#honestly she's also the type to hear a child claim they want to run away to the circus

[harpyartisan]

Fat Dragon Friday, is it? May I present the illustrious Belladonna, the menageries own Fairy Godmother. (Maybe? They aren't sure, but she certainly gives off the impression.) A kind, but glamorous sort, she's always happy to entertain guests, particularly the gaggle of children who often seem to make their way into the not-as-retired-as-claim circus.

[itsmyartfam]

Dadzawa fic rec list

So lately I’ve been reading a lot of Dadzawa fics so I thought I’d share them with you. I shortened down the summaries of some of the longer ones- I didn’t put them in my own words of course, but I just used the shortened snippets that authors sometimes put at the end of their own longer summaries. They’re in no particular order of greatness, and I tried to get a good blend of popular and less popular ones so here u go.

1) i. shaky hands- rexcorvidae

midoriya has chronic pain, and tries to hide it. aizawa deals with this, and learns something surprising along the way.

One-Shot. Honestly their whole whumptober collection is amazing I would totally read them all if you have the time, they’re pretty much all loaded with great Dadzawa content

2) Not all exits are made Equal- LunaLucrea

When a raid goes wrong, and Aizawa gets taken, he's hardly expecting to be found. He's a professional Underground Hero. He's seen situations like this play out before, and knows how the cards usually fall.

He's got people he'll miss of course, and he feels terrible about what this is going to do to Hizashi and Eri, but these are the types of risks he agreed to when he signed on the dotted line all those years ago. He's ready to accept his fate.

Too bad for him his former students are tenacious little shits.

Three chapters. I love seeing how Aizawa interacts with older Midoriya in the first chapter and how he thinks of all of his former students now that they’re pro heroes, he’s such a proud dad but he’s also so self-deprecating and he needs some love and class 1-A will force it on him. Wholesome, 10/10, but also warning for whump! on Aizawa’s part.

3) To the people we admire- The_ crownless_ queen

Eri learns about autographs, and how they're a way for fans to show they like their heroes. Naturally, she wants all of them — and especially Eraserhead's.

One-Shot. I don’t read many Eri fics but my god, this one is adorable. Eri learns about autographs and wants Aizawa’s but his students know that Aizawa doesn’t really give autographs so they devise a plan to get one out of him- basically by making him jealous of Eri getting autographs from every hero but him. It’s wholesome, Dadzawa is like ‘wtf Eri’, I love it.

4) Inhibitions- Thealmostrhetoricalquestion

Todoroki gets zapped by a Quirk that effectively lowers someone's inhibitions, and Aizawa deals with the strange, humorous, heart-breaking fallout.

The train ride back is something of a nightmare. Not because it goes badly, or because something awful happens, but because Aizawa can’t get rid of this feeling in his chest every time he sees Todoroki’s unusual, carefree smile. He looks like nothing has ever hurt him.

One-Shot. Lol, this one’s funny- Todoroki acts all loopy and carefree and Aizawa is frantically scrambling after him trying to make sure he doesn’t get himself into trouble, all while finding out more than he’d ever thought he’d learn about his student. Good shit, good comedy, good angst.

5) I consider myself lucky- alightintheshadows

For some of us, our teachers are the greatest role models we'll ever have.

One-Shot. Ugh, this is so sappy and kinda cheesy but I love it! Izuku gives his dads All Might and Aizawa gifts because he loves is grateful to them. WHOLESOME SHIT

6) Not in the Job Description- IidaRei98

A collection of drabbles revolving around the Dadazawa and Class 1A. Mostly fluff with some hurt/comfort - whatever pops into my head really!

Incomplete, 56/? Chapters. Solid collection of dadzawa drabbles. I didn’t finish reading them all because I get easily distracted away from long fics, but since it doesn’t follow a plot it’s easy to put down and pick back up when you wanna get your dadzawa fix.

7) passing through fire- achievingelysium

“What happened? A villain?”

“Ye- yeah,” Midoriya croaks. Shouta starts walking.

“I was there,” Shouta says, feeling through the words before he speaks, “but I don’t remember?”

Midoriya closes his eyes.

“No,” he agrees, “you wouldn’t. But- but you... were there. With... me.”

Aizawa finds himself in a street with little memory of how he got there. Then he discovers Midoriya, beaten and bruised, who claims Aizawa protected him—but as Aizawa regains pieces of his memory he realizes Midoriya may be lying, and he's the one who's done his own student harm.

One-Shot. OOH, OUCH, FUCKING LOVE THIS ONE! God I love the Dadzawa ANGST in this! I haven’t seen a dadzawa fic with a plot like this before, so I highly recommend checking this one out, especially if you like ANGST! Love it!

8) a penny for your thoughts- cassiopeia721

While visiting Eri at the hospital following her rescue from the Shie Hassaikai, Izuku and Aizawa-sensei both run into a nurse with a telepathy based quirk, and Izuku finds himself in a telepathic bond with his teacher. This is... somewhat worrying, considering how many secrets Izuku needs to keep.

Six chapters. Yet another Dadzawa fic with a unique concept that I have never come across before. Very good, much angst! My only complaint is I wish Izuku could’ve heard a bit more of Aizawa’s angsty thoughts, the whole thought-hearing did feel a bit one-sided at times, but overall it was a very good fic. The angst of Izuku struggling to keep his many secrets from Aizawa for a whole week was *chef’s kiss* Good dad-son bonding.

9) Geyser- spineless

Izuku faints during class when weeks of sleeping and eating poorly catch up with him. Aizawa, All Might, and his friends, remind him that no matter what he's going through, he doesn't have to do it alone.

Three Chapters. Good Dadzawa being all disapproving of his son Izuku pushing himself too hard and not taking care of himself like he can fucking talk lol. But also some angst cuz Izuku is a tormented boi who has been through too much and is Not OkayTM and his dads are there to help him.

10) The World on His Shoulders- baggytshirtsandtiredeyes

During their second year, Aizawa decides to take some of the students on patrol to give them a taste of the underground hero life. But of course, nothing goes as planned when UA's resident Problem Child is involved.

One-Shot. Izuku is a BAMF and Aizawa is like O.O. I can’t say anything more. This fic deserves more attention.

____________________________________________________

Okie dokie, that’s enough for now. If you guys like my recommendations, maybe I’ll make another list in the future! 

[gucciwins]

Roses and Romeo

Harry and Y/N come back to their hometown after eight years to open up a time capsule they buried ten years ago as high school sophomores. 

Word count: 20,534

A/N: Hello beautiful friends, hope you’ve been well. I’m really excited to share this story. It is a former high school sweethearts to lovers. Thank you to @havethetimeofyourstyles Jill for creating timetravelathon and allowing me to participate. I am very sorry it’s later but I finished!!! I do hope you all love it. 

Also this story is my baby, because i’ve never hit 20k before so this was new and exciting. I just had so many ideas for the story.

please come and tell me your favorite part!

_____

DECEMBER 1989 - SENIOR YEAR 

It's December, and all that is on her mind is how the grass would look covered in snow. The cold breeze, an extra jacket to stay warm, a blanket to bundle up with her favorite person. Safe to say, she can only imagine it because California, specifically Southern California, isn't so keen on giving her this one gift she asks for each year.

A huge smile spreads over her face as soon as she sees her house up ahead. 

It's not huge, but it is perfect for Y/N. She has the best memories growing up in a house full of love and laughter and the most gorgeous flowers. The iris and tulips bloomed extra bright this year. There is never a day her mom isn't fixing the garden. Her mother always makes sure she has fresh flowers in her room; right now, for the week, she has purple tulips. Also makes a lovely gift to take to her boyfriend. Harry always blushes when she brings him flowers. 

It also gets her extra kisses. 

Harry parks right outside but doesn't rush out to open her door like always, so she turns to look at him. He's tapping his fingers on the steering wheel; she patiently waits for him to speak up. 

She'd wait all day if she could; he has a beautiful face, one that she will never get tired of gazing at. She especially loves that curl that flops down over his forehead; as much as he pushes it away, it bounces back as if he never moved it.

"It's Friday, love." Harry begins, "I think you should consider coming with me to a party." 

She pouts. "No, I want to listen to that new record my dad found, and I also have lots to study. Big exam on Monday."

"You're always studying." He groans. 

She frowns. "Not true! Calculus is my biggest enemy. Mr. Leanza is not easy on us." 

"Okay, Miss 101%." He pokes her cheek. 

She huffs and crosses her arms over her chest in annoyance. 

"I'm not going to go just for you to tease me." 

Harry leans over and steals a kiss before she can dodge him. "Let's play a game." He sees her roll her eyes but asks her to hear him out. 

She gestures for him to go on. "I go in and quiz you. Zero wrong out of all the flashcards you have in that bag of yours, and I get to take you with me. I already have parent permission. I'll have you know."

She narrows her eyes at him. Not ever surprised that her parents agreed, they trust Harry. He's given them no reason not to. She's about to tell him, no, but he gives her a big smile. His dimples are on full display, and she finds herself agreeing. 

She mutters a small "okay." 

Harry smiles, knowing how she likes to make him work for it, but he really enjoys finding new ways to win her over. He might have cheated, flashing her his dimples that he knows she can't resist, but he never said he played fair. "Only if I get to drive Nessie." 

Nessie is Harry's classy white 1966 Mercedes-Benz 230 SL. She was never interested in cars, but Harry speaks so fondly of his car that she has come to learn so much about it and loves it just as much as Harry and her father together taught her how to change a tire and check the oil on Nessie. They want to prepare her for anything, and she is thankful because Harry likes to test her from time to time. 

Harry smirked, knowing how much she loves driving. She loves it but does not cave in letting her parents get her a car. Her parents have wanted to get her a car since she got her license at sixteen, but Y/N claims it is too much money to spend.

Her parents tell her they have saved enough for her and her education. It's like raising an only child. They remind Y/N all the time since her brother has graduated university and now lives in San Francisco as an engineer in a growing company. 

Harry has been meeting discreetly behind her back with her parents on gifting her a car this Christmas. Although he fears that having a car will mean less of him driving her around. Meaning they will spend less time together and fewer backseat make-out sessions, but on an upside also means he'd have to help her christen it. 

"Darling, you dating me for my car?" 

"Yes, dearie. I started dating you back in our first year because you had Nessie, not because of those dimples and lame jokes.

"You told me you love them!" Harry gasps, offended. 

"Tell you what you want to hear." She shrugs, getting out of the car. 

"Hurting my feelings, love." Harry now stands in front of her taking her bag from her hand and closing the door behind her. 

"Let's get inside." She pushes him to walk in quickly, knowing her parents aren't home yet and her mom isn't due for another thirty minutes, and she would really love to squeeze in a make-out session. 

"Compliment me, then we can go in." Harry stands firm in front of her, a teasing glimmer in his emerald eyes. 

She reaches up and places her hands on his cheek, planting a small kiss on his nose.  

"You're a dreamboat, Styles." She whispers.

Harry can't help the blush that seems to be taking over his entire face. 

She pecks his lips and skips around him. "Let's get studying, then you can help me pick my outfit for later." 

Harry shakes himself out of the trance she always seems to leave him in. "God knows you need it

JUNE 1998 - SUMMER HOME 

Y/N had always known she was a bit crazy but honestly, deciding on making a 44-hour road trip from Massachusetts to California, where her hometown of Aurora takes the cake. 

Yes, she knows how unsafe it is to be a woman on the road alone, but she saved up for the trip and would be spending the entire summer home for the first time since graduating high school. A plus was that she knows the map really well, having studied it hard like one of her anatomy books. Also, helped that her father quizzed her on what roads and exits she would be taking. 

She's a good driver; her father always told her everyone else is who she had to watch out for. Honestly, she thanked her family for pushing her to drive more, and now she loves being behind the wheel. 

The road was never-ending, taking her where she wanted, and currently, she was aiming for home. 

It's four hours until she reaches home, a home she has not lived in for over eight years. A place that holds her most precious memories as well as most heartbreaking.

She's driving with the window down, enjoying the breeze, knowing the heat will only get worse the closer to home. A car passes next to her; she looks over briefly, taking in the vehicle's blue color. It does look a bit old; as the driver accelerates their speed, she notices that it's a Mercedes-Benz but can't make the model seeing as the driver must be eager to reach their destination now speeding off. If she's honest, those types of cars remind her of one person, and that's how she knows she'll never escape because she finds meaning for them in anything and everything life has to offer. 

The last few hours on the road pass relatively quickly because the next thing she knows, she's parking her Jeep Cherokee in what she used to call her parking. This car has spent nine years with her and runs like a dream. It was a gift from her parents, and at the time, she was nervous about the gesture but really grew to love it. It also came in handy, seeing as she now lives far from home and visits as much as she can. She hopes to make more trips up now that she has residency but knows it will be harder to get holidays off. 

Her parents understand; they do. She's following her dreams and achieving each one, and that is all they could ever ask for. 

Y/N gets out and gets her suitcase; it has her essentials and anything she's missing; she can come out later to get it, well her father will most likely fight her and do it on his own. 

Just as she is about to open the door, it swings open. Her mother doesn't give her any time to react and simply wraps her in a hug. A tight one full of love and happiness, an embrace she will never get tired of. 

"Hi, momma," Y/N murmurs, not at all ready to let go.

"Hello, my sweet girl. It's good to have you home." 

"It's good being here. Feel younger already." 

"Ah, same here. Come inside; I have lemonade served up and muffins because they are your favorite." 

Y/N smiles, knowing how much her mother made sure to have her well-fed always. No matter what she told her, she wanted her with meat on her bones. This also meant anyone who she brought home was given a big meal as well. Telling everyone and anyone they were too thin then proceeding to provide them with a second serving. This was her mother's way of getting into people's hearts through their stomachs. 

Y/N walked into the kitchen and smiled at how nothing had changed. Hanging on the refrigerator were her three graduation photos: high school at seventeen, ready to take the world by storm, at twenty-one graduating with the highest honor from Columbia University, and the last was graduating Harvard Medical school this past spring. She knew the next to join would be a photo of her on the first day of her residency. 

"Your father refuses to take any down; when your brother comes into town, he complains. Your dad shuts him up by telling him to go be a doctor, and then they could talk." 

It warms Y/N's heart that her parents are proud of all the accomplishments she has made. It's been a tough road, but nothing stops her until she accomplishes her goals, and starting her residency is the next stop. 

"Like dad's office is covered full of his accomplishments since entering that job in San Francisco." She jokes, transitioning the conversation away from herself.

"The oldest child always seems to be the most jealous." Her mother reminds her.

After eating a muffin or two, her mom sends her off on a walk, not wanting her to be cooped up in the house on her first day back. She has always loved walking around. It's something she did when her friends weren't able to offer her a ride. Also, her parents would walk her to the park every weekend growing up to run around in the grass and ruin more clothes with grass stains.

It's no surprise that she arrives at the entrance of the town's park. It looks like there is no one around until she really enters and finds a family seated on a picnic planet as their youngest tries feeding their oldest strawberries. It's a sweet sight. 

She keeps going, not at all wanting to disturb; soon enough, she enters the part of the park no one really visits and finds the old park bench with lots of initials carved in the wood, hers included. It creaks as she sits on it; she smiles, knowing that it is something that has not changed. 

There aren't many flowers in this corner, just a big willow tree offering her shade that she very much enjoys. 

It's nice being home, she's missed it, but she has loved living in new places, making new friends and connections. She spent her first four years in New York, and she loved the environment. It was a university filled with thousands of people never seeing the same face twice in the halls. Everyone was always in a rush to get somewhere but not here, not at home. Everyone stops her for a conversation. They talk to her as if no time has happened, as if she was still the young girl who helped her mom tend the garden each weekend. 

In a way, she always will be. 

She wanted this time to explore and travel because she knows this where she'll come back one day to lay her roots. She and her future husband will marry here, maybe at the botanical garden with the beautiful flower arch all year round. It's where she sees her children growing up and running around as she once did. She's got her residency to finish up, but she's looking forward to when she can call Aurora home again. 

After sitting for a while, she decides she will come back with a book or two next time. If she's going to be here all summer might as well start by doing some reading on books she has not gotten around to reading. Y/N is thinking about leaving when her eyes spot a couple coming down a hidden path, a small daisy behind the girl's ear, her arm tight around her boyfriend's arm. He's got the biggest smile on his face. They look so lost in each other, one can feel their love. 

It reminds her of when she used to do that. When she did that with Harry before they broke up and never spoke again. It breaks her heart, but it also brings back some of the best memories. He'd always bring her here just so they could talk for hours so that she'd tell him more about the flowers and to kiss in private. 

One of her favorite memories is when they were in their third year of high school, and he asked to meet for a surprise. She stands up and shakes the memory away, not wanting to get lost in her thoughts. It's harder to do now that she's home and she can see him everywhere she looks. 

With that last thought brushed away, she decides to walk back home. She's got a few days to herself before meeting with everyone; there was the big reason she was back in town. 

It was time to open a box of memories. 

APRIL 1989 - JUNIOR YEAR

Harry is up to something. 

She suspects something because he made her walk to the park when he would always be quick to offer her a ride. Sure, it's only a ten-minute walk from her house, but he always says something along the lines that not everyone is as kind as they seem. 

It's April, and the flowers are in full bloom. She hears the birds singing, and she swears they sing of the beauty of the flowers. It's also bee season, meaning lots will be around the park, and as much as she loves them, Harry has a big fear of them. Y/N has mentioned various times that they don't mean to harm him; it can just happen. Especially if they get startled.

Y/N takes note of a new flower; it's a small white four-petaled flower that grows in fragrant clusters. They smell divine, but she knows she has never seen them. She really wishes she had her father's polaroid on her to take a photo and show her mother. Any other day she would turn back to do just that, but Harry is waiting on her. 

She walks to the back of the park where Harry has claimed their spot, their initials carved in the bench make sure of that. He's standing next to the viola's, and they stand dull next to Harry. 

"Hiya, angel." Harry greets hands hiding behind his back.

"Hello." She greets softly; Harry can easily note she's nervous. Any other time she would have given him the biggest hug, but right now is keeping an appropriate distance. 

"Are you nervous?" He teases, which honestly calms her down because if he's teasing her, it surely means he doesn't want to break up so she can toss that idea right out. 

The last few ideas left are that it's an important anniversary and she's forgotten, or he just wanted to be romantic. 

She hopes it's the latter. 

"Not so much anymore." She replies truthfully, stepping closer, desperately wanting to give him a hug. He looks warm in his knitted baby blue sweater; she knows it was a Christmas gift from his grandmother, his new favorite. 

 If he's not wearing his cardigan, he's wearing his varsity jacket, but it's at the dry cleaners because when it's not in his possession, it's in hers. She likes the heaviness of it, how small it makes her look. Harry is the perfect height, standing at what she thinks is 6'0, but she can't be too sure. His broad shoulders only seem to grow stronger each summer after returning from two weeks of football camp. At this point, she wears his varsity jacket more than he does. Sure, she can get an academic one she has more than enough patches to choose from, but it just isn't the same; besides, she rather spend her money on books and records. 

Harry tells her his favorite thing about her wearing his jacket is that it has his last name. He knows marriage is long down the line, but he does hope to share the same last name one day. 

It's his most prominent dream.

But currently, his big dream at the age of seventeen is asking the prettiest girl to prom. 

Harry brings his hands forward to reveal a dozen lavender roses in his hand. Y/N gasps at their beauty, not at all expecting this. They are gorgeous, and she can't wait to show them off to her mom as soon as she gets home. 

"My love," Harry starts closing the gap between them and bringing her left hand to his lips to place a soft kiss before setting it back down to rest close to his heart that is beating just for her. "Will you do me the honor of being my date to prom?"

She smiles wide, not at all expecting him to ask, let alone for it to be this romantic and intimate. 

"Yes, of course." She wraps her arms around his neck, and Harry spins her around, letting out a small holler of excitement. 

"The roses are beautiful; they must have cost you a pretty penny," Y/N tells him as soon as he sets her down so she can admire them again.

"Well, darling. You're worth every one. It also pays that your mom gets on well with the town's florist." 

She giggles, nodding. 

"Now, how about we walk over to my car and celebrate with a make-out." Harry wiggles his eyebrows at her, knowing he needs very little to convince her. 

"Harry!" She chastises, looking around to see if anyone heard, but the park is empty, not a soul in sight. "How about we take a stroll around the park, then we'll see afterward." 

"You're a little tease, love." She leans in and pecks his lips two times. He tries for a third, but she hurries off. 

"Come on, dove. We've got to see the rest of the flowers that are blooming." Y/N's voice is full of excitement at the chance of walking around the park for the next hour, hand in hand with her boyfriend. 

Harry grins happily, following after her, he may be young, but he knows he will do whatever is in his power to always see her happy and smiling.

JUNE 1998 - HOME

"Dad!" She yells as soon as she walks in the door; she sees him stand quickly from his seat on the couch and embraces her in a big hug.

"My baby is home." He whispers. 

"I missed you." 

"I missed you too, sweetheart."

"How was work?" 

"Awful, when I knew I had my two favorite girls at home waiting for me."

Y/N laughs. "Always a sap, dad." 

Her mother makes her presence known. "This is a lovely sight. I've missed it." 

"Yes, as have I." Her father gives her one last kiss to her head and lets her go. 

"Any plans?" Her mother questions walking back from the kitchen, placing a cup of tea for Y/N on an old family coaster. 

Y/N takes a seat on the couch, as do both her parents wanting to carry on the conversation.

"I'm meeting Sarah and Sydney for breakfast one of these days, most likely going to spend the entire day together. Then, everyone else won't be coming around until the week after. Think it will be on Friday, seeing as that is what worked for everyone's schedule. 

"Happy to see your friends." Her mom states, the wide smile on Y/N’s face confirming her statement.

"Yes, chatting isn't as easy as when we were in high school seeing each other that day. There are lots of emails sent back and forth between us." 

"Glad you girls stayed closed. Was worried you would all drift away." She reaches forward to squeeze Y/N's knee. 

Y/N knew she meant it about Harry. How no one thought anything would come between them that they would make it through university and settle down soon after. Oh, how wrong they all were. As much as they hoped for the best, they were each other's downfall. 

"It's a bit late; I'm going to shower and head to bed instead."

"Before you go, can I say something?"

Y/N recognizes the gleam in her mother's eye and nods, knowing she has to get this off her chest. 

"It's sadly a man's world out there, but you have managed to make it your own." She reaches forward and takes Y/N's hand in hers, pressing a gentle kiss before settling it in her lap. Y/N smiles. "I know you long to love and share it with someone, and I want you to remember that the person for you is out there. As a mother, I know these things, and I wish you nothing but the greatest things in life, but they all come when we are ready for it."

Tears well up in Y/N's eyes, she nods. Not replying to her mother's words because she knows if she speaks, she will cry. 

"Lorelai, you made her cry." He whispers, pulling both women into a squished hug. 

"I've always had your father, and I hope you find that someone for yourself." 

She pulls back and wipes her tears away. "Thank you." Y/N leaves her parents with a final hug.

She heads up the stairs to the room that holds all the memories she has kept locked away. In her home, there are no longer any photos of her friends or of him. Not like before, where they were spotted on every wall displayed for all to see. Her mother took them off after she left for university. It broke her mother's heart to see her suffer such a big heartbreak. Harry had become like another son to her parents, so they were all sharing the heartbreak. She missed everything about him, but it has been years since they last spoke. 

It's been eight years since they last talked, last kissed but not the last she's thought of him. He's coming for the time capsule opening, and as much as she tries to convince herself she's going to be alright, she knows she's not. Yes, she's moved on. She has built a life without him in it, but it doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. 

All she can do is count the days until she leaves Aurora and goes back to the comfort of her apartment in Massachusetts. 

____

It's been a week since she's been home, and she knows everyone will show up in two days. The friends she was sure she'd never lose touch with but slowly did with time no matter how each tried, but life moves on. 

Y/N is nervous to see everyone. She's changed in the last eight years, but so has everyone else. She misses what they used to have in high school but honestly, getting to hear what everyone has been up to will be fun. Who knows, it might feel as if not time has passed at all? 

She met up with Sarah and Sydney earlier for breakfast at the old dinner. The girls spent a good five minutes embraced in a hug before they took their seats. They ordered too much to eat but, to no surprise, finished it all by the end of their conversation. 

The time together was spent mostly catching up and jumping from topic to topic. She did feel she was asked one too many questions about starting her residency and how they will be addressing her as a "doctor."

Y/N brought up Sarah's love life wanting to hear how they were doing. Sarah and Mitch did not start dating until after graduating high school, finding out they were going to the same university just an hour away from their hometown. Everyone was aware of Mitch's heart eyes for Sarah, but she was too focused on her internship, always wanting to do good. One can imagine how happy everyone was when news spread that Sarah asked Mitch out and was quick to say yes. Now eight years later, were happily moved in together. Sarah is a music engineer, and Mitch a music teacher at the local high school; as mellow as Mitch is, he gets on well with the teens. 

Having focused on love and Sydney quickly saying nothing new was going on with her, just that she was more in love than she could have ever imagined, it was time to hound Y/N, it seems. They asked about her love life and how good-looking the boys in Massachusetts are.

Y/N told them how nonexistent her love life has been since she graduated high school. It's not something she ever made time for, and her friends understand as much as they hate that for her. Sydney did not stop herself from making a joke on what seems to be Y/N's long dry spell. She shrugged it off, not at all bothered. Y/N assured them she knows how to take care of her own needs until the right person comes along. They all knew who she hoped would be the right person, but they knew better than to bring him up.

Once again, there was a change of pace. Sarah surprised them with tickets to Spice Girls at a sold-out Madison Square Garden concert on July first. Six tickets, a perfect number for their friend group. It was perfect, honestly. Sarah figured they'd road trip up the last week of June and could stay in Y/N's shared apartment with her roommate, who would not be home yet. Then take a train up to New York for the show. Also, told them they'd have hotel rooms for the night already, having an idea there would be an after-party. Y/N was all for it as was Sydney. 

Y/N has always loved concerts; it's something she saves for not bothered to spend some money to enjoy a great show for one of her favorite artists, especially in good company. The long queues were a downfall, but not everything is perfect. She has gone to concerts and knows that one can make the best experience out of floor seats and nosebleeds. Artists never fail to amaze. 

It reminds her of the first concert she ever went to that Harry took her to their senior year. The ticket stub she has pinned next to a polaroid that a stranger offered to take for them. It was before the show, and they had matching grins. It's still one of her favorites, and the reason she doesn't take it down is too good of a memory to keep hidden away. 

While seeing Sarah and Sydney was good and everything she hoped it would be, it did not prepare her to see the others. She had not talked to Zac in a long while, having no idea what he was up to. Mitch is quiet and only says hello when she has called with Sarah and Harry; well, it's like she doesn't exist to him. Not since their last day together. 

Y/N has two days to prepare.

Two days to wrap her head around the fact that she's going to see Harry. 

AUGUST 1989 - SENIOR YEAR

Many people told her to enjoy her high school years because they would fly by, and she accepted the advice and made memories to last a lifetime in the three years leading up to her senior year. Her friends and family have made each year memorial. Still, there is something about senior year, and knowing that it is their last year before university has her excited and anxious. 

Harry repeatedly told her how he wanted it to be their best year yet and promised to do just that. She has no doubt in her mind he will accomplish that in whatever way. He's managed to do so year after year. 

Harry made sure to pick her up each morning, never wanting her to worry about walking alone to school or arriving late. He made sure he knocked on her door every morning.

Depending on the time he showed up, he was ushered in for a homemade breakfast, or sometimes he said a quick hello before grabbing her hand and rushing out the door because they were running behind schedule, and Harry knew he could not make her arrive late. 

One thing that was always constant was how he carried her bag to his car and opened her door. He made sure she was settled before reaching down for his morning kiss. Sometimes, he went as far as putting on her seatbelt, just wanting to be close to her. 

Today was Monday, and he usually comes in, but today he selfishly told her to grab him a slice of toast because he was in a hurry. She didn't question him and sent her apologies. Her mom kissed her cheek and told her not to worry about it. A true angel, her mother was.  

Harry slipped her bag over his shoulder before ushering her in. She felt a little flustered with his urgency but let him be. He stole a quick kiss before going to the driver's seat. 

"What's got you in a rush today?" She asks, genuinely worried. 

He smirks, looking over at her. He seems calm, not that they've driven away from her house. "Thought we could use the extra time for some kisses. You deprived me this Sunday." He pouts at her, waiting for the light to turn green. 

"H, you know I have dinner with my grandparents one Sunday a month." She chastises him.

"I know, darling, doesn't mean I like it." He tells her. "Had to suffer a Sunday alone." 

"Well, at least I know how I can make it up to you." She teases. 

Arriving at school, Harry parks toward the back under a shady tree, one far away from everyone. 

"Want to sit on my lap, baby?" He asks, spreading his thighs, and as much as she wants to, she shouldn't knowing very well what he can convince her to do when in his lap. 

"Later, H." She promises. 

"I'm holding you to that, angel." He unclips her seatbelt, quickly placing his lips on hers. 

She feels how smooth his lips are and knows he stole her cherry lip balm again. "Harry, that's the third lip balm you've taken in two weeks." She pulls away, rubbing her thumb over his bottom lip that he juts out. He gives her thumb a soft kiss. 

"Swear I was going to put it back this time." He moves closer, placing a kiss on her neck, slowly trailing down, pushing his varsity jacket down her shoulder, exposing more of her neck. Her black corduroy pants and white acrylic sweater, and her favorite worn-out Mary Jane's mother have been begging her to change out. She likes to think it adds an extra flair to her outfit. "You drive me crazy when you wear my jacket," He whispers in her ear.

"Does that mean you're always going crazy?" She whispers back, knowing he mostly wears the jacket during game days. 

"Always make me lose my mind." 

After a fun half-hour of making out, Y/N pushes him back, knowing she has matching bruised lips. She loves that everyone can see what she did to him. She also may have sucked a little too hard on the skin right below his collar, the love bite just barely visible. She pulls down the sun visor, looking in the mirror to straighten out her hair, that Harry just loves digging his fingers into. 

"Baby, what did you do?" Harry says, looking at the fresh mark just by his collar bone. 

She smirks, knowing very well that Harry loves when she marks him. Not doing it very often in fear of getting caught by their parents. 

"Got to remind those girls that stare at you who you belong to." She reapplies her lip balm before layering the new lip gloss her mom got for her the other day. 

"You know I've only got eyes for you, love." He says, caressing her cheek softly. 

His gentle tone of voice always makes her soft, but it also might be that his accent seems to stand out even more. 

"I know, H." She leans in to give him one more kiss but pulls back quick enough to not let him deepen it. 

"Sneaky, baby." He clicks his tongue at her, rushing out and rounding the car to open her door, offering her his hand. 

She gladly accepts it, placing a kiss on both cheeks before landing on his lips. 

"I love you, Styles." She whispers against his lips, eyes closed as she tries to catch her breath. 

"And I love you, my darling angel." He softly nuzzles her nose, causing her to let out a small giggle. 

"Let's get you to class." He says, throwing his arm over her shoulder pulling her in close. 

Harry is smiling wide; she takes notice as she looks up. He looks extra giddy. 

Too giddy, and it has nothing to do with their steamy make-out. 

She narrows her eyes at him, "what's got you extra smiley?" 

"Nothing, happy all the time."

"Nuh, uh. Styles. I know you. Fess up!" She stops walking, wanting him to answer her.

"It's because my girl marked me up today for all to see. Makes me feel special." He answers smoothly. 

Y/N looks at him in suspicion, not buying a single word he's saying, "I'm onto you, Styles."

Harry lets out a deep breath before stepping close to her. "Let me surprise you, darling." 

She instantly relaxes. "Okay, only because you know I like surprises."

"Thank you." He rests his forehead against her, happy to be in her space, forgetting all around him until he hears a shout of his name. 

Moment over, it seems.

"Let's get you to English Literature," Harry murmurs, intertwining his hand with hers making sure she's close by as Sarah greets her.

_____

It's lunchtime when they walk hand in hand to the lunch tables where Mitch and Sarah sit, stalling their conversion to greet them. Before she can take a seat next to Sarah, Harry pulls her in his lap. He leans in close to her ear and whispers that he'll give her his chocolate chip cookies Anne had baked. She silently agrees, grabbing the bag Harry was offering her. What he didn't disclose is that his mum had sent them specifically for her. They have three empty seats, but she can see Zac and Sydney approaching, carrying food trays. Meaning, neither had lunch prepared for the day. 

Y/N leans back against Harry getting comfortable, knowing that he wouldn't be letting her go any time soon. The chatter begins with how their weekend went and what this week's activities are. She knows she doesn't have much to do this week; her club meetings don't meet until next week. Harry has football practice all week, meaning she either visits the library or finds a ride home. She doesn't mind staying and watching his training, but Harry hates knowing she sits there alone for so long. He rather have her be home warm and cozy than on the cold bleachers.

Harry asks for her attention by placing a kiss on her neck, his tell sign that he's feeling left out. 

"Yes, H," She whispers for only him to hear. 

"Need your attention. Don't like sharing." 

"You're extra needy this Monday, dove." Y/N has his hands in her lap as she begins to trace circles on his palm; it's something that soothes him instantly. 

"I just want to know our plans this weekend." He kisses her cheek, nuzzling his face in her neck. "Rather you get parent permission early on than last-minute giving them a chance to say no." 

Harry's right; there are occasions where her parents have said no, and Y/N finds herself sneaking out from her window that conveniently has an old tree that makes it all the easier. 

Her parents trust them together, but if they really knew what happened behind locked doors, they would think otherwise.

"Do you want to go kiss a little?" He wants her to say yes. 

"At your car or in the abandoned hallway?" 

"What's quieter?" 

"The hallway, and it's closer." 

Harry nods, gently grabbing her waist and helping her stand. "We'll see you later," Harry says, interrupting their conversations. 

"Oh, Styles, you've corrupted her." Zac teases very well, grasping what they were about to go do.

"Think she's corrupted me. Who knew angels could be so dangerous?" Harry teases in front of their friends. 

Y/N feels her face warm, bidding them all a quiet goodbye. Harry, having rendered her a bit speechless. She swears she never knows what is going to come out of his mouth. 

Harry all but drags her to the hallway. He gently pushes her back against the wall next to an older poster for the school play. Y/n glances down at his lips before looking into his eyes.

"Did you really bring me here to kiss, or are you spilling the surprise?" Her eyes are big and filled with hope. 

"Sorry, baby. Really did want some kisses from you." He pulls her closer wanting no space in between them. "Really missed you. Can't believe we only have one class together." 

"It's like they know you wouldn't pay attention to me in a class with you." She teases.

"Kissy." He pouts his lips, feeling like they've talked enough. 

Who is she to deny him when he asks so sweetly. 

Y/N always felt like time stopped when she kissed Harry. She felt her heart pounding in her chest as her knees grew weak, and as if Harry knew, he wrapped his arm around her waist, keeping her up. Harry pulls away slowly, a smile growing on his face. He would never tire of kissing her. 

Harry leans in and nuzzles his head in the crook of her necks, slowly beginning to place kiss after kiss before he finds his favorite spot and begins to suck lightly, pulling a surprised moan from her. 

She pushes him back. "No love bites that high. It will keep us locked up in the house all weekend supervised. 

Harry tenses at the thought, knowing fully well her parents would do that, having done it before when they first started dating, and he thought more with the thing in his pants than his brain. "I guess I'll just have to bruise these pretty lips."

Never one to tell him no, a small nod is enough to make Harry lean in and take her breath away. He'd kiss her forever if he could, but the last fifteen minutes of lunch break would have to do for now. 

_____

Monday's always drag on; she goes home, does homework, reads a book, and waits for dinner to be ready. Most days, she joins her mother in cooking; both like conversing about their days. More than ever, they have lots to talk about, from holiday plans to the universities she is applying for. She has saved up allowance allowing her to use it for more universities than the average three. If it was up to her, she'd send one to all the universities because that is how confident she is not only about her grades but how she comes off as a student on paper. 

Dumping most of her books in her locker, she keeps Calculus in her bag, knowing the sooner that homework gets done, the less stress she'll have. Just as she shuts her locker, she hears footsteps approaching her. 

"Is my girl ready to go?" 

"She is." 

Harry swings his arm over her shoulder, and they begin to walk out the school doors that are kept wide open. There are groups of students lingering talking to another, and in the distance can hear cars driving away eager to get away. 

Y/N smiles at a girl who sends her a wave, recognizing her from her English course. Harry walks them under a tree, a reasonable distance away from everyone because, as she has come to know, he likes kissing her in private. 

"Our first game is in two weeks." Harry reminds her.

"Yes, exciting." 

"Will you be there, or is there a test to study for?" He teases. 

She frowns and takes him by the lapels of his varsity jacket that she gave back to him at the end of lunch because she claimed it was losing his smell. 

"Don't start, Harry. You know I've never missed a game, and I won't start now." 

"Was only teasing, love." 

"Didn't like it." 

"Sorry, love. Forgive me? He pouts, wanting her to smile at him instead of frown. 

"You know my price." Y/N shrugs. 

He sighs, nodding his head three times before moving to get on his knees, toying with unbuttoning her pants. 

She gasps and jumps away. "Harry!"

Harry can't help but smirk, "Isn't that always the price."

"I just wanted a kiss; no need to make a scene." He shrugs. "Now, don't you have a practice to get to?"

"Ugh, I do." Harry groans, dreading practice knowing the coach likes to run them twice as much for not working out on the weekends. 

"Give me a kiss, please. Then you'll come by later, right?"

"That is correct." He leans in, giving her three consecutive pecks on her lips. 

"Who's taking you home again?" He asks, wanting to make sure she's safe. 

"Sarah and Mitch." 

"Right, good. Well, off I go, poppet." 

"Bye." 

Harry turns and heads toward the field, where he can see the freshman already setting up drills and getting the water jug out to the bench. He's only taken a few steps when his angel's voice stops him. 

"Dove," 

Harry can feel his cheeks turn bright red at the term of endearment. He turns and takes two steps back to her. "Yes, lovie." 

"Will you give me one more kiss?" Her voice soft and innocent but the gleam in her eye is anything but that. 

Harry takes the last step towards her and holds her face with both hands reaching down and kissing her passionately. He pulls away after what feels like a lifetime, slowly as he tries to steady his breathing. 

"I love you," she whispers.

He presses a final kiss to her forehead. "And I love you." Harry turns and begins to jog away, recognizing he's got a limited time to get dressed and out on the field to warm up. He's a few feet away but turns his head to see her watching him still. "Tell your mom I'll be joining you for dinner." 

She nods, letting him know she heard him before he turns a corner and out of her eyesight. Only then does she go in search of her waiting friends who will bring her home. 

______

After Y/N informed her mother that Harry was going to join them for dinner, she got up to cook, wanting everything to be ready for when her father and Harry arrived, seeing it would be around the same time.

Y/N made herself scarce as her mother was in no mood to converse. Instead, she wanted to cook, and maybe if she planned her time accordingly, she would do dessert. 

Dinner time came around quickly, meaning she was lost in homework for a good few hours. She walked downstairs wanting to help her mom set the table when the front door swung open. 

"Hello, father!" Y/N bounced over to him, giving him a big hug and a peck on his cheek, one that he happily returned.

"Hi, my sweet girl." 

"Mom cooked a delicious dinner. We're just waiting on Harry." Y/N told him, knowing he's hungry from a long day at work.

"Won't have to wait long; Harry was just parking when I was on the steps." 

Y/N's eyes lit up at hearing that he arrived. Her father chuckled, "I'll go say hello to my wife, dinner in ten, okay." 

Y/N walks out to see Harry coming up the stairs in a cozy blue emblem sweater with denim Levi jeans and paired with his old white Chuck All-Stars. She smiled because he went home to shower, not wanting to wear his clothes from earlier or come over smelling like sweat, not that she minded. 

"You know we don't mind the sweat, H," She tells him as he's climbing up the last few steps. 

He shrugs. "I know, but I am a guest in your home and would never dare disrespect your parents and you, of course." 

Y/N grins. "Four years dating, and you continue to prove to be the most perfect boyfriend." 

Harry looks away, feeling bashful. "I wouldn't go that far." 

"I would, dove." Y/N closes the gap between them. "Now, I say you kiss me before mom calls us in for dinner." 

"It would be my greatest pleasure." 

____

Dinner was a success, conversation always flowing well. Y/N likes to sit back and listen to her parents talk with Harry as if they hadn't seen him in forever when he is more than likely to be here every other day. Her father is a big fan of football; he too was once a player. No, he wasn't quarterback; he was right-wing and helped his team make it to state championships. 

The high school team has won three state championships since Harry's first year as a freshman. They counted on making it the fourth year; no doubt in anybody's mind it would happen. Y/N picked up on her father's excitement going on and on about the first game and how it was the most important one now that scouts would be coming out more and more. Without a second thought, she reached over and placed her hand on his thigh, lightly squeezing, reassuring Harry she was there for him. He slowly turned the hand on his thigh palm up and intertwined them together. 

"Thank you so much for dinner, Lorelai. Luke, thank you for the great conversation. I can't wait to see you both at the game."

"We wouldn't dare miss it, Harry," Lorelai tells him, a wide grin on her face as she picks up the dishes. 

"Now go on; I'll help your mother with the dishes tonight." Luke gestures to them to get up and get their privacy. Y/N thanks him and takes Harry's hand, leading the way up the stairs. 

Now they are lying on her bed, it's got enough space for them to be spread out, but she prefers to lay across Harry, her head on his chest as he rests his head on her pillows. 

Harry had his hand in her hair, always calming for her and for him. Allows them to sit in comfortable silence, basking in the joy of being together. 

Many people ask them if they ever get sick of seeing each other every day and never giving each other space after dating for so long. That isn't entirely true because when they aren't at their respective extracurricular activities, they are found together. Harry's response is always, "she's my favorite person." Y/N just shrugs and smiles, "he's my best friend." 

Believe it or not, they spent around in her room listening to music or in his house watching movies from their grand VHS collection. Most thought they spent it making it out, not that they don't do that because they are just as in love as when they got together four years ago. When they walked into any room, her parents were sure they would be kissing, which is why the open door policy exists. Well, half-open is the agreement now. 

Harry looks around her room, his eyes settling on the polaroid photo on her bedside table, one of them smiling at each other, lost in their own worlds. It's dated 06-18-1989<i<, it was from one of their many summer days spent together. He decided now was as good as time to bring up what he had been hiding. 

"You know how we were making plans for the weekend, sweetheart."

"Yes, you didn't let us decide on anything." 

"Well, what if I did?"

She sits up and moves to sit in front of him. "Okay, I'm all ears. 

"You up for a drive?"

"Always, so drive me to the moon, please." 

Harry laughs. "Serious for a sec, baby."

"Sorry, yes, go on then." She interrupts him once more. "How far is the drive? You're not always the best driver."

"Ouch" Harry has his hand over his heart, feigning as if her words had pierced him. "Guess I won't tell you."

"That's fine." 

"Yeah. Is it?" 

"Yup." 

"Why's that?" He's confused; she's usually begging to know by now. 

"Simple, because I just won't give you any kisses."

"That's cruel."

"Oh well. I don't play fair." 

"Think you can resist me, sweetheart?" 

"Oh, I know I can." 

Harry shakes his head, response ready, but she stops him. "Remember who asked who out five different times."

"That's because you were playing hard to get. Claiming you just wanted to be friends for a little longer." 

"That was tru-" It's his turn to stop her.

 "Ah, yes, I know. I was getting impatient. Don't know if you know this or not, darling, but I had to scare off a lot of boys. 

"Trust me, H. I knew" 

"You did?" 

"Yes, I think it was because everyone knew sooner or later I was going to put you out of your misery."

"Yeah, by saying yes." 

"Oh no, I was going to say no."

"What changed?" Clearly, something had, and he just had to know. 

"You decided to show up at school wearing your Sunday best and brought me sunflowers. Told me they reminded you how much light I brought into your life. There I decided yes, he'll make a fine boyfriend."

Harry's smile is big, dimples on display just for her. Always for her. "You tease too much."

"But you love it."

"I do." He leans in and smiles as she lets him lead the kiss. It's slow and full of love. A love that only continues to grow each moment they are together. "I really do."

Y/N leans in, wanting to give him more kisses, wanting to be connected to him, wanting him to always feel her love. She's not sure how much time has passed when Harry pulls away. 

"You do realize we got sidetracked." 

"Yes, worth it if you ask me." She looks pleased. "Now you have to tell me, I gave you kisses."

Harry runs his thumb over her bottom lip, asking for another. She puckers her lips leaning forward, and connects their lips in a short soft kiss.

"Friday night, the Forum."

Y/N's eyes go wide; she was not expecting to hear that.

"No."

"Yes."

She sits there taking it in.

"Say it, baby." Harry likes that he managed to surprise her. 

"You got us tickets for Elton John." She whispers out, her eyes now locked with his needing him to confirm it.

"Yes, I did." 

"A sold-out show."

"Think it's going to be a fun night."

"How?" Although Y/N has an idea.

"Well, I called in on a favor with our dear friend Sarah and the radio station she's interning at." 

"I love her." She breathes out.

"Hey," Harry knocks her out of her gaze. "And me." 

"Of course, I love you." She moves forward, seating herself in his lap. "I love you. I can't believe you did this for me." 

"Yes, can't let you go off to uni without experiencing a concert." 

"You are perfect, Styles."

"Perfect for you."

There's so much love in between them; if anyone walked into the room, they'd be able to feel it. 

"Wait." Her hands now resting on his chest, a frown taking over her face. "How are we going to convince my parents." 

"Already done. Told them the plan and the itinerary, and your parents have agreed." 

"Perfect, I'm telling." 

"Is this why we're walking to school tomorrow?" She remembers him telling her he won't have his car. 

"Yes, taking it to the mechanic. I just want to make sure all is okay." 

"Marry me?" 

Harry can feel his cheeks warming up; she always makes him blush. He takes hold of her left hand and brings it up to his lips, leaving a gentle kiss on her ring finger. 

"All in good time, my love."

_____

The week had dragged on, but it was finally Friday. She had been excited all week, and everyone could tell. Told her how she was jumpier, a lot more smiley, and twice as affectionate with Harry. She was happy.

She's at home getting ready; they would be leaving soon. Seeing as it was still a bit of a drive and no doubt would get stuck in traffic, seeing as they aren't the only ones attending the show. 

Y/N had gone over outfit after outfit until she finally decided on what she is wearing now. She's wearing a deep red power shoulder tucked into her favorite high-waist denim that makes her waist and butt look extra good. 

As she walks down the stairs, she hears the door and knows Harry is here to take her away. No matter what, he always stepped up to the door to pick her up; it still made the butterflies in her stomach go crazy. 

Her father is at the door speaking with Harry going over her extended rules and what numbers to call for an emergency. 

"Well, aren't you a dream," Harry looks her up and down; she does a slow spin for him on the heel of her black boots to give him the full look. "I'm a lucky man." 

"Glad you know it, H." 

She grabs hold of his brown leather jacket and runs her finger down it, it's an old one, but he takes such good care of it; one would think he just got it today. 

"Think you just took my breath away, H." She swears there are hearts in her eyes as she takes him in.

"That's exactly what I was going for." 

Harry and Y/N bid her parents goodbye; they wish them a safe journey. Her mother was excited to send her off; her father was a bit more worried but trusted Harry to keep her safe. 

The drive to the arena is filled with conversation over the upcoming year, Harry's final football season, and her volunteering hours how she was hoping to be accepted into the NICU's internship at their hospital. Also, lots of singing on the radio as well as Harry's CDs. From ABBA to Shania Twain, he had, but they settled on Elton John for the ride. 

In what feels like no time, they had arrived. Y/N is amazed at how big it is; she doesn't know much about the place just from what Sarah told her that it was large and no matter where she sat, she was going to have the best time of her life. Already having Harry at her side, she had no doubt about it. She can't stop smiling, and neither can Harry.

Harry grabs her hand as they both stare at the arena, where hundreds of people are lining up to enter. 

"Ready, love." 

"Yes, gosh. I might throw up from the excitement." 

"Oh no, let's get you a pop. It'll help."

"That sounds nice." Y/N leans up and gives him a gentle kiss. "Thank you, H." 

"Angel, I am more than happy to do this for you." 

Hand in hand, they walked into the arena, ready to sing their hearts out together. 

_____

Two hours of singing and dancing her heart off, and yet it still wasn't enough to tire Y/N out. Harry was sure she'd be clinging to his arm as he pulled her out of the arena, but she had asked him to wait out the crowd, and they stood in the emptying arena, arms around each other. He could feel her heart beating against his chest, and it was still pumping hard. He kissed her lips one final time before swinging his arm over her shoulder and guiding them out to the chilly Los Angeles air. 

Y/N was all smiles, and she thinks it has to do with the man whose curls have fallen flat from all the sweating they did inside the arena. Being in a room packed around thousands of people will do that. She has never been in such a happy and united environment. 

It's a memory she's going to cherish forever. 

The drive home is full of retelling of their favorite parts of the night. Harry decided his was when Y/N turned to kiss him during "Your Song." He felt himself fall in love with her all over again. It's a feeling he never wants to end. 

Y/N's had to have been each outfit change. There were so many that she lost track, but she loved how unique each outfit was. It's something she knew she could never pull off, but she admired the beauty of each one. It was over the top and full of colors; it kept her mesmerized. It reminded her of life and how filled with color it really is. Also, when Harry sang his heart out during "Tiny Dancer." How he knew every lyric and didn't miss a beat, if she's honest, she didn't bother looking at the stage for the entire song too entranced in Harry. 

The smile does not leave their face, not during the traffic of getting on the freeway, not when they stopped by McDonald's and got burgers and decided to share a coke, and not even when they saw the sign welcoming back into Aurora. 

Y/N's smile didn't drop until Harry parked his car right in front of her house. She sits back against the seat and turns her head to already find a bashful Harry smiling at her. 

"Come here." He whispers. 

She unbuckles and sits in his lap, it may have been a few hours, but she missed being this close to him. 

Y/N didn't wait for Harry to ask; she simply leaned in and connected his strawberry lips with hers. She loved how soft they always were, and she knew she'd keep letting him steal her lip balms if they did such an excellent job keeping them soft and tasting sweet; then again, that could be all Harry. She lets out a small moan when Harry swipes his tongue on her bottom lip, asking for entrance, and she happily grants it. 

She wishes she can stay here forever, in his arms, kissing his lips, never having to stop. 

"Baby," Harry breathes against her lips.

Y/N knows what he's going to say; she's not ready to say goodnight. Instead, she keeps kissing him. "Just a little longer." She mutters against his lips.

Harry can't bring himself to pull away again and nods, allowing her to take control. He has a tight grip on her thigh, he wishes to move it higher, but he knows if he does, she won't be going inside tonight. She moves her lips down his jaw pressing gentle kisses.

"You drive me crazy." 

"Feelings mutual, darling." 

Harry pulls her back up and kisses her plush mouth. She tastes sweet, something he never pinpoints; all he knows is that it's intoxicating. He presses one final kiss on her lips and pulls back. She's breathing heavy, a large grin on her face. He knows he looks just as dazed. 

"Think you got to get inside now." 

"Don't want to leave you." She grabs a fist of his jacket, pulling herself closer. 

"I'll be here tomorrow afternoon."

She pouts. "Why so late?"

"Because you're going to want to sleep in." He brushes a bit of her hair away, she leans into his touch; she loves how delicate each touch is. 

"What if you come early and then cuddle me? Mom won't turn you away."

"She might."

"Not after I walk in and tell her how amazing the night was." She cups his cheeks, rubbing her thumb affectionately on his smooth skin. "She's got a sweet spot for you."

"And you." He reminds her. 

"Well, of course. I'm her daughter." She laughs but knows she hasn't convinced him. "Please," she whispers. She flashes him her best puppy dog look, knowing he won't be able to resist.

"Fine. I'll be here at eight, darling." 

"Perfect." She gloats. 

"Let me walk you up." 

Harry helps her back into the passenger seat so they can both head out. He grabs her hand, pulling her in close, not wanting her far for the last moments he has her. 

"You want to know something, H." She whispers, keys in her hand.

"What is it, angel?"

"I want to travel the world with you."

"The world." He gasps. "It's a big place, baby. Where would we start?" 

"London got to see the place you grew up before moving here. Of, course we'll save up and just spend the year traveling wherever life takes us."

"That sounds perfect." 

She hums, deep in thought, picturing visiting all these places she's only dreamed of with him by her side. To see the Eiffel tower, walk the streets of Scotland, and swim in the Amalfi Coast waters. 

"Dove," He hums, playing with a loose string of her jeans. "Where would you like to go?"

"Anywhere you want. I'll make sure to take you wherever you want to go." 

"Take me to the stars, dovie."

"As you wish, my sweet angel." 

Harry brings his right hand up to her face and gently cups her cheek; she sighs, knowing precisely what he's going to do. She tilts her head up and feels his lips against her. It's the softest kiss of the night; it's gentle. It's her favorite kiss, the goodnight kiss, a promise to see her tomorrow. 

She breaks away the first time tonight, knowing if he kept going a moment longer, she wouldn't let him go. "Goodnight, H," She whispers as she begins to open the door. 

"Goodnight, love." 

Harry turns and walks to his car as he hears the door shut and hears her turn the lock. Once in his car, he takes a look up at her window, sends a final smile as he sees her waving him off.

He feels so much joy always being around her, but tonight it seems to have multiplied by a hundred. He knew tonight was perfect, but his favorite part wasn't even at the concert; it was standing outside her door as they spoke of their future together.

Happiness isn't always about the big moments but also about these small moments that make them feel invincible.

JUNE 1998

Y/N grabs a book from her bookshelf, not bother glancing at which one knowing if she stopped to read each title, she would be there all day. She heads to the yard, a picnic blanket tucked under her arm, so she can lay on it and soak in a bit of the sun. 

Her mother is trimming the leaves of the roses, wanting the flower to pop out more. Her father usually helps her, but he's finishing up last-minute work before coming out to join them. He has a good view of them from his office window. When she was young, he told her he chose this room because it's where her mom spends all her time, and he likes having his eye on her as she joins the beauty of her flowers. Y/N's known love all her life, and she's happy her parents have each other, but she can't help but feel like she let that one-of-a-kind love go years ago and fears she'll never find it again.

As she settles down on her blanket, she decides to rid herself of all thoughts and instead get lost in the words of Stephen King. She picked up a psychological horror. She remembers her father mentioning it was a good read and that she'd enjoyed it. Two pages in, and she knows she's hooked; it looks like she will be laying out here all day. 

At least that's what she thought when her mother interrupted her. 

"When are you meeting everyone?" 

Y/N puts the book down on her chest and looks over at her mom, who's still got her eyes on her roses. "Sorry, what did you say?"

"When are you meeting everyone?" Her mother repeats herself.

"Tomorrow."

"Time, darling?" 

"At one."

She hums in response. "I leave you in charge, and please be watchful over my roses." 

"Of course, I would never think of damaging your roses. Well, my roses, really." Y/N corrects. 

"Just because they were planted in your honor does not mean they are yours. You've cared for them for such little time."

"Excuse me, mother. I went off to university, but once I'm done and ready to settle down, I will be doing all the caring."

"Yes, because you will have time as a doctor." Her mother responds sarcastically. 

"I will be able to." 

Her mother decided to move on, knowing how stubborn Y/N can be. "Your father and I have lunch and dinner plans out of town, so you'll have the house to yourself for most of the day and night."

"You're treating me like I'm sixteen again, and it's my first time having friends over." 

Her mom laughs, and Y/N can't help but join. "You're forever, my little girl."

"Cheesy." Y/N teases.

Y/N leans back and gets comfortable, all thoughts of tomorrow pushed away and instead gets lost in the town of Bridgton, Maine. 

_____

It's time; everyone is making their way over. She can feel her palms begin to sweat, thankful there's a nice breeze outside to keep her cool. Y/N and her mom cooked pasta with grilled chicken and strawberry lemonade wanting to be ready for after the digging. Y/N would feel bad making them dig a hole, open a box, then head on out. These people are her friends, and she wishes to spend time with them, and what better than with food.

She's got ten minutes before everyone is due to arrive when she hears a car pull up and turn off right in front of her house. Y/N knows of only one person who shows up early.

Harry. 

Y/N thought he would be the last to arrive, but she's guessing old habits die hard. She takes a deep breath before opening the front door and walking out.

Harry would be lying if he wasn't nervous. He's about to see Y/N for the first time after years. He's seen her in photos; he knows she only continued to become more beautiful as the years passed. It's not the same as, no, because he knows what's separating them is a walk up to the door. 

He feels precisely as he did the moment he asked her out and, if he's truthful, how she made him feel their entire relationship. Harry's 26, but his heart feels 18, and at that age, he was deeply in love with the woman inside that house. He loves her just the same.

Harry takes a long deep breath before slowly letting it out. He could do this; he got out of his car and made his way up the path, where she was already standing waiting for him. It felt like no time had passed as if he was coming over to take her on a date--except they weren't even close enough to say they were friends. 

"Harry," She breathes out as he reaches the first step. 

"Hi" He sends her a small smile. "You look great." 

Y/N feels her cheek flush, and knows he can notice now that he's right in front of her. She takes in her outfit; it's simple, just a cropped red long-sleeved tee and black pants, with an old pair of black sneakers. 

"Thank you, Harry. As do you." And he really does. He's wearing loose green denim joggers with a matching jacket. He has left it open, showing a brown button-up, a silver cross necklace peeking out from the space he left unbuttoned. "Always on time still."

"Better early than late." 

She nods, not sure if she should continue the conversation or not. Are they going to stand out here in silence? It was never this hard; she hates this. Y/N rather keep talking than let themselves stand there in silence for another eight minutes. 

She clears her throat. "How'd med school go? Have you decided on a residency yet? Anne told me you were weighing your options." 

Harry doesn't try to hide his shock. "You spoke to my mum?" He asks in disbelief. 

Y/N grins as much as his English accent is fading; it always comes back when saying 'mum,' or well, when he's nervous. 

She nods. "I visit her when I visit my family. Recently passed when I came to see my mother who was feeling down and lonely as she put it even though she has dad to keep her company."

Harry smiles, knowing what weekend she was talking about because he had come the week after, and Lorelai had told him she was no longer as lonely. He thought it might have been because of his company, but it was because her daughter was home for a weekend.

When he's about to tell her where he decided, she waits patiently, staring up at him, a shy smile on her face but stops when Sydney comes and tackles Y/N in a hug. 

"Of course, Styles got first dibs on you." Sydney fakes her exasperation. 

"He knows how to be punctual." Y/N teases. "Looks like you bring the others as always." She signals seeing two more cars park; they park in the empty driveway.

"Just like old times," Zac screams out two bottles of wines in his hands. Mitch and Sarah walk up behind him, agreeing. 

Y/N looks around, and it's almost like old times. Just one small difference that makes her heartache. 

Everyone greets each other, sharing long hugs, and it's not long after that she invites everyone in and into the backyard. 

"Mom says if we mess up her roses, we are dead meat," Y/N informs them all as they all stand in a semi-circle under the spot they buried their time capsule. 

Mitch steps and pats Harry on the back. "If anything does happen, just say it was Harold. Lorelai has a soft spot for him." 

Sarah approaches water in her hand. "Y/N is her golden child who does no wrong, easy to forgive."

Y/N laughs. "Enough. No roses will be damaged. Are we clear?" 

She gets a chorus of "yes."

"Great, there are clear instructions that only Zac and Harry are allowed to shovel. Sorry, Mitch, mom said we've got to take care of your musical hands."

Mitch nods in appreciation. 

"What about the doctor? No care for him." Harry mutters a small smile on his face.

"Quiet Styles, you're a favorite still," Zac tells him, pushing a shovel into his chest. 

Y/N's happy watching the banter; it's like she's sixteen again, and they are trying to see who could dig their side of the hole faster. 

SEPTEMBER 1988 - TIME CAPSULE 

"High school friendships aren't known to last," Zac speaks out randomly, breaking everyone out of their conversations.

Harry sighs, "You're a downer." 

"I'm a realist." 

Y/N takes this in; she hasn't thought years down the line. She just assumed they would always be in her life. She can't see herself without them.

"What if we aren't friends ten years down the road?" Y/N voices.

Harry instantly picks up the concern in her voice. "I promise I won't let that happen, lovie." He assures her. 

"H, I know." 

"It's not uncommon for others to drift, especially when everyone has a different path after high school." Sydney comments. "My sister went through it."

"Let's write a letter, and we can bury it, open it ten years, but we have to do it together," Sarah suggests.

"Not a bad idea." Everyone nods in agreement.

"Let's do a letter and something important to us." Y/N proposes already having an idea of what to put.

"It's settled. We're burying a time capsule." Harry states. 

"One problem." 

"What now, Zac?" Sarah groans. 

"Where do we bury it?"

Slowly everyone turns their gaze on to Y/N. 

"Your house," Sydney tells her. 

"You all agree?" Y/n is surprised. 

"Your mom will never leave her house. It's gorgeous."

"Also," Zac chimes in, "You love it and tell us how it's going to be yours one day."

Y/N sighs and nods. "I will ask and will let you know."

_____

It took a lot to convince her mother, but her father liked the idea and supported her. Two against one, Y/N knew her mom was in a losing fight. After lots of hugs and kisses and promises of doing the dishes for two weeks straight, she got permission. 

They had decided on a Saturday, wanting to do it early in the morning, unsure how long they would take digging the hole. Her mom designated an area for them to open. 

Her mom allowed her to have the house to themselves, trusting them not to do anything but dig a hole. Y/N had everyone promise they would be on their best behavior. 

Harry and Zac volunteered to dig, and no one argued. It took over an hour for them to get a decent-sized hole. It looked tiring, but Y/N enjoyed watching Harry's muscle flex as he threw out dirt. Finally, being satisfied with the hole size, mainly Sydney, made them go longer; it was time to place their items inside. 

Y/N rewrote her letter a few times, never knowing the right thing to say. It wasn't until she was lying on the floor of her room with Harry's head in her lap did she know what she wanted to tell her future self. 

Mitch went first, putting in his first-ever guitar pic, Sarah her Walkman, Harry followed with a copy of Romeo and Juliet, Y/N a chained rose ring, she put it in but not before giving it a small kiss knowing she'd miss it. Zac decided on his baseball mitt, and Sydney threw in a signed polaroid of herself, knowing it'd be worth a lot more once she became famous for her art.

Harry locked it shut with the final object in the box and lowered it down with Mitch's help. It fit well, and they sat around as it began to fill with dirt. 

"Ten years, we'll come back and open it up." 

"Yeah, but like summertime. I'm sure we'll have more time during the summer than other months." Zac might be right for once. 

"June 1998," Sarah suggests. 

Everyone thinks about it for a second, it feels so far away, a lifetime, really, but yes, they all agree. 

Ten years' time, they will all be digging it up and will relive these moments. 

JUNE 1998 

Harry removes his jacket half an hour in, and there is nothing to complain about. He tosses it close to her side, and Y/N knows if things were different, he would have gently thrown it at her, and without a second thought, she would have put it on. She missed the times when he loved her. Because as much as she can't admit it out loud, she still loves him. 

Now she'll fake conversation with Sydney when her real focus is on Harry and how his muscles seem to grow every time he scoops some dirt out and adds to the pile. He's grown buff over the years, he was always tall and firm in high school due to football, but now he's more defined. The most significant change was in his face, more stern. Not as smiley; it might just be due to being around her. He must hate being in her presence after she broke his heart. 

Y/N lets herself get lost in thought when Zac cheers. She looks down, and peeking out in the corner is brown wood.

"We've hit gold." 

In the next five minutes, Zac and Harry dig as much of the sides as they can, and soon enough, they are lifting it out before settling it down with a big "thump." 

Y/N can't stop eyeing it; it's got dirt in every spot that meets her eye, but she knows what's waiting for her inside of that box, and she can't wait to have it with her once more. 

"Who's going to do the honors?" Mitch asks the bolt cutters in his hand, ready to hand them over.

Everyone looks around at each other; no one says a thing until Harry steps forward and reaches to take them from his hand. Mitch hands them to Harry, no question asked. Harry heads straight to Y/N; he stretches his arm out, waiting for her to accept the cutters.

"Think it's only fair Y/N does the honors, seeing as we made her do a lot of groveling to Lorelai ten or so years ago just for us to bury this; not that she let any of us know." Harry smiles, urging her to take it. Y/N fingers brush his rather quickly, but in that small second, she felt her heart rate pick up and fears he might hear it, although that is almost impossible. 

"Thank you." He nods, urging her forward. 

"Take your time, doll." Zac says sarcastically." 

Y/N is too busy getting down on her knees in front to see the glare Harry sent Zac's way. Everyone else catches the look; believe it or not, they all hope this is the moment that brings these two once lovers back again. 

"Here goes nothing." 

Y/N places the bolt cutters between the lock and counts down to three; it breaks right off the first try.

"You've got some strength!" Sydney exclaims; she was expecting it to take much longer.

Y/N lets the lock fall before reaching up and pulling the single latch. She scans everyone circling around her before opening the crate hating the creaking sound it releases. 

There on top are their most prized items from when they were sixteen. 

Sydney reaches in first, pulling out a polaroid and pink envelope. She flips it over and lets out the biggest laugh. Sydney turns the photo around, letting everyone see her in the photo wearing her then boyfriend's varsity jacket. It has her signature on the page. "I swore I was going to be famous for my art and would sell this for thousands." 

"One day." Harry offers. 

Sydney shrugs. "My boyfriend will appreciate this the most if I'm honest."

"He's that crazy for you?" Sarah asks.

Sydney nods, a shy smile on her face. "Yeah, I'm fortunate." She laughs, letting the moment pass. "Enough, Zac, please, you're next."

Zac, for the first time the whole evening, has fallen silent, almost looks nervous to reach inside. He takes a deep breath to go to the corner of the box and pull out a beat-up baseball mitt. Y/N can see his eyes well up with tears. He chuckles, "I swore I was going to go pro, but that senior injury year changed everything. In a way, Zac felt free; he got to pursue a career in travel journalism. "Enough sap, I volunteer, Harry." 

Harry nods, moving forward, sitting next to Y/N thighs touching; she feels her breath hitch; she doesn't dare move. He reaches in for the only book it's resting on the bottom, a white envelope with a scribbled 'H' on top. He sets the envelope aside but keeps the book in hand.

Harry smiles at the book in hand, Romeo and Juliet. It was not his favorite by any means, but it held a special place in his heart because it was the first book Y/N read to him when they first started dating. He remembers telling her he hated how she ignored him for words on paper, so he proposed she read to him aloud, and that way, they could bond. Y/N was thrilled at the idea; the first book was Shakespeare because it was a reading assignment, and she wanted it done that weekend.

 Harry hated the ending; he remembers ranting to Y/N as she ran her fingers through his hair to calm him down. He didn't understand why Shakespeare made these two people who were star-crossed lovers fall in love in a week only to have them die. 

Safe to say, it took a while to let Y/N read another one of Shakespeare's works. 

Y/N's eyes were on the book, and she watched as Harry carefully opened it to the first page, moving it back so that only they could read what was written on the cover page. 

It read: I've loved you for six months. I'll love you for six more. And maybe if I'm lucky, I'll get to love you for life. Love, Y/N xxx

Y/N felt tears behind her eyes; she had to look away. She was so naïve at the age, but oh how she loved him, and she knew he loved her just the same. Y/N was so grateful to know she was loved, even if it was years ago.  

She doesn't want to go next; instead, Sarah reaches in to save her. Sarah pulls out her folded half of paper and her blue Walkman player. "Oh my goodness, this is going to have some golden tunes." 

Mitch chuckles, "You suffered without it. Think was the first time I ever heard you complain about something." 

Sarah sends him a playful glare. "Shut it! Why don't you go next, Mr. Sentimental."

Mitch is one to never say no to Sarah, so he shrugs and makes his way forward. Patting Harry on the shoulder causing Harry to shift closer to Y/N. Both Harry and Y/N don't say anything but don't bother to move away either. 

Sarah smiled as she watches Mitch pick up a guitar pick. It was the first one he received from his father. "Dad always said I had a guitar in hand." 

"Mitch, you've voiced your thoughts out loud." Harry jokes. 

"Funny Styles." That's the last of what Mitch says as he moves back to read his letter, and Sarah follows close behind. 

Y/N feels everyone staring, but really it's only just Harry. Everyone focused on their own letters but also waiting for a reaction. She slowly reaches in, first pulling out the pink envelope with her initial on the front; Harry wrote it for her, saying she needed a way to identify it years later. 

She sets it in her lap before reaching in and getting the item she's been thinking about all day. 

A silver rose ring. 

It was a gift from Harry; Y/N always spoke of roses and how much her mother loved them. Leading to Harry finding out she loved them just as much. He wore this ring for a long time; he found it in a store in London before they made the move here permanently. It's his last real piece of home, but Aurora had become home, and so had Y/N. It felt right to give to her. She cried, receiving it, and knew it wouldn't fit but told him not to get it resized. She surprised him by wearing it around her neck; she put it on a chain she had. There wasn't a day she wasn't seen without it. 

She holds it tightly in her hand as if Harry might rip it out of her hand, wanting it back, but it's hers, and it's special. Y/N never wants to forget her memories with Harry, no matter how much it hurts, thinking back on them. 

"I've missed it." She whispers. 

Y/N slips it over her head, letting it rest outside her shirt for all to see. She missed the look on Harry's face, but this might be the motivation he needs to speak with her. To talk about where they are now in life. 

Except Y/N stands up, brushing the dirt that was on her pants to head somewhere more private to read her letter she wrote to herself. She walks a few feet away and flips open the pink tab, pulls out a folded paper. Her eyes immediately go to the bottom of the page, wherein black ink, it says, "I love Harry (PS: he made you write that, but it doesn't make it any less true." 

Everything surrounded him; her love for him was just that large. She reads over her letter taking in the words of how her sixteen-year-old self said she was proud of her and that no matter what happens, it was all for a reason.

It's exactly what she needed to hear. 

Harry is watching Y/N stand there read her letter, and he feels the gaze of everyone else to go approach her. Years ago, he wouldn't have thought twice about it, he would have been at her side holding her hand or rubbing her back, but now he doesn't even know if they are even friends. Mitch nudges him, and he knows he should check on her, but she surprises everyone by turning around, a grin on her face. 

"Mom and I cooked lunch, so let's wash up and eat. All this sure has built up my appetite." 

"Don't have to tell me twice." Zac smiles, walking inside heading straight to the kitchen sink. 

The others begin to follow Zac inside when Y/N stops hearing her name being called. It's Harry standing by the hole, shovel in hand. 

"Should I cover it up?"

Y/N can't help the smile, Harry was always so eager to help, and she's glad his kind helping sport hasn't changed. "No, dad is going to cover it. Mom told him he needs to do more yard work. She called it bonding time." 

"Okay, if you're sure." 

"I am." 

"Let's head in then." 

As Harry is about to walk past her, she reaches her hand out, grabbing his bicep, surprising him. "Thank you." 

He nods his head. "Of course." 

Y/N sighs; there's so much left unsaid. Their breakup fresh on her mind seeing him walk away from her, bringing it all back. Oh, how she wishes things were different. 

She doesn't regret leaving for New York, but she does wonder if there was a way to have made their relationship work; would it have survived or crashed and burned. 

In a way, she's glad she never had to find out. 

Y/N puts her brave face on; she's surrounded by friends who love her and who she hasn't spoken to for longer than half an hour. She's going to soak in this time and enjoy it. 

There are other times to be sad.

MARCH 1990 - ACCEPTANCES

Y/N and Harry were both lost in thought as Harry drove them to their destination. There was a lot to think about

Harry was proud to get a full-ride football scholarship to UCLA and a partial for USC. They were close to home, and he got to play a sport he was good at. These universities were tough to get into, but he impressed the recruits. He didn't bother applying outside the state, knowing he couldn't be far from home. It felt wrong for him; he knew that wasn't the case for Y/N. 

Y/N always spoke about leaving the state. She had dreamed about it from a young age especially seeing her brother do it. Gabriel's stories only make her more excited for her future. She loved to travel, no matter the distance. 

Harry, of course, knew this; he just thought he could convince her to stay. 

Applying to schools was hard for Y/N; there were many universities she wanted to apply to, but she feared rejection, so she set a limit of six. Still, a high number; she just needed options. 

When acceptances came in, each application welcomed her. Two east coast universities offered full-ride scholarships, USC offered partial and others only half. She had the money for tuition, her parents saved for her, which she is forever thankful for but knowing she could move across the country like she always dreamed of was calling her name. 

The one thing that stopped her was Harry. 

Y/N had never known love until Harry, and she knows her leaving will jeopardize that. She also knows if she stays, she might not be happy, always stuck on the "what if?"

She was distraught as soon as she heard the news. Her mom saw her pace outside, then sit, pour herself tea then began the cycle again. Y/N dreamed of Columbia. It was her dream university, and to give that up, but also having to give up Harry, she couldn't pick; she didn't want to. 

Harry parks the car; he drove them to an abandoned cliffside that's full of wildflowers. Y/N didn't rush out of the vehicle as she once would have wanted to feel the cold breeze. Now, she stares ahead, letting the car fill with silence—neither one wanting to be the one to begin the conversation that would change everything.

"Is this the end?" Y/N asks her voice, betraying her, as she feels her throat tighten up.

Harry doesn't answer; he reaches for her hand and holds it tight. 

"It doesn't have to be. I don't want it to be." She's barely holding herself together. Y/N's staring at the side of his head, silently begging for him to meet her gaze. 

"Life isn't always as easy as the last four years have been for us," Harry tells her, finally meeting her eyes. 

"I love you. You know that, right." 

"I know." He whispers. 

Y/N shuts her eyes, repeats the words in her head she hasn't been able to voice out, knowing she's going to be breaking more than one heart right now. 

"I can't stay, Harry." Y/N blinks her tears away, but they come right back, seeing Harry holding back tears. "As much as I want to, as much as I can't let you go. I also can't stay." 

"Don't let me go then." He whispers. He reaches forward, cradling her cheek in his hand. It's the softest touch he's given her. It's as if he's trying to remember how she feels. 

"It's not fair." 

"I don't care." Y/N reaches forward to wipe the tear away that managed to escape. 

"But I do." 

"I don't care." He tries again, Harry can't let her go. She's his life, he's too young to know about forever, but he doesn't want to live a life without her. "I'll go with you."

Y/N lets her tears begin to fall at his words. "No." Her voice firm. "It's over if you leave."

Harry pulls back, hurt by her words but Y/N's just as upset. 

She lets go of her hold on him and hurries out of the car. Harry yells her name, begging her to come back, but she's too busy crying to listen to him. Soon enough, she's surrounded by trees, and there are two trails to follow, but she can't pick; it is faith mocking her in the smallest of ways. Instead, she settles for sitting right in the center on a patch of grass. 

Y/N sits hunched over, crying; that's how Harry finds her. He doesn't say a word. He sits next to her and pulls her into his lap. 

"I'm sorry. So sorry, darling." 

Harry begins to rock her back and forward, letting his tears all as he rests his chin on top of her head. Begins to whisper sweet nothings, just wanting her close. He hates that they are causing each other this hurt. 

Y/N's cries have stopped; she sniffles from time to time. The holds she has on Harry is iron tight as if he'd vanish if she let go for even a second."

"Summer." She whispers, breaking the silence. 

"What?" Harry is not sure what she can mean.

"We have Summer."

"Yeah, we do." 

"We have to let each other go at the end of Summer." Her tone is final.

"Y/N-"

Y/N stops him, "Harry, I'm not letting you give up your dreams for me, and I know you won't let me do the same."

"I can't say goodbye," He confesses. 

"Then we won't. We'll kiss goodnight and pretend like we'll see each other in the morning." 

"That's heartbreaking, love." He chuckles bitterly.

"I love you, Harry Styles." 

"And I love you, my angel." 

Harry is done crying, instead leans in and kisses her like he should have done earlier as soon as he had parked the car. The kiss is fast, not soft like all the kisses he's used to giving her, no he wants her to remember this kiss. He wants her to feel everything he isn't saying. 

I love you. You're mine. You're my best friend. I will love you forever. He wants her to feel it all. 

"Show me you love me." Y/N pulls back breathless, lips plush begging to be kissed again. Harry knows what she's asking, and he's not one to deny her. 

He stands up, confusing her, but he comes prepared. Harry walks for the blanket he dumped a few feet away from them, grabbing it and spreading it out. Y/N is quick to lay back on the soft blanket. It warms her instantly. She smiles, reaching her hand up as Harry leans over her, his bottom half straddling her waist, her hand intertwining in his soft curls. Y/N brings him down for a kiss needing his touch to be close. 

Harry and Y/N are wrapped in their own world, lost in their kiss; it's always been them against the world, but soon they are going to venture off separately. It's something that neither of them wants to wrap their head around, and they won't not until they have to. 

They will enjoy graduation together, hand in hand receiving diplomas. Y/N will deliver a beautiful valedictorian speech. The joint graduation party will be a joy and one they sneak away from to spend watching the moon reflect over the ocean. It's the one place they feel at peace, the sea being a favorite of both of theirs. The Summer will bring endless days out, travels up the coast of California even as far as making it to San Francisco for a trip. There is not a second where they don't spend time together, and their parents understand; it breaks their heart, but it's their future, and all they can do is support them. Their love will only grow this Summer which makes it more heartbreaking when they say goodbye in August.

But none of that matters because, for now, they have each other, and that is enough. 

Harry pulls back, leaning his forehead against hers, their breaths mixing together. 

"I love you." 

"I love you so much; it's not going away just because--" Harry stops, not being able to voice the words out loud. He can't say it, or he'll start crying. 

"I know, dove." She trails her finger up his chest until they right over his heart. Y/N can feel how fast it's beating; it beats for her. "Maybe a day will come where we can be together again, that's if you don't find someone else, which I understand if you do."

"It's not going to happen." 

"You don't know that," She mutters. 

"Hey, I love you. No one is going to love me like you do. I'd be a fool to love someone else." Y/N settles her chin on his chest. She's staring into his eyes, trying to find a hint of a lie, but there is none. There's only love and sadness in his green orbs. 

"I love you too."

Harry sighs; there's not much they can do to brighten the mood. "You know what we can do?"

"What?" 

"Make a summer bucket list. First on my list is to kiss the prettiest girl I know every day." She laughs, making Harry break out in a big grin. "Lucky for you, that happens to be you." He tells her, booping her nose with his index finger.

Y/N laughs; it's only March. She has the rest of Spring and all of Summer to love Harry. To love him with every bone and cell in her body because that last day will come sooner than she likes. 

_____

The end of Summer arrived, and she bid Harry goodnight with a kiss at the door like normal, like he was going to show up tomorrow bright and early for breakfast and kisses, but that wasn't the case. It was goodbye, even though neither of them could admit it. 

Y/N and Harry walked away from each other; they didn't say no contact, but it was like they both silently agreed on it because there was no letters or calls to each other, no visits to each other's homes, no visiting each other parents, at least not in the beginning

The love was there, but life goes on.

JUNE 1998

After a delicious meal and second servings, everyone sits back stuffed. Everyone enjoyed a lovely home-cooked meal with entertaining conversation. Y/N enjoyed watching it happen, not participating much in conversation. She never was that interesting, she felt, always let her friends carry the conversation. She could feel Harry glance at her from time to time, but Y/N still hasn't recovered, knowing that Harry's most prized possession at sixteen was a book she wrote a note in. 

Y/N wonders if he's regretting that now. 

"Have we overstayed our welcome?" Zac asks, taking Y/N's silence as something terrible.

She laughs, shaking her head. "You're fine. I like listening, fascinating conversations going on."

"Come on, share something with us." Zac urges her.

"Uhh… med school has been going well. Have all of the Summer off, might do some sightseeing before going home." 

"Yeah, driving home to Massachusetts instead of taking a plane like a normal person." Sydney winces at the thought, not at all wanting to think about the pit stops she had to make. 

"Maybe not the smartest idea, but I encountered zero troubles; my baby, Twila, runs smoothly." 

"Should get her checked out again before leaving." Harry comments.

Y/N nods. "Dad's been on my ass about that as well, but I've got no rush, especially since all I ever do here is walk around town." 

"Enough car talk, let's talk about the time Zac got his clothes stolen after gym class sophomore year." Sarah sets them off on a never-ending conversation of memories.

As soon as one story is finished, a new one is being shared. Y/N forgot most of these, but as her friends tell them, she feels each memory unlock and surfacing. The conversation goes on forever, with no end in sight because that's how friendship is; it's never-ending. Especially when all they did for four years was hanging out together, creating these memories they now are so fond of. 

It's around seven o'clock, the sun begins to set when everyone decides to head home. She walks them out, giving them hugs and promises of seeing each other again before everyone leaves town. Y/N notices Harry lingering by, but she doesn't say anything.

Y/N waves goodbye to Sarah and Mitch when Harry comes to stand by her. She waits for him to say goodbye, not going to rush him, which is why what he says next surprised her. 

"Do you want help cleaning up?" 

Harry looks shy, asking, and Y/N knows he's about to take it back, so she nods. "That'd be great." 

She walks back in, and Harry follows close behind, making sure to lock the door, just in case. "I'll rinse, and you put it in the dishwasher. Okay?" 

"Okay, yes." 

They begin to work in silence, the only sound of the running water. Y/N wonders if he's going to stay longer or if he's going to leave right after. 

God, she could really go for a glass of wine. 

As Y/N hands him the last plate, she dries her hand with the red dish towel before handing a white one over to Harry, who thanks her quietly. 

She leans back against the counter, debating asking him to stay for a drink or not. Harry catches her staring and smiles, unleashing the dimples. It seems he made the decision for her. 

"Do you want a glass of wine?" Y/N turns around, reaching up for a glass for herself, not wanting to face him just in case he rejects her. 

"Wine sounds great." 

Y/N grabs two stemmed wine glasses and opens the bottle of red wine rather quickly; she's surprised her hands aren't shaking because she's so nervous. She fills both glasses halfway before stepping forward to hand Harry his cup.

"Thank you." 

"No problem." 

Harry takes a sip, humming at the taste. Y/N isn't sure where Zac got the bottle. She's just happy it tastes good. 

"Do you want to sit outside, watch the sunset on the steps?" 

Harry agrees and steps out, holding the door open for her. She sits down, leaving room for Harry. He leaves a small space in between them. 

"I love sunsets, never the same." 

"Same as sunrises." 

"I'm not a morning person as I once was, a bit of a night owl." She shares.

"Oh really, why is that?" 

"I'm not sure." Y/N knows that's a lie; what she wanted to say is because she has no one to wake up to. No one to give morning kisses or morning cuddles. 

"You must still love mornings." 

"I do." He chuckles. "I do three-mile runs each morning." 

"Three!" She gasps. "I'd be tired the entire day; I prefer going on hikes or long walks." 

"Used to it already." 

"Pity, to your partner. Stealing cuddles from them." She mutters, taking a sip of her wine, hoping he didn't hear. 

Harry wants to respond, not sure if she was asking or stating. Oh, how he wishes he could know what she was thinking.

"Didn't know you were interested in medicine, Harry." 

"I wasn't, not until my injury." He rubs his shoulder as if he remembered the pain. "After finding out, I was done for; I just needed something entirely different. My physical therapist spoke about his journey to entering the field. He told me to enter something that captured my attention and something I would never get tired of learning about. It led me to psychiatry. My professors were great guidance." 

"John Hopkins, right?" 

"Yes, the very one." 

"Tough school." 

He laughs out loud, hand on his belly. "You're telling me, miss dean's list each semester. Graduating with highest honors from Harvard." 

"You know me, my head always stuck in a book." 

"Still don't take compliments." 

"Makes me feel weird. I love what I do; I can't wait to start and just learn it all. This sponge I call my brain is ready to absorb it all."

"I'm sure you're going to do amazing." 

"Thank you, Harry. That means a lot." She pats his knee before quickly retracting her hand back into her lap.

"Where is your residency?" Harry looks at her, a frown on his face. "Don't think I asked you." 

"Well, Harvard medical was a dream, and I wasn't ready to say goodbye, so I accepted Massachusetts General. I really love the environment they have in the hospital." She sets her wine glass down, turning her body to look at Harry. She misses the look of shock on his face. "Everyone is so kind--"

"Y/N," He tries, but she continues on.

"I went for a tour, and it was busy and crowded, but they were so kind with the children. When I entered the pediatrics ward, I just knew it's where I had to be."

"Y/N," 

"I already know who I'm going to be working under, and she's--" 

"Love," Harry tries his gaze on her face hoping to get a reaction.

That shuts Y/N right up; it has been a long time since she last heard that term of endearment. 

Her eyes are on Harry; he has her full attention. He can tell she's a bit stunned, but his news is life-changing. "I have my residency at Massachusetts General." 

"You what?" She was not expecting that news. Harry is in the same hospital as her. "Are you saying?" 

"We would have run into each other if we hadn't come home for the time capsule, yes." He answers for her. 

"Fate," she whispers.

Harry nods, eyes shining with tears. That one word was enough for Harry to know she might feel the same. 

He sees Y/N's eyes flicker to his lips, going back to his eyes, then leans in. He does the same, wanting to feel her close more than ever. 

"Y/N, you left the-" Harry and Y/N spring apart, the moment gone started by her mother. "Oh, hello, Harry."

Harry clears his throat, standing up to offer the woman who startled him a hug. "Hello Lorelai, wonderful to see you."

"How's your mother?"

"She's well. Left yesterday to visit my nephews for the weekend." 

"That's nice." 

The three now stand outside together, Y/N rocking back and forth on her heels, not able to standstill. 

"Truly wasn't expecting to see you," Lorelai tells him.

"We were catching up" Harry smiles at Y/N. "We were keeping each other company." 

"Very kind." 

"I should get going; it's late." Feeling as if he overstayed his welcome. 

Lorelai senses the tension a second too late as Harry is saying his goodbyes. "Well, please do stop by before you leave town." 

"Of course." 

"I'll walk you out." Y/N smiles at her mother as she leads Harry out through the side gate, personally wanting to avoid a run-in with her father.

Y/N, true to her word, walks him to his car; he is about to round his car, heading to the driver's seat but stops.

"Y/N?" His voice was shaky.

"Yes, Harry."

"Let's have dinner together." He rushes out in one go.

"Harry…" She pauses, "I--" 

He interrupts her. "Don't tell me you have a--" he trails off, not wanting to say the word.

"Course not." She replies quickly.

"But,"

Y/N takes a deep breath, taking a moment to get her thoughts together. "I won't do this unless this is it. This is the time I'm yours again. For good." 

"You've always been mine." He steps forward, hand reaching out to cup her cheek. She lets out a sigh, feeling a sense of peace take over her body. "Eight years and no one compared. No one ever will." 

"H." He can see the tears in her eyes. 

"I mean it. I've always been in love with you. I will always be in love with you. It will always be you."

Y/N closes the gap between them; they are the closest they have been in eight years. She searches his face for any sign of doubt but finds none. Only sees love in his beautiful emerald eyes.

"I love you." She confesses feeling a weight leave her shoulders as the words leave her mouth for the first time in years. "I never stopped. I will never stop." 

"Sweetest words I have ever heard. Words I want to hear forever." Harry's smile is one she had never seen before; it's wide, and she swears it reaches the sky. His eyes hold a shine they never have before. 

There's one last thing she needs for this moment to be perfect.

"Please kiss me."

"With pleasure." 

She's never dreamed of this moment in fear of it not happening, but it finally is, and Y/N swears she feels the stars aligned just for them. Harry's lips were getting closer, and she felt her heart skip a beat. She parted her lips and felt him washing over like a wave of warmth. She finally felt at home. Her whole body tingled, the feel of his frame leaning on jets as his arms wrapped around her tightly, afraid that she'd disappear. Y/N's fingers slowly moved up Harry's chest until they tangled with the back of his short curls. She tugged, needing more, feeling her legs buckle at the moan Harry let out. 

All she felt was love, and she wanted to feel it forever. Y/N let Harry pull away; he didn't go far, letting his forehead rest on hers. Their breaths mix together. There's a bashful smile on Y/N's face, but this moment feels too good to be true. 

Harry and Y/N stand there wrapped in each other's arms, lost in each other's gaze as if no one else existed and there was no risk of interruption. 

"I'll be here at noon tomorrow, going to take you out if you'll let me." 

"Yes, H. I accept." She kisses him softly two more times before unwrapping herself from him, putting a bit of distance between each other, or they very well would stand there all night kissing. 

"Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow." She confirms 

Harry steals one last kiss, short and sweet, before getting in his car. He sends her a kiss that she pretends to catch and places it over her heart. 

She knows he is blushing even though she can't see it. 

As he drives away from her, all the hurt and pain of not having him washes away. Harry is hers, and she is his. 

All is right. 

Their paths finally crossed again, and this time there would be no final goodbye. 

_____

Harry showed up the day after as promised. Y/N was eagerly waiting, she had felt time go slow when they had been apart, but it's a monumental day because once again, after so many years, Harry and Y/N are finally reunited. 

She waited on the steps of her house like she used to when she was a teen waiting for him to pick her up and take her out on a date. It was bringing back the best memories. Harry parked right in front, and just as he was rounding his car to go meet her, she was in front of jumping in his car.

"Woah!" Harry was fast to react, only stumbling a little put holding her tight. "This is a nice welcome." He teases.

"Can you blame me? I missed you." She tells him, nuzzling her face in his neck. 

"Missed you too, love. Eight years, I've missed you." 

"Don't start, H. Don't want to cry. We're here now." 

"You're right." 

Y/N has Harry set her down; they stand there smiling at each other, taking each other in. 

"Up for a drive?" 

She nods. "Will you drive me to the moon?" 

"Anywhere you want, angel." 

Harry drives them to one place she hasn't visited because of the memory it holds. She's guessing it's because he wants to create new, better ones. 

"It's still beautiful here." She looks out through the window, not wanting to leave the safety of the car. She wants to stay close to Harry. 

Y/N sits in silence with Harry holding each other's hands, allowing each other to just enjoy this time together. The calmness of being loved and feeling loved. She knows there are lots to talk about, but she settles for the quietness for now. 

She's not sure how much time has passed, but she's now facing Harry, and he's toying with the rose ring hanging on her neck.

"Y/N," he whispers; she lifts her gaze from his lilac nails and hums for him to go on. "I have to ask." She lets his words sit in their silence. She knows what he's asking, the same thing running through her mind. 

"No." She frowns. "It felt wrong. I could never-- it was never you." 

Harry can tell she feels sheepish confessing this. 

She chuckles dryly. "I must sound lame; the last person I kissed was you eight years ago."

"No, it's not." He assures her. 

She sighs, "Harry." 

"It was the same for me. My friends tried to set me up multiple times, but it felt like cheating. No one understood." 

"So you haven't…" She trails off. 

"Well acquainted with my hand." He jokes.

She burst out laughing, and seconds later, Harry is as well. Their joyous laugh fills the car but also their hearts. 

"I love you." She breathes out, trying to catch her breath.

"And I love you." 

"Want to know a secret," she asks him.

He nods.

She turns her head to the window; she can see herself and Harry in the reflection. His eyes on her full of adoration. 

"I wrote you letters, hundreds. I've lost count, really, but I've got a box full; they are locked up in mom's attic." Y/N turns, looking back at Harry; there's a soft look on his face. "I wanted to send them, but I couldn't. I didn't want to interfere."

"Darling, that's-" he chokes up, tears escaping him. "Can I read them?" 

Y/N nods, "Of course, they were intended for you after all."

"Will you read them with me?" 

"Sure, if that's what you want." 

"Do you want to know something now?"

Y/N reaches forward and brushes a loose curl back. "Tell me." 

"Each book I've read, I have written a dedication in it for you." 

"What?" She says, surprised. 

"The new bookshelf in mom's living room is filled with books." He waits for her to nod before continuing on. "All books for you."

"Harry," It's her turn to cry now, it seems.

"Thought about you just as much, angel." 

"Do you think we did the right thing, letting each other go?" 

"I do."

"Why?" 

"It brought us together again. Sure it was the time capsule, but there is also Massachusetts." He reminds her.

"Isn't that wild?" She shakes her head in disbelief. "Same residency."

"It was fate, angel. Like you said last night." 

"Yeah, guess fate had a plan, after all, dove." 

Harry chokes up, tears welling up in his eyes. "What did you say?" 

"Fate had a plan."

"After."

"Dove," she breathes out, not even noticing she slipped it in; it came out like second nature. "You're my dove, my kind man, the love of my life." 

Harry grabs her face and connects his lips to hers. It's not soft; it's fast and hot but full of love. She leaned back, feeling the heat in her cheeks. Harry chases her lips, not finished yet. She lets him kiss her as he pressed soft pecks on her lips, liking the feel of her soft lips. 

"Is it too soon to ask to marry you?" Harry asks, trailing kisses down her neck. 

"No, never too soon." She giggles as he kisses a soft spot right under her jaw. "If I recall, I asked you one too many times during high school." 

Harry chuckles, nodding. "Should have accepted sooner." 

She looks at him, not being able to contain her laughter, knowing very well he should have.

"Marry me." He asks, all traces of laughter gone. He holds his breath, waiting for a response. 

"Yes, of course, dove." 

Harry seals it with a kiss. She accepted, and yes, it may seem rushed, but they aren't getting any younger. Their love was put on hold, and now because the time is right, they get to pick up as if no time passed at all. 

They are different people, but Harry and Y/N have only become more perfect for one another. 

2000 DECEMBER - MASSACHUSETTS 

Her eyes snap open, and she quickly sits up, throwing the blanket off herself feeling hot and unfocused, startling Harry making him drop the Pop-Tart he was eating to fall on his chest. 

She looks back at Harry, sitting up with crumbs covering his mouth and half-eaten brown sugar cinnamon sitting on top of his black sweats. 

Y/N can't help but laugh at the sight in front of her, her nightmare now pushed aside. 

"You're laughing." He pouts. "You gave me a proper scare." 

She frowns, "I had a bad dream." 

"Yeah, want to talk about it?" 

She shakes her head no, instead asking him an important question. "Why are you eating Pop-Tarts in bed?" She picks up the broken half and takes a bite, appreciating the strong cinnamon flavor. 

"I got hungry, but I didn't want to leave you alone, and honestly, I'd never willingly leave your cuddles." 

"Did you bring me my own?" She mutters, swallowing the last piece of his.

"Why, of course, I'm no monster." 

"What time are you going in today?" She asks as she opens up the package handing him half since she ate his. He happily accepts. 

"Noon." 

She glances at the alarm clock and sees it is only nine am. She mumbles an 'okay,' settling herself to lay her head on his chest. 

"How are you spending your day off?" His hand running through her hair, always wanting to be touching her in some way.

"In bed." 

Harry doesn't like that. "Still feeling sick." He states.

"Yes, but I'm fine." 

"Okay, but we do work in a hospital." He playfully reminds her.

She lets out a deep sigh. "I'll have Annie check on me tomorrow." 

"Thank you." He kisses her temple, definitely leaving crumbs of food behind.

"I love you, Harry." 

"I love you too." 

Y/N and Harry had come a long way from the Summer of 98'. They got back together and were excited to start the next chapter of their lives together. Their families were thrilled at the news of them getting back together and even happier when they learned about their shared residency location. 

That Summer led them to where they are now; two years into their residency programs and one year into marriage. 

Harry could not wait; he had wanted to take her to city hall for a quick signature but knew she deserved better. They were wed in the botanical garden under the beautiful flower arch she dreamed of. It was the wedding she always dreamed of; it was small and beautiful. Only their closest friends and family were in attendance. Their wedding photo; Harry gazing at her as if she put all the stars in the sky and Y/N smiling at the camera. It sits framed on Y/N's bedside. He decided it went there, so when he turns to look over at her, he sees all of her beauty laid out for him and the happiest day of his life. 

Harry had fought her on changing her last name, wanting her to be called Doctor Y/LN because she worked for it and was a man who wanted his wife to shine and do all she set her mind to. Harry went as far as suggesting hyphenating but still no. She changed her last name to 'Styles.' Y/N told him she spent years dreaming about it in high school, even years later when he wasn't by her side. It's an honor to share his last name because one day, their future children would as well. 

Y/N has a year left in her pediatrics residency, and Harry has two years to go. She has her fellowship to think about, which will add three more years; her focus on Critical Care Medicine. Harry has decided on Addiction Psychiatry which is only a year-long, but he's got his last two years to worry about first. 

Life has been going well, they've had their fair share of arguments but nothing they can't fix. Harry can't say he doesn't love making up; it always leads to a good time.

They didn't know what life had in store for him but looking around at the photos they have hanging up, a picture of Mitch and Sarah's little boy Nathaniel who only gets bigger every time they see him. A photo of Sydney showing off her engagement ring, face full of tears but smile large; Zac off traveling the country smiling in his picture of him visiting the Grand Canyon part of his trip to visit each National Park and document his journey. 

This group of six friends is living their dreams; at sixteen, none of them know what life would be like twelve years down the road, but if it wasn't for each of them having this friendship and deciding to bury a time capsule, they might not be where they are right not; happier and more in love than ever. 

Harry and Y/N are filled with love and know life couldn't be better than it is; incredibly grateful to be in love and be loved back just the same. 

Little do they know their love will soon have to be shared.

_____

Thank you so much for reading! 

I love you and I hope you loved this story <3

[midgardianweasley]

Build-a-bear adventures

Build-a-bear adventures.

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: A top trained assassin, her girlfriend, and a build-a-bear workshop, what better way to spend a day off. 

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: Agonisingly fluffy.

I was planning on posting angst, but, decided on a fluff instead<33 

“But babe. Babe. Babe.” You poked your girlfriend, fully aware that with every prod, you were only contributing to the headache worthy eye rolls she had been giving you for the past hour. You were joking, of course you were, she knew that, but she also knew that it was possible you were about to be single in 0.2 of a second if you didn’t stop poking her. 

With a sarcastic smile and a deep breath, she turned her head towards you, momentarily stopping your movements as you returned a sickeningly sweet smile back. 

“Yes?” 

“I don’t think you understand.” 

“I do understand.”

“This is life or death.” You spoke with a poker face, a weak attempt to try and make your point valid. 

“I think that may be exaggerating just a little bit honey.” She chuckled lightly at your tone and the way you moved in your spot on the sofa, now having your legs crossed in front of you, hands enthusiastically moving in front of you. 

“No. No, see, you don’t understand! We need to do this!” 

“Is my unconditional love not enough?” 

“No.”

“Ouch.” She dramatically placed her hand on her chest, a smirk plastered onto her face as she watched you rile yourself up with every sentence.

“Okay, sorry, I didn’t mean that, your unconditional love is more than enough, and while I unconditionally love you too, that doesn’t change the fact that this is a necessity.” 

“Like the ones from the jungle book?” 

You groaned loudly, throwing your head back as the assassin teased you. 

“Baby, please!” You moved once again, now clambering onto her lap with your hands interlocked behind her neck, your faces mere inches away from hers. Her hands immediately went to your waist to steady you, pure energy coursed through your veins as you tried to convince Natasha to go ahead with your idea and she wasn’t certain you wouldn’t fall off of you if she didn’t hold you down.

“You seriously want to?”

“Yes.”

“Today?”

“Yes.”

“Instead of cuddling in bed with movies?” Her eyebrows raised in question, not faltering as she watched you pretend to ponder, stroking an imaginary beard on your chin.

“Yes.” You smiled, your inner child shining through. 

Knowing she wasn’t going to win, she sighed gently, running a hand through your hair and giving you a quick kiss on your temple before tapping your thighs to signal for you to stand up. 

“Alright. Get ready and we’ll go.” 

“Really?” You squealed, clapping your hands together as you rocked back and forth on your heels. 

“Really. Now hurry and get your shoes on, we don’t want to get stuck in traffic.” 

She watched with nothing but adoration as you whizzed off to get ready to leave, swearing that she’s never seen you move so quickly in her life. Despite her playful protest, she walked over to the kitchen counter to pick up her car keys, swinging them around her pointer finger as she walked over to the doorway of the compound living room. 

‘I can’t believe I'm doing this.’ She thought. 

Although she’ll deny it to anyone that asks, she’s absolutely whipped for you. 

“I’m ready!” Your voice called out, encouraging Natasha to shrug her leather jacket on and walk towards her smiling girlfriend, taking her hand as they walked out together with content smiles on their faces. 

‘Let’s do this.’ 

_______________________

It didn’t take long to arrive at your destination, your eyes immediately drew themselves to the store windows filled with stuffed bears in a variety of different outfits, some bears were dressed up to fit a theme, some bears were characters from loved movies, some were just bears in dungarees. 

That’s right. You’ve managed to bring a trained assassin to a build-a-bear workshop. Why? 

To get matching bears. 

You looked towards Natasha, a huge grin on your face, only faltering slightly as you were met with her hands and forehead on the drivers wheel. You tugged on her sleeve, ignoring her disagreement, her head not leaving the wheel, but turned to face you.

“Stop being silly, c’mon, you’re looking forward to it! I know you are!” 

“Babe. We’re parked outside of a teddy store.”

“Exactly! It’s fun, you’re excited, I'm excited, let’s go!” 

You didn’t hesitate to open your car door, jumping out of the car and shutting the door behind you, the redhead not far behind you as she once again took your hand, reminding you how lucky you are that she loves you. Your response was a simple kiss on her cheek, a small blush following shortly afterwards.

“You’re cute.” You pinched her cheek.

“Yeah yeah, let’s go get our bears.” 

_______________________

“So, that’s both of your bears stuffed, do you guys want to put voice boxes in them?” The kind staff member asked the pair of you. 

You glanced towards Natasha, silently asking if she’d like one or not. She gave you a brief smile before looking back at the woman helping you with your bears. 

“Sure, I don’t see why not.” She winked at you before following the woman over to another station within the store. There were rows and rows of different shapes and coloured voice boxes to choose from. 

You had the option of choosing a pre-recorded sound, like animal sounds or a bunch of different ‘i love you.’ in different voices. You didn’t mind what voice you had, honestly, you would’ve been content with an ‘i love you’ from Elsa at this point. However, you saw your girlfriend make a beeline for the ones that you record your own message into. 

“You’re gonna do your own one?” You asked, moving over to stand beside her. 

“Nope. I’m making one for yours.” She said proudly, holding two of the small items in her hand, holding it out for you to take one. You couldn’t help but feel your heartbeat quicken at her words. This is the sweetest thing you’ve ever done with someone else, and to think she wasn’t even that eager to come in the first place. You knew she’d have fun. 

Taking the small blue speaker from her hand, you were instructed to press the button on the back of the plastic, hold it down to speak, and release it when you were finished, but it can only be a short message. The both of you tucked your bears under your arm, bringing the box to your mouth and cupping it so that it would come out loud and clear, and so the other couldn’t hear what you were saying. 

Once your messages were done, you handed each other the speaker to place in the paw that had a ‘press me’ sign sewed into it. The woman ensured it was inserted correctly before taking them elsewhere to be sewn up, leaving you both to look at the racks of tiny clothes hung on the wall. 

It was almost as difficult as choosing clothes for yourself, there were too many options, and every single one was adorable. How did literal children do this? 

“Please tell me you can’t decide on an outfit either.” The Russian spoke from beside you, her gaze focused on the fabrics, styles and patterns in front of you. 

“It’s easier trying to take a pop tart off of the demi-god at home than trying to pick a pair of jeans and a t-shirt for a stuffed animal. What the hell?” Your arms gestured to the wall in front of you, exasperated as you tried to decide whether you wanted the blue jeans or black.” 

“Hi guys, here are your bears, just letting you know, there’s also some dresses over there if you want to check them out.” The woman smiled, watching as you and Natasha shared a glance of horror. 

The two of you were gonna be here for a while.

______________________

Finally, you and Nat had dressed both your bears. You chose a pair of black jeans, a white t-shirt and a black leather jacket for yours, and Natasha had chosen a Y/F/O. It appeared as though each of you had made ‘mini me’s’ of the other, and they seemed pretty damn accurate too. 

After successfully creating and dressing your bears, it was time to name them, pay, and then you could both go home and relax. You had no idea building a bear could be so exhausting. 

Both you and Natasha had to pick a name. You thought it over, whereas Nat had just rushed right in, choosing to call her bear ‘honey.’, the nickname she always reserved for you. Gripping your bear tightly, you observed the birth certificate being printed out, the name, the owner’s name and the date clearly written in bold, black letters. You could’ve sworn you saw Natasha’s eyes light up when she was handed the sheet of paper. 

“What about you, miss?” The woman asked, ready to type in whatever name you gave her. Glancing behind you quickly, you caught the eye of your girlfriend behind you, immediately knowing what to call it. 

“Snoopy, please.” 

You heard one loud and short laugh erupt from Natasha’s lips, her hand shot to cover her mouth, not intending to be so disruptive when she heard what you had called it. 

‘Snoopy’ is the name of a cartoon character, which was probably what people would think you named the bear after. In reality, it wasn’t that at all. 

When you first met the team, you were informed of what everyone’s roles were and how they contributed to the group. There were supersoldiers, scientists, a god, all different kinds of people, including the incredibly attractive spy. When you went on your first mission, she had to hack into a computer to retrieve some stolen data, but took her time to also look at some other things they had on there too, just to kill time. 

The first words you said to her on that mission that wasn’t to do with what direction you were running in, was ‘Alright, hold off Snoopy, you can do that in your spare time, hurry up.’, and at first she was annoyed with the nickname, claiming she wasn’t snooping, nor does she ever ‘snoop’, but she soon took it in her stride. It was still a running joke between the pair of you 2 years down the line, and you never let her forget it. 

“Nice name, babe.” She coughed, unable to fully settle down from her laughing fit.

“Why, thank you! Yours isn’t so bad yourself.” You spoke as you blew her a kiss that she grabbed in thin air and pretended to shove into her jean pocket, earning a small shake of the head before you took your printed certificate and went to purchase the bears. 

_______________________

Once you got back to the compound, the both of you were completely shattered, unable to keep your eyes open to watch some TV before bed. Eager to get some sleep, the two of you just ended up changing into your pyjamas, following your shared night routine before collapsing onto your bed. 

You lay beside her, still able to smell her perfume after so many hours, the scent making your eyelids feel like rocks. Grabbing your bear, you put it in between you, Natasha doing the same thing, before snuggling up close together under the covers. She reached over to put some fallen hair behind your ear, smiling gently at you as she did so, the gesture lazily returned. 

“Thank you for suggesting today, baby. I really enjoyed myself.” She whispered, a murmur of agreement following her words.

“Thank you for taking us Natty, I had fun.” You mumbled with closed eyes, sleep quickly taking over. 

“Get some sleep, my love.” 

You nodded once before responding. “G’night Nat.” 

“Goodnight baby.”

And that was you, out like a light. 

Natasha reached over to give you a kiss on the forehead as her final goodnight, not realised that she’d leant on the teddy in the process, only noticing when she heard your voice in a non sleepy state. 

“I’m madly in love with you, Romanoff.” She heard you laugh, followed by an excited “I’m done!”, obviously you forgot to let go of the button after you recorded the initial message, but it had made it even more special. She couldn’t help but adore you with every bone in her body. 

You weren’t awake now, but when you were, she hoped to see your reaction when you listened to her message in your bear, the words spoken in Russian, but you’d heard them before, so you’d definitely know what it meant.

“Moye serdtse tvoye, lyubov' moya.” (My heart is yours, my love.)

She was right. 

She’s absolutely whipped. 

 Taglist: @natashas-favourite-knives @eilarch @natashaswifey @lostandsearching​ @wandaromanova​ @pottahishotasf @d14n4ol @xxromanoffxx 

[its-snicket-here]

Hc if Rihmaru have a sister with him who is also a slime, who things go with out three fave demons?

I'm assuming you mean Demons and Demon Lords right? bwb

I'm deeply sorry if they're seem to OOC for this ;-;

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

Milim

You being a girl slime that is siblings with Rimuru?

Bitch, get ready for Milim being your high school bestie since elementary school. Shit gonna get wild with her.

I would say that she's like the oldest sibling type vibe as being her bestie. Gonna teach you sum stuff being as the whole demon lord thing.

If she can't play with/hang around with Rimuru, she gonna take you instead. There is nothing stopping her to do so.

Will and can drag you everywhere to go goof around. Her favorite thing is to do is pulling mindless pranks on unexacting people all over the places or eating the foods that Rimuru introduced into the world.

Isn't too big on shopping or dressing up honestly. Wants to highly goof around and eat.

She'll probably bring you to the manor where the demon lords in, much to Rimuru's dismay. Though she'll probably try to protect you from the other demon lords, especially Clayman.

The first few times meeting, Milim gets the two of you mixed up in slime forms due the similarly in shape, color, and size (slightly, Rimuru is bigger) to be blunt. Though she had gotten better telling the difference between the two.

If you can cook: Please let Milim have a taste of your cooking. Let her.

Honestly, I feel like Milim would be a great person to be the shoulder to cry on. Like, she'll drop the highly child like attitude to listen to you. If anyone made you sad, there is nothing stopping her beating their ass to a bloody pulp. If nobody is making you sad. In general, I feel like she'll take you somewhere that she goes whenever she feels sad or angry.

Big sister energy

Diablo

Even though he is an intelligent demon. When it comes around you, he becomes a nervous wreck on impressing you due to you being the superior form of being the closest with Rimuru. So no manipulating you. You're special.

He's basically become a total train wreck. Like, dead ass. I feel like whenever you say something that he thinks it's important, he's like this. Especially when it comes to topics that is related to your brother.

Basically Demiurge 2.0, but if Pandora's Actor's personality mushed in.

Will spoil you to no end to impress you.

Breakfast in bed? Check.

Picking out your- Wait you don't have a human form yet.

TIME TO PICK A CORPSE THEN

This of course lead Rimuru scolding and chiding the demon for attempting murder on a woman so you could shift into human too

It's not a fun sight seeing a nearly dead woman screaming bloody murder inside the manor after having an attempt of a night stand.

Personally as a butler to Rimuru, I feel like Diablo would be the one who would fret over you being very healthy and safe.

If you somehow doesn't have the fighting skills or don't want to fight. Then please, let the demon butler fight in your honor. Much more easier to impress you with his powers.

If you're a person that can be easily impressed by anything; you're now his main source of ego boosts.

The fact that's he's trying to impress you is so oblivious to you that there is a running gag where you don't notice him impressing you.

Though if you're feeling sad. He will not hesitate to go kill the person who made you sad. How are they made Lord Rimuru's beloved sister mad?!

Very big on comfort when easing your negative emotions

Though this will lead Rimuru scolding Diablo again if he hears about Diablo going out to kill somebody over you being sad. Despite Rimuru also wanting go strangle that person. He can't afford the Tempest Federation labeled as a threat.

The impresser/fussy butler

Ramiris

She tiny. This causes problems between the two of you when visiting.

For starters, you struggle to keep sight of the fairy when you're distracted with looking around the labyrinth in it's marvelty. To be blunt, you never visited the labyrinth with Rimuru because, haha no body to possess.

Honestly, with Milim and her. There would be tea parties... err... sort of because you really never have a human body. So can't taste anything. Damn you now realize how fucking lucky your brother is.

Though when you actually get a body, thanks to Milim and Ramiris, the three of you celebrated with a shit ton of food and drinks. Diablo still salty about not being the one giving you a body.

Not gonna lie, Ramiris seems to be the type of person who would also be like bragging off her deeds in the past.

Though you must be thick skinned as well because sometimes this tiny ass lady is very truthful/blunt about her feelings/opinions. Though very great when needed on fashion.

This bitch gonna turn you into a pretty slime. No buts, ifs, or whats.

Though she knows when to drop her prideful ass when you're not in the mood of it. She knows when to stop being snarky or blunt with her opinions.

Also a great person to cry on. Though unlike Milim and Diablo who would go fucking nuts if somebody else made you cry. She would tell you not to listen to them and give them insults for you to laugh at.

As a person who lived her long life before Milim, I feel like she's a mix of being a great guardian and a friend that you could look up too.

Additionally, she'll lower her blunt attitude even more if you're a person who is insecure and emotional when encountered with negative emotions. She'll become even more over protective over you.

A guardian friend

-----------------------------

Diablo rushed through the corridors, seeming to be in a worried rush. This morning when he came to bring in your breakfast, you weren't there sleeping. Your bed was left in a mess and your drawers were opened. There is no way you were woken up in a rush haven't you? Seems like he is going to give you some scolding when he finds you. Sensing your magicules inside one of the doors, he hastily open the door to only be greeted by his lady and two women he never encountered.

"My lady! There you are!" He claimed. Milim and Ramiris looked at Diablo in confusion, as you looked at Diablo in shock. You were rather startled with Diablo's sudden entrance inside the game room. You were in your human form that represented a child, much, much shorter than Rimuru. About Gobta's size perhaps. Diablo whisked you up in his arms, ignoring the fact that you were occupied with playing a board game with the two women.

"H-hey!"

"My lady, you shouldn't have run off like that before breakfast! Not eating-"

"Let my best friend go you weirdo!" Yelled Milim. She glared at Diablo, not amused that the demonic butler just came in uninvited and whisked her bestie up in the middle of a game. Right besides her was a plateful of snacks and sandwiches that she was hoarding as well a pissed off Queen of Spirits.

"Don't you have a pair of eyes? Can't you see we're in a middle of a game!" Diablo seem irked, annoyed the idea that it was this woman and a short stack that whisked away his lady first before eating. Even more irked that they also made his lady eat junk food as breakfast.

"Well I'm deeply sorry for not seeing the two of you with how short you are."

"What did you say?!"

"Take that back!"

You nervously look between the two parties, seeming to be in great discomfort being in the middle ground of a soon to be fight. Slowly shifting into your slime form, you slipped through the demon's arms and scurried away quietly - hoping to find your brother to at least ease the situation.

Though you're not blessed with sight like your brother...

CRASH

"What was that?"

"Never mind that! Where's my bestie?!"

"Augh! Thanks to you, now she's gone!"

"Hey, guys?" In came an Kijin woman who were dressed in a purple attire. In her arms was another blue slime, that was slightly bigger than his sister, resting under her breasts.

"Lord Rimuru!"

"Bestie!"

"Rimuru!"

"Where's my sister?"

[angellesword]

YOUR EYES TELL | JJK (08)

Summary: You live in a world where people see in black and white. The solution to finally see the colors? It's simple. You need to meet your soulmate and look at him in the eyes, but what if the person bound to you is already contented with the monochromatic world? What if...Jeongguk, your soulmate, is already in love with someone else?

Alternatively:

"A future without you is a world without color."

Genre: soulmate au, e2l, slow burn, angst, fluff, roommate au

Pairing: Artist!Jungkook x Lawyer!Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Series: CHAPTER 7 | CHAPTER 9

warnings: unrealistic court happenings i am not a lawyer ok mention of physical abuse, drinking problems, child trauma, mental illness, and infidelity. I want to build a whole new world in this fic that’s why i also didn’t research about divorce trials I’m sorry. OC is kind of annoying/disappointing in this chapter (?) or not (?) Young Choi Soobin of TXT is the kid in this chapter’s moodboard

Jeongguk was the ex-boyfriend Red was talking about.

You figured this out when you were at Seokjin's party. Frankly, the way your soulmate was looking at Red was already a giveaway, but then you had to confirm it yourself.

The only way to do that was to either confront Jeongguk or your assistant.

You chose neither and it was because you were afraid to hear what they would or wouldn't say. This being said, you resorted to your last option.

"Come on..." It was hard to sit on the floor when you're wearing a damn long dress, but this didn't stop you from rummaging through Red's personal things.

It's the middle of the night. You left Jeongguk at your apartment right after he reached his high.

You just wanted to teach him a lesson for being a brat. He was always so rude to you and you honestly thought that he was just in denial—that soon enough, he would realize that you two were really destined to be together.

Apparently, that wasn't going to happen.

You went to your office at one in the morning just to find something that would verify your speculation. You got what you wanted. The photograph of Jeongguk kissing your assistant confirmed it.

Your tears fell.

You didn't know why you felt betrayed. It wasn't like they wanted this. They hadn't done anything wrong. Fate was just cruel. Why didn't you meet Jeongguk first? You couldn't blame him for falling in love with Red—she was sweet, beautiful, and smart. Anyone would definitely like her, so you had no choice but to swallow the lump in your throat and accept this.

You just had to pretend like everything was alright.

It wasn't.

The divorce trial was near and there were still so many things you had to fix. Work was seriously draining the hell out of you and it wasn't like Jeongguk was helping. He was actually adding up to the stress you were feeling.

Jeongguk was giving you the silent treatment and no—it wasn't the type of silence you were used to. Before Seokjin's party, your soulmate was quiet, but not really. He would occasionally huff to let you know that he was annoyed at you. He would also stamp his feet and slam the door just to spite you.

You didn't mind. You knew he was just being a brat; however, things were different now.

After the night of Seokjin's party, Jeongguk changed. He was eerily silent, always avoiding eye contact with you.

You tried talking to him. Regrettably, you were only greeted by stillness.

"You want pizza, Gukkie?"

Nothing.

"Have you watched the latest episode of Start-up?"

Still nothing.

"Did you have a good sleep?"

Nope. Nothing. Nada.

"Wanna make out on the couch?"

Jeongguk's head jolted to your direction. His eyes were wide, cheeks turning crimson because of your bold statement.

"Hey!" You giggled, clearly happy with his reaction. "You finally looked at me!"

Jeongguk shook his head and then he went straight to his room.

You were unbelievable.

You pouted your lips, giving up. You had a feeling that he would come around.

He did. Days later, Jeongguk surprised you when he stood right in front of the door of your apartment. He was blocking your way out.

"Gukkie, I'm going to be late." You sighed. He reminded you of Miri, your cat that's always trying to stop you from leaving.

"You can't leave." His jaw clenched.

You let out a breath once again.

"Don't do this please. Mr. Kim needs me,"

The trial was happening today. You needed to run down a few things with your client before you go to the court room.

"You just don't get it, do you?" Jeongguk folded his arms over his chest.

You stared at him.

"I don't get what?" It was hard to keep your composure when the thing you had been trying to avoid for so long was being rubbed in your face. You knew exactly what Jeongguk was implying.

"—that you want me to drop this case because you want Red all to yourself?"

Jeongguk froze. What was the point of staying silent when you always knew what was running inside his head?

You just always knew.

"You don't have to pretend that you care about Soobin's well-being. I have enough people doing just that," you slightly pushed Jeongguk to the side so that you could pass through the door.

Ah, people.

They're all the same, always trying to conceal their self-interest by pretending that they care for others.

You liked Jeongguk—actually; you were convinced you loved him. He was your soulmate after all, but sometimes love wasn't enough to just give into what he wanted.

This wasn't about your relationship. This was about Soobin's welfare. He's just a child. You were a lawyer who swore an oath to protect the oppressed and incapable. You were their voice.

It sounded cheesy, but this was the type of person you aspired to be. The world was already dark, it wouldn't hurt to be someone's light.

Jeongguk didn't understand your reasons. It was evident when he showed up in court to watch you defend Kim Seokjin.

At first, you thought your eyes were failing you. Was he really here? Was he really the man at the back of the room wearing that big hoodie?

It was him. The familiar scowl on his face said so. Jeongguk was the only person who looked at you like you had offended his whole family.

"All rise!"

You turned to your client upon hearing the bailiff's demand.

"It's going to be alright," assured by you.

Seokjin smiled. He was looking at Red instead of you. He needed the comfort of his soulmate.

Red grinned back. She wasn't worried. She trusted you. She was certain you would succeed. Soobin wasn't going to be taken away from his father.

The first few minutes of the trial went smooth. You had your story straight and with the way the judge was nodding; you instantly knew she was in favor of your side.

Unfortunately, things started to go ugly during the cross-examination of witnesses.

Jung Hoseok was the first one to take the stand. He was the expert witness.

"You are the marriage counselor of Mr. and Mrs. Kim for months now, right?"

"Yes." Hoseok answered the opposing counsel. It was weird seeing him this serious. Your friend was always grinning, but you told him to try to keep a neutral face. This way, the judge and the jury wouldn't know if he was caught off guard by the question of the other side's attorney.

"Mr. Jung, is it true that marriage counselors rarely suggest divorce to their clients?"

"Depends—" Hoseok bit his tongue. You told him to simply answer yes or no. Be responsive to the question and never explain. "I mean, yes."

"And yet here we are..." Ms. Choi, the opposing attorney, shrugged her shoulders.

"Objection!" You stood up. "Relevance?"

You didn't understand why Ms. Choi asked that question to Hoseok when she's just shrugging it off now.

"Sustained." The judge felt the same way.

Ms. Choi raised her hand as if surrendering.

"My bad. I'm just curious, you know? If Mr. Jung is indeed an effective counselor, then why did he suggest that the Kim couple push through the divorce?"

Ms. Choi was furrowing her brow at Hoseok.

"Isn't that true, Counselor Jung? You told Mrs. Kim that it's better to end her marriage with Mr. Kim?"

"Yes." The expert witness answered truthfully.

The opposing side's attorney smiled mockingly.

"It's because you feared for Mrs. Kim's safety, right?"

"What?" Jung Hoseok was lost.

"Come on, Mr. Jung you know exactly what I am talking about! You found out that Mr. Kim is an alcoholic and you are scared that he might harm Mrs. Kim and Soobin, right?" Ms. Choi pointed at the five year old kid who was busy coloring books in the far corner of the room. He was with Seokjin's mother.

"Objection, Your Honor! Compound question!" You glared at Ms. Choi.

"Sustained." The judge clenched her jaw. "Ms. Choi, separate your questions. You are misleading the jury..."

Ms. Choi was flustered, yet she still held her head high. She knew she had the upper hand here.

"Is Mr. Kim alcoholic, Mr. Jung?" She tried again.

Hoseok cleared his throat.

"He had a history of abusing alcohol years ago."

"And you know this because you're also a licensed alcohol and drug counselor, correct?"

"Yes..."

"And Mr. Kim Seokjin also told you about his issue with regard to alcohol abuse?"

"Yes." Hoseok swallowed hard.

There were papers that could attest to Hoseok's claim. This was a win for Mrs. Kim. You could see her growing sarcastic smile that was directed at Red.

You inhaled deeply.

"Mr. Jung, can you please tell us the rate of patients going through alcohol relapse?"

"Uh, it's sixty to ninety percent after the first year of treatment," answered by Hoseok.

"I see. How long has it been since Mr. Kim sobered up?"

"As far as I know, it has been three years."

"Huh." Ms. Choi crossed her arms. "So is there a possibility that Mr. Kim would experience an alcohol relapse?"

"Yes."

"What's the statistical probability, Mr. Jung?"

"About fifty percent high." Hoseok looked dejected. He wanted to help Seokjin win the case, but he couldn't lie.

"I see." Ms. Choi was smiling as if she had already won the case.

"Can you tell us now the effects of experiencing an alcohol relapse? Or a slip?"

Hoseok's palms were sweating. Slip was one episode of drinking alcohol after trying to stay sober. Relapse, on the other hand, was the return to unhealthy behavior. Slip wasn't always followed by a relapse.

Hoseok also explained that there were different stages of relapse. Emotional relapse could cause suppression of emotions, becoming more isolated, trying to blame other people, and aggression, especially when they were confronted. There's also mental and physical relapse which included glamorizing alcohol and compulsive desires to drink.

"No further questions, Your Honor." The corner of Ms. Choi's mouth turned up upon realizing that the jury was in favor of their side now.

You had to step up your game.

The next witness was Son Chae-young. She was Soobin's babysitter. Chae-young had been living with the Kims ever since Soobin was born. She's a witness testifying against Seokjin.

Chae-young cleared her throat when your eyes landed on her. She already felt uncomfortable because of the way you were looking at her.

The way you stand up—shoulder down, neck long—was intimidating.

"You have a really nice necklace, Ms. Son."

Chae-young flinched upon hearing your compliment. She was confused. Mrs. Kim and Attorney Choi told her that you were scary, this was evident by the way you present yourself, but then...the way your eyes light up made her feel at ease. Your voice was soft too.

"Ah...thanks," regardless of your sweet persona, Chae-young still couldn't help but feel embarrassed. Why were you looking at her as if she was important? As if you were here to protect and not cross-examine her?

"Is it from Cartier?"

"Yes!" The babysitter beamed at you as she touched her pretty jewelry.

You smiled warmly at her.

"Did you buy it yourself?"

"Objection! Relevance?" The opposing lawyer clenched her fist. She was shaking, causing you to smile bigger. Guess she knew what was coming to her, huh?

"I'm getting there, Your Honor," said by you. Your expression screamed confidence that the judge was compelled to believe you.

"Overruled."

You continued.

"So...Ms. Son, did you buy that necklace? Or is it a gift?"

"Uh..." Chae-young's lips trembled. She was looking at Mrs. Kim, as if she was asking for her boss' help. "I-I bought it for myself..."

"I see." You nodded. Humoring her. "Do you have any other job aside from babysitting Kim Soobin?"

The nanny shook her head.

"N-No. I'm a full-time nanny of Mrs. Kim's son." Chae-young's lips were still shaking; her eyes were quivering as well.

"Hm, interesting..." You went closer to the witness. "That means you're earning what? Two hundred fifty dollars a month?"

"Objection, Your Honor! I still can't see the relevance of this!" Ms. Choi was losing her mind.

You turned to glare at her.

"Can’t you really see the relevance of this or are you just scared?"

You heard the judge's hit the gavel; she was calling your attention.

"Get to the point right now." The judge demanded at you. It was this or your statement was going to be sustained.

"I am merely establishing my point, Your Honor." Your voice was rough. "The necklace Ms. Son is wearing is worth four thousand three hundred dollars. I know because I have the same necklace and it took me, a lawyer, months!" You paused for a while just to emphasize the word months, "to buy it."

You turned to Chae-young when the judge remained silent.

"So tell me, Ms. Son, how can a full-time nanny like you who's earning minimum wage buy that kind of luxurious jewelry? Huh?" You were standing too close to the witness so Attorney Choi used this as an opportunity to object.

"Your Honor, she is badgering the witness!"

"Overruled." But the judge wasn't having any of it. "Answer the question, Ms. Son."

"I'm sorry!" The nanny's face twisted in fear. "Mrs. Kim bought it for me—"

"It's a gift!" Mrs. Kim blurted out, unable to contain her anger anymore. God. She hated you. "I bought it for her last month! It's my birthday gift for her!"

You smirked. Attorney Choi was panicking. She was caressing Mrs. Kim's hand, telling her to calm down.

Sadly, Mrs. Kim could not be stopped.

"Why am I explaining to you when you have no right to question my intention! It's my money so I get to decide what to do with it!"

She was yelling at you and it almost made you laugh. Why was she so defensive?

"May I remind you that you are a married woman, Mrs. Kim? You have to consider your husband's decision when it comes to spending that amount of money." You said this while glancing at the jury.

Base on their expressions, you knew that they agreed with you. This was a win on your side. One of the valid reasons of Seokjin for wanting a divorce was this. Mrs. Kim didn't know how to manage their assets.

You weren't done, though. You had to discredit the witness. You had to win the jury's side in all aspects.

"And you said you bought it last month for Ms. Son's birthday?" You shook your head, focusing your eyes at the nanny.

"Tell us, Ms. Son, when is your birthday?"

Mrs. Kim's face became pale upon hearing your question.

"January seventeen...”

You turned your attention back to Mrs. Kim again.

"Your birthday present is many months late, Mrs. Kim. Either that or you're just lying to hide the fact that you gave Ms. Son the necklace in exchange of testifying against your husband—"

"Objection—"Attorney Choi tried to stop you, but you cut her off too.

"Isn't that right, Ms. Son? You are bribed by your boss to say that you always see Mr. Kim Seokjin drinking alcohol—"

"Your Honor—" The opposing attorney was losing control, her objections were drowning because of how loud your voice was.

"Mrs. Kim wants you to lie! To say that her husband isn't a good father! That he isn't a good influence to Soobin!"

"Yes!"

You stopped trying to pressure Chae-young because it already worked. She admitted the truth.

"Mrs. Kim bribed me!" The babysitter sobbed, looking at you like you were the Lord and she was a sinner.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I-I can't say no, please...please...I need this job!"

"You bitch!" Mrs. Kim abruptly stood up. She wanted to attack you; fortunately the security officers were able to stop her.

The jury was surprised to see Mrs. Kim's violent reaction. You, on the other hand, didn't even flinch.

You were used to this kind of scene. Besides, you couldn't get sidetracked. You still needed to prove your point.

And so you faced the jury.

"Is this the kind of person that you want to raise a sweet, innocent five year-old kid?"

One of the members of the jury clutched her chest. She was affected by what you had said. Truthfully, they were almost decided to grant the sole custody to Mrs. Kim; however, upon seeing the latter's behavior, the jury was having second thoughts now.

"Just look at her!" You pointed at Mrs. Kim who was still seething with rage.

"She constrained an adult! Imagine the bad things she could force Soobin to do! Mrs. Kim is a manipulator!" You raised your voice dramatically.

"My actions are nothing compared to what that asshole is doing!" Mrs. Kim screamed as she angrily pointed at her husband.

She was crying.

Kim Seokjin was quiet. He was shocked by your responses. He didn't expect you to be this bold. You were different from the lawyer he thought he knew.

You didn't have any limit. You didn't know when to stop just to prove a point.

"He's teaching my son that it's okay to be unfaithful to your wife! Jury, please!" Mrs. Kim was desperate. "Don't let him come near my son! He's a drunken bastard!"

The judge was hitting the gavel again. There were too much drama and unnecessary comments from Mrs. Kim.

You shook your head. You couldn't stop now. The jury was undecided. They changed their minds from time to time. You could see sympathy in their eyes as they looked at the wife.

"Mr. Kim Seokjin is sober! You should be ashamed of yourself, Mrs. Kim! You keep blaming your husband when you're the reason why he turned alcoholic in the first place—"

"Objection, Your Honor!" Attorney Choi glared at you. "The attorney is assuming facts!"

You disagreed before the judge could say sustained.

"Am I?" You smirked at the judge before turning to your table to get your evidence.

Seokjin looked at you nervously.

"Please tell me you're not doing what I think you're doing," groaned by your client.

You were blinded by your role as a lawyer, so you ignored Seokjin's plea.

"Don't do this..."

Seokjin was already too late.

"I have here the evidence that will prove that Mrs. Kim is the reason why her husband turned alcoholic."

You brought out the printed photos of Seokjin's beaten up face. Bruises, cuts, and other physical injuries were seen.

The jury gasped. Attorney Choi was groaning as she told the judge that these photos were not entered into evidence.

You were playing dirty, but so were they. Ms. Choi told you that they wouldn't bring Mr. Kim's sobriety issue in this court. She lied.

"These pictures are given to me by Mrs. Kim Sunghee, Seokjin's mother." You glanced at your client's mother.

"She knows that her son's wife was assaulting him. Seokjin didn't want to feel his wife's punches so he resorted to drinking the pain away. Mr. Kim just wants to be numb."

"N-No..." Your client's tears streamed down his cheeks. He was calling your name, begging you to stop.

It felt like everyone was begging you to stop; even Sunghee was shaking her head.

It was wrong. This was a mistake. Seokjin's mother realized this when Soobin began to cry. He was silently crying at first, but when the little boy saw the photos in your hand, he started hyperventilating.

"Appa!" Soobin's eyes dilated. He could barely breathe.

Mrs. Kim stood up to attend to her son.

"Soobin!" Mrs. Kim was wailing.

Things were becoming messy.

You didn't understand what was happening, so you just stood there.

"Appa! A-Appa is hurting!" Soobin was losing it; his eyes were rolling in the back of his head.

"Call 911!" Red shouted.

The noise was deafening.

You still didn't get what was happening.

Seokjin went near you.

"I told you not to do it!" He shouted, snatching the photos away from your shaky hands.

"This isn't about me or my wife!" Seokjin continued to scream at you.

You were stunned.

Your client was blaming you.

This is your fault! Seokjin said.

You were wrong. You didn't have to bring out these photos because apparently, Soobin knew.

He witnessed how his mom used to beat up his father.

The poor kid was traumatized.

He had to get some help.

His parents thought he had recovered.

It had been years.

The thing about trauma was, it never went away. It was there—silently sleeping and waiting for that one thing that would trigger it.

You triggered Soobin.

"I-I didn't know..." Your voice was low as you stated your excuse.

No one wanted to hear your lame excuse, not even Jeongguk.

You looked at your soulmate once.

You looked at him desperately.

You looked at him hoping that he would understand—like he would comfort you.

He would never.

Jeongguk had this look in his eyes, the kind of feeling that expressed disappointment.

Jeongguk was disappointed in you.

It was clear because right now, he was shaking his head as if you had done the most horrifying thing in the world.

He shook his head before leaving you all alone.

No one wanted to be with you.

You were a disgrace.

[lizzzweasley]

Love Potion (George x Reader)

*This is a re-write of my original ‘’Love Potion’’ story, i wasn’t happy with some of the details, so i’m adding a little bit extra to it, just so it makes sense for the future of this story*

*This story takes place during The Goblet Of Fire, about a month after the attack at the quidditch attack*

————————————

You arrive at the platform. Wheeling your trunk with one hand and carrying your bag of books in the other. You take a breath in, you have gone through and back through the platform at least 10 times before, but you hated the feeling of walking through, it made you dizzy and sick, but only for a moment and then you would walk out the other side ready to board the Hogwarts Express. You also remember Neville telling you about a boy named Harry who had once walked straight into the wall, claiming the platform had sealed up. You were still sceptical about this claim, but still, you didn’t want to walk face first into a wall.

With a deep breath in, you look around to make sure there are no Muggles near by and start to jog, your jog turns into running-skip as you mentally prepare to walk straight into a wall, you squeeze your eyes tight as you feel that rollercoaster-type drop in your stomach. When you open your eyes, you are there, surrounded by crowds of people.

You see families waving their goodbyes, but you are alone, like every year, your grandmother always says goodbye outside Kings-Cross but never crossed the platform. “Bad for the skin all that fast travel” she would say, but you felt that wasn’t the reason she wouldn’t cross with you.

You see people staring to pair off in their respective house’s to get a good cabin before they all got too full. “You don’t want to be stuck in a cabin next to that Longbottom boy, or Loonie Lovegood the whole journey” you heard Penelope say one year, although you were quite fond of Neville and Luna and had spent odd journeys with the two of them and genuinely enjoyed their company, after all that’s when you were told about the “boy who lived” walking straight into a wall.

You see the Weasley family, and his mother licking her thumb and wiping the corner of Ronald Weasleys mouth, he looked embarrassed as Harry shot him a hidden laugh. You didn’t know all of the Weasleys but you knew of Ronald, Ginny, the twins of course, and Percy.

You are scoping over the platform, looking for angelica, looking quite nervous as you’re walking closer to the train, and closer to the Twins.

George taps Fred on the chest with the back of his hand and uses his head to motion in your direction.

“Too pretty for you, mate” Fred says jokingly.

You see Angelica and begin walking towards her, waving both your hands in the air, she puts up her hand and waves back. her dark hair is bouncing as she is practically skipping towards you from the other side of the platform, “sorry, oops, sorry! Sorry, ‘scuse me, sorry, thank you!, sorry” she says as she is weaving in and out of the crowds of people.

You are nearly passing the Weasley-clan now, and George is still unknowingly staring straight at you, you look up and find yourself looking straight into his brown eyes, you give him a shy smile and he cheekily gives you a wink, which made you shyly look away and back to Angelica, I suppose she thinks you were smiling so much because you were so happy to see her, which you were, but you were smiling so much because of that damn wink.

She doesn’t even stop to say hi, she just drops her bags onto the floor, and practically throws herself on to you, and into a hug, which makes you drop your bags 

‘’I’m so glad you’re okay!’’ She shouts pulling herself away to cup your face in her hands.

‘‘Why wouldn’t i be...’‘ you respond, feeling very concerned 

‘‘You...you mean you didn’t hear what happened? at the quidditch world cup?’‘ she questioned 

‘‘i’ve not been told a thing..’‘ you said, very dryly 

‘‘we, we will get on the train and i tell you, i’m shocked your Grandmother didn’t tell you anything’‘ she said 

‘‘yeah...me too’‘ you responded.

 Angelica was a little taller than you, and had a thin frame, her dark eyes always looked smokey and sultry, and her dark complexion was simply gorgeous. Sometimes you felt like a child next to her, with you being shorter than her, shorter than most. But despise the fact you two were almost totally different in every way, you always had each others backs, and she never left you for the more popular girls, even though she fitted in more with those girls than you, she still adored you, and wanted it no other way.

“Let’s go find a cabin, before the good ones get taken” she said jokingly with a wink, trying to lighten the mood

“You’re starting to sound like Penelope” you giggled.

You grabbed hold of your heavy bags and hoist them onto the train.

You wheel your bags down the carriage and straight to the back of the train

“Here will do!” She giggles, knowing damn well this is the cabin you usually sit in, because no one else would take it, it was one near the back, it was the shakiest cabin on the train, but the upside was the sweet trolley came to your cabin first.

You step up on the seats as Angelica passed you your trunks to put in the overhead storage, they were too high for you to do stood on the floor, after lifting both your trunks into the storage, you both placed your book bags on the seats next to you, and both you took a seat next to the window, opposite of each other, legs up on each others seats creating a bridge between your seat and hers.

You look out the window and see the back of the Twins, waving their mother goodbye, they then turned, you saw George’s face, thought of that wink, and smiled.

“He’s so hot” Angelica said, talking about Fred

“Yeah he is” you respond, talking about George

Neither of you took in what the other said, you were both too busy looking at the boys.

they were getting on the train and were probably getting ready to start their mini pop up shop of joke sweets and accessories. The boys always started at the opposite end of the train to the “trolley lady” (as Angelica liked to call her). They would start at the top of the train and work their way down, find themselves a cabin and use their earnings to buy themselves sweets off the trolley.

The train let out its first whistle of two. this first was a signal to any (first year) students that are not yet on the train, to wiggle themselves free of their family’s embrace and sloppy kisses and get on to that train. After a few years you learn to turn up early and get a cabin.

The second whistle indicated that you were (about 30 seconds) from setting off.

“I think we will be getting ready to set off soon!” Angelica said excitedly.

The last of the students hurried on to the train and squeezed into full cabins.

“Do anything fun for autumn break, y/n” Angelica asked, genuinely interested.

“Not really, no, muggle school you know, got to keep up with the Muggle studies as well as the Magic ones, you know my grandma” you said rather straight “what about you?” You asked Angelica.

“Oh my break was good y/n! Until what happened at the quidditch world cup’’ she responded hanging her head slightly.

‘‘What happened?’‘ you asked, feeling stupid for not knowing.

She explained the attack, and how the dark lord may be back. ‘’we’ve not seen or heard anything for about a month so i’m assuming they’re deeming Hogwarts safe to be open i guess’’

The second train whistle blew, it was 11am.

“Best get comfy” you said to Angelica, these train rides seemed to get longer the more years you had been at Hogwarts, it felt like home, and you couldn’t wait to go home.

The “trolley lady” usually started her rounds about half an hour into the journey, she liked to give people time to get settled, but more so, get hungry.

“So, did you get to talk to Fr..” you were cut off

“ANNNNNNNNYTHING OFF THE TROLLEY DEARZZZZZ” you hear a deep voice shout.

“That can’t be her” you said checking your watch “it’s not even half past yet”

“ANNNNNNNNYTHING OFF THE TROLLEY…. DEARZZZZ” you hear the voice say again, you open the cabin door and there is Fred and George Weasley, mimicking the trolley lady, with a brief case full of joke items.

You look at the full brief case and back up at George.

“What would you recommend” you ask him

“WELL FOR YOU, DEARRRR” he said still mimicking the trolley lady “HOW ABOUT A LOOOOOOOVE POTION, FIRST OF THE LINE DEARRRR, COME GIVE IT A WHIFF” still using his trolley lady voice.

“What are you trying to say to me, George Weasley, that I can’t find a date?” you joking scold him

“Looks like she’s doing just fine on her own” Fred leans and whispers to George, wiggling his eyebrows up and down.

George shoots a “pack it in” look to his brother over his shoulder.

“Give it a whiff then?” George asks again “rumour has it, you smell your favourite thing”

You move close enough to George and you can smell him, he smells like black currant, citrus, dark chocolate, incense, amber, vanilla. He opens up the love potion and you go to take a smell. “Doesn’t smell like anything, must be a dud” you say

“Well, honestly, we didn’t have anyone to test it on, fancy giving it a whirl?” George asks.

“No can do! That is the most dangerous potion in the world!” You joke.

He closes up the brief case “don’t suppose you’ll let us sit in there with you? The rest of the train is packed”

“YEAH, I mean, no worries” Angelica shouted, but then tried to play cool.

You always knew she had a crush on Fred, she just never said anything to him.

Fred took a seat next to Angelica, and George opposite him next to you.

“Good business this year, boys” you ask

“Not really” Fred says

“Looks like people are either holding onto their money a bit tighter, or our products this year are crap” George said, pretending to joke, but you could tell he was a bit bummed about it.

“I’m sure your products aren’t crap” Angelica said reassuringly

“Let’s have one of those love potions then” she says to Fred.

You shoot a wide eyed look at her, a “don’t you dare use that” kind of look.

Fred quickly opens up the briefcase and hands her the love potion for 5 Galleons.

“So, you boys get up to anything good this break?” you ask, mostly directing your question to George

“Well our brothers came to visit, we went to the quidditch World Cup, unfortunately, but mostly Ginny was pestering us to teach her Quidditch, so that was pretty much it” Fred responded, despite your desperate attempts to get George to speak

“ANNNNNNYTHING OFF THE TROLLY DEARS” the Trolley Lady started

You all giggled, thinking of Fred and George’s mimic of her

“I’ll never be able to hear that the same, thanks to you” you said shooting a look at George, he winked at you again, and you melted.

You got up and opened the door, “yes, us please” you say to the trolley lady

“Same as usual?” you turned and asked Angelica

“Please” she smiled

“Two liquorice wands and a Fairy Fizz for Angelica” you say to the Lady

You turn and see Fred and George turning out their pockets, counting their money together

“We don’t have enough, mate” you heard George say and Fred looked disappointed. This hit you in the chest and you just felt so bad for them.

“Two pumpkin pasties … and two Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans, two Chocolate Frogs, one Pixie Pop and another Fairy Fizz, please” you asked

“Of course dear!” The lady said as she bagged your sweets and drinks, you handed her the money, grabbed your bag, closed the door and sat back down next to George.

Fred and George were still looking disappointed with their lack of sweets, you reached into the bag, picked up a box of beans and threw it in the air towards Fred to catch, you handed the other box to George and then did the same with the Chocolate Frogs.

You then reached over the cabin and handed Fred the Fairy Fizz drink “my favourite” Fred said

You handed the Pixie Pop drink to George, “MY favourite” George looked at you.

“How did you know this was my favourite” George asked, laughing.

“Well seeing how you both drink them with your Breakfast, Dinner and Lunch I assumed they would be!” You smiled, looking dead into George’s eyes

“You can tell us apart?” George asked

“Of course I can, George” you said softly, putting your hand on his hand that was on his knee, there was a second of silence between the two of you and you looked into each others eyes. This was the first time George felt like his own person and not just “one of the twins” and he liked that the person who could tell them apart, was you.

You both snapped out of it and pulled your gaze away from eachother and moved your hands away.

He reached into his briefcase and handed you a love potion.

“What’s this for?” You asked tilting your head to the side

“Payment, for the sweets” he smiled.

You reached, grazed your hand over his, and took the love potion, knowing you wouldn’t use it, but the gesture was nice as it was the only “girly” thing these boys made, and put it in your pocket.

You spent the rest of the journey trying the different beans, throwing them in the air and catching them in your mouths. Seeing what cards they got in their Frog box. Angelica and Fred started getting closer, whispering to eachother and laughing at their own jokes together, leaving you and George to talk about Classes and what happened at the Quidditch World Cup.

The train was pulling into the station now “this has been fun, George” you said smiling at him

“It sure has, we should do it again some time … if you want” he said, this is the first time he has looked shy

“Is that a date, Mr Weasley?” You said laughing

He went red and laughed along not knowing what to say to that.

The train came to a complete stop, and you got ready to stand back up on the chair to reach your bag, George stood up, towering over you as you were still sat down, something about seeing him looking down at you lit a heat in your stomach and you felt your cheeks going pink.

He reached up in the overhead cabin and pulled your bag down for you

“Blimey y/n, what do you have in this bag, a hippogriff?” He laughed and placed your bag on the floor for you to take.

Angelica grabbed her bag off the overhead locker.

You both grabbed your bookbags and followed Fred and George off the train.

You went to take the small step off the train and George held out his hand for you to stabilise yourself with, you took it, and he winked.

When you got off the train you asked Fred and George “are you coming to the meal?”

“Afraid not y/n” said Fred

“Gonna try and flog a few of these items to the first years before we eat” said george

“okay, Freddie, well, see you ‘round” Angelica said to fred

“Freddie?” George mouthed to you, rolling his eyes and you both laughed. Fred looked very embarrassed at being called this and the fact that you and his brother noticed made it even worse and so he slightly shook his head.

You started to walk up to the boats and turned around to see George watching you walk away “See you around, Georgie” you shouted over to him, mocking Angelica, George smiled and shot you a wink, and you felt that fire again.

——————

When you got to the common room you begin to unpack all your things and when you sat on your bed you felt a clink in your pocket, and you remembered the love potion George gave you, you opened it up and took a smell of it, it smelled like black currant, citrus, dark chocolate, incense, amber, vanilla, it smelled of George. And then it hit you, you couldn’t smell the love potion because you were standing right next to him, and they smelled the same. You felt bad for calling his product a “dud”. But smiled at the smell of it. You spent the next few at nights before bed taking a smell of it, you knew you had to tell him.

[stonesparrow]

For the dr.stone x atla crossover I feel that even if Hyoga is or was a soldier in the fire army he wouldn’t have liked the idea of a nations worth of centuries of knowledge pasted down through generations being wiped of the face of the earth.

I just had a thought Hyoga could be a soldier in the fire army but he could also be a master instructor at his own dojo he inherited from his master kinda like master Piandao. He’s still a fire bender though.

Also I think I would be a cute and funny plot twist if he has a daughter who is still young but old enough to help fight and strong enough to thanks her dad training her. I think he’d be the same tough and cold character he is but he’s surprisingly tender, caring, gental, and kind to her in his own way that would just make the characters in the dr.stone universe jaws hit the floor lol.

Ah, you do have a point with Hyoga likely being disappointed that the knowledge of airbending was lost to genocide - all those ancient techniques would probably be really fascinating to him as a martial artist. Though I can also see him buying into the Fire Nation’s imperialist message of “we are the strongest nation, so we should rule over all the weaker nations.”

I like your idea that Hyoga is a fighting instructor, with his values he’d probably be something like Zuko in skillset - he puts a lot of effort into firebending, but also into spearfighting since he deeply respects the nonbender master who taught it to him. At the same time he has no time for people who either don’t take it seriously or are too weak to make a difference.

(More under the cut because this got long)

Him having a kid is an interesting plot twist and while it’s more twisty than I’d expect, I’m kind of intrigued by the potential it has. Though that also brings up the question of who the kid’s mom is, and when the kid was born (I estimate Hyoga’s age in DCST to be around 20-22). Homura maybe? Like...perhaps Hyoga and Homura were both fairly high class and had an arranged marriage, but while Homura fell in love with him as they grew up together Hyoga only respected her as a friend and fellow fighter.

And then if they had a daughter (maybe pressured by both their parents to produce an heir of some sort) it could make them both more complex characters. If the kid was really strong though I’d lean more towards an Ozai-Azula like dynamic with Hyoga impressing his values of “only the strong and skilled deserve to live,” onto her. Plus if we’re keeping relative canon ages then I’d estimate Homura to be 20, Hyoga to be 22, and their daughter to be 2 by the time Team Avatar shows up in the Fire Nation to do their thing.

However...I can see some potential with the kid turning out physically weak, and that throwing Hyoga’s values into wack.

Let’s say the toddler was born healthy and strong and an assessment by some Fire Sages said that she’d become an extremely powerful bender - this pleases Hyoga, since he can’t imagine having fathered a weak child with him and Homura’s combined firebending ability. And indeed, by the time the kid is two she shows signs of firebending power well beyond her age group, with Hyoga planning to train her into an extraordinarily strong warrior.

Except with such a strong fire at such a young age, the little girl suddenly falls terribly ill, having raging fevers and struggling to breathe. Hyoga’s ideals would tell him that such an ill child will die, and that’s that, the weak and ill perish while the strong survive. But he finds himself insisting that the kid will survive, because she’s strong, she has to survive. She’ll recover and become the strongest firebender this side of the Nation, not die a weakling.

Some time later, the Gaang shows up to Hyoga’s town to resupply. Pre-Zuko joining but maybe somewhere between meeting Piandao and encountering Combustion Man? Aang decides to visit the local firebending dojo (rip Sokka’s nerves) because hey, he wants to see some firebending techniques from actual benders, and he can tooooootally handle staying low key this time, honest! He encounters Hyoga and gets a fair bit intimidated by him, though Hyoga seems to approve of “Kuzon’s” highly adaptive martial arts style.

At some point, a messenger comes and Hyoga slips away. Being nosy, Aang follows them and catches enough of the conversation to determine that there’s a sick kid living in that fancy mansion, and relays his concerns to the Gaang. Katara immediately wants to investigate further - Sokka is again very stressed but understands that he can’t stop his sister once she’s made a decision (plus this is post Painted Lady and Katara is even more determined not to let children suffer if she can do anything about it). But when she tries the front entrance, the guards won’t let her in, even when she says she’s a healer. In fact, they deny that there’s a sick child at all, while Aang insists he didn’t hear wrong.

So Aang and Katara, ever the problem solvers, break into the mansion (airbending is super useful!) and find the kid’s bedroom. Katara assesses the patient - she determines that even with her waterbending, the kid will likely suffer from complications her whole life due to the damage she’s already sustained. Hyoga suddenly appears, asking them how they got into his house (he’s actually very curious, since they seemed to enter silently and without alerting anyone). When Katara excuses herself and says she’s a healer from the colonies (Aang’s explanation for how Katara has “special healing techniques unlike any other”) and just wanted to help, Hyoga says that he doesn’t need a healer, and that the girl will recover soon. Katara starts to argue and Hyoga starts insinuating that he could easily beat her in combat, when Homura shows up, pleading with Katara to save her daughter.

Hyoga and Homura start arguing, with Homura saying this may be their last chance and Hyoga saying that a true daughter of his would be able to fight off the sickness alone. Homura eventually asks if he’d rather have a dead daughter than a weak one, which makes him go quiet (Aang and Katara are standing there awkwardly watching all of this). Hyoga then calmly says that since they seem to be at a standstill, the reasonable course of action is an Agni Kai (Aang goes pale at this, while Katara doesn’t actually know what that is).

In the courtyard the Gaang watches anxiously as Hyoga and Homura begin their duel, which results in quite a few impressive displays of firebending. Homura however seems to be holding back slightly, more on the run than attacking. At one point Homura gets thrown on her back and nearly burnt, but Katara calls out to her, saying she has to win for the kid. She gets back up and starts attacking Hyoga with renewed resolve, and even Hyoga is surprised.

Hyoga realizes that as loyal as Homura is to him, she really is doing her best to win, even coming at him with direct shots of flame now. And since this is still Hyoga, he respects that deeply - she’s doing things “properly,” even though she doesn’t want to. He even respects that Katara was so dedicated to her role as a healer that she broke into his house just on the mere mention that there was a sick child there.

And in the very bottom of his heart, despite all the talk of strength and weakness and who deserves to live, he has a hard time realizing that he doesn’t want his daughter to die, even if it means she’ll be weak and reliant on others her whole life. This might be a little OOC for canon Hyoga, but hey, it’s an au and maybe if canon Hyoga did have something small and weak to protect, he’d be less of an ass to Senku and company.

So at a key moment in the battle, Hyoga pauses for a split second instead of dodging a blast from Homura and allows himself to be grazed on the chin, reminiscent of his revival scars in canon. It’s not a bad burn, and those watching closely realize that he let her win. Hyoga turns to leave, only saying that Katara will be compensated for her healing services and that they truly did things “properly.”

Katara heals the girl, saying that the fever is gone but her lungs are damaged and she’ll have breathing problems from now on. She’s paid a small sack of gold by a servant that she initially refuses, but takes in the end since it’d probably be good to have extra Fire Nation currency on hand. The Gaang leaves the mansion feeling...a little conflicted about the experience, honestly.

Meanwhile as Homura sits by the girl’s bedside Hyoga appears in the doorway, having treated his burn from the duel. An awkwardly long silence passes before Hyoga says he’s been thinking about the skills that "Kuzon” and “Sapphire” displayed, and that he’s considering buying a home in the colonies so he can learn about those types of skills (since Aang claimed they were from the colonies). He turns to leave, but not before offhandedly saying that the seaside air in the colonies he’s looked at might be good for their daughter’s lungs.

[okay-victoria]

Random Personal Rant

For anyone somehow here not from the original thread, this started off me getting asked what finishing school is and me getting shit off my chest that is only mildly relevant about how I could both be of the social class that gets sent to finishing school and grows up on welfare.

With an understanding that in many parts of the world it wouldn't qualify as so, as far as the US goes, my dad is from what counts as a very old money family from Baltimore & Philadelphia. Both his siblings went to college and one now owns a major hedge fund, and his sister is married to a C-level executive at a huge conglomerate. His parents went to college. His grandparents went to college. All eight of his great grandparents went to college. My dad...did not go to college. He was not about that life, and while I don't mean it as an insult, when I say his primary occupation until I was ~5 was a drummer in a mediocre band I mean that he opened for a lot of great acts, and if you lived in the Boston to Atlanta area in the 80s you may have heard him play, but he was never a huge national name. But he wasn't an amateur band playing for free at some random local gig either.

My mom grew up on a chicken farm in a Mennonite family in Pennsylvania but also completely rejected her heritage and became a model, sort of like my father, of mediocre status. Not Giselle Bundchen, but had national contracts and if you have a Graco ad/box from 1990-1993 you might see both me and her on it. They met because my mom's friends placed bets, one each, on who could sleep with a member of their favorite local band first and my mom picked my dad and...my mom was actually supposed to go be a model in Tokyo and found out she was pregnant with me and couldn't go 😂

So, after my parents had two kids back to back with a third on the way and determined they needed lifestyles more in line with having three children, they became much poorer than they originally were because my mom stopped working and my dad, with a barely-passed-high-school education but needing a true "day job" worked day labor in construction. My dad's father was too proud to give us money/help if my dad didn't beg for it; despite having eventually four young children my dad never did so we ended up on all the state assistance programs one could imagine. My grandma jokes that dinners at my parents house were BYOC - bring your own chair, because we didn't own any.

My mother and paternal grandmother had no such pride issues and I live in eternal gratitude that my welfare childhood was not as crappy as it should have been because my grandmother would have my mom accompany her on grocery runs and buy us food without my father or grandfather knowing, and every Christmas and birthday my grandparents/godparents could give us the one big ticket gift all the kids wanted that year. But, on the other side, I once got stung by a bee inside my mouth because my brother threw a hairbrush through a cracked window at me and broke it and we couldn't afford to fix it for about two years and a hornet got in one day and rested himself in my coke can (my parents were the very American type that fed me coca-cola in baby bottles at age 8 when I was jealous of my younger siblings lol).

It is hard not to believe in "toxic masculinity" when two men warring over dumbass pride issues would rather their children/grandchildren go without food than suck it up and decide 'help' isn't the worst word in the English language, and you know you've only been saved by two women who came from totally different backgrounds and entirely disapproved of each other but reached out the hand to shake when it came down to toddlers getting the short end of the don't-bend-the-knee stick. It wasn't that either of the men were bad people, I loved them both and got along great with both, but on a societal level I feel they were socialized in a very fucked up way if that was the end result, as both claimed "male pride" in these instances [my dad took multiple thousands of dollars I'd saved from working during college from me during the 2008-2010 financial crisis and didn't tell me and that was the reason I was given for why I hadn't been informed/asked, because it would be too emotionally difficult for an adult man to ask a young woman. My graduation present was them repaying me 1/3 of the money they'd taken from me without asking because I'd like, trusted them when it had been in a joint account that was a holdover from when I was <18 and couldn't have my own bank account].

While in some ways my parents on the surface achieved the American dream of going from nothing to a bunch of money, the real factor in play was that my dad's father was the bank. My parents had no credit and couldn't get real loans. My dad worked construction and during the two major periods that flipping houses was very lucrative, he never had to get an actual loan or pay actual interest, he just had to ask his father to pay out cash and then repay him at a flat 2% interest rate that didn't even accrue over time, just...whenever you are ready, repay the value of the loan + 2%. Because my father was doing something productive, in these instances, my grandfather was happy to pay, because it wasn't giving away money, it was loaning it. I had a very weird situation of mostly being poor but like also getting taken to the "big donors" events at the Kennedy Center and my grandparents regularly buying me a dress as a child worth more than my mom's wedding dress and also needing to pretend I fit in with these people.

And look. When I say "these people"...honestly, by and large, most wealthy people, whether inherited or not, are not the assholes you want to imagine. Most of them are extremely nice. Most of them are generous when it comes to the less fortunate who are in their personal sphere of being. Most of them are just really out of touch. The 100% kindest of all of them that I know once relayed to me that she thought people would be happier if once a year they did what she did...go to the airport with a purse packed full of absolute necessities, buy a one way ticket to the most appealing destination on the flight board, buy your clothes and book your accommodations after you'd arrived, and come back after you felt you'd 'centered' yourself. She didn't understand why there were so many unhappy people who weren't taking this very obvious route to being happier. I didn't quite know how to explain that saying "most" people couldn't afford to do that either financially or from a job/career angle didn't even cover it, as "most" sounds like 70% instead of 99.7%.

I was both my parents eldest son and eldest daughter in the worst combination possible. I was the eldest son because I was the most stereotypically male of all my siblings, in everything from desire to physically fight the battles I was given to dislike of shopping/fashion to lack of emotional connection to my relationships, so I can now fix your average household plumbing/drywall/electrical issue better than most "city" guys I interact with and remain less clingy to them in the process. I was also very much the oldest daughter from a responsibility perspective, I managed our household and from age 10 - 24 managed the finances of our family business, my mom almost died giving birth to my youngest brother after a ruptured uterus that should never have happened in the first place if we had adequate insurance to get her a non-emergency C-section (I was just past 9 years old at the time) and I was informally withdrawn from school for two years to take care of the family when she couldn't because there is no paid parental leave in the US and we got double-fucked by the medical industry because she got a bad "mesh" put in and then had to have a further surgery to repair that which we also had to pay for and didn't have the money to win a lawsuit over.

I don't know quite how to put this, but in the deepest fuck you of the universe, my rich-immigrant-ggggg grandfather's money led to him owning banks, insurance companies, etc, and the family cashed out in a big way when their ownership was bought by and merged with what is now Cigna, one of the biggest US healthcare insurers, and my nuclear family specifically got screwed by the American health insurance industry, but anyway, we were the people selected for that karmic comeuppance so if you want to feel schadenfreude at my expense, I'll allow it without begrudging the sentiment, my family might have fucked up your family’s life too, not just their own.

I got up twice a night to feed my brother because my dad had to sleep unmolested in my room to get to work and my mom was too weak to carry my brother or even hold him against her while she nursed so I had to hold him up to her. Adjusting to living in a city and hearing lots of random noises all the time was not easy when I'd had mom sound instincts from age 9.

I learned to drive the fall my youngest bro was born because my mom couldn't and I had to get my middle brother to preschool and go the grocery store on my own. While I hold absolutely no ill will towards my father or grandfather for this and given that about 1/3 of my paternal family either has an autism diagnosis or should, I fully feel the struggles they both went through to be communicated with, my father wouldn't ask for help, and my grandmother that lived 20 minutes away couldn't give enough help because my grandfather refused to do a single dish on his own as that was outside their "marriage contract" type agreement and she couldn't ever stay with us overnight when there wasn't a clearly-communicated need, so they let the burden fall on a 9 - 11 year old child and that really shaped a lot of my life in both good and bad ways. My youngest brother is 22, and we have only just climbed out of the medical debt his birth left us with between my dad's life insurance and my oldest brother and I paying for the extra cost of out-of-state college tuition.

The irony of all of this is that because my father died before his father, when my grandmother dies, my siblings and I will all inherit enough money (as a non-blood relative my mom, despite keeping her vows to part at death and not having remarried in eight years, is cut out entirely) to make this a non-issue, but my grandfather couldn't conscience spotting his unluckiest child some money in the end of days to pay for my youngest two brothers' education and take that worry off my father as he was dying. The day before he died I had to hold him down in bed to keep him from trying to climb in his truck to go to work because he was so anxious about trying to provide for us in spite of his father having fuck you money, because his father didn't think it was fair to the other siblings (who, at the time, still owned a major hedge fund and were married to a C-level executive of a huge conglomerate). A day and a half later I went back to my job because at the time I was then the sole provider for the family and didn't want to risk asking for the standard week's bereavement leave when I knew I was capable of showing up at work the next day and was fresh out of college so hadn't built up a reputation yet.

My father worked the day each of us was born, so I suppose it is only fair and he smiled at the choice. In spite of what it may seem, I gave a baller and very heartfelt speech at his funeral to all his rich friends that over and above everything, he'd taught us how to be happy with our own lives no matter what, and multiple of them emailed my mom in the aftermath to say they'd reassessed their relationship with their children in light of it, although...tbh I kind of doubt that lasted and they probably changed nothing 😅. The last good talk I had with him, two weeks before he died [his liver was going and it sent toxins to his brain that de-personed him after that and he no longer recognized me as his daughter, but as his sister], I reassured him that though we would all be sad he'd gone, we'd live on just fine without him because that's how he'd raised us, and according to my mom that was what gave him the final bit of peace he needed. Although honestly, I don't think I will ever see the strength in another human again that it took my grandmother to sit next to him and stroke his hand and tell him to close his eyes and imagine he was happy on a beach and die, for God's sake, because he was unaware and in pain and just prolonging it for our sake by then.

That type of obsession my grandfather had with assessing his children and grandchildren on the basis of economic productivity and a very black and white idea of "fair" is one you don't easily forget, I promise you. My hedge fund uncle is currently positioning himself to screw us out of our inheritance because of janky writing in the will and I'm doing my fuck all best to gain the wherewithal to go toe-to-toe with this cold motherfucker in court as the oldest and representative member of my happily much nicer and softer younger brothers who I want to remain that way not because I even care that much about the money, I know what bills affect your credit first and what you can put off paying and all of us have good enough career prospects to do our own thing, but just because I want to give the middle finger to a man that was a multi-millionaire and drew lines on his milk and orange juice bottles when I came over so he knew if I drank what my parents couldn't afford when I was approximately six. Anyway, ask me why I support major reforms in wealth taxation. I don't care who it goes to, just not that guy, you feel?

Having expendable income was very exciting for a bit after I started working but once I got to the hateable point of assessing my annual bonus and internally complaining that I'd spent the money I should have spent on a Sauternes cellar to drop five digits on bedset materials (to be fair they are drop dead gorgeous, very comfy and the factory pays a living wage for people to handmake the sheets/duvets/pillows to people in San Francisco, which is not cheap, so maybe I did more good than harm with that), I two seconds later nodded to myself and went "the government needs to confiscate more money from me". The narrative is always that the "undeserving" will use it for dumb things they don't need like iPhones or refrigerators...?...but like...I could also have gone to Bed Bath and Beyond and bought a very nice sheet/comforter set for at most a tenth of what I paid so am I really spending it responsibly either....?....who is going to get more joy out of this misspent money....?....not me, that is for sure, I probably would have had more fun going to BBB and laying on all the demo beds and buying something there.

My lifelong dream, which may become possible if/when I do have something of an inheritance, is to provide food security for one of the many towns in the US were most residents don't have it. It's the thing I remember the most distinctly over the years. I never could quite believe it when I got to the point that I could just...pay to eat at a restaurant. One of the most disappointed my mother has ever been in me is when I was twenty five and confessed I actually had no idea how much a gallon of milk cost in a city grocery store besides that it was probably between $1 and $5, because I didn't have to know. For now I make a weekly drop off of my excess produce to a mom group I met under somewhat weird circumstances but I was walking through the cut-through that went through the low-income housing back to my apartment at like 2 AM on a Saturday and these moms were out there partying and smoking weed with their kids all strapped in strollers around or the older ones watched by a rotating member of the group and I felt very safe and like these moms had a very good vibe of both living their own lives [seriously for mental health parents but in most cases specifically mothers need to be able to keep up relationships with people their age] but keeping their children safe and accounted for while doing so and trying their fuckin' best against all the odds to figure out how to make that happen when life had dealt them a shit hand.

...anyway, looping way back to the original question of what finishing school is, when I was almost done with middle school my dad had built a legit construction business that then very quickly took off because we lived in a commutable zip code to the now-rich-in-their-own-right people he went to high school with who trusted him to redo their homes. We eventually moved to that zip code but I stayed and commuted back to my old high school. But, i was a pretty wild kid which my father appreciated for a long while because I would follow him around on jobs and enjoy doing physical labor, but once I was mid-puberty and also he had to maybe show me to his high school friends that did not fly.

I snapped - not broke, snapped - my left thumb and my parents had to trap me like a wild animal to get me to go the hospital. Then I got a deep cut that partially injured a tendon in my leg and at eleven I tried to beat the shit out of my dad to prevent him from picking me up to strap me in the car and go to the hopsital. Next I got a deep splinter due to my eternal-barefoot tendencies and it wouldn't come out so got infected and I refused to go to the doctor [another weird back story but I was minorly sexually assaulted [[to be clear, not raped or anything big traumatic]] when I was eight and had to stay in hospital for a week and my parents couldn't be with me all the time so I have a permanent heebie-jeebie about going to the hospital, not true anxiety, I will go if I know I need to and I don't breathe heavy or anything, and I'm actually not permanently weirded out by sex or anything, just doctors in hospitals specifically I kind of unconsciously try to justify not needing to the extent I can rationalize it] and my dad was tired of my antics so he was like "fine if you don't go I will slice your foot in half with a Swiss Army knife to get it out" and I called his bluff and laid down on the floor, stuck my foot on his lap, and he didn't really know what to do when a barely fourteen year old girl called his bluff so my brothers watched in fascinated but horrified awe as I got my foot sliced open spectacularly so that the infection/splinter could come out and I didn't even make a sound out of spite despite it being quite painful to my recollection almost twenty years later.

They saw me cry from pain exactly one time when while trying to break up a fight between all three of them (it was over ice cream) I got pushed and my ankle got dislocated and what actually made me cry was snapping it back in place and they realized it was not a joke. These dumb assholes that I love have ragged on me for "skipping" chores the day after I was in the hospital because the day before that I had to spend 18 hours running Thanksgiving as a good sub-hostess like I didn't have a serious infection that needed treating and couldn't rest because none of them were up to any task beyond peeling potatoes.

After the Swiss Army knife incident, my dad's discussion of sending me to finishing school became real, which I knew when my mom made me take a walk with her and talked about it. Finishing school is like...etiquette school....? In ye olden day when finishing high school was not the norm for anyone, wealthy men finished high school and wealthy women often went to "finishing" school to have a combined education on being a proper lady but also being able to hold a decent conversation with your presumably-educated husband, so it wasn't entirely etiquette non-academic. It was more just like "what a rich man wants in a wife" school, which was sort of household management and knowing enough about cleaning/cooking to correct the staff if they fucked up, how to be a polite hostess, and how to not entirely bore him when you were alone together and had done your five minutes of sex or whatever so actually had to have a conversation. In modern times it has obviously expanded to be less bleak.

I said miss me with that, I can be a girl on my own, so I went full throttle into the girliest sport they offer in high school and ever since have gained the inestimable advantage of knowing how to also use femininity to my advantage, which I am very grateful to my parents for making me learn. It would be great if we lived in a world where that didn't count, but it did/still does, and they really set me up to operate in all the worlds.

It is weird for me to tell the story to Internet strangers because it's one of those things that makes your parents sound terrible and abusive in the general tone of the Internet nowadays, and while I support gender nonconforming children I don't remember my childhood or parents that way. But, I feel like the bits and pieces of my life I've given don't always make a ton of sense together without the context, so here it is, and in the end, I think a number of parts of it are areas where you can probably understand where it makes me have the opinions I do when I write.

Anyhoo, this makes my life sound far worse than it is, I actually have a great life and I am not unhappy with it at all and feel I was on the whole blessed with many more turns of luck than unluck, so, please, do not take this as a depressed artist rant, it is more like a rant of a very energetic person who rants about a lot of things all the time and didn’t need to come out but just did because the question was asked and the time was right with my life being in a bit of flux to think about how I got where I am and where I want to go and why.

Always remember no matter what problems it seems like I have, if I didn’t solve them on my 2 year round the world traveling hiatus I took from working, it’s my own fault, I definitely had the time and money to solve them and just chose not to.

[mee-the-people]

True Crime Thursday: The Disappearance of Susan Cox Powell

Happy Thursday! Today I wanted to talk about something a little different and definitely of a heavier nature. One of the topics I’m interested in is true crime, and this case is one that I haven’t been able to shake since I first heard it a few years ago. The story behind poor Susan’s December 2009 disappearance is one that is full of twists and turns and so incredibly disturbing, especially when you hear about the family that she married into back in 2001…

So before I talk some aspects of this case that stuck out to me, I want to talk about who Susan was as a person based on what I’ve read in multiple articles and listened to in podcasts and documentaries. All too often, we hear WAY too much about her husband, who many think had to do with her disappearance, Josh Powell, and his wack-ass family. (that’s the nicest way I can think to describe the Powell family, excluding Jennifer, honestly) But when hearing Susan’s story, Josh and his father Steve Powell, both textbook narcissists and massive creeps (like father, like son, I suppose) are the ones that always come to the forefront of this case and Susan, the victim, seems to fade into the background.

Before I begin my rant, I’ll talk about what I’ve read about Susan as a person based on what family and friends have said. Susan was said to be outgoing, friendly, positive, hardworking and caring. She was an excellent mother to her two boys that she had with Josh, Charlie and Braden, and when she disappeared, none of her family or friends believed that she would run away with another man (abandoning her children!), no matter how much Josh and Steve alleged this on their Find Susan Powell website. (That website seems like they care about finding Susan, but it was mostly there for Steve and Josh to tear down Susan’s character. It’s one thing to hide information about a missing person, but it’s another thing entirely to bash that person’s character…smh)

She was very devoted to her faith, the Jesus Christ Church of Latter Day Saints, (the LDS Church) and she was also known to keep personal diaries since she was 8 to document her thoughts and feelings. As someone that enjoys writing and keeps a personal diary myself, I can relate to Susan in that way, and it makes her seem more human to me. She also loved hair and nails and went to cosmetology school around the time she met Josh in 2000. Now that we know a little about Susan in a real way rather than abstractly seeing her as a victim of domestic violence and missing person, let’s jump in to some things about her story that I haven’t been able to shake off to this day:

1. I’m not trying to put blame on anyone, especially after the fact, but it is well known that Susan used to rant about Josh and Steve with her friends. Things were so bad in the Powell household, that Josh was starving his kids. Starving! Let that sink in for a minute. The reason he did this is because he claimed that “they’re going to poop it out anyway.” Which, first of all, that’s not how food works. And second of all, I didn’t see any news articles about this case talking about JOSH starving himself for this reason…so when Susan told her friends about how Josh was STARVING Charlie and Braden to the point where she had to ask her friends to borrow some hot dogs, why didn’t her friends call the police at that point? I’m not saying her friends were bad friends, but there was definitely some negligence on their part.

2. Back in August 2011, when investigators were doing a search of Steve Powell’s house to get a hold of Susan’s journals for potential clues, the investigators were aghast to find cp (censoring because I’m not comfortable even typing that word, especially on a public space) on his laptop as well as Susan’s used sanitary products. Of course, they arrested him on voyeurism charges for being a massive creep, a peeping Tom who also happened to be obsessed with his daughter-in-law. (I don’t want to go into too much detail, because it’s too disgusting. Long story short, this guy is a piece of shit.) But it gets worse, if that’s even possible with the Powell family: In February 2012, (when Josh killed himself and his boys during a supervised visitation) Josh was found to have [that word] on his laptop; the only reason he wasn’t arrested for this was because the images on his laptop were cartoon characters and not real people… which completely blows my mind!

3. And finally, the 911 call on February 5, 2012 when the social worker, Elizabeth Griffin- Hall, told the operator about a potential dangerous situation after Josh slammed the door shut in her face. I don’t know about anyone else, but that had to be one of the worst 911 calls EVER. It’s infuriating just listening to a sample of the call, let alone the whole call. The 911 operator was so caught up on the smallest of details and claimed something like, “we cater to REAL emergencies” …as if the man who has been the ONLY suspect in the widely publicized Susan Powell case having his sons in the house without government supervision is perfectly normal and NOT potentially dangerous! What the hell?!

After Josh blew up the house, killing himself and his sons, many people were convinced that if a man could kill his own children, he has what it takes to kill his wife and the mother of his children. I think one of the most heartbreaking parts of this saga is that Charlie and Braden actually survived the hatchet blows from their father before the fire, according to autopsy results; it was the fire that killed them in the end. Two adorable, innocent lives who were loved by their mother, Jennifer, and the Cox family. Two adorable, innocent lives who will never get to experience any more birthdays, Christmases, family vacations or any first times, like first day of high school and/or college, first dates and falling in love. Cases involving children being harmed always break my heart, because they’re so innocent and some of our most vulnerable population- anyone that can take advantage of and/or harm a child are some of the sickest people out there.

Another heartbreaking aspect of this case is that back in 2008/2009, when Josh and Susan’s marriage was at rock bottom, Susan told friends and family that because Josh didn’t physically harm her, she didn’t think she was being abused. Unfortunately, Susan is not the only victim of domestic violence who thought like this. According to a statistic from the Bureau of Justice, 55% of women reported their cases of non-violent domestic violence to the police at the same rate as violent cases, which is 54%. This just goes to show that domestic violence encompasses more than just physical abuse, and it is important to be educated on the different forms of abuse.

If you or anyone you know can relate to Susan’s story, please contact The National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-7233 or online at www.thehotline.org

And one more thing: if you have any information at all regarding the Susan Cox Powell Case, please call the West Valley City Police Department at (801) 963- 3300.

Most of the information that I have gained from the Susan Powell case is from the Cold Podcast, which I HIGHLY recommend. The investigative journalist, Dave Cawley, does an amazing job telling Susan’s story after poring through documents, journal entries, emails, police records, and the like. He tells Susan’s story with a great degree of compassion and empathy for the Cox family and Susan’s friends, who have lost a daughter, a sister, a friend. He interviews the lead detective on the case, Ellis Maxwell, throughout the podcast and takes us on a journey through never-before seen details about the case. This is my first time writing about true crime, but I hope I was able to do this (incredibly sad) case justice in what little way I could.

[dreamiesdotcom]

[9:41] Jeno, it seemed, was a weakness to many. Your mom adores him as much as his adored you, if not more. Your dad likes the types of him, responsible with a clear future ahead of them. He's your parents dream — kind, calm, collected, serious and basically just knew his shit. Sometimes it hurts your ears when they preach about how good of a student you've become after you started hanging out, but it feels nice to be praised even just indirectly.

Maybe that's why they're more than delightful when he picks you up to come over at his apartment to study, or whenever he drops by, books in hand with that smile on his face to review or do your homeworks together. Maybe that's also the reason why the sight of Jeno in your dinner table was nothing new — your home is almost a second home to him, as much as his childhood home and his current apartment was to you. He grew so comfortable with your parents that he jokes around with them, making conversations and occasionally ganging up onto teasing you as you smirk amusedly at their antics.

You loved dinners with your parents, especially with Jeno. You always look forward to what dish is prepared and what new shit that you did in the past they just dug up to not let you live, you think it's adorable that they spend time on that even despite their busy schedules. So, tonight, your parents are quite concerned with the emotionless expression you're sporting and your monotonous voice — you loved dinners, no night was ever complete without your amused smirks and snarky remarks, but tonight feels so strangely different.

Your mom had just been promoted and she organized a dinner with your aunt and set up a little camp for later outside the house, just for the fun of it and catching up. You feel bad for acting this way, especially on such a night, so you try your best to muster up a convincing smile, muttering something about you being a little overwhelmed. They all smile at how adorable you are, and you kick at Jeno's foot from under the table — you can almost hear his internal monologue about how much of a liar you are, your obvious odd actions not going unnoticed and you can feel that he's way too entertained with your behavior.

It's not fun nor funny, you think. It's really not — not with your cousin's blatant staring and checking out, constant touching, lingering her fingers too long on Jeno's arms and the flirty remarks she continues to spit out. No one seemed to be bothered by it but you, not even Jeno, but the thing is no one is really supposed to be bothered by it because you're the only one dating him and nobody inside this room knew.

Years ago when you two started dating, you turned it into a little game of who knows first and last inside your circle. You weren't subtle, but you most definitely wasn't into PDA and you couldn't blame anyone if they took too long. Only the occasional hand holding were the new thing and even way before you started seeing each other, Jeno is still affectionate and gentle. Even if you couldn't blame anyone, you were quite disappointed when it took Renjun two weeks to confront the two of you, Mark and Donghyuck a whole month and it was quite a pain when the others knew about the game and the relationship.

Your parents, however, didn't catch up to any of it. They didn't say a thing when Jeno's mom walked in his apartment on the two of you getting cozy and falling asleep cuddling, and your parents didn't question anything whenever Jeno comes up at random times to pick you up and send you home several hours later. They seemed oblivious to all the romance that happened the past years and it just went on and on that you two don't know how to bring it up anymore — with how you're feeling right now, that might just change.

The room is dimly lit and Jeno's mild minty fragrance is mixing with the vanilla scented sheets, his black clothing contrasting harshly against the soft bed sheets and the silk and velvet pillow accents, but it's such a sight — his blissful expression and the way he takes in your figure, the edges of his shirt he helped you changed into a while ago after clumsily dumping water on yourself — you remember the questioning look he gives you for choosing the shirt he left some nights before despite a whole variety of clothes in your dresser. His gaze is intense and possessive but still concerned, warm hands encircling your waist and you had to suppress a whine.

The look on Jeno's face was soft and adorable, the glint on his eyes could be compared to a child inside a candy store. Still, with the current position the two of you are in right now, it is given away that his innocence is feigned and you saw him as anything else but a child. You loved this. You love how he is much bigger and stronger and he could flip you off, but he gives you the illusion of control because he understands how you're probably feeling right now. Normally, it's Jeno who plays the jealous role in the relationship and it rarely even ever happens — Jeno, even though it seemed otherwise, is good at controlling his temper and knows which situation is appropriate for jealousy, and he knows that even though this is not exactly the place and time to talk about this, you have every right to.

"What happened to you?" was the words that broke the silence between the two of you and you grit your teeth. You don't want to talk, but you so badly want to let him know so you settle with trying to kiss him harshly, to where he declines you. Your heart breaks and you hit his chest weakly, "She's into you. Fuck, she's into you, Jen, and you're supposed to be mine."

"Woah, calm down, Y/N. You know I'm not doing it on purpose, right?" he looks at you, confused and still concerned, "I was just trying to be polite, she's still your family — I only have my eyes on you, baby."

She's your cousin and you know her, when you say she gets everything she wants, you mean it. Whether it was the smallest of things or your most prized possessions, she gets it and you understand why. She's the favorite and you're not. You're so used to being the option and her being the choice that you tend to go too far with the mindset, thus, making you break down when he denies you of what you need and the thoughts of how she probably already had Jeno invades your mind like poison.

"I don't care, you're supposed to be mine," you sob. He tries to hush you down, going as far as reminding you of the people downstairs and only when the other repeated your claims on him did you calm down.

"I'm yours. You know I'm yours," he says in a hushed tone, easing your sobbing by comforting hands on your back. He meets your lips with a kiss, a more chaste one this time, and you sigh in both gratefulness and satisfaction. This feels right. This is right. Jeno smiles at you, probably at how eager you are with a hand clutching his shirt and another messing with his hair, and he voices his amusement when he parts, "You're so adorable, Y/N."

"It's not funny!" you pout, pinching his sides lightly, just enough to make him giggle but not enough for it to hurt. Still, he makes a show of watching you intently with his head tilted to the side a little bit, pulling you closer by the waist and you keen at the attention. He's so focused in you and you feel so pretty, a little shy but you love that too. Jeno groans lowly, "Fuck, I love you so much."

Jeno rarely curses and when he does, he's most definitely serious — be it seriously angry or just to punctuate his point. He's not the purest, but he knows with who, when and where is the appropriate situation for such profanities and damn does it do things to you. He laughs at the sound you made, something close to a whine and he tackles you down quickly to nibble on your neck as he tickles your sides, muffled comments about you being "naughty" and "inappropriate".

The door closes as soon as it opens and you hear a shriek, making you and Jeno laugh in addition to his "shit, we've been discovered" which he very unsubtly muttered under his breathe. You giggle as the two of you run to the door, being greeted by your cousin's horrified expression and honestly, you've never been more satisfied to see her face, "Why?" you ask her.

"T-the fire… I mean the camp fire," she stutters, "It's done."

Jeno just offers her a curt nod and you try your best to smile at her and reply with "Oh, okay, sure. We'll be there in a bit!" because even though you hate her guts, she's unfortunately your cousin and your mother loves her for some unknown reason. Still, you can't help but feel annoyed at how she's still staring at the two of you, "Why? Why are you staring?"

She shakes her head and walks away with a groan. Only then did you realized that you look unnaturally disheveled from the previous tickling session, but from her eyes, you're sure she thought it was a whole different thing — especially if she caught the sight of Jeno mouthing at your neck. Scandalous. You know. You'll be the first to say that. You just wish she doesn't act like the stuck-up, uncontrollable mouth she is and talk about what she witnessed in front of your whole family — you don't want your parents to know about the two of you that way. (She doesn't.)

You look at Jeno who just shrugs, sporting the widest grin on his face and you can't help but mirror his expression, only to crack up laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation. Oh well. You're bound to tell your parents about your relationship either way, and at least she won't flirt with Jeno for the rest of the night, right? (She still did, by the way.)

[jaxsteamblog]

Cave of Two Lovers

Click here to read the full fic on AO3

The next pick-up day, Katara woke up and didn’t want to get out of bed. The days after Zuko’s birthday party had been weird, to say the least. When she pictured him bringing in cookies, or clipping thorns, it was impossible to then imagine him standing next to that woman, Mai.

It didn’t occur to her that incessantly thinking about Zuko was the actual problem.

She just didn’t like it when things didn’t fit, she supposed. While Mai hadn’t been outright rude to her and Suki, she certainly wasn’t the type to be nice. Zuko was nice.

Putting her hands on her face, Katara groaned.

Katara stopped for coffee on the way in, wanting to avoid the whole tea situation. When she got to the flower shop, she didn’t see Sokka’s car. Slightly concerned, Katara got out and jingled her keys in her free hand.

There was a note taped to the back door.

The tape pulled free with a pop and she opened the hastily folded note while sipping her coffee.

Kat- Had to leave for a slight emergency. Can’t text, running to car. Close up after Z gets flowers. Love, Sokka.

Frowning, Katara put the note in her mouth and used her key to get into the shop. It was dark in the back room and the hum of the air conditioner sounded like the call of an ocean animal. Putting down her keys and coffee, Katara fished her phone out of her purse and unlocked it as she walked to the front.

What’s going on? Call me.

Katara shed her purse by the workroom door and slipped her phone into her pocket. As she turned on the light and walked to the counter, she finally pulled the note from her lips. She read it again, hoping that if it were something serious he would have let her know.

With the shop being quieter, Katara could hear the van pull into the alley. She sighed and went back through the workroom, getting to the door just as Zuko hopped out.

“I just got here and Sokka is out for,” Katara paused as she thought. “Something.”

“Is everything okay?” Zuko asked, walking to the door. Katara shrugged.

“Honestly, I don’t know. I’m waiting for him to call.” She replied. Zuko nodded and rubbed the back of his neck. He started to say something just as Katara turned to the back door.

“It looked like a small order though. We should be okay.” She said.

“Yeah. After how much the party was, Uncle felt like scaling back a bit this week.” Zuko said. They walked inside and Katara helped Zuko with the vases, filling them as he went back inside and to grab the flowers. It didn’t take long at all to get everything loaded and secured.

“Hey, since the shop will be closed, do you have some free time this afternoon?” Zuko asked and slid the van door shut.

“I mean, yeah. Why?” Katara asked.

“There’s a new exhibit at the art museum downtown. I’ve been wanting to go but I need someone to take with me so I can lecture them about art styles.” Zuko answered.

“Okay, but I need to go grocery shopping first.” Katara said, shifting on her feet.

“Can I get your number?” Zuko asked. Katara bit the inside of her lip and nodded, watching as Zuko pulled out his phone from his pocket. She took it, just entering her number to let him add her name. When he got it back, his fingers moved deftly over the screen.

Her own phone dinged in her pocket.

“Alright, text me when you’re done?” He asked, replacing his phone and smiling at her. Katara’s fingers stretched wide for a second down by her leg. She nodded.

“Yeah.” She replied and Zuko’s smile widened briefly. She watched him get into his van and salute her before driving off.

Katara watched the van disappear around the corner and went back inside to lock up.

“Everything’s fine.” Sokka reassured her as Katara cradled her phone between her cheek and her shoulder. She scanned her groceries at the self checkout and glared down at her milk carton.

“You still haven’t told me what happened and it’s irritating me.” She hissed into the phone.

“Only because you’ll be mad.” Sokka replied.

“I’m already mad.” Katara jammed her card into the payment pad and entered her PIN.

“I went back to the flower market because I heard that Jimmy’s friend had a source coming in from the eastern provinces with a small shipment of panda lilies. You know how much I can sell these babies for?” Sokka explained in a rush.

Picking up her tote and sliding it over a shoulder, Katara moved her phone to her free hand.

“You ran out and couldn’t call me for panda lilies?” She retorted. After a brief pause, she continued. “Wait, you got them?”

“Three-quarters of the shipment! I couldn’t afford all twelve.”

Katara nodded to herself as she exited the store and went out to her car. “Are you going back to the shop?”

“Absolutely not.” Sokka answered firmly. “I don’t want to get robbed.”

“How cutthroat is the flower business?” Katara unlocked her car and placed her groceries in the backseat. All of Sokka’s clothes from the party were still in there; luckily the summer heat baked away any smell and now they were just limp.

“The best flowers bloom in blood.” Sokka said with theatrical menace. He cleared his throat and went on. “But seriously, there are a lot of people in the area who would want to move these. I’m going to try and find a buyer today.”

“Make sure to take Suki with you.” Katara said and got into the driver’s seat, immediately turning over the engine to get the A/C started.

“Hey, I am fully capable of protecting myself,” Sokka said. “But yes, I will be bringing Suki.”

Katara snorted and said her goodbyes before leaving the grocery store parking lot. While she waited at the side street, waiting for a pocket to open in the cross traffic, Katara chewed the inside of her cheek.

“Okay Booble, text Zuko.” She said and turned.

---

Katara waited outside of the museum and stared up at the large posters strung up across the face of the building. There were advertisements for the exhibit Zuko had been talking about and it looked fairly interesting. However, after standing in the afternoon sun, Katara was mostly looking forward to air conditioning.

“Have you been waiting long?” Zuko’s voice came up behind her and Katara turned. The lack of visible sweat on him made him seem cool, and Katara shivered at the thought.

“Yes, can we go in now?” She replied hastily. Distressed, Zuko walked quickly to the museum steps. They rushed to the ticket booth and Zuko bought two entrance passes. It being the beginning of the week and with little activity at such a hot hour, Katara supposed there weren’t many people staffed. Unsurprisingly, the ticket salesperson also punched their passes.

“Here you go.” Zuko said, handing Katara her pass. Her fingers brushed against his hand; he was cooler than she.

“You’re lucky, we’re getting the vents fixed so we’ll be closed the rest of the week.” The woman in the ticket booth said.

“The vents?” Katara repeated.

“Yeah, the air conditioning went out on us this morning. We got out some industrial fans but that’s just to get us through today. Enjoy!” The woman said.

Katara looked reproachfully at Zuko, who looked decidedly away from her.

The museum itself was grand, with ceilings that towered over her as practically far away as the sky. The stone around her was cool and offered some relief from the heat; the biggest problem was the lack of air circulating. She could hear various fans humming away like a hybrid of cicadas and jet engines. Just a constant, irritating wash of white noise.

“Have you ever been to Omashu?” Zuko asked. Katara shook her head and Zuko started walking to the side gallery.

“I’ve wanted to go see the cave there.” He added.

“The Cave of Two Lovers?” Katara asked.

“Yeah. Do you know the legend?”

“No, it’s just what the posters said.”

“Oh.” Zuko looked momentarily dumbfounded and they walked into the gallery in silence. There was a massive box fan at the door, angled to blow air into the room. Two large oscillating fans were standing like sentries at either end; both of them looked like they could take down a child if they fell.

The art on the walls, however, was simply breathtaking.

Done in a traditional style, watery brush strokes moved across multiple large canvases.

“Oma and Shu belonged to two different villages who had always fought each other. The war raged on for so long because a mountain separated them, making it difficult for either side to claim victory.” Zuko said as they stopped in front of the first canvas. As they moved around, he narrated the story. How the two lovers met atop the mountain, how they learned earthbending from the badgermoles to make a maze of tunnels, and how Shu was killed in the war between their homes.

As Zuko related Oma’s grief and how she used her earthbending, something the others had never seen another human being do, Katara felt goosebumps ripple over her skin and tears stung her eyes.

Finally, Omashu was created and an entire city-kingdom lived peacefully, laying on the foundation of stones carved out by a grieving woman.

Sniffling, Katara dabbed her nose with the back of her hand.

Zuko looked at her and then glanced around the room. “The whole exhibit is about them. Want to see the other pieces?”

They walked through a few more galleries with Zuko in fact talking about art styles and historical periods. Artist names popped up as frequently as place names and Katara stopped trying to discern the two types.

“Are you sure art isn’t your thing?” Katara asked at one point. Zuko laughed but didn’t respond.

After making it through four rooms, Katara was hot and tired. She said as much to Zuko and he turned about, looking around the room.

“Look, there’s a dark room there. We can at least cool down while I pull a map up on my phone.” He said, pointing to a door that was propped open across from them.

Katara looked in and saw paint cans in the dim light.

“It doesn’t look like this room’s finished.” She said.

“Want to go somewhere else?” Zuko asked.

“No. It has a bench. None of these other rooms have had a place to sit.” Katara said, feeling her feet start to throb as she stood still.

“Okay.” Zuko replied and they both entered. Zuko held out his phone with the flashlight on and they saw that this exhibit was far from being done. Drop cloths were haphazardly draped over painting supplies and a large ladder leaned against a wall. A push broom and large dust mop rested against the door frame and they jostled as Katara stepped in, pushing the door in a bit.

As she moved to sit on the bench, Zuko paced around the room, holding up his phone.

“I cannot get a signal.” He said. Katara watched as he stretched himself upward, leaning precariously over piles of hidden tools and paint to point his phone at the top of each wall. Noticing the lack of a tremble, Katara realized he must be very limber.

“Does this place not have wifi?” Katara asked, now taking her own phone out. There was a loud wooden clatter and the room darkened, causing her screen to illuminate a bit more.

Then there was the sound of metallic clatter.

“Well, that’s not ideal.” Zuko said.

Katara stared at the x over her bars on her cell phone screen.

“Zuko.” She said.

“Yes.”

“Did you knock over the brooms?”

A hesitation. “Yes.”

“And it closed the door?”

“Mmm.”

“And it’s locked?”

Silence.

“Zuko!” Katara whirled around and saw Zuko standing at the door, both hands wrapped around the doorknob.

“I’m sorry!” He said.

“We need to get out of here! What if they close up and we’re stuck in here all week?” Katara asked, panicked.

“Look, that won’t happen. If it, uh, if it comes down to it, uh,” Zuko let go of the doorknob and started pacing in front of the door.

“Can’t you freeze the hinges or something?” He asked.

“This place is too dry! Where am I supposed to get the water from?” Katara asked. Zuko, his hand hovering in the air over his hair, stopped and looked at her.

Katara recoiled, blushing. Seeing her reaction, Zuko held up his hands, blinding her with the flashlight.

“No! Oh no, I’m sorry. No, I didn’t mean, I’m sorry. Katara, I thought.” Zuko walked briskly to her and she swatted at him.

“Turn that stupid thing off before it drains your battery.” She snapped. Zuko obliged and spun a flame from his fingers, holding it in the palm of his hand.

“I was just trying to figure out how much we’d have to, I don’t know, spit on it. But that was also a stupid idea.” He said. Katara gaped at him, dumbfounded, before the corners of her mouth started to pull upwards and she laughed.

Chuckling, Zuko moved around and sat next to her, finally running his free hand through his hair.

“How are you so dumb?” Katara asked through her laughter.

“Azula is the prodigy. I was just lucky to be born first.” Zuko remarked. The bittersweetness in his voice stopped her mirth. Looking at him, she noticed how the shadows from the fire made his face look thinner.

“You’ve got that kind of family huh?” Katara questioned. Zuko nodded.

“Is that why you’re with Mai?” She went on. Zuko faced her, looking confused.

“What do you mean?”

Oh spirits he’s with her by choice. Katara thought and was glad that the dark room hid the tells of her embarrassment.

“It’s just, you two seem pretty different.” She clarified. Zuko sighed and focused on the flame. He started to fidget, shaping it with both hands.

“We didn’t use to be. I was just as emotionally drab as she is. Then this happened,” Zuko said and gestured to his face. “And then the end of the war. I don’t know.” His hands returned to the flame and he pulled on it, making the orange ball grow larger. “I wanted to look forward to things and enjoy them, the way my uncle enjoys his tea.”

At the mention of the war, Katara’s throat dried and she shifted away from him. Sensing the movement, Zuko leaned over a bit to look at her.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

Katara nodded; she balled one hand into a fist on the bench, the other went to the necklace sitting snug at her throat.

“I lost a lot in the war.” She replied, her voice husky.

“Sokka told me about it. I’m sorry for your loss and, well,” Zuko suddenly sounded tense. “I know you might not want to hear it from the enemy but, I lost people I loved too.”

Another question jumped up from her chest but Katara caught it in her teeth, biting down and catching the tip of her tongue with it. He was as old as Sokka and would have been that young during the war. But they had both been young when they had done what they did.

And so Katara couldn’t bring herself to ask because she didn’t want to know the answer.

“You’re not the enemy Zuko.” She said.

“Well, I did get us locked in here and we might die.” He replied. Katara huffed out a breath that might have been a laugh and stood. Walking slowly to the opposite wall, she squinted at the paint.

“I think something’s here. Bring the light over.” She said. Zuko walked over and Katara stepped back as the image expanded in the light.

“It’s the curse.” Zuko said.

“What curse?” Katara asked in alarm.

“The tunnels the lovers made were created to entrap those that would follow them. Basically, it says that you will be trapped if you don’t trust in love.” He said.

“So how do you trust in love?” Katara asked. Zuko frowned as he thought, his gaze lingering on the large painting before trickling down to the floor.

“The rest of the myth talks about how the love is the brightest in the dark. How in the worst of times, the two found the greatest love.” He said.

Katara looked at the painting. Two figures knelt across from each other, kissing. In the middle of the war, far below the earth, literally in the most impossible place, two people were free to love each other.

“Or.” Katara started. Zuko faced her and she turned to him. “Or we just remember that badgermoles are blind.”

“And?” Zuko asked. Silently, Katara stepped forward and placed her hands on the backs of Zuko’s. Rolling his fingers inward, he extinguished the flame and they stood in darkness.

His hands were warm.

“Look.” He whispered. Unable to see him, Katara still turned around. The open room seemed vast, but a faint spill of green made her look up. Dots like hanging crystal, glowing in green light, illuminated a path. It ended at the locked door, but began behind the ladder.

They shuffled slowly to the ladder and pulled it past the edges of the green path. Their eyes, having adjusted to the faint light, picked up the lines of a door in the edge of their vision. Zuko pried it open, disrupting more paint cans, and they were suddenly in an alcove. A man coming out of the bathroom across from them jumped at their sudden appearance before scowling at them and walking off.

Sheepish, Zuko and Katara hurried out, closing the door behind them.

“You owe me lunch.” Katara said. Zuko laughed and rubbed the back of his head.

“Deal.”

1 2 3 4 5 6 7

[mooncleo]

and we recover slowly, my love, but surely

Fandom: Harry Potter 

Main Pairing: Ron Weasley/Hermione Granger/Harry Potter 

Description:  Ron, Harry, and Hermione live together after the war. It seems like the logical choice, and the next step into comfortable domesticity seems logical as well. They learn and they love and they heal and cope and live and it’s beautiful and painful and perfect. 

Words: 6,893

Edited: Literally not at all sorry guys 

Author’s Note: Good morning to everyone who did not ask!!! I’m gonna double post my fic for all of my two followers, whom I love and cherish very much 🥰🥰

I honestly was not expecting this fic to end up being ot3, that kinda took me by surprise. So did my 2k turning into almost 7k, that was a little bit of fun. 

I’m going to try to put in a read more, if I fail PLEASE tell me I don’t want anyone to have to scroll through everything. 

Read it on Ao3 here. 

… 

It was the cool quiet of the evenings that kept him from even entertaining the thought of returning to London. Nights at the Dursley’s had never been this calm, always filled with Aunt Petunia or Vernon’s yelling, Dudley’s taunts, or the rumbling of an empty stomach, sent to bed without a bite of the dinner that he helped to cook. 

He never went to bed hungry anymore. It was one of his triggers, they found out one night when he’d spent all day working on one of his projects and forgotten to eat- laying in the dark with his stomach beginning to knaw on itself in protest had sent him spiralling nearly into a fully blown panic attack. The Dursley’s had fucked him up, for sure. 

It was not long that they’d been living together in their little cottage that Harry made a joke about cupboards and beds. It was bound to come up eventually, but he had hoped, somehow, to put the ensuing conversation off forever. 

Before they had even gotten into details, Hermione’s eyes had started to water in a way that made him, quite frankly, uncomfortable. “All these years, and we never even knew? You’ve gone home to them every summer! I knew they didn’t feed you very well, but God, Harry. I didn’t think it was this bad." 

He could tell that Ron felt the same way, but he’d never been particularly good at expressing it. Instead, Harry got twice the usual serving at dinner, and Ron’s grip was tight around him when they settled down to watch a movie later.

The next day at breakfast, Hermione brought it up again. She’d started by trying to convince him to file a court case against them. 

"It’s a serious case of child abuse, Harry. They were horrible to you, and they shouldn’t be able to get away with it.” That argument had not gone down well, as Harry had first denied that there was any child abuse involved, however horrible they’d been, and then added on that he had no idea where they’d ended up after the war. He also didn’t really ever want to see them again, though he left that part out. He had a feeling it might not help his case. 

“Well, you should at least go to therapy. It might help you process what they put you through.” She held up a finger when she saw him going to argue and said, “Listen, even if you don’t think the Dursley’s abused you, I still think you should go to therapy. Don’t pretend you haven’t stopped sleeping because of the nightmares, Harry Potter, so help me God. I know what you look like when you’re well-rested and this isn’t it. Those bags under your eyes could carry our groceries. Actually, I think we should all go. It’s not as though you’re the only one who went through a year on the run in addition to all the other fun trauma that comes with war." 

Ron was a little confused about what therapy was until they explained the concept to him and he shouted out, "Mind healers! Oh! Yeah, we have those.” This, thankfully, saved them from the ordeal of finding an either muggleborn or squib therapist so that they could talk about magic without being declared properly insane. 

Harry had been apprehensive about going to anyone who could claim to fix his mental issues- in part because he was half in denial about those mental issues to begin with. Yes, he had trouble sleeping most nights because of nightmares. Yes, he felt guilty about every single death that had happened during the war. Yes, the Dursley’s had treated him horribly for all of his life. But everyone had nightmares because of the war, those deaths really were his fault because they were all fighting for him, and the Dursley’s just hadn’t liked him that much on account of his parents. The hate was mutual, after all. 

It only took one session with his mind healer, Gertha, for him to begin to open up to the idea that maybe he was a little bit misguided. Gertha was an 80 year old witch with gray hair just beginning to pepper her bun, and she took no shit. Her age had given her the grace of being willing to properly fight him when he started to go into a spiral, and she had a dry wit that he appreciated. Halfway through the first time they met, he’d started talking about the war and how it was his fault. Her eagle-eyed stare had stopped him in his tracks, and he’d asked, “What?" 

"Boy, you are taking on far too much responsibility here. You think all those people died just for you? You think the war wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t been around? No! Voldemort was coming back, with or without you- he would have found a way. And just because you were the face of the war, that does not make you the war. A rallying point does not control those who gather around it, it simply exists as a marker, a way to say ‘we are here.’ Those people did not die just for you, you hear me? They were going to fight either way. People don’t like to lay down and give up when their loves and lives are threatened." 

At the time, he hadn’t believed a word she’d said, but he liked the way she said it. It wasn’t quite scolding, more disbelieving than anything else. She also had said that Voldemort was coming back with or without him, even without knowing about the horcruxes. He liked her wit and the easy way she had handled his self-pity. She reminded him a bit of Professor McGonagall, and that in and of itself was a recommendation to him. 

He went back the next week, because she had told him to and he liked her. He felt lucky that he found someone he liked right away, because both Ron and Hermione didn’t like the first Healers they talked to. Hermione had not liked the bright, peppy young witch who was apparently entirely too optimistic. "Her office was covered in little paper flowers, as though she didn’t deal with grown adults. As soon as I mentioned the war she started patronising about how she felt there surely must have been a better option than fighting, like maybe talking. First of all, did she do literally any research before I walked into the room? Honestly, what if I had been just a mite more fragile? Or Harry?" 

"Hey! I resemble that remark!” A pillow found its way through the air in the direction of his face. 

“Don’t interrupt me when I’m ranting. Anyway, she was absolutely insane. 'Why did they have to fight?’ Because when another wizard throws a curse at you, you aren’t gonna just fucking stand there and take it! Good God, woman. I don’t know where she was during the war, but she clearly wasn’t paying any kind of attention to Britain. How did she even get her Healer’s license? Ridiculous.” Hermione took an angry sip of her tea and she and Harry both looked to Ron. 

“Yeah, mine wasn’t as bad as all that. I just didn’t really think he had the type of vibe I’m looking for. Kinda reminded me of my dad, actually. Not really what I wanted.” After sympathetic nods from the other two, Ron turned towards the TV. “What are we planning on tonight?" 

"Right! I forgot completely. The Princess Bride! The librarian was raving about it when I was checking it out, so hopefully it’ll be good.” As Ron was raised in a wizarding household, Harry hadn’t really had much of a childhood by way of movies, and Hermione’s parents had been very strict, the three of them had decided to work their way through iconic muggle films that they’d missed over the years. They’d all liked The Breakfast Club the week before, though they were postponing Star Wars from two weeks ago until they could get through the fight scenes without having semi-simultaneous panic attacks. 

The Princess Bride was a hit, and Hermione liked it enough that she put the VHS on her to-buy list. They wanted to build up their own collection of movies that they liked for rewatching purposes. Hermione had argued that going to the Blockbuster and renting a movie was much more cost effective that just buying all of them outright, since they were trying to get through at least a movie a week. The boys had decided not to argue, as she tended to be right about most things (and was also managing their finances). 

Three weeks later, Ron had found a mind healer he liked, and Hermione was still stuck. Ron never said much about the therapy sessions he went to, while Hermione preferred to rant after hers. “God, it’s like he wasn’t even listening! There has to be at least one healer out there that I can actually talk to with a modicum of intelligence." 

Ron and Harry traded glances. Harry’s look was quizzical, Ron’s was certain. It seemed that Harry would be the one to say it, then. ”'Mione, do you think that there’s a chance that maybe you’re having trouble finding a therapist because you don’t want to give any of them the chance to help?“ 

She was quiet for a moment. "I mean. I had considered it, but. Well. None of them- well. I suppose I may not have been entirely fair with all them. Although I stand by everything I’ve said." 

"Everything you’ve said? Your main complaint about the last one was that she wore a cardigan instead of doing warming charms on herself. You may want to rethink that, love.” Ron’s tone was gentle and amused. It was a good thing, because Harry was fairly certain she’d have bitten his head off if it’d been anything but. 

“Oh. Yes, well. Maybe a tad.” She coloured as she admitted it, and then added, “It was a truly hideous cardigan, though." 

"And warming charms are a rather simple.” Harry mimicked the arch way that Hermione said things of people she looked down on, a voice that only those close to her ever really got to hear. She never mocked people in polite company, but both Ron and Harry knew that she could be properly vicious when she felt like putting in effort. Ron laughed, and then Hermione did too, a second later. They descended into giggles for a few moments before subsiding. 

“Really, though. Your main complaints about her were her clothing, and not the soundness of her advice. Maybe try a second session with her, and see if it was a one off? If the only thing you could come up with was an ugly sweater then she must have been rather on the nose about everything else." 

"Hmmm. Maybe. She did seem reasonably intelligent, actually." 

The matter was concluded for the night, and they all went off to bed. After a night of rest, Hermione felt comfortable admitting that, looking back, it was rather obvious that she had been searching for faults as an excuse not to have to be vulnerable around people she didn’t know very well.

The solution to this, according to her mind healer, would be to get to know each other before starting. Hermione raved about how intelligent the woman was when she got home, and Ron and Harry once again traded glances. They didn’t say anything, but they were glad to have been able to help her find someone she actually liked. Neither was surprised that she was happy so quickly. It had been clear to them, before, that she was searching for faults. 

Their lives went on. Tuesdays became therapy days, and they’d all go out for ice cream afterwards. Eventually, Harry and Hermione ended up back in the workforce. Ron decided to stay home and take care of the house. (He referred to the two of them as his sugar parents, an idea that deeply offended Hermione. Harry thought it was hilarious.) 

Harry had toyed with the idea of going on to become an auror like he’d thought he wanted when he was 15. It did not take him very long to decide that he’d only really come up with the idea in the first place because he’d supposed that his life’s purpose was fighting Voldemort, and the aurors could have given him a leg up in that. With as long as it had taken him to accept that his life had meaning beyond fighting and defeating a dark lord, he wasn’t going to give that up now. 

They ended up spending the entire evening brainstorming when he brought up wanting to get a job. Even if he was never going to be an auror, he was still starting to get restless with all the free time they’d accrued living off the map together. 

"You could be a- a- um, fuck, what’re they called. Bus driver!! That’s a job.” Hermione, rather drunk on her fourth glass of wine, had taken to suggesting whatever came to mind. 

“I don’t drive, I’m gay." 

"Mmmm, you’re just as bi as the rest of us, darling. I bet we could figure it out. Actually, you know what, we should probably get a car.” She was starting to light up the way she did when she had a goal, and Ron groaned loudly. 

“God, I forgot we never even learned to drive. Do we have to? I can apparate half-decently, and so can Harry. We could just practice and then not drive." 

At Hermione’s put-out look, Harry interjected. "I’ll put bus driver on the list, but I don’t know that we need to drive. Where are we going? Half the shit we eat we grow ourselves." 

"That’s right! It’s sus- sustains- no, oh my god, I’m drunk- sustainsabilities. Fuck, I can’t speak. Sustainabilities. Yup, it’s sustainable! We’re helping the environment.” Hermione had, at some point during their conversation, migrated sideways so that she was leaning almost entirely on Harry. 

“'Mione, you have to move. You gotta- lean on Ron, I have to pee.” She snorted and nuzzled slightly further into his chest. 

“Hmmm, you do that." 

A few seconds later, there were snores coming from her frame, and Harry looked over at Ron, who was shaking with silent laughter. "Don’t laugh, I have to pee! Help me move her." 

Harry pushed at Hermione’s shoulder, and she flopped a little bit onto the back of the couch. Ron doubled over in another round of giggles, and Harry hissed, "Ron, I swear to god- if I start laughing I’m gonna piss! You gotta- oh my god- help!" 

At this point, Harry had started laughing and tried to slip out from under his girlfriend. Instead of quietly moving her without waking her, she fell and glanced her head off the arm of the couch. A brief moment of panic ensued, in which Harry and Ron both tried to check on her at once, and only succeeded in bonking their heads together. 

Ron was gasping through peals of laughter as he grabbed onto Harry to avoid falling off the couch. "Oh- oh shit, oh fuck, oh my god. Is- is she- fuck- is she okay? Harry, you fucking idiot, check her head." 

"She’s fine, dipshit. Fuck, that could have been so bad, shit.” Harry had sobered for the moment that it took to remember the diagnostic spell to make sure that Hermione was actually okay, and upon confirmation he sank back into the humor of the situation. 

“Goddamnit, I can’t believe that happened. Good god.” He wiped his eyes and then got up to actually use the bathroom. 

“Don’t get a concussion in there, Harry, the last thing we need is two of them.” Ron called after him, and he responded with a one fingered salute in the general direction of his boyfriend. He heard Ron’s collapse against the couch as he closed the bathroom door. 

It was as he was staring at the green tiling on the bathroom floor that he found himself reflecting on the fact that if that had happened a few months ago, it would have gone much worse. Any injuries sustained by the three of them were largely blind territory that brought back horrible memories for the worst of the months after the war. It was remarkable that they could laugh through it, now. 

When he came out to stick his still slightly damp hands under Ron’s jumper, he found Ron and Hermione curled up together, softly snoring. He smiled and climbed onto their couch next to them, levitating a blanket over the three of them as he went. It was a good night. 

The next morning, he woke up first. They’d ended up tangled closer together in sleep, but he was still on the edge and managed to slip out to start breakfast and find the paracetamol for the three of them. 

Breakfast was quieter than usual, with lots of gestures and grunts when someone wanted something. Wine hangovers were no joke. Later in the day, they went out to the garden together to weed, and Hermione suggested gardening as a potential profession. Harry vetoed, with the reasoning that he got to do it enough at home. 

Ron bounced off that logic to suggest Quidditch, and they had the first of what would end up as their two final options. The other was working as a professor, which Harry took a full week to warm up to the idea of. 

“I don’t know, becoming a professor seems like kind of a big deal. First of all, you’re shaping students’ whole lives, and second of all wouldn’t I need, like, higher education?" 

"Oooh, good point, actually. I believe you would need to get a mastery in the subject that you want to teach, which you can obtain by apprenticing under an expert in the field. I think that was in Hogwarts: A History? It might have come from somewhere else, I’m not sure. As for the other thing, I’ve seen you with kids, Harry. You’re brilliant. I don’t know that you even really need to worry about that quarter." 

"Mate, it might be good for you to get a mastery, actually. They usually discuss them with seventh years at Hogwarts, so I don’t really know much about them. Charlie’s was how he got started in Romania, actually." 

"Huh. That makes a lot of sense, actually. I always wondered if wizards had an equivalent to college, but I was a bit busy worrying about the dark wizard trying to kill me for most of my life, so I never got the chance to look it up.” Harry had actually considered asking McGonagall about it during his consultation on his future, but they’d started talking about Defense Against the Dark Arts exams before he could mention it. 

“Harry, you should write McGonagall about it. She’s always looking for new teachers, and even if you don’t end up wanting to do it, she can give you advice on how to start looking for a mastery, which you’ll pretty much need for most jobs, anyway." 

With that, they’d settled the matter. He wrote to McGonagall, and she replied promptly with an invitation to her office to discuss it in person. 

McGonagall had taken Dumbldore’s old office. Harry had known that she would, as Headmistress, but it still shocked him a little to see the space decorated so differently. Minerva McGonagall was a practical woman, and as such had no need for random devices scattered about the room. He walls were lined with shelves full of books of many kinds, and her fire was roaring. She and Harry sat across from each other in matching armchairs that Harry swore must have had some kind of charm on them, because they were the most comfortable chairs he’d ever sat in. 

"Professor-” Harry started, and then stopped. He wasn’t quite certain how to go about this meeting, on unfamiliar territory. She wasn’t quite his teacher anymore, and he didn’t know how to approach that. 

“You can call me Minerva, Harry. You are no longer my student.” The way she said it was not unkind, but he still felt lightly chastised. “I believe you wanted to discuss how to proceed in finding a career in the wizarding world?" 

"Um. Yes. Well. Minerva- hmmm, yeah that tastes strange. Minerva, I’ve been thinking that it would be a good idea to get myself back out into the world, starting with a job. Ron, Hermione, and I have been fine in our cottage, but sometimes it- I just feel like it’s time. I’m getting a bit restless, I think." 

Minerva looked amused at his rambling. "I know how that feels. Did you know that after Elphinstone and I got married, I took a break from teaching?" 

"Really?” Harry was genuinely surprised, because he couldn’t really imagine Minerva as a house wife. 

“Yes, really. I took a year off to take care of our home and try my hand at being a stay at home wife. A year was about all I could stand, honestly. I ended up going back to teaching the following September, I was lucky enough that Albus had been unable to fill my position beyond a temporary professor. I loved our house and I loved spending time with my husband, but I found it difficult to be alone all day and trying to productively fill my days. I also missed my students with no small amount of fierceness." 

"I definitely know how that feels. We have plenty of things to do but it’s so easy to get distracted without the structure of school." 

"Hmm. Speaking of which, how much do you know about masteries, Harry? I know that you and your peers all missed our usual talks about them, but you are also living with one Hermione Granger, who I am sure knows a fair amount about them through the pure virtue of planning three years ahead at least at all times." 

Minerva said it with humor and fondness in her voice, and Harry chuckled. "You’re not wrong. I know that it’s a bit like muggle college, and that it’s essentially an apprenticeship? I am a little bit confused about what one would do if they got to their mastery and found out that they’d picked something that they actually don’t like as much as they thought they did- for muggles they would just change their major, but if you’re working with one specific person because of their expertise in the subject that you’ve chosen, what do you do?" 

"That’s a good point. Most students have at least an idea of what they want to do based on what classes they liked while they were in school, but many don’t. Towards the end of seventh year, we allow students to start trying out different concentrations. Many will start to work with teachers in subjects that they like to see if they like the subject as much as they think they do. If we don’t have anyone specializing in the subject that they are thinking of, we can, more often than not, find someone who is willing to allow them to tail their work for a week or so to see if that’s something they like. We encourage students to look into at least three different masteries so that they can fully explore their options. This helps most students decide where they’ll end up, but even if you get to where you want to be and then decide that it actually isn’t for you, it’s not nearly as difficult to try something new as it would seem." 

"Good lord, that it a lot of information.” Minerva tilted her head slightly in acknowledgement. “So, if I start where I am now, without any weeks of tailing anyone and a bit beyond graduation, what do I do?" 

"Well, I might suggest taking remedial courses for the year that you missed, to start. It might help some with the boredom that you were talking about earlier, and you are a bright young man. I have no doubt that you will find you can complete the courses in far less time than it would take you to complete a full school year. We thought about offering students an option to complete an extra 'eighth’ year, but ultimately decided to keep Hogwarts at its usual seven years, and instead look into alternate options for them to finish. That September, most of our older students weren’t ready to return to the school anyway. War takes its tolls." 

"Isn’t that just ridiculously true? We were all wrecks for months, rather a bit. In the end Hermione pushed us to start going to therapy, and that helped loads. As for the completing the courses, I think that’s a good idea- I could probably do them with Hermione and Ron, Hermione’s been trying to figure out the logistics of finishing seventh year since it occurred to her that we never did, nevermind the fact that she’s performing spells of that level since fifth year." 

"I’ve been trying to remember that that is a letter I need to send out to everyone, though I keep forgetting. Even this far down the line, we’re still working through castle repairs and damages. There is always so much to do… well, that’s no excuse for slacking, regardless. I’ll have to add it to the list." 

She pulled out a piece of parchment from seemingly nowhere, and began to write on it with a quill also pulled from the ether. 

Harry was deservedly very impressed. "That was awesome, professor- what spell was that?" 

"I am no longer your professor, Harry. That is a useful little spell Filius taught me… " 

Their visit went on, with Minerva imparting far too much wisdom for Harry to ever be able to remember it all. They discussed a wide variety of topics, and McGonagall seriously considered all of the options that he had looked into, and was a particular fan of the quidditch idea. "Even if you don’t end up doing it as a career, it’s an excellent way to stay in shape. Far too many of my students simply stop playing when they decide on an office job, such a shame, and so much wasted potential as well." 

That particular comment sparked a long discussion about the merits of playing quidditch recreationally, which led to them talking about the professor’s league at the school. Harry was shocked that he hadn’t known about it as a student, had never heard it mentioned, and Minerva laughed at him for it. Apparently there were many secrets of the staff and school that students didn’t know about. 

When he left with several biscuits tucked away in a container for travel to bring to Ron and Hermione, he felt better. He was almost entirely decided on what to do for his apprenticeship, and he had a solid plan for his next few years. After the uncertainty of being on the run for a year combined with the certainty that he wouldn’t live past 17, it felt good to know what he was going to do, and additionally know that it had nothing to do with dark wizards. It was rare for him to be anything resembling normal. 

Ron and Hermione listened animatedly to his recollection of the meeting. Hermione was especially delighted to find that they’d have a way to complete their schooling, while Ron was relieved that it was from home. "Gotta be honest, I don’t want to go back to Hogwarts. It’s lovely, and in a special way it will always be home, but I think there are a tad too many memories lurking around corners for me to be completely comfortable there ever again." 

Harry nodded, though he wasn’t entirely certain he agreed. It was something he’d not considered, the memories contained within the school’s walls. Hogwarts was his home, and it likely would always be in his mind, the first place that he ever truly felt comfortable. But with how bad his PTSD had been, and still was on occasion, would he be able to live there? Walk its halls the way he had as a child? He wasn’t sure. 

They started their schooling a month, later, when it became widely available. The three of them were in some of the same core classes, as they’d always been, but they were all taking different paths and therefore most of the time they spent with papers spread out around them at the dinner table that they never ate at were for actual working, not talking. 

Ron was taking only what interested him, just enough courses to be able to get his degree. He tended to finish his work before the other three, and would go kiss the top of their heads as he got up to go start dinner. Hermione had taken as many courses as she could fit, as always. It was almost worse than third year, because the courses weren’t held in person. She had taken that to mean that if she could find the time for it in her personal schedule, she could fit it in. 

Ron and Harry had talked her down from taking all available courses. She’d ended up with a fairly large courseload regardless, but that was to be expected. 

Harry was, as ever, in the middle. He found himself with a courseload he was happy with, a few extra classes that he thought could be interesting, but not so many that he was constantly doing work. That worked out well for him, because he’d taken an herbology elective having to do with the growing of potions ingredients in the wild. It turned out that understanding the ingredients in a deeper sense than just their names was immensely helpful for potions. He’d never been doing better in a potions class without cheating, and he’d also begun to actually understand some of the notes Snape had left in the margins of the stolen book. 

They got through their class work and watched movies and made tea and went for walks and before they knew it, the holiday season was upon them. Their classes all had breaks for Christmas, and they took full advantage of that time. 

"What d'you think we should get Molly this year?” Harry through the question out from his position on the couch, draped across Ron and Hermione’s laps. 

“That’s gotta be some sign of adulthood, having to give your parents Christmas gifts.” Ron’s fingers paused their carding through his hair as he digested the question, and then he resumed. “I bet she’d like some of that cleaner we saw the other day, the one that changes scent." 

"Oooooh, good point. I was thinking maybe some new knitting patterns, actually- I found a bunch in the clearance section in the bookshop we went to the other day.” Hermione started diligently scribbling on the parchment in front of her under the “parents” section of her well-organized christmas shopping/gift ideas list. She turned to her boys to say something more, but as she opened her mouth the tinny sound o a timer going off filled the room “That;s your turn done then, Harry. Scoot." 

"Awww, but I’m so comfortable, 'Mione.” Harry pleaded to Hermione’s uncaring eyes as he heaved himself upwards out of Ron’s lap. Ron scooted down the couch to take Hermione’s place as she laid down to replace Harry. 

“Mhmmm. Well, it’s my turn to be comfortable.” Harry’s fingers found their way to her hair as her quill and parchment floated in the air by her head. “Alright, where was I? Okay. Ummmm, right! Under Molly, I want: "knitting needles, pattern books, and scent changing cleaning spray." 

The quill started scratching across the page as Hermione explained, "The other day over tea she mentioned to me that she hadn’t a good way to organize her needles, and usually has so many projects going that half the time she doesn’t know which ones are already in use and which aren’t. I think we should get her a new set so that she can have doubles AND an organizing system. I’m sure if we look hard enough we can find a case that has an extension charm on it, or we can do one ourselves." 

Ron looked down at Hermione with a smile on his face. "Brilliant. Alright, who’s next?" 

Harry glanced at the parchment hanging in the air to see which space was blank. "Looks like we don’t have anything for Ginny, which should be easy enough. She was complaining about her broom the other day, but I know she likes the model too well to want a new one. I was thinking a broom servicing kit?”

The evening went on like that, and they eventually had at least a rough sketch of what they would be looking for when they went out to do Christmas shopping. They found a fair amount of the things actually on the list, and were able to get suitable substitutes where they couldn’t. 

Their Christmas plans were this: they spent Christmas Eve at Hermione’s aunt’s house. She explained to them that her mother’s siblings had a rotation going, and that next year the three of them would likely be required to come to her parents’ aid with hosting. Her family was surprisingly large, and she told them that they tended not to gather for anything other than holidays. She never talked about them because there weren’t any other wizards in the family. 

They found out that this was not actually true on Christmas Eve, when Ron walked in on one of the cousins changing her kid’s diaper with a spell. It was a rather awkward conversation, while Ron tried to explain that he was a wizard and she tried to obliviate him. Eventually, the truth came out: her cousins were American, and hadn’t been particularly affected by the war. They, in all honesty, had been remarking to each other all night that Harry looked oddly familiar to them, but had been unable to parse out exactly what it was. 

They ended up setting up a lunch date for all of them for later that week before they apparated back to Minnesota. The cousins were very excited to find that there was another wizard in the family, and Hermione was similarly vibrating. 

“I can’t believe, all this time, and I didn’t even know! I knew it would make sense that some of my relatives would be magical, but I didn’t think it would actually happen. I obviously wasn’t going to sniff around and risk them finding out just to see if they really were muggles or not. Oh my goodness, this is amazing. I wonder what schooling looks like in America? I mean, I know the basic principles, of course, but I would love specifics. It’s such a big country, and Ilvermorny is the main school that we hear of, but I’m certain they wouldn’t have travelled that far just for school, that doesn’t make sense, does it?" 

”'Mione, we’re having lunch with them later this week. I’m sure they’ll be happy enough to answer your questions. We certainly don’t know the answers.“ 

Ron nodded as he hoisted the backpack holding their gifts in it higher on his shoulders. They were walking to the closest apparition point. According to Harry, who was using google maps, they were about 5 minutes away. 

"Turn left here. For tonight we should just focus on trying to get ourselves home, I think. Did we end up finishing the wrapping for tomorrow?" 

"Oh shit, I forgot, actually. We ran out of wrapping paper. We only have a few left, but still. Should we find a Tesco and stop in? It’s not too late, is it?" 

"They’re open til 10.” Ron stopped walking for a moment to consult his watch on the time, which read out 9:37 p.m. 

“Alright, let’s go then." 

The tesco had one roll of wrapping paper with lumberjack Santa Claus’s dancing across it with axes. They were not literally dancing of course- there was a Tesco in London with a wizard section where they might have found something similar, but they hadn’t the time to go to it. 

The next day, George refolded his "hot santa claus” wrapping paper into a hat and wore it all through dinner. Molly was too happy that he was smiling to scold him about it, although she did have to excuse herself at one point. When Harry came in to check on her, she was crying lightly into a handkerchief. 

“Oh, don’t worry about me, dear. I’ll be alright- he just- oh, for the love of- he looks very much like his brother.” She blew her nose and took a deep breath. A weak smile graced her face as she looked up at Harry. “It’s hard, still. It’s been getting better, but- well, I didn’t think they could even survive without each other. I used to look at the two of them, always together, always finishing each other’s sentences, and think, god, they’re just like my brother’s, and oh, thank goodness they’ll never have to be apart. I just- I just wish I’d been right.” Her voice broke a little bit on the last word, and she started dabbing at her eyes again. 

“I know. I remember in school, they were always together. No one thought they should ever be apart, but. I don’t know. George is doing- not well, but- he’s surviving. That’s all we can ask of him. That’s all we can ask of any of us, really. I think he’s being happy in Fred’s memory, instead of in spite of it, you know?" 

"Oh, I know, dear, I know. It’s just difficult. I’ll get over myself, I just needed a moment. I love seeing him smile again, it’s like Fred’s back, just for a little. Fetch me a glass of water?" 

Harry nodded and swiftly vacated the room. Even after all his therapy, he was still shit with emotions. He found Arthur and informed him of the situation, sending him back to his wife with the water she requested. He knew that was the right decision when he saw Molly again, tears dried, laughing at something Arthur was saying. Her arm was laced through his, a glass of wine in her hand as she leaned against him on the couch. 

He took a minute to reflect that he rarely saw Molly so relaxed, and especially not since the war. He was glad that they’d healed enough at this point that they could, at the very least, enjoy Christmas. His musing were interrupted when Ron came up to him from behind and hugged him. "We’re going to play pick-up, you’re on my team. Ginny’s pissed about it, come on." 

He turned into his boyfriend with a smile on his face and give him a peck. "Excellent, let’s go crush her." 

Ginny, who was training to be a professional quidditch player, soundly kicked their asses. George and Bill helped too. 

As punishment for losing, Ron, Harry, and Charlie went skinny dipping into the pond on the property, but ended up just getting everyone else wet until they all went swimming together, whooping and laughing. 

It was a good night, and Harry woke up sandwiched between Ron and Hermione. He was content to lay there and wait for them to wake up, listening to their breathing and looking at the rise and fall of their chests. They were here, and they’d made it through- he hadn’t thought they would. In the deepest recesses of his mind, he’d done out the math and he had been so certain that they wouldn’t make it through the war all together- something would have to give. Thank god he was wrong, pseudo death or no. He wanted to be nowhere else than where he was, listening to the Weasley household wake up on a Christmas morning. 

They all got up eventually, slowly stumbling their way into the kitchen as the lure of coffee and sausages called to them. Mrs. Weasley seemed happy to have all of her birds back in the nest. Percy kissed her cheek as he left for work, the only one who hadn’t been able to get the day off. The rest of them sat down to eat. 

Overall, it was one of the best Christmases he’d had in a long time, one of the few that he’d truly been able to enjoy. It was reminiscent of some of his first Christmases at Hogwarts, the first ones that he’d ever known what it was like to get presents that weren’t hand-me-downs or worthless garbage. 

He thought about that feeling of being new to a world of literal magic, and the fact that the most magical part of it all had been that he’d had an out, that he’d been able to get far away from the Dursleys for 9 months. He liked this feeling better. Contentedly settled into his skin, with a wide and bright future set out in front of him. He couldn’t help but think that just maybe, there was nowhere better to be. 

[hyliangrace-a]

ZELDA, HER APPEARANCE & HER FEELINGS REGARDING IT  /  

talking with amber about the differences between the appearances in our respective zeldas got me motivated to finish this headcanon, finally ! i love zelda’s ocarina of time design, because y’know, imprinting on your very first zelda game & all that, but there’s always room for improvement, right ? these are my ( questionable ) improvements ! this headcanon ... got away from me little bit when i started to talk out my reasoning for zelda’s choice in how she presented herself as queen. i intended on talking about how she looks in other verses, too, such as when she’s a spectre in the queen’s shade universe, but i feel that would suit better as an entirely separate post, so, that’ll come in time ! i hadn’t intended on putting this post under a read more, because i feel it’s a fairly important headcanon & i’d like people to read it, but - surprise ! - it’s really long, & it would feel really rude to just leave it uncut, so behind the black it goes - that, & it also deals with body issues & negative perceptions of one’s body, so please keep that in mind if you’re sensitive to that sort of content. that said, & i’m aware of the irony of this sentence after the last, but i hope you guys at least find it an enjoyable read !  ♡

the three basic tenets of her appearance which have appeared in most of her predecessors & descendants ( pale, blue-eyed, blonde-haired ) apply in most, if not all, of my verses for zelda  but there are only a few verses of mine where i would say zelda’s appearance is exactly as it is within the game & the official art provided by nintendo - primarily the earliest arc of my canon verses, when she’s still the little princess, & the au which follows the events of the child timeline, where she never goes on the run & so never becomes sheik. she’s still quite fit, thanks to horseback riding & regular exercise, overseen by impa, but it’s in this au she most embodies the slim, graceful princess look nintendo gave her. one constant in all her adult verses, however, is her height - by the time she’s fully grown, she’s 5′8″.

in my other main, canon-inspired verses, well - zelda goes on the run at age ten, & it’s from that age impa begins to teach her how to fight, as she knows that she cannot protect her forever, & she’s going to need to become self-sufficient if she wants to survive. it starts off with basic things, graduating into an intense regime, but the result is, by the time link awakens from his slumber, zelda, even whilst disguised as sheik, is broad-shouldered & visibly muscled. i choose to interpret the tanned skin, red eyes & shorter hair as part of a glamour zelda put up, out of fear that ganondorf was searching for girls matching her description á la wind waker, but the muscles get to stay because whilst her appearance might be fake when under this alias, her feats are not. she did, after all, manage to survive seven years in a monster-infested hyrule, stay in the heart of death mountain without a visible goron tunic, & for whatever reason, was at kakariko village before link when the seal holding bongo-bongo back began to break, & i choose to interpret that as her being prepared to fight it. she also managed to make it through the haunted wasteland to the desert colossus / the spirit temple, sans lens of truth, & as she presents as an androgynous, masculine-leaning figure, she might have also had to prove her worth to the gerudo in battle, just as link did - after all, even though the gerudo, such as nabooru, openly disavow ganondorf by that point in time, it would be madness to declare her true self in his hometown.

this piece of fanart by lord-lorens is, honestly, the closest thing to how i picture zelda’s body type whilst she masquerades as sheik, & afterwards, when she reassumes her identity as princess. ( is there a gossip stone out there saying princess zelda has an eight pack ? there’s nothing in canon to disprove this, so yes. ) the only thing which stops it being entirely perfect for me is my headcanons of where across her body zelda is scarred ( which could be another, much smaller headcanon, so i’ll leave it for that ) but considering everyone’s interpretation of how zelda lived as sheik is varied, it was bound to happen - but god, minus those, i just want to pin this somewhere on my blog with an enormous sign next to it which says  ❛ this is how my zelda looks, as both sheik & a princess. ❜ but, with that in mind, lets move on.

i think it’s interesting how similar zelda’s outfit is as an adult ( which she ISN’T, she’s SEVENTEEN, but i digress - ) to the one she wears as a child, & my interpretation of it is that it’s very deliberate - & another glamour. ( seriously, where the fuck would she get a dress like that ? ) zelda hasn’t been seen in public, as herself, in seven years. the last people saw of her, as mentioned by those in castle town prior to drawing the master sword, is her fleeing the castle on horseback with her attendant, & that might have been the first glimpse some people had of her at all. when ganondorf is sealed away, & she re-emerges, she’s dressed similarly in order to spark recognition in people’s minds, & also because she knows that it may be difficult to prove she is who she claims to be, considering the king is dead, & impa has ascended as a sage, & can’t vouch for her. surviving nobles who interrogate her on her memories are able to confirm her claim to the throne, but if she had just strolled into kakariko village in casual dress, it’s very likely she would have absolutely been dismissed.

because of this, zelda’s feelings towards her appearance end up... complicated. in the aforementioned child timeline au verse, where she has a privileged, but more normal, adolescent socialization, she’s quite accepting of her own appearance & how feminine it is, because in that timeline, she fits the mold of what people expect a princess to be - she’s tall, she’s graceful, she’s pretty, & she’s rewarded for fitting that ideal. in her canon universe, where a life on the run left her with an entirely different body type, an indifference to feminity, many insecurities about her suitability as queen of hyrule, especially in her first years of being on the throne, & a desire to conform to others expectations of her ... it’s a perfect storm, whose origins can be traced directly to her choice to homage her childhood dress during her reappearance in hylian society. 

insecurity & fear feeds a lot of her choices in how she presents herself at the beginning of her reign. her body type is what some would call androgynous, others vaguely masculine - broad shoulders & small breasts which combine to give the illusion of her hips being narrower than they are, & she though she herself is content with that, she fears scorn by others because of it, so she works to minimize these features, & she plays up to feminity. her wardrobe primarily consists of dresses, gowns & robes, all loose fitting, all sleeved to at least the elbow, preferably in a style which leaves her biceps covered, & indistinct beneath the fabric. the gold pauldrons she wears as an adult feature in most, if not all, of her garments until her official coronation, seven years after ganondorf was sealed away - they provide her a measure of security, give her a regal appearance, & do a lot of heavy lifting, in conjunction with the sleeves of her gowns, to hide her shoulders & biceps, to the point where people are surprised at just how muscled she is when they come off - she hides the results, but even as queen, she still trains as she did when she was in hiding. most people are accepting of how she looks, but as is always the way, the few harsh comments she hears deafen her to the compliments - the only thing zelda wants, in the end, is for hyrule to recover, & for her people to thrive, & for that, she needs to be a good queen to them. to be a good queen, she must live up to their expectations. her attempts to live up to that via her appearance lead to her first breakdown, three months after her coronation.

it’s not just her appearance, of course - there’s enough stress to go around trying to get hyrule back on its feet again in a fair way, whilst trying to make her own mark as queen & live up to her parents’ peacekeeping legacy - but the nitpicking from a few members of her court, & the constant moving of goalposts as she attempts to satisfy their criticisms of her appearance, is the catalyst for her eventual declaration that she is done trying to satisy other people’s unreasonable explanations. the queenly mask she wears for other people’s benefit is suffocating her, so she decides to break it, & forge a new one. if she is going to be feminine, it is because she chooses to be, not because people expect her to be. if she wishes to dress as a man does, who can stop her ? if androgyny is what she feels, she will not deny herself. so, after a good cry, zelda does what every twenty-four year old going through a tough time does - she cuts her hair. she no longer tries to hide her body or disguise her frame. she is the queen, & the people will accept her as she is.

& most do ! hyrule has some strange looking people in it. a queen with a pixie cut is not the end of the world. she keeps it short for a good while, as a symbol of both her & hyrule’s fresh start, but eventually she begins to let it grow out again, with its length varying at ... well, various important points in her life. a short bob when she begins the programme to build new villages & settlements in hyrule. shoulder length when she begins courting to secure the throne for the future. waist length when she marries. she cuts it to above her shoulders once more when her first child is born, & keeps it mostly at that length until the end of her life, mostly for practical reasons. she was never ashamed of her body, before or after she became queen, as it was proof of her survival, but she became a lot more confident in herself as queen after she stopped letting other people, & her own well-intentioned, if misguided, fantasies of what a queen should look like dictate her life. that doesn’t mean to say that was that, every dark thought about her appearance swept away - there were days afterwards where she still despaired of her appearance, of the image she was projecting to others, of the judgements being passed on her & her country that came from her looks alone - but they were infrequent compared to the constant anxiety she felt about her appearance prior to the night she took a knife to her hair. they also weren’t enough to stop her from maintaining her physique, either - the training regime she began as a child continued into her late sixties, when she finally felt confident enough in the kingdom’s safety to stop, but the results of it meant that zelda was powerfully built through her whole life. even the birth of her children, which softened her body, couldn’t diminish much of her muscled appearance. shedding the weight of others opinions ( of her appearance, at least ) allowed her to stand tall until the end of her days. her body told the story of her life, & eventually, she was proud to let people see it.

[lightning-fury]

Meant To Be

Pairing: Kamilah × MC “Amy”

Chap1 ==> Chap2 (written by @clan-sayeed-fic )

Note: This fic is the result of an unfortunate collaboration with @clan-sayeed-fic (I’m joking about the collaboration being unfortunate 😅😅 ).

Warning: Non-consensual acts and I think angst.

Chapter Three: Control

Written by @lightning-fury

Amy throws her jacket as she entered lily’s apartment and picked a pillow screaming in it.

“I see the branding went spectacularly” Lily teased

“She’s, she’s awful” Amy fell on the couch next to Lily who was playing some video game.

“Well that’s our Kamilah” lily laughed ending the game then she took Amy’s hands in hers.

“Look I’m not defending her behavior. Elizabeth’s death affected us all, but it did hit Kamilah the most, she had a special bond with her”

Amy nod in understanding. “Honestly” she thought “I would’ve acted the same way if I were in her place.”

“Enough forget about Kamilah” Lily jumped from the couch and threw Amy’s jacket in her direction “Catch. We’re going, to celebrate, not every day my girl gets her brand”

Amy catched her jacket thanks to her vampiric speed, she tried to object claiming she’s tired, but Lily didn’t take “No” for an answer. Eventually the blond give up.

Despite Lily Spencer’s chaotic way of living, she’s not only a member of clan Sayeed but also skillful hacker and the owner of one of the most exclusive night clubs in New York which was their destination.

Amy made a quick scan of the place it was flashy and futuristic “definitely styled by Lily”, a famous band playing in the corner driving the crowd crazy on the dance floor. Lily led Amy across the dancing bodies of models and New York’s elites to an exclusive second floor; well as Lily explained it’s exclusive for vampires and the few humans who knew about the supernatural. It didn’t look any different from the 1st floor except for the scent of blood. the blond’s eyes turned red a smile curled on her face showing her fangs, she was about to open her mouth to compliment Lily, when suddenly her expression hardened.

“Hell No!” she frowned.

Lily s looked in Amy’s eyes direction confused to find Adrian waving at them and Kamilah making the same displeased expression Amy making.

The new blood turned attempting to leave only to be stopped by the purple headed “Woah there, you’re not going anywhere”

“Lily I came to forget about Kamilah and this isn’t the place for that. Cause you know, she is here”

“Girl you better pose, we came to celebrate and we will even if it means kicking Kamilah out”

Amy lifted an eyebrow “can you?”

“Um No, but Amy Clark I didn’t think you’re the quitter type. Are you?”

Amy looked at Lily “No”

“So are you gonna let Kamilah win?”

“No” Amy said and smiled mischievously “Lily let’s party”  

The girls made a beeline for the bar, it didn’t take them long to get in the party spirit after some shots and the insisting of a human hotty Amy found herself on the dance floor music guiding her, she swayed with the girl, bodies moving in sync, Amy felt the girl’s body temperature rising against her, her heart beats a perfect addition to the music around, it was intoxication, in the dark of the club Amy’s eyes glow red, her hand traveled from the girls waist up to her neck, she run her thumb feeling the girl’s pulse making her shiver in respond.

The blond licked her lips fangs exposed then she sank them in the girl’s neck earning a moan from her. They danced like no one was watching.

Amy felt the girl weakening in her arms, she wanted to stop but she couldn’t, the blood was like drugs, a lust that can’t control, truthfully in that moment she didn’t want to control, the girl was dying in her arms but Amy didn’t care.

That’s when she felt hands on her shoulder a woman’s voice speaking it was commanding but soft and reassuring “Easy there, you can control this, Now you’re feeling a pleasure like you never felt before, I can relate to that but  you’re strong Amy, you can do it, it’s okay don’t rush it”

Amy did as told she slowed her drinking pace until she stopped. The girl fell unconscious, Lily catched her before she hit the floor and took her away.

The blond came out from her haze realization hitting her like a track, her hands started to shake she felt hands on her shoulder guiding her away from the crowd, the hands of the woman who helped her control her lust, Amy turned to see her face only to find Kamilah’s eyes looking at her, there was no anger no despite, only concern.

Tears of guilt welling in her eyes Amy hugged her “I almost killed her” she said sobbing.

Kamilah stiffened for a moment then she wrapped her arms around the girl “Shhh, it’s okay, you got overwhelmed, you’ll learn to control it”. They set there for a while the young vampire getting comfort from Kamilah’s touch.

Kamilah offered to drive her home since Lily is taking care of the girl. They drove to lily’s apartment in silence; Amy started to feel better but guilt still consuming her, she got out of the car heading toward the stairs but Kamilah’s voice stopped her “Hey You..”

Amy turned.

“Tomorrow at 7, you’ll start training with me. Be ready”

*******

“Get up” Kamilah looked at Amy who crashed against the floor a second ago.

“I can’t” Amy whined.

“I don’t care, move” said Kamilah

And like that the sweet Kamilah from last night was gone; Amy was getting her ass kicked by Kamilah for the past 3 hours from the moment she set her feet in the training facility.

The upcoming days wasn’t any better, although Amy’s fighting techniques improved she still couldn’t land a single punch at Kamilah.

“Call it skill, call it experience call it whatever you want that woman is unstoppable” Amy said drinking from a blood bag.

“Ames, aren’t you exaggerating a little” Lily laughed massaging the young vampire’s shoulders  

“Girl, my body’s hurting in places I didn’t know they did exist” Amy pouted.

“Look at me” Lily moved facing Amy “you’re gonna drink your blood, sleep and tomorrow you’ll show her what you’re made of. Do you understand me?”

“Yes” Amy’s eyes flashed with determination.

The next day Amy went earlier, only to find that Kamilah is already there warming up, she stood there looking at the queen moving with her daggers, dancing like a goddess of war.

“I can hear your heart beats you know” Kamilah said startling Amy.

“Hi” Amy mumbled showing herself “sorry, I didn’t..”

“Save it” Kamilah stopped her.

Amy rolled her eyes “here we go again” she thought “why am I even bothering”

The girl draws out her Katana getting in a fighting stance; it wasn’t too long before the 2 started circling each other preparing to attack they the fight started and Amy was capable of dodging all Kamilah’s attacks, she lost her Katana other than that no one succeeded to hit the other. They danced back and forth for a while, Kamilah actually looked impressed.  

Then Amy charged, Kamilah dodged it with ease and slammed her hand into the young vampire ribs, Amy winced in pain but she was quick to recover and managed to trip Kamilah, but she fell on top of her in the process.

They looked at each other, faces inches apart, Amy’s eyes scanned Kamilah face and got fixed on her lips, she leaned closing the distance, but she felt the cold metal of Kamilah’s dagger on her neck.

Amy backed away allowing Kamilah to stand.

“Do you really think I’ll kiss you?” Kamilah spat.

“How pathetic” she looked at her with disgust words leaving her mouth like poison.

Then she turned her back walking away.

Kamilah’s words stabbed Amy like daggers “Why? Why are you treating me like this? What have I done to you?” Amy shouted tears in her eyes.

Kamilah kept walking ignoring the girl.

Something snapped inside of anger filled her, she speed getting in Kamilah’s way “wait”

But when Amy touched Kamilah’s hand, everything around her disappeared.

And then …

Europe 1350

Kamilah walked through alleys hundreds of bodies laid everywhere inside the houses and on the streets it was dark times despair and sadness looming around, a man in armor is next to her he kicked a body of his way “this damned plague hit all of Europe” he grumbled

Kamilah glared at him “Banner can’t you have some decency and treat the dead with respect”

“No” he kicked another body and walked in a different alley than her.

Kamilah ignored him and entered a house, it was dark inside, she smelled death but she heard faint heart beats, she walked the stairs getting to the second floor a man and a woman laid on the bed, Kamilah approached

 “They’re dead” a weak voice stopped her.

She turned to see a young girl curled against the wall, Kamilah looked at the girl, she was blond 5 or 6 years old, pale you can see the bones from her skin, by the look she didn’t eat for days.

Kamilah sit next to the girl but the young child tried to stop her “go please, you’ll die” she said tears in her eyes “I don’t want to see someone else die”

“Don’t worry you’re not sick” Kamilah smiled at her “I can sense it also I’m really heard to kill”

The girl looked at her in wonder “what’s your name?”

“Kamilah and you?”

“I am Elizabeth” the girl said

“Elizabeth, that’s a beautiful name” Kamilah stood and extended a hand smiling “well Elizabeth, what do you say about going with me, I can be your family”

“Really?” Elizabeth said not believing what she heard  

“Yes, really” Kamilah nod

“Okay” Elizabeth smiled since the first time Kamilah saw her and she took her hand.

*******

And like that Amy got back to reality to see a stunned Kamilah

“How did you?” Kamilah said shocked.

“Kamilah, I didn’t mea..” Amy mumbled surprised by what she did too but Kamilah expression change again she was boiling with anger “Get out”.

Amy took her things and left without a word.

As soon as she walked out Kamilah fell to the floor her legs unable to lift her anymore, she closed her eyes remembering  Elizabeth’s smiling face, then she opened them and looked at her hands. the hands that hold her while she turned to ash. Kamilah wrapped her arms around her knees, tears running down her face, she set there crying for the first time in decades.

…

[stevenuniversetanzanite]

Fallen Angel (Venable X reader) Part 2

I mentioned this extending over multiple characters. I assume most people read for all her ahs characters, so I don’t think how I am going this will be a problem.

I have two/three chapters written for the prequel (which is with Cordelia) which will go with this collection, I guess it would be called. If you want me to post the first two of that I probably could, the only problem is it will explain the reader’s deal. So if anyone wants it I could post it otherwise, it will wait.

Summary/idea: Two strangers come to ‘save’ the occupants of outpost 3. Neither are what they seem.

Warnings: N/A

Parts: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 , Part 4, Part 5 (Will add as I go)

Ms Venable couldn't wrap her head around the pure insanity of the new girl. She was completely bonkers in every single way, she shouldn't trust a word that left your mouth. You were the only one who knew Michael before he arrived at the outpost if anyone knew his true intentions it would be his business partner. Whether your words were valuable, well that would only show with time. If she took everything you said with a grain of salt then what's the harm in hearing you out. I mean, how can she trust a girl who forgot she ate someone else's meal? Or, claims she hadn't eaten since '92? She didn't even look old enough to be born then.

She kept an eye on the girl, to see if she could trust her. Her incessant flirting painted her to be a bit of a harlot. She was used to presumptuousness from working with Jeff and Mutt- always looking down upon them and their perverted lifestyle with a string of hookers attached. This was different, maybe because the attention was towards her? Y/N didn't look like a streetwalker, the formal attire suited her well actually, something Venable would never admit aloud. 

She didn't mind the girl's intentions. She was even flattered. No one had ever shown interest in her, not even in her younger days. She had always been a woman of action, always needed to get something done. Someone would hold her back. Also, her incessant complaining that the men are the scum of the earth tended to draw that sex away, not that she minded, they never appealed to her anyway. 

You were careful but still managed to have a filterless go about communicating. You took what you deemed was yours (mainly other peoples food or drinks) and no one complained. You had power over them, one word from you (if even) and their shot at making it to the sanctuary would be torn away from them. Even with this knowledge, they made an effort to get to know you, possibly for their own benefit. You put more work into knowing the residents than Venable had in all the time she'd been running it. 

"Ms Venable requested your presence," A grey informed you mid-conversation with a few of the men in the outpost. 

"Duty calls boys, good luck on your interviews," you wished them luck before turning attention to the grey. "Keep me company?" The grey nodded their head once knowing whether or not they wanted to; they had orders to obey all in a higher rank eg you. 

You made small talk with the grey, finding out what they did the world ended. They asked back and you responded honestly, telling them about your schooling. "But I guess they're all dead now. Oh well, we all can't be lucky." The conversation took a dark spin, bumming the person who didn't want to be there. "I wish you the best of luck during your interview and I'm sorry about the loss of your husband and kids." As soon as the door is shut, you uttered out, "They aren't going to make the cut."

"Good evening Ms L/N," Venable said.

"It's evening? I only woke up an hour ago." 

"I assumed you didn't want to be a part of our… customs."

"I don't if it means I have to wake up before it's dark- wait, it's always dark here, nevermind." You noticed the bottle of red on her desk and the two glasses. "Ah yes, you got the red." You ran over to her desk and cracked it open, pouring yourself a glass. "That's the shit. Better than the last wine I had. You can call me Y/N by the way. I have a feeling we'll be getting to know each other very well."

"This is strictly business Ms L/N, I would like to get in with it."

"The fact that you have to say it's business suggests to me it's not- at least not entirely," you smirked. "But I'll play your games."

"Do you ever stop-"

"Stop what?"

"If you let me finish then you would have found out-"

"No." Venable was losing her temper. "The answer to your question is no. I don't flirt with everyone I meet, I’m not a whore. Ask anyone here if I have ever flirted with them." You took a sip of your wine. You knew exactly what she was going to ask. People's minds weren't as perplexing as their behaviours. "Did you want me to pour you a glass? I assumed you were capable of doing it yourself but some people like sentiment."

This was all your game. It had to be. Venable wanted no part of you, she was fine on her own. She couldn't even call this an alliance, it was a one time thing to get information from you. If she had to play by your terms then so be it.

"You said you had intel on Mr Langdon."

"Mister, more like master, he's barely 12. Why do you people call young boys master anyway that's kinda fucked up. Is that an old-timey thing?"

"You're not making any sense."

"Nothing about that man does." You chuckled like what you said was an inside joke. " How much do you know about the Cooperative?"

"As much as they needed to tell me to be able to do my job."

"Which is?"

"Excuse me?"

"I know what you do but I want to know in your words."

"I am the keeper of order, looking after humans' last survivors."

"Look after, I take it loosely. Killing doesn't usually fall under that category."

You knew that she’d been killing off the survivors for their disobedience? She didn't gather you to be the observant type after that display on your first day.

"Killing was necessary to keep order-"

"And I'm not complaining, it's remarkable how you manage to use their own fear against the lingering." Lingering? That would imply that they are on their last threads, not supposed to stick around much longer. 

"And what do you see my job being?"

"Oh, I can't tell you that. Self-awareness will ruin everything. It's like that unspoken agreement between a magician and their audience, if you are aware of the magic then it ruins the allusion. Also, I can't tell you directly, it will ruin my reputation-"

"You have a good reputation? Among the Cooperative?"

"God no, the Cooperative isn't important. Why be loyal to the dead?"

“Then to whom?”

“If you stick around long enough, you’ll find out yourself,” You said vaguely. "I'll tell ya one thing about that man. He has said it himself, in other words, he doesn't give a crap about anyone else unless you are faithless on his side, he can't give a rat's ass about any of you."

"On his side or on our knees praising him? I know his kind. Men."

"If you don't side with him, you won't survive the year. You have very few options V." You said. You rose your glass, "Thanks for the wine." You vanished before Venable could stop you.

The days went on. More people were getting interviewed for the selection process. Others, such as Coco, nagged you on how well they did. You would always shrug and tell them the interviews weren't your job, as everyone had been told at the introduction. You already knew no one thus far had made the cut but why rip their hope from right under them. While they still think they have a shot, they are easily manipulative. 

It was an hour before curfew for the residents. You tended to spend the night’s hours in Michael’s office re-reading over the occupants' files, drawing or sitting by the fire. You were catching up with Michael when Ms Venable interrupted.

“Ms Venable,” Langdon said in his drawn-out monotone voice.  

“Mr Langdon. Ms L/N.”

“V.”

“Excellent timing. I was meaning to speak to you.”

“You were?”

“You’ve violated the rules set up by the cooperative, instead implementing your own.”

Langdon went on about Venable's transgressions against proper protocol. Wilhemina insisted that she was given classified instructions which made you laugh. You had heard the rules too many times when they were being made to not have memorized them. Michael may have taken a more backseat approach to all of this but you kept a closer eye on all of this, mainly not trusting the two cokeheads organising this whole shebang and you were right to, the place has been infiltrated. 

Langdon told the story of the woman and child you stumbled across when heading over. A mother with her two children, one child sick, the other, a baby, dead in her arms. She begged for mercy but neither showed mercy. Venable was taken by the story and republished by what you two did or didn’t do. Venable insisted that none of her charges are worthy to move on to the Sanctuary aside from Dinah, whom she admitted she knows little of.

“At this rate, it sounds like we will have the sanctuary all to ourselves,” Langdon said. He stood up from his desk walking over to the woman standing in the centre of the room, in front of the fireplace. “There’s no need for us to be adversaries, Ms Venable.” He stood in her personal space, she was forced to look slightly upwards towards the taller man. You swivel your chair around to watch on. “Take off your dress.”

Both women choked. What did he just say to her?

“I will not.” She was as shocked as you. She laughs uncomfortably, stiffening slightly. 

She glanced from the man before her to you, trying to piece together if this suggestion was in some way your doing. With all the suggestive comments you make in passing towards her, she wouldn’t doubt it. 

You propped yourself on the edge of your seat. “Michael, what are you-” In the month you had been there Wilhemina had never heard you call him by his first name. You always insisted on calling people by nicknames rather than their given names, all the outpost members had at least one, ones you talk to more frequently have multiple. 

“A part of your cooperation includes a physical examination.” Only after he spoke did he acknowledge you. A look telling you to back down was enough for you to piece it together. No one gets special treatment, she had to follow all the same rules as everyone else to see how far she would go and with that, must go through their tests of will.

You eased back in your chair, sitting the most proper you have in years. You turned your attention away, picking up a pen from the man’s desk and playing with its clicker. 

“You can read my file,” she spoke with a quiver in her voice. You winced at the sound of her broken voice. Someone who presented themselves so strongly, shouldn’t be allowed to be seen as weak.

“Your file won’t show me what I need to see. Your shame.” He circled Venable, his hand running from her shoulder to her back. “I want to see the part of you that humiliated you the most.” Venable stopped before it reached her spine. “You won’t get a second chance.”

You leapt up from your chair, snapping the two out of their own world, “I’ll do it- I’ll to the examination.”

“Y/N-”

You made your way over to the two, “I was a nurse back in the day- well nun but let's not go into that.” You move Michael’s hand off her back. 

“I was capable of examining the other-” You knew he didn’t do anything to them. He wasn’t going to do much to her other than look at her back, bring her down a level in the process.

“I’m more qualified to do this and if you are supposed to be doing a physical examination wouldn’t you prefer a medical professional to do it. Unless you have some ulterior motive.”

He eased back knowing that if by bringing up the idea of an ulterior motive if he insisted on doing it, it would appear that way.

“You’re turning weak Y/N,” Michael whispered in your ear as he passed you on the way to his desk. “Just like how I found you.”

You had to stop yourself from snapping back at him. You were weak… human. A part of that still lingers in you, begging for more attention. You shoved it back down but it kept reemerging with these reckless feelings. You thought if you found something to stimulate your old life, maybe it would go away. Your needs were different now but you still needed commitment. Someone to worship the ground you walked on, maybe even do the same back. 

Michael made it to his desk, he told you to hurry along with it. You stared at her face, the close proximity becoming uncomfortable. You apologised before circling her. You would make this as quick as possible for her while still not hurting her. You zipped down her dress revealing her ‘shame’ as Michael called it. You ran your cold hands down the curvature of her spine asking if it hurt. She shook her head, not being able to speak due to the overwhelming emotion she was going through. You zipped her back up before announcing you were done. Her hand slipped back on her shoulder checking if you were telling the truth, her hand meeting yours. Her hand faltered at the contact but reached out for yours holding it briefly. You were the one to pull away, you two weren’t the only ones in the room.

“Did I pass?” She pulled all the strength she could to ask the question. 

Michael looked towards you, annoyed. “Ask Y/n, she seems to think she’s in charge of this now.”

Wilhemina looked towards you. She was confused between the sudden switch of both of yours dynamic.

“You will find out in due time. Like the others.” You don’t look at her as you made your way back to your spot in front of the desk. “I would like to continue the meeting we were having before you interrupted.” You glared daggers at the man before you.

She repulsed you, Venable thought. You refused to look at her after you saw her back. The one person who actively sort her out was turned away by her- She wasn’t to sob but held it in. She had to make it back to her room, her sanctuary.  

“What did you think you were doing?” Michael asked you when the woman left.

“You said I could have one person of my choice in favour of my service to your cause.”

“I shouldn’t even have to do that, you should be faithful to me because-”

“You are not your father, I could give two shits about you and your little plan for the earth.” You snapped. “He could have done it himself, instead of sending his spawn to do it. Don’t even get me started on his procession attempts- I don’t know what his plan was with that.” You stood up leaning all your weight on his desk. He looked up to you with that stupid little smug expression he gave the others. He thought he was above you, typical antichrist behaviour. “I swear he could have come up with a better way to do that or better yet, figured out a way to appear human among. Everyone else can do it if he’s so powerful why can’t he? Don’t look at me like you're above me, you may be tough stuff but you're still human. You can still go to hell. It’s not as nice as you might think if daddy dearest wants out too.”  You went to leave. “You refused me to have my first course as it would screw up your plan, I understood that. But you aren’t stopping this time.”

“The woman is incapable of love. Even if you get her to like you, she won’t stay long. There’s a reason angels and demons don’t date.”

“Like you know shit, your a child and barely de-” 

You were flung against the wall being held by Michael’s power. You felt a pressure around your neck choking you. You gasped for air but nothing was coming in. 

“You might be more human than you thought Y/N.” He cut his magic off, gravity kicked in and you fell to the ground in a crumpled mess. He walked over to your body kneeling down and leading over your body which was backed up against the door. “Know where your place is. Either as my equal or as my enemy.” He stood. “And if you choose enemy, you’ll be dead with those witches you hung out with.” You chuckled knowing better than him. Yeah, dead.

“What must I do- to get rid of the- humanity?” The word humanity felt wrong. 

“Kill what it wants. Kill Venable.”

Link to next chapter