Varian searched her eyes. These were words he had longed to hear for who knew how long, but when faced with them for real he had trouble giving into them; to believing them. The nagging voice in his head was screaming at him, warning him that it wasn't true, that they would all abandon his as soon as he screwed up or they found out the truth of his past, the same as how everyone else had given up on him, told him how he didn't deserve such kindness, ect.,but he didn't care. He wanted it to be true.

He nodded yes and flung his arms around Aunt Cass again. They remained that way, just holding each other for several minutes. While Aunt Cass stroked his hair and cooed reassuring words. How she loved him, how she wasn't going anywhere, how he was her child now and nothing would change that. He wasn't sure if he was ready to accept her as a parent yet, to him his dad was the only parent he needed, but he deeply appreciated all that she had done, all that she promised to do, and it felt good to finally be accepted somewhere, to be wanted .

When they finally stopped hugging Aunt Cass said she was going to call Dr. Brown and set up an appointment. She then stroked the top of his head again and asked if he wanted to help her bake something special for dinner. He nodded yes and they both put the unfortunate incident at the therapist behind them.

[probably-lucifer]

Scenes I've written to fics I'm trying to write

Draco stood there next to his mother, both covered in dirt, grime, and blood. He was still in mild shock at bring hugged by The Moldy Egg, could you blame him? It was then however that he would find out that life doesn't wait for the shock factor to fade, she doesn't give a singular flying fuck in any honest observation. So when he notices his mother trying to gain eye contact he's really not as surprised as he should be when his mother uses her legillmens to say what she does. It does surprise him though, that he's being given a choice, to be given a chance to do what he, in proper hindsight, really should have done ages ago. Probably would have if they didn't have mother, but alas, they did, and he didn't. At least, not before. It wouldn't be hard to put the wand where Harry can see it, and get to it. As a matter of fact, if you were to ask Draco Lucius Malfoy he would very honestly tell you that if you where to hold this wand where Harry could see it Harry could leisurely stroll past The Moldy Egg and make polite small talk he could still get the wand in time because in all honesty there is nobody more prone to bragging without having anything to even brag about then The Moldy Egg. It's actually a bit of a running joke between the not entirely terrible death eaters, who funny enough, are none here by choice this war around. Perhaps though this is what will surprise you, his mother, Narcissa Malfoy has broken a vow, and unless that creature that is... 'Still ranting oh my Morgana x Merlin!' unless it, because it has certainly lost even that way of identification, if the fact that he never went to the bathroom or even around it is anything to go by. 'I wonder why anyone would- wait wrong thought process. To help the guy who is obviously going to win, or not to help. Hmm, well that's a hard one. Ah look Harry's dramatics would make Salazar Slytherin himself proud. Godric to if I'm honest.' Harry isn't as surprised as he should be when he notices me, matter of fact when I shout his name it seems he already knows my plans. When he catches the wand there is a barely noticeable smile, probably meant for reassurance, but it's entirely to soft to be such. The Moldy Egg is in shock when I sit on the ground and watch as my friend that I'd been very secretly, and quietly reporting to for his sanity, shows the, or nearly the wizarding world that Tom Marvalo Riddle Jr. is just that. A name, and a man. When it's done, when he's probably, hopefully, dead I stand up, get closer, and poke him with my boot. "I hope no one is surprised you did it, honestly it should be expected by now. Should've been expected in 4th year really." I say to the calm, yet powerful presence behind me. I can always feel Harry's magic when he's near, must be a result of our "loving" relationship previous to That Night at The Manor when this all really began. "Fair enough, do you know any hiding spots Remus won't find us in, I think the four of us should have a nice, long sleep. And you're still unnaturally comfortable for such a pointy git. Hey where's Pansy, I heard she actually used her acting for good." I point to the girl who is leaning into a Luna, Ginny, and Neville pile on like she's passed out. Come to think of it she might have. Their problem. When we start walking back into the castle she's already began repairing herself, and me and Hermione are not at all surprised, because we read. 'I mean Harry got an excuse, sort of, but Ron doesn't, he should read more, I bet I can challenge him to it.' Honestly it's in the first chapter of Hogwarts A History. Regardless of my musings I lead Harry to the room we got trapped in for an hour last year that was probably the actual turning point just before school let out. Harry nods when he gets it, and hisses out "Open" in parsletongue, probably one of the only words I know, and that's only because it's obvious, and he told me. It'll be nearly three days before we wake up longer then it takes to eat, and use the bathroom, and by then we've all been given nutrition potions by madam Pomfrey, and strict instructions to rest by McGonagall, which means our families know we're fine. Fred and George dropped off clothes as the only ones they told about the room, Pansy and Blaise have brought me my dragon chess set, the only ones I trusted with the location of our safe place. It became as such after That Night at The Manor, he sent me a recording of him hissing open and I started furnishing the rooms past just the library's entrance. If anyone is surprised Salazar created several hidden rooms, some that you don't even need parsletongue for, they're not that intelligent. We've all been laying around in a bed roughly the size of a dormitory for days on end, exhausted, though I tend to wonder why I'm so tired, i barely did anything I'm sure of it. Harry and Ron say it's just what happens after saving the day, and it's best not to question it. Me and Harry don't talk about the barriers put on him by Dumbledore, nor that they were broken by the currently comatose Severus Snape, nor do we bring up my father locking away my veela instincts this summer. We just lay in bed, and rest, and make random observations that one would think means we're high. We're not. Trust me I'd know. Once three days pass, we take turns showering, and then I run the bath, big enough to be a pool, and add the infinite bubbles specifically designed for intersex bathing, or in our case splashing, I've teamed up with Hermione to charm the bubbles to hide "those bits" so we can relax and splash each other, we've done so good even underwater they stick. When we're done making a mess we get dressed, and I send for Crabbe, and Goyle. Goyle, gentle soul he is, is so happy to see me he nearly squeezes me to death, I'm not surprised, I missed him too. They're not the most intelligent, or cunning, or ambitious really, but they're still some very close friends of mine, we did after all grow up together. "How was the infirmary then?" Ron asked slight awkwardness to it, not surprising all things considered. Crabbe was as oblivious as always as he said "The only difference is the amount of people there, the headmistress wants you in her office by the way." Things from there went by easily, me and Harry got married with a one month difference, him to Ginevra (if I can't call her the Weaslette then I've got to annoy her somehow), me too Astoria. He had two kids before I had my first, which he quickly followed by a third, James and Lily were certainly the devil incarnate. Remus on the other hand was an angel. I sometimes wonder if that's literal. Him and Scorpious grew up together, and finally attended Hogwarts together (though me and Harry nearly wanted them sent off to Beauxbaton, Durmstang is just to military minded for them. Now James Sirius Potter on the other hand, let's just say his mother is the only reason Harry was convinced not to send him there.) which means the only child left for us to spoil new exactly how to milk it. Lily Luna Potter will rule Slytherin mark my words. Even I spoil the girl. Life was good as a curse breaker for me, and an auror for Harry, we ended up working together very often, though it does take a toll. It wasn't until after we'd been divorced by the girls "It's nothing personal love, we're just better as friends is all." and Harry had been told to quit his job a month after we moved in to our condo that McGonagall came to us with a proposition. We'd work at Hogwarts Harry as the DA professor, and me as the ancient runes professor. It wasn't difficult for either of us to say yes, though it was surprising that I'd end up as Head of Ravenclaw considering I was only there for a year, more surprising that Harry ended up Head of Slytherin actually. Our sons all blanched at seeing us in class their first day (James bought charmed beans from a fellow classmate and long story short they all spent the first weekend speaking various animal sounds, though Remus and Scorpious were fine talking to each other in Snake tongue, Harry said it was about whether there was a way to make it permanent without taking away the ability to speak in human tongue. The student who made it was incredibly enough the offspring of Greg, his nack for potions makes him very popular, Greg's son Henry is a very brilliant Hufflepuff, and me and Harry are determined to introduce him to Severus, the man needs an apprentice whether he admits it or not.) It was magnificent. A few years passed, Harry and I were enjoying our jobs, but we'd come to embrace our summer break with love.

[thornyrose934]

Magical hands part 2

Hermione's POV

She groaned as she rolled her shoulders. She didn't know what she had done, but her back was hurting so much. And not only her back actually... Her neck and shoulders seemed to have decided to torture her as well while she tried to make up a schedule for what Harry could teach them that Wednesday. She had only find time now because of all the homework and revision she had to do for her owls, but it had been her idea to start the D.A. and Harry was busy enough already so she had offered to make up schedules of what they could see during their 'classes'. The fact that she was the one staying up till past midnight, easily slipped her mind. Stretching her back and rolling her shoulders once more, she winced in pain.

"You alright there Mione?"

The brunette looked up to see the only three other people still in the common room. The twins and Lee had been working on some joke stuff ever since she had started on her work, but they had been so quiet she almost forgot they were there with her.

"Yeah, I'm alright." She lied terribly. The moment she had turned around so she could see Fred and the others, she had groaned because her body didn't agree with that movement and she knew the guys had noticed it too.

"You're a terrible liar you know." George scoffed, rolling his eyes at the fifth year.

"Kinda disappointed in you, Mione." Lee spoke. "If you can't even lie to us, how are you gonna lie to all the big, bad Slytherins and the pink toad?"

She knew they were just teasing her, but her face fell anyway. That was one of the things she had been worrying about too... How were they gonna keep this a secret and make sure no one got expelled because of actions she had supported?

She didn't look up when she felt the weight of two hands that got gently placed on her shoulders.

"You're too tensed, Mione." Fred spoke softly. "They were just joking around." He started knead her tensed muscles and she bit her lip to keep herself from groaning again. "Your shoulders feel as if they're carrying the weight of the whole world."

George and Lee had walked over as well and sat down in the empty chairs next to the couch Hermione was sitting on.

"With the amount of paperwork you have laying around here, I wouldn't be surprised if you actually did release Atlas from his task." George muttered, looking at all the parchment covering the table. Hermione looked at the boy, a brow pulled up high.

"Don't be so surprised, Mione. We do know our ancient Greek." Lee joked. "You're not the only one who reads."

"I don't doubt that. I have seen what you three have managed to make... I would be surprised if that was all luck." She leaned into Fred's hands a bit more as he started rubbing circles over her neck to release the stress. He was doing her an immense favour.

"Look at that. I think that's the first positive thing we've ever hear you say about our merchandise." Fred chuckled.

"I have said positive things about your magic." Hermione murmured, trying to come up with an example.

"I doubt that." George answered.

Hermione opened her eyes again and looked closely at both Lee and George before turning her head slightly so she could look at Fred. None of them seemed to be insulted, they were just stating a fact. Fred gently turned her head back so he could go further with her neck, giving her a gentle smile.

"I think I've only heard you tell us off about testing the products and being reckless and stupid." He said. "But it's alright." He shrugged his shoulders.

"After all you just want to protect the small first years." George said.

"The three of you do some extraordinary magic." Hermione said quietly. "I might not show it often but I'm really impressed by what you're doing. I can only wish to be as good as you sometimes." The last sentence was barely a whisper.

"Did I hear that right? Hermione Granger, impressed with us?" George asked, pulling up a brow.

She decided not to answer and closed her eyes again, just giving over at the feeling of Fred's hands loosening up her muscles. For a while, it was just a comfortable silence that filled the common room, only interrupted by the soft sound of a quill on parchment.

"We're going to bed. You coming Fred?" She heard George ask.

"Nah, I still owe our dearest Hermione a massage so I'm just gonna finish it."

She guessed Lee and George had left the room because suddenly even the sound of quill on parchment had disappeared.

"You should look after yourself, Mione." Fred muttered, his hands going down to her shoulders after he had loosened up the muscles in her neck. "Your body... It's so tensed. You don't have to carry the weight of the world all by yourself."

"If someone is carrying the world, it's Harry, Fred. But thank you for your concern." She muttered.

"Can you lay down for me?" He asked. She laid down for him on the couch, opening her eyes to look at the ginger.

"You know you don't have to do this, right?" She asked quietly. "I mean, I like giving massages so you don't have to pay me back for it."

"Are you enjoying this?" Fred asked quietly, sitting down next to her on the couch, and letting his hands travel over her back, before starting to work on her upper back so he could work out the knots that were present there.

"I definitely could use it yeah." She said softly. "Thank you."

He kept sitting next to her and kept massaging her back. He payed attention to every single knot in her back and by the time he was through with every single one of them, Hermione was fast asleep.

"I wish you would take care of yourself, Mione." He whispered softly. "It hurts me to see you like this." He kissed her forehead before conjuring up a blanket. It was two in the morning, he knew she had nine am classes. He could better let her sleep than disturb her night rest even more. Making sure she was comfortable, he went up the stairs and with a last look at her. He went to bed.