#taller than me. and all my old aunts and uncles. and the cousins i don’t have much in common with seeing as they’re 40 with a mortgage and

[fappellmoan]

mfw i just realized neither of the gay cousins are gonna be here tn or i guess really none of the younger ones except the one that traumatized me at a very young age and changed the trajectory of my life forever. and the cop (her brother)

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I've been dreaming of the Invulnerable Poison Apple.

The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. This is his home, his roots, and he will cherish them always.

No matter how he may change.

How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?

The Harveston roads stretch out for what seems like forever. Dirt paths uninterrupted by the hustle and bustle of modern life.

It's just Epel and his beloved blastcycle set at a breakneck pace. Green grass below... Mother Nature has pushed through the melting snow at last, sounding the call of spring.

The crate secured to back of his bike is always lighter on the trip home than on the trip to the closest city. With the latest load dropped off, he’s free to fly back.

He loves this feeling—the rush of adrenaline, the wind weaving through his hair. It’s a taste of home, a slice of heaven he can get nowhere else.

Up ahead, his family’s farm comes into view. The outline of their orchard, flush with the buds of new life, is a familiar sight. What's new are the crops whose heads sprout up over the treetops: a giant peach, a pumpkin large enough to be a carriage, and more—all the result of magical modification.

He grins, revving up his engine and pushing forward. Faster, faster.

Then he breaks, skidding to a halt before their wooden front porch. The engine dies, leaving only the erratic pounding of his heart in the smoke and dust.

“I’m home!!” Epel announces, dismounting. He removes his helmet and places it on his blastcycle's seat. Wisps of lilac cling to his forehead, his fair skin colored with the blush of exhilaration.

Similar heads of hair—members of the Felmier family, dressed in casual clothes and fruit-picking gloves—dot the orchard. They meet his eyes and wave.

He counts them: his mom and his dad, his aunt and uncle. His cousin is too young to get their hands down and dirty yet, so they're inside with their grandparents.

So why is there one extra body amid the apple trees? One person, hunched over on a ladder, a shaking arm outstretched to pluck the fruit.

Not her. Please, not her.

Epel immediately bolts into the fields.

The tree leaves shudder and shift, branches swaying, as if they, too, are loved ones welcoming him back. The air is sweet and uplifting, like the faintest taste of a fizzy drink.

"Meemaw? Meemaw…!!" Epel hollers, racing over to her.

She finally has a grip on the apple, gives it a firm twist, and frees it from its branch. For one frightening moment, she wobbles, threatening to topple from high up. Epel arrives just in time, grabbing onto her ladder to steady it.

He heaves a sigh.

"I told ya to try ‘n not overexert yourself…!” Epel scolds her. His hometown’s dialect slips out, smooth as butter and natural sounding to their ears. “You’re gettin’ to that age where doing physical labor ain’t the easiest. At least leave the heavy liftin’ to me ‘n the others!”

“These apples aren’t goin’ to pick themselves!!” Marja grumbles. “Would you rather trade jobs and let me be the one to run deliveries? You wanna be the one to let this old lady on the loose?”

He bites his lower lip. “No, but… I can take some of yer tasks to lighten yer workload. Please, let me.”

His grandma slowly climbs down the ladder. (Epel observes her dissent carefully and maintains his grip on her stairway.) She’s delicate, with rounded, soft features—but he knows she is anything but demure, especially upset.

When Marja lands next to him, he notices her height right away. He had always been just a bit taller than her—“My growin’ little man,” she’d say, giving him a pat on the head—but his grandma seems to have shrunken in the wash.

Marja prods him in the chest, and though she has more strength than one might give her credit for, his muscles are taut and hold their ground. He’s taller, stronger.

The same physique as a Savanaclaw student.

“Don’t get cocky with me just because you’ve hit a growth spurt ‘n yer transferrin’ to a rough ‘b tough new dorm! I’m a Felmier too.” She shoves the freshly picked apple at her grandson’s face. “Ya fell from our family tree, so you ain’t the only one who’s hardy ‘round here. Don’t worry about me so much!”

“I can’t help it, meemaw,” Epel protests. “We’re gettin’ busier and busier and it’s hard to keep up with the pace.”

“Business is boomin’. I don’t see what you’re yappin’ about!”

“Last thing I want’s for you to be shipped off to the nearest hospital cuz you hurt yourself on our produce.”

“Hush now!! I’lll be fine,” she insists with a broad smile. “I’ve got you and everyone else to count on, so I know I’m in good hands.”

Marja drops the apple into a waiting wicker basket at her feet. It lands atop a pile like a ruby laid in the center of a crown. She bends over and picks up her haul with a grunt and starts waddling towards their house.

Epel remains by her side, matching her walk with a few long strides. He may as well be helping her cross the street, but he stays at a considerable distance. Enough to be polite, but still close enough to swoop in if she takes an unceremonious fall.

“‘Sides, I work cuz I want to, not that I have to,” Marja tuts, clambering up the porch steps. Epel offers her his muscular arm, but she refuses it.

“Gotta keep these weary bones active! And… gotta do my best to support ya where I can.”

“You’ve always done that for us, meemaw.”

All that and more.

She laughs. “Yer not the little boy that needs a scoldin’ for whooping the older kids’ tuchuses anymore. Yer a man now, Epel—but even men ain’t islands. Doesn’t matter how many fights ya win by yerself, ‘s nice to have people to fall back on.”

The front door swings open. Marja shuffles inside, followed by her grandson.

“I understand what yer sayin’. Really, I do. Still, nothin’s gonna stop me from givin’ ya lip. ‘S in our blood,” Epel jokes, knocking at his temples. “Stubbornness runs in the family. I must get it from you.”

“You’re gettin’ real cheeky with me today,” Marja chuckles, setting her basket down on a counter. “I know, how about a good ol’ apple pie with all the fixings? That oughta fill yer belly and fix up yer sass.”

Epel responds with a toothy grin. “Nothin’ hits the spot like your home cooking, meemaw.”

Her eyes twinkle warmly. “Darn right.”

[areyoudreaminof]

The First Annual Starfall Snipe Hunt: Chapter 1

Nyx is ready for the best Starfall ever! His cousins are coming in from the Day Court for two weeks of fun. But when Papa and Uncle Cass suggest something called a Snipe Hunt, Nyx doesn’t know what to think. Will this be the best Starfall ever? Or the worst?

Nyx gave his room one last look, making sure any loose clothes were safely hidden in the closet. He wasn’t exactly sure why he had to clean his room every single time his cousins visited, but his parents insisted. Scanning the carpet and desk, Nyx thought it looked clean enough. They would all be too busy to hang around in his room anyways.

He flung open the door, checking the clock as he raced down the hall, one minute and thirty seconds until they were scheduled to winnow in. Nyx took the shortcut through the kitchens, skidding out into the garden with fifty nine seconds to spare. Mama was waiting there, a giddy smile on her face.

“It feels like we haven’t seen them in so long.” Mama breathed with excitement as she bounced on her toes. Nyx grinned broadly, “Me too. And it’s Froggy’s first Starfall! She was sick last year, remember?”

Mama laughed, “She’s been to two Starfall’s already, Nyx.”

“Yeah, but she was a baby, Mama. She’s old enough to know what’s going on now!” Nyx scoffed. He did remember when Froggy tried catching the falling stars in her chubby baby fists those first two years. Last year, she got some sort of fever, so Cricket and High Lord Helion came by themselves, and only for the night. Nyx and Cricket had fun, but they felt a bit guilty about it.

“Can the girls and I get our own balcony this year?” Nyx asked, breathless.

“We‘ll see.” Papa said out of nowhere. He seemed to have winnowed in when Nyx wasn’t paying attention. Papa looked at the small pocket watch in his hand. “Thirty seconds.”

The booming flap of wings sounded from above them. A large shadow blocked Nyx’s view as he heard Aunt Nesta’s voice ring out, “Just in time!” Nyx could see she was still dressed in her training leathers as Uncle Cass set her down.

“Sorry we’re late.” she said as she gave Nyx a kiss on his forehead. “We got wrapped up with some training.”

Uncle Cass was breathing hard as he drew his wings in slowly. “I don’t think I’ve flown down that fast in my life.” he whispered to Nyx, exaggerating breaths huffing in his chest.

“Ten seconds.” Papa said with a grin.

It had been two long months since Nyx saw his cousins last, when they visited the Day Court for three whole weeks. Nyx and the girls spent the whole time going to festivals and the beach, and getting into mischief. He got to train with Uncle Lucien and Helion, and got to visit the Lady of Day, who Nyx called Grandmother. He made some friends with some boys his age too, and he had been writing to them frequently.

The Day Court was incredible, but there was always something fun about the girls coming to the Night Court, no matter how often they visited.

He felt a buzzing in the air and in his fingertips. It was time. Nyx held his breath as he blinked. Then, he launched himself forward, crashing into his cousins for a hug.

“Nyxie!”

With a tangle of limbs, Nyx had managed to hug Cricket around her neck, while Froggy had jumped up like a spider monkey and locked her legs around his waist. Giggles and screams sounded out through the garden as the cousins greeted each other.

“How come you’re taller than me now?” Cricket exclaimed, as she stood on her toes. Her short, curly red hair added a good inch to her height, but Nyx had grown a bit since he last saw her.

“All that training I guess.” Nyx hummed.

“You live in the library, but you keep telling yourself that.” She teased brightly, as she ran off to his parents for hugs and kisses.

“I missed you so much, Nyxie!” Froggy squealed as she smacked a big kiss on his cheek. Her sheet of dark golden hair was tied up with a sparkly yellow ribbon. She was tiny, but smarter than Nyx and Cricket combined.

“I missed you too! Are you excited for Starfall?” Nyx asked as he set her down.

“Oh, yes!” she said, bouncing on her toes. She opened her mouth to say something else, but Uncle Cass swooped in and snatched her up. Froggy squealed out another set of giggles. “There’s my little cupcake!” He roared as he threw her into the air.

He gave his Aunt Elain a big hug, savoring her honey and floral scent as she kissed him. He threw his arms around Uncle Lucien. “I’ve been practicing my combat forms!” he said, with excitement, “I’m getting pretty good at close combat.”

Uncle Lucien beamed, “Are you now? Sword or spear?”

“Sword! But only because we don’t have spears at the training ring.” Nyx said, he swooped down into a crouch, extending his arms into a strike. Uncle Lucien dodged but Nyx caught his arm before Uncle Lucien could really block the strike. Uncle Lucien laughed as he ruffled Nyx’s hair and pulled him in for another hug.

Finally reunited, the family made their way into the house. Nyx grabbed Aunt Elain’s bag to help take upstairs to the guest rooms with Uncle Lucien, while his father took the girls by the hand, leading them inside to the living room.

“Are Aunt Mor and Aunt Emerie here? ” Cricket asked without stopping to breathe. “What about Uncle Az and Aunt Gwyn?”

“Aunt Mor and Emerie are finishing up closing the shop in Illyria, Cuddlebug.” Mama said. “And Gwyn and Az will be here tomorrow too. They’re doing some extra work at the camps.” Nyx noticed his parents shooting worried looks at each other. Uncle Azriel and Aunt Gwyn had been keeping a close eye on Illyria, going up for missions frequently.

“Is Amren here too?” Froggy asked, ever the polite little lady who refused to let anyone be left out.

“She’s joining after dinner.” His father said as they all took their places on the sofas and chairs. Turning to Uncle Lucien, he asked. “How was the winnow? Are you feeling alright?”

Uncle Lucien shrugged, “It was fine. I think leaving the dog at home made a difference.”

Nyx now noticed that Cricket’s large smoke hound wasn’t with them. “You left Trajan behind?” he asked Cricket, who had flopped down on the sofa next to him.

“Yeah. It’s hard to winnow with all of us. And he keeps barfing when we take him. So, he’s with Grandmother and Grandpapa. When they come up here, Master Dimitriou will take care of him.” Cricket replied with some sadness.

She was so attached to the hound, that he slept in her bed and followed her everywhere at the Day Court. Her Uncle Eris, the High Lord of Autumn had gifted her the pup a few years ago. Now, Froggy waited patiently for a hound of her own.

“He’ll be okay.” Nyx said, patting her shoulder. Cricket gave a little smirk, before she changed the subject.

“We’re staying two weeks. What’s the plan?” She asked with sneaky grin.

“I think we’ll just hang around until Starfall. Then Uncle Cass and Aunt Nesta are gonna do some training with the Valkyries and we’re allowed to go.” Cricket rubbed her hands together excitedly.

“Mama said she and Aunt Mor are taking us all to the Rainbow too at some point.” He racked his brain, trying to think of what else had been planned. “Froggy, I think Aunt Gwyn wanted to show you some new stuff from the library?”

“You can come with me to class, too.” Mama said.

“We’ll take it all day by day, like we always do.” Aunt Elain hummed, before she excused herself into the kitchen. Probably to see the twins, Nyx guessed.

“Well, in a few nights, Rhys and I will take you children out on a snipe hunt.” Uncle Cass announced loudly.

Cricket and Nyx whipped their heads around, while Froggy, who had been cuddled between Uncle Cass and Aunt Nesta, looked up at him with big, curious eyes.

“A what hunt?” Cricket asked incredulously, her nose wrinkling in utter confusion.

“A snipe hunt.” Papa replied, “It’s something we did in Illyria as boys, and you’re old enough.”

“What’s a snipe?” Nyx asked incredulously.

“Just a nocturnal animal. A little feral, but they’re fun to hunt. Hard to catch.”

“I didn’t know they had snipes this far north.” Uncle Lucien said with a smirk. Aunt Nesta and Mama looked confused, while Uncle Cass and Papa just grinned. “We can talk about it later.” Papa said, turning his attention to the twins, who had glided in to announce dinner.

——————————————————————

“What’s a snipe anyways?” Cricket whispered over the din of the adults. “I’ve never heard of them.”

Nyx shrugged, “I don’t know. Papa said they were in Illyria but I never saw them at the camps the entire time I was there. And I definitely never heard of them. There were lots of owls though.”

“Do you think they’re even real? Or are they just teasing us? Uncle Cass does this all the time.” Cricket grumbled as she tore apart a roll, slapping a thick pad of butter in the middle. “Remember when he told us those kebabs at the Children’s Festival were made of dogmeat after we each ate two?”

“Yeah, but your grandfather was in on it too,” Nyx replied. “and he made it worse by saying they were puppies.”

“You think he’s getting us back for the library prank?” Cricket asked as she eyed Uncle Cass with wariness.

“Maybe. He hasn’t mentioned it since.” Nyx and Cricket may have heard that Cassian was terrified of something that had lived in the library. So they might have lured him down a level or two and jumped out and scared him, and they possibly made Uncle Cass scream.

It was hilarious, but Nyx and Cricket had been punished the rest of the week, cleaning the kitchen and the studio after classes. Even Aunt Elain made them pull weeds for hours in every single house garden.

“If they are planning something, won’t your parents get mad?” Nyx asked, stealing a glance at Aunt Elain and Uncle Lucien who were talking and eating like nothing was wrong.

“Papa will probably think it’s funny, whatever it is.” Cricket hissed. “I fell off Meallan’s back last week and landed in manure and Papa laughed about it for days and told everyone .” Nyx held back a snort, choosing to cough instead, “Were you hurt?” he asked.

“No, but there was poop in my hair and in my ears and all down my clothes! Do you know how many baths I had to take to get the stink off?” she stuffed half of the roll into her mouth as her face reddened with embarrassment. “Four!” she said, her cheeks packed in with bread. “Four baths, Nyx!”

“That’s terrible Cricket. Really.” Nyx promised, trying desperately not to laugh.

“Either way, I smell a rat. They’re up to something and I don’t like it.” Cricket mumbled as she shoved the rest of the roll into her mouth. “Go check their minds.” She ordered as she chewed.

“No! Papa knows when I slip in, plus if they’re planning something their walls will be up.” Nyx hissed. “It can’t be big, Starfall is in two days. It’s probably silly. We just have to be on our guard.”

“Speaking of being on your guard, I wonder what terrible outfit Aunt Mor got us for Starfall.” Cricket snickered. Nyx shuddered.

Last year's ruffled monstrosity was a velvet suit with breeches that cut off above the knee in a jeweled purple color. Cricket got stuck with a frilly pink thing that looked more like a cake than a dress, and clashed horribly with her red hair. Only little Froggy made it out unscathed.

But the children were stuck wearing whatever Aunt Mor got them. She was fun and silly, but she had terrible taste in clothes, Nyx thought.

On his left, Froggy pushed food around her plate in silence. Nyx didn’t need to slip into her mind to tell she was nervous.

“You don’t want your mashed sweet potatoes, Froggy?” he asked her with a little nudge. “I was going to give you mine.”

“I’m not hungry.” she mumbled, not meeting his eyes. “My tummy hurts.”

“Don’t listen to Papa or Uncle Cass. They’re just being stupid.” Nyx said with assurance. “And if there’s ever danger, I’ll fly you away and Cricket will kick their butts!” Cricket gave a little punch to the air to emphasize his point.

Froggy halfheartedly laughed, but didn’t say anything as she pushed her food around her plate.

“We’re getting to the bottom of this,” Cricket hissed, as her russet eyes blazed with that look. The one that meant she was planning something.

“Let’s do it.” Nyx said, but not before he booped his baby cousin on the nose. “We can scare them first,” He whispered as Froggy giggled.

Flesh eating animals didn’t live in the woods, Nyx though. Right?

TAGLIST: @wilde-knight @mossytrashcan @born-to-riot @secret-third-thing @kataravimes-of-the-shire @octobers-veryown @foundress0fnothing @vulpes-fennec @popjunkie42 @xtaketwox @labellefleur-sauvage @pretty-little-blue-sky @reverie-tales @asnowfern @witch-and-her-witcher @iftheshoef1tz @thelovelymadone @itsthedoodle @thesistersarcheron @the-lonelybarricade @chunkypossum

[galaxyseclipse]

I’m bored, so have some Splatoon oc lore

we’ll start with Four ‘cause I’ve been thinking about them today(note that there is very little rhyme or reason as to the order for these facts, I’m mostly just writing them as I think of them):

-21 years old as of Splat3

-they’re Tsunami(Captain 3)’s cousin(Tsunami’s dad’s sister is Four’s mother) and they have a very sibling-like relationship

-they don’t know or live with their parents, since they left Four with their aunt and uncle before they were born

-their given name isn’t Four, it’s Coral; but they didn’t like that one much, so they went with the first thing they did like, and they introduce themselves as Four now

-they didn’t even tell Marie their given name for a while after they met, and even then made her promise to not call them that

-they’re scared/distrustful of Callie(“she literally could’ve burst my fucking organs open, dude, you think I’m gonna like her?”), to the point where they both have gone on multiple “team building” missions

-they have a scar on their right side from when Callie smacked the shit out of them with a roller while brainwashed

-they also have top surgery scars, but those were made intentionally

-they’re the shortest official member of the NSS, but just a hair taller than Pearl; their build is more stocky than most of the others as well

-their design is based on the hummingbird bobtail squid, so they glow a bit brighter than the others and have glowing freckles(also why they’re so small lol)

-competed in wrestling through middle and high school, still do occasionally

-as of RotM(though this may change if Agent 4 appears in Side Order) they are in Splatsville attending university at one of the new schools there(Tech Engineering major)

-might maybe possibly have a small crush on Marie, they strongly deny it any time it’s brought up

-they own a motorcycle(the amount of times they’ve had someone riding in swim form under the seat is nonzero)

-weren’t super fond of Ivory(Agent 8) when she first showed up, but they got over it eventually and the two are close friends

-main dualies; not super competent at anything else anymore, but they’re pretty agile and quick to tackle opponents

-are very nearsighted, usually wearing contacts but will be seen with glasses occasionally

-get along pretty well with Ika(New 3) and even let them move into their apartment; the two’s relationship is like siblings

-they’re the one behind a majority of the NSS tech(save for weapons)

-can’t play any instruments(learning dj stuff though) but they can rap and kinda sing(they’ll only sing around Tsunami and Ivory and refuse to let Marie hear them)

-they were pretty grumpy and angsty as a teenager, but mellowed out as they got older(transitioning also helped lol)

-still pretty rash, chaotic, and punchy, but they know when to tone it down and be serious

-they weren’t super excited about being roped into the zapfish situation, but got over it quickly after realizing there was no coming back from fighting a giant, weaponized oven

dang, I thought Four was the least fleshed out of all these guys…. makes me wonder what the posts for the others’ll look like lol

[inumakifriedoreos]

Two Homes :)

My cousin’s home is a very special place to me. Although I have only been there four times because they moved away from Florida to Arkansas, and my family and I do not visit regularly, it is one of my favorite places. The home is a trailer, and it is pretty tiny, but that’s what I love about it because it forces us to be closer. It is also on a farm. It has a porch in the front, and when you open the front door, you step into the living room with two couches on your left and the TV set on your right. There are a lot of paintings on the wall by my aunt, old wedding photos of my uncles, and a big image of the Virgin Mary on the wall facing the doorway. Behind the couches is the kitchen with a big dining table and a window that allows you to see the front yard. Most of the rooms are on the right of the house. The house serves its function as domestic space as it has enough space needed for a house. The space is homey and welcoming, with many places to sit together and enjoy each other’s company. The home could be cramped but not uncomfortable. It has many windows, allowing you to see the animals outside and bringing a lot of light, making the atmosphere brighter and the small space more open. The trailer is a bit run down, but the style of everything is the same, so it all matches and gives off the same ambiance. To me, the home is unique because the layout of the trailer is different from two other trailers I know, and it has a more homey and cozy feeling, but that also may be because the last time I went was during the winter when it was colder. 

Another space I enjoy and visit regularly is my other cousin’s house since it is a nine-minute drive from my house. Their house is much bigger than the trailer, and the ceiling is taller. The space’s function is also a domestic space. When you open the front door, it leads to the kitchen on your left and a hallway to your right. The hallway leads to the dining room, and once you are in the dining room, you could go left to the living room or right to a hallway with rooms. The space is very open. I believe it feels that way because of the tall ceilings and ample space between each section of the house. I enjoy both homes because they achieve their goals in different ways. The trailer is small and forces my cousins and me to be closer together. Still, the big house also has a lot of space, so my cousins and I can play around and give each other space, which I like because when I get bored, I can walk around and go to a different room that one of my cousins is in so I don’t feel as trapped as I do in the trailer but I do still love both homes.

[free-pool-trash]

x of swords - george weasley

part one of three

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

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

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

Word count: 22.9k 

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

mastelist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Scotland.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dear Harry,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lots of love,

(Y/n) xoxo

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, “Dunno.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dear (Y/n),

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

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

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

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

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

Take care,

Harry.

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

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

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

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

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

Hello, Harry’s Pretty Neighbour.

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

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

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

Don’t break my heart, write back?

Yours truly,

George Weasley x

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah he did.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry nodded, “He will be.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry,

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

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

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

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

Lots of love,

Y/n.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dear Y/n,

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

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

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

Thank you again for the warning.

See you soon,

Love, Harry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s her name?” You asked.

“Her name was Marlene,” Sirius answered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s just a friend!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ready, George.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello,” he replied, returning the gesture.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry grinned, “I missed you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Remus’ eyes widened in horror.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course,” he confirmed.

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

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

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

“Hm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s one way to put it.”

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

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

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

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

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

You shrugged your shoulders lightly, “Just talk.”

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

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

“Nothing smaller than a king. What else?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like what, Haz?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“As I’ll ever be I suppose.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tell me what?”

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

[savethelastdan]

loving leads to bleeding (and your beauty is a blessing)

SessKagu off-shoot of this one except Akinori lives :) 

originally written for @sweepingtree 

When fourteen-year-old Akinori returns from the fortune teller’s home, he is ashen and quiet. 

This is not like his son, so Sesshomaru waits until the sky is dark and everyone else has retired, before going to the witch’s home himself. 

He hears of a future where he once again wanders alone; where hope sleeps away the years under a blanket of ice and snow; and Kagura screams curses at his back as she folds herself over their child’s corpse. 

Beneath his choking grip, the fortune-teller croaks a curse, if he is to intervene in fate’s design once again. “Your wife, your human daughter - when will it be enough? You must learn to accept grief, instead of forcing it’s hand.”  

But of all things, this is not one that Sesshomaru will accept. 

The Panther King dies the next morning, and Akinori turns fifteen.

-

Seed

“Mama, when will I have a spider mark like yours?” 

Kagura stills. From the hot spring’s shallow end, Akinori’s bright eyes watch her lips curve down. 

His mother is pretty, and thus so is her frown; but he feels guilty all the same. After all, the rare times she frowns are usually because of Papa, not because of him. 

“You won’t.” Dipping her hands in the water, Kagura scrubs at her neck as she answers. “The man who put this mark on Mama is gone now.” 

“Gone?”

“Dead.” When she says it, her lip curls, and since it’s halfway to a smile Akinori feels a bit better. 

He’s five years old, so he knows what death is, of course. Death is the time his big sister burst into tears because a bird flew into the side of the door during a storm; the thing that means he has only a sword waiting for him to grow up, no grandfather to go with it; the girl named Kanna his mother talks about when he sits on her lap by the looking-glass.

Death is sad, most of the time. But from the way his mother smiles as she wades over to wash his hair, maybe it isn’t always. 

-

Bud

“You’re sulking.” It is a statement, not a scolding. And yet, Akinori shrinks when he hears his father’s voice come up behind him. 

Pouting, he pokes his head around the trunk of the tree. Sesshomaru stands there, arms loose at his sides, and waits. 

“It’s not fair.” He points one claw towards the bottom of the hill, where his favorite cousin is still playing with the annoying boy from the demon slayer tribe. “She’s younger than me, how come she’s taller?” 

Sesshomaru scoffs in the back of his throat. “What a thing to fuss about.” 

Akinori is only eight years old, but he burns with what someday will be dubbed a righteous adolescent rage at his father’s refusal to take this seriously. “Papaaaaaa. I’m the strongest one, I should be the leader. But Minako said it had to be the tallest - “

“She’s taller because you have more demon blood. It will take longer for you to grow up.” Sesshomaru’s gold eyes glance over his son; Akinori doesn’t notice, but his wife or even his sister in law could hear the admittance beneath his words that this is not something he dislikes. When Akinori only pouts further, he moves to let a hand rest on his son’s head. “Let her be the leader for now.”

“But - “ 

“Akinori.” Sesshomaru’s thumb grazes the half-moon on the boy’s forehead; the mark of their family. “Let her.” 

The unfairness of it all puts the exclamation out of his chest, as he shoves his father’s hand away. “Ugh, why?” 

Sesshomaru sighs; his hands return to his sides. “Because you will outlive her.” 

Later, Kagura will scold him for saying it like that (as though she is anything other than blunt, herself). Because Akinori is eight, and hearing his father speak so calmly of his family passing away is scary. Scary enough that, when it is time to leave, he wraps his arms around Minako’s neck and shrieks. 

I’ll save you like Papa saved Big Sister Rin! 

Four parents discuss it in hushed (and extremely frustrated) tones that night; Akinori never finds out exactly what they say. 

So death, he thinks, half-asleep on Jaken’s shoulder as he’s carried out of his aunt and uncle’s hut, isn’t only something that happens to people he’s never met. 

It’s something to be feared. 

-

Bloom 

Pulling the blanket over his shoulder, Kagura sits on the side of her son’s bed. Though she’s watched Akinori sleep his whole life, since becoming a teenager he’s found it creepy. Whenever he complains, she just laughs and admits that she can’t help it. 

“It’s like my heart is outside of my chest again, only this time it’s wandering the world and getting into trouble,”  she says to Sesshomaru once. At the time, he hadn’t said a word. But the slight dip in his chin made it clear he’d understood. 

Now, her husband stands in the door, head held high. Some might think it means he’s proud; but Kagura’s spent too many years by his side to be fooled. 

“She said that he was fated to die.” 

Air rips away from her lungs, ready to fasten itself into a sharp weapon; Kagura forces it back, not willing to wake her child. “When?”

“His birthday.” Sesshomaru unfolds the mokomoko from his shoulders as he speaks. When it drops to the floor, out of the corner of her eye Kagura marks spots of blood staining the white. “It has been prevented.”

She thinks of Kohaku, showing off his latest successful hunt to a line of nieces and nephews; Rin, smiling and laughing within a huge crowd of villagers; her own reflection, growing older in the mirror. “Good. I wouldn’t let you come back here otherwise.” 

The statement is an unspoken allowance for him to come closer, and he does. Their sleeves brush as Sesshomaru settles beside her. “The witch spoke of consequences.” 

She says it without thinking. “Whatever they are, they’re worth it.”

For a moment, they are silent; both entirely focused on the sleeping boy. Kagura regains focus first, turning to look her husband full in the face. A speck of blood marks his brow, and she brushes it away with her finger. 

“It’s quite a lot of trouble, loving something this much.” She tries to keep her tone light; it doesn’t quite work, with the weariness in Sesshomaru’s eyes. Kagura lets one hand rest on his shoulder, and the other on the slight swell hidden beneath her robes. “Do you think your heart can handle another?” 

-

Akinori turns fifteen. He is gifted the sword that fights death, and a fan that makes corpses dance. His confidence in wielding each makes his sister shake her head in disbelief, and his mother show all her teeth in a smile. 

His father’s servant, Jaken, drinks too much and tells him the story of his birth. How he, the spawn of a wind demon, had no air in his lungs. How it was only the sword now hanging at his hip that saved him. 

“And now he’s gone and messed with things again! Oh, please try not to worry Lord Sesshomaru anymore, Akinori,” Jaken wails, wobbling back and forth as his eyes roll back. “I don’t think any of us could survive it if you do.” 

Akinori goes to his father, that night, and cries in his chest like a child. Because whether it scares him or saddens him, love is a bigger part of his story than death will ever be.

ALTERNATE (DARK) ENDING:

“It’s quite a lot of trouble, loving something this much.” She tries to keep her tone light; it doesn’t quite work, with the weariness in Sesshomaru’s eyes. Kagura lets one hand rest on his shoulder, and the other on the slight swell hidden beneath her robes. “Do you think your heart can handle another?” 

Sesshomaru’s lips part, but whatever he plans to say never makes it out; instead, he freezes, chest expanding in an inhale. 

“What is it?” Alarm sends her heart pounding hard against her ribcage as her husband’s yokai energy heats and expands, turning the edges of her vision red. 

He reaches over, clearly fighting to be gentle, and pulls the blanket down. Kagura swears under her breath, blood running cold.

On the back of one shoulder, a brown spider’s mark stains Akinori’s skin. 

[americancowgirl19]

Babysitter

Summary: Peter gets stuck with babysitting.

Warnings: fluff

Characters: Peter Parker, Annie - Little Cousin, Aunt May, Happy, Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff, Bruce Banner, and Steve Rogers

Word Count: 1,318

A/n: This was an anonymous ask -  Hey i was wondering i would like to request peter parker having a 6 years old baby cousin (may and ben's daughter) and she knows about him being spiderman. She meets the avengers. - I’m gonna make Peter a little older. He’s about 19 and is in college but still lives with Aunt May. He’s just rarely home between school, friends and the Avengers. I also named the cousin Annie because I looked up Peter’s family tree and Uncle Ben’s mother was Ann so I went with it... I hope I did good, I hope you enjoy it!

Masterlist

“Aunt May,” Peter whines, following her into the kitchen. “I have the be with the Avengers in an hour, I can’t stay here and babysit,”

“Peter, you told me you would babysit today. I have to work and the regular babysitter is out of town until next week,” May tells him.

“Aunt May,” Peter groans. She sighs turning to him.

“Why don’t you just take her with you?” She suggests. Peter raises an eyebrow at her.

“Take her with me?” 

“Yeah, she loves Spiderman. It’ll be perfect,” Aunt May smiles slipping on her jacket.

“I can’t just take her with me,” Peter argues.

“Why not?” Aunt May asks, slipping her shoes on.

“It’s work, Aunt May. It’s serious stuff, dangerous superhero stuff... No place for a 6 year-old,” Peter shakes his head, crossing his arms.

“Oh, that’s funny because I texted Happy and asked him if it would be ok for you to take her and he says it’s fine,” Aunt May grins. “In fact, Tony’s pretty excited to see her”

“You talked to Mr. Stark?” Peter’s jaw drops. “Aunt May, when I go to the Avengers I’m Spiderman, I’m Mr. Starks righthand man. I can’t do what I have to do and watch Annie,” 

“Peter, you’re just going over there to try on new suits,” May tells him. “Maybe sit through a meeting, I don’t know,” She shrugs. “But it’s not like you’re taking her on a mission. Now, I know you want to seem cool and all that in front of the big boys,” Aunt May says causing Peter to whine and rub his face. “But you’re taking her. Now, I have to run, do not lose her,” She says pointing at him.

“That was one time and I found her,” Peter shouts after her.

“Say hi to Happy for me,” Aunt May shouts back.

“Ew, no,” Peter cringes. Aunt May blows him a kiss and walks out the door. Peter groans leaning against the wall, banging his head back.

Normally, he loves spending time with Annie. She’s his favorite person. He’s taken her swinging through the city every time she asks because he simply cannot say no to her face. 

However, taking her to the Avengers facility is something else. Ever since Mr. Stark brought him in to help out a couple of years ago he’s been trying to prove that he’s a worthy Avenger. He wants the others to take him seriously. 

Bringing his little cousin with him and running after her whenever she gets into things that she’s not supposed to will only restart the teasing period. Not that he ever got out of the teasing period but he didn’t want to give them new material to work with.

“I can stay here, Petey,” Annie whispers, peaking out from around the corner. Peter’s eyes snap open and he looks at her. His heart breaks at the pout on her lips. “I’m a big girl, I can look after myself,” Peter sighs.

Peter smiles, walking over to her. She looks down at her feet, fidgeting with her hands. Peter kneels in front of her and brushes some hair off her shoulder.

“Have you gotten taller since I last saw you?” Peter asks. She glances up at him.

“You saw me yesterday,” She reminds him.

“And I swear you grew an entire foot taller,” Peter shakes his head in amazement. “If you don’t slow down you’re gonna be taller than me tomorrow,” He says, poking her stomach. She smiles but tries to hold it back. “You are 100% a big girl,” He agrees with her. “Just because you can look after yourself doesn’t mean you have to,” He tells her. “Now, if you want you can stay here by yourself and be bored or you can come with me and meet some Avengers,”

“Can I meet Capin Merica?” She asks, slyly looking at him.

“I’m sure I can arrange a meeting... Maybe over some lunch?” Annie slowly begins to nod, a smile spreading across her face. “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings, I didn’t mean to,” Peter pouts causing Annie to grin even more.

“It’s ok, you can make it up to me with some ice cream,” Annie assures him. Peter grins, laughing a bit.

“Oh, is that right?” He asks, and she nods sticking her chin up. Peter smirk scooping her up in his arms and spinning her around. She giggles as he tosses her in the air and catches her. “Well, I’m sure Mr. Stark has some ice cream we can snag,” He promises.

“Why don’t you go get ready? We’ll leave in a couple minutes,”

“Ok!” Annie shouts racing to her room. By the time she was ready, Happy was there to pick them up. Peter had gone to sit up front with him when Annie slipped in first. “Thank you for opening the door, Petey,” Annie grins, clicking her seatbelt in. Peter’s mouth drops as he looks at Happy who just shrug.

“She’ll be alright,” Happy promises. Peter groans, closing the door and climbing into the back. Happy closes the divider preventing him from seeing up front. Peter pouts but grins a bit when he hears Annie giggling.

It didn’t take them too long to reach the facility. Peter jumped out of the car to race after a speeding Annie. He grabs her hand before she can get through the door.

“Don’t run away, Annie,” Peter scolds. “I’m supposed to be watching you,”

“I wanna meet Capin Merica!” Annie shouts.

“And your wish is my command,” Tony says, walking up to him with Steve Rogers beside him. Annie’s eyes widen and her mouth drops. Peter watches her expression and grins.

“You look just like my action figure,” She whispers. “But you’re bigger,” She admits. Steve smiles, kneeling in front of her. 

“Introduce yourself,” Peter whispers, nudging her.

“Hi! I’m Annie Parker,” She basically shouts. Her hand shoots out for him to take.

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Annie, I’m Steve,” He says shaking her hand.

“Cap here is gonna show you around,” Tony say clapping Steve on the back when he stands back up. Annie slowly gasps. “I’m gonna steal your cousin for a little bit,”

“Ok,” Annie shrugs leaving Peter for Steve.

“No loyalty,” Peter shakes his head watching Annie willingly walk off with Steve.

“Tell me about it, who chooses Captain America when you have Ironman?” Tony scoffs. “It’s gotta be the blond hair,”

“I think you’re perfect, Mr. Stark,” Peter tells him.

“I thought we were past the whole you kissing my ass stage?” Tony asks. Peter struggles to figure out what to say next. “Never mind, I’ve got you a new suit,”

Peter wanders off with him hoping that Steve doesn’t loose Annie or else he’ll never hear the end of it from Aunt May. He stayed with Tony for a couple of hours before they hunted Steve and Annie down.

They found them in the common room with some of the other Avengers. At the moment Annie was with Natasha. Natasha was whispering secrets to Annie, most likely ways to get into trouble but get away with it. Annie was soaking every work up with a mischievous grin.

Bruce sat next to her, grinning and shaking his head. Annie was sitting in his lap but was also completely ignoring him in favor of Natasha. Steve seemed to be finishing up a bowl of ice cream on the opposite couch. When Peter looked back at Annie he noticed leftover ice cream smears on her cheek.

“Hi, Petey!” Annie shouts waving at him.

“Hi, Annie,” He waves back.

“Do we have to leave?” She pouts. 

“No, we can stay a little longer,” He promises her. Her face lights up and she instantly goes back to whispering with Natasha.

“She’ll be our little spy in no time,” Tony comments.

“Aunt May’s gonna have a heart attack,” Peter mutters.

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Simple Man

Dean Winchester x Reader

Words: 3351

Summary: It was never what he thought he would have. But now Dean doesn’t want to let go. 

Notes: I was going to wait and make this a Thanksgiving special, but I thought today would be more fitting. I can’t believe Supernatural ends tonight! This show has been a part of my life for a while now and it will forever stay in my heart.  I had a really really good time writing this one. It might be one of my favorites I’ve written for Dean, if not my top pick. I hope you guys enjoy it and look forward to seeing more. Carry on. 

Want more Supernatural? Find it HERE

(P.S. thank you to my beta reader @suckmysupernatural​. Love you!)

-

Oh, take your time, don’t live to fast

Troubles will come and they will pass 

He had slept through an alarm he didn’t remember setting. It wasn’t until he heard the creaking of the door that he stirred, reaching under his pillow for his knife. But it wasn’t there. Dean panicked as footsteps crept towards him. They were nothing more than a small pitter-patter on the wood floor, but he still prepared himself for the attack. The small creature leapt on top of him and he rolled over so he was pinning it beneath him. It giggled. It giggled?

“Daddy, Mom said she needs you in the kitchen.” 

Dean leaned over to the night stand and turned on the lamp. A little green eyed girl squirmed out from underneath him and skipped out of the room. 

“The hell…” Dean muttered. He opened the dresser and sure enough, his clothes sat in the drawers. He put on a T-shirt and slowly walked out of the room. The smell of bacon and coffee coaxed him to the kitchen. He couldn’t believe what he saw. 

You were standing over the stove, trying to save the bacon from burning. Dean was just frozen in the doorway. Finally spotting him, you made your way over to him, which was difficult with the little boy clinging to your leg. 

“Thank God you’re up. I need you to finish making breakfast.” You lifted the boy into your arms. “Eric’s got a fever and Ellie is going to wake up any second needing to be fed.” You gently laid a hand on Eric’s forehead. “I’ll call the doctor as soon as I get him to lay down. But you know how impossible that is.” 

“But I’m not tired.” Eric whined. 

“I know, sweetie, but you don’t want to get sicker, do you?” He pouted his lip and shook his head. “Alright, so I need you to go back to bed.” You looked back at Dean. “Can you just finish the bacon? I’ll be back to make their toast.” 

Before Dean could speak, you rushed up the stairs. As if on queue, a baby started to cry from somewhere upstairs. Dean just stood in shock. What the hell was going on?

As if by second nature, he walked around the kitchen, grabbing a paper towel to let the bacon drain off the grease. It felt almost natural. He somehow knew where everything was, even though he had never been here. Or had he? His brain was fuzzy with thoughts he couldn't remember. He saw images flash in his mind. Sam graduating from Stanford. His parents celebrating their 30th wedding anniversary. You… in a wedding dress. 

“Johanna Charlotte Winchester you better be ready for school or your dad’s going to come and get you!” You yelled, coming back into the kitchen, this time a wailing baby in your arms. It wasn’t until now that Dean noticed you were wearing a sheriff’s uniform. You snatched up a piece of bacon and popped it in your mouth. “Thank you.”

You bounced the baby in your arms, trying to calm her down, but she wasn’t having it. The green eyed little girl from early came bounding into the room with her backpack over one shoulder. Ellie continued to bawl. 

“Can you hold her? She always stops crying when you hold her.” You handed the squirming child to him and he tried not to panic. You noticed your husband’s awkwardness. “Rough morning?” You snickered. “Here, I’ll make you some coffee.” 

As the child in his arms slowly stopped her crying, more memories flooded Dean’s head. You telling him you were pregnant for the first time. Going to the emergency room for the birth of his son. Watching Johanna hold her new baby sister. They all felt like dreams, but then how was this all real? 

“I’m feeling a little... off this morning.” He admitted, watching you carefully as if he were waiting for horns to sprout from your forehead. Your face fell. 

“Oh god, please don’t tell me you’re sick too.” You put your hand on his forehead. “You’re picking everyone up from the airport today.” 

“Everyone?” Dean’s brows furrowed curiously. 

“I would go get them, but I’m at the station until five.” You sighed, moving your hand down to caress his cheek. “Besides, you’ve been dying to see your brother since the Fourth of July.” 

“Uncle Sam!” Jo exclaimed excitedly. 

“Sammy’s coming?” Dean asked. Finally, something familiar. Your face contorted with confusion. 

“Of course he’s coming. Jessica and the kids are too. They always help prepare for tomorrow and since your parents will still be out on their cruise, we’ll need all the help we can get.” 

“Tomorrow...” He spotted the calendar on the wall, but you answered first. 

“Thanksgiving.” You stated. Your confusion changed to concern. “Are you sure you’re okay? Do you want me to stay home?” Jo raised her hand. 

“Can I stay home too?” 

“Sweetheart, it’s just one more half-day of school before break and then you’ll get to play with your cousins for the rest of the week.” Seeing you start to get stressed, Dean put a hand on your shoulder. 

“You go to work. I’m fine.” He assured you. “I’ll hold down the fort and I’ll pick up Sam at- what time again?”

“3:00.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek and smiled. “I know you worked extra last week so you could have the garage closed for Thanksgiving, but I think the fumes might have gone to your head.” You grabbed the keys off the counter. “Oh, and I’ll be taking Baby to work since you’ll need the van to fit everyone.” His look of displeasure made you laugh. “I know, I know, but you’ll have to suck it up for today unless you think the four-year-old can babysit.” 

You kiss Ellie on the forehead before giving Dean a quick, but passionate kiss on the lips. You held out your hand for your daughter to take. 

“Alright, partner, let’s go.” 

The two of you leave and Dean looks down at the baby in his arms. Was this really happening? 

-

Boy don’t you worry, you’ll find yourself

Follow your heart and nothing else

If he was trapped by a djinn, he would have remembered fighting it. This was something else. The more time he spent in the house, the more this world felt real and his hunting life felt like dreams. Maybe… maybe this was real. 

He remembered everything now. He had met you in a bar on New Years Eve. You hit it off talking about cars and classic rock. He proposed about two years later outside that same bar during the first snow of the season. You always said the first snow was the best one. You got married and a couple months later found out you were pregnant with Jo. Johanna Charlotte Winchester was born on April 3, 2007. She was seven. Three years later, Eric Samuel was born on November 29th. He was four. Lastly, Ellen Sandra was born six months ago tomorrow on May 27, 2014. 

Sammy had a family of his own. He married Jessica right out of law school and the two had two boys; Josh, 8, and Michael, 6. Their families stayed close, even though Sam was in California and Dean in Kansas. They were happy. 

If this wasn’t real, how could he remember all that? 

3:00 rolled around and Eric’s fever had gone down. He called you to make sure it would be okay to take him along to the airport. You told him that as long as he was feeling okay, it should be fine. The doctor said it sounded like the heat in his room was too high. Dean buckled Eric into his carseat and Ellie in her carrier. While Johanna almost looked like a mini-girl version of him, Eric looked like you. His eyes were yours, along with his hair color and his nose. Ellie looked like a fair mix of both. 

Jessica was the first one to greet him since Sam was busy carrying the boys’ bags. He hugged her tight and couldn’t stop beaming. 

“It’s so good to see you guys.” He smiled and she gave him a sunny grin in return. 

“I know Sam’s been eager to see you and the family for a long time. Of course, I’m only here for the food.” She teased and he pulled her into another hug. 

“I can’t believe this.” Dean sighed happily. Sam and Jessica. Him and you. One big happy family. 

“Do I get a hug, or are just going to hog my wife?” Sam snarked, setting down the bags as Dean nearly tackled him. Sam laughed, struggling to breathe in his brother’s crushing hug. “I missed you too, Dean.” 

“Uncle Sam!” Eric cheered, clinging to Sam’s leg. 

“Hey buddy.” Sam smiled, lifting his nephew into his arms. Jessica peaked into the baby carrier Dean had set on the bench. 

“Look at how big she’s gotten.” She awed. Ellie was asleep, so she spoke quietly. Jess frowned, finally noticing the two brown haired boys fighting over one of their comics. “Josh, stop pushing your brother.” She scolded. 

“He took my comic!” The older of the two retorted. Jessica just gave him a stern look and he surrendered. 

“Michael, give it back when you’re done reading.” Sam ruffled his youngest son’s hair. Dean knelt down. 

“So are you two tough guys too cool to give your uncle a hug, or what?” He pulled his nephews into a warm embrace. “Are you both taller? You’re taller than the last time I saw you.” Dean pat Josh on the back. “You’re gonna be taller than your dad before you know it.” 

“You know, you’d see them more if you flew out to California.” Jessica noted. Dean’s eyes widened. She laughed. “I know, I know, you have a thing about flying.” 

“I want to go to California!” Eric exclaimed.

“One of these days, we can go on a roadtrip in Baby to Uncle Sam and Aunt Jessica’s, how does that sound?” Dean promised. Eric nodded, excitedly wriggling in Sam’s arms. 

Everyone loaded up into the van, Sam sliding into the passenger seat. Dean had to laugh. This was just so crazy. Here they were, driving in a van packed full of children. Their children. He thought of all of the times Sam sat beside him in the impala, the two weary from a hunt. It felt like a different lifetime. Like a different world. It felt less real. 

-

You’ll find a woman and you’ll find love

And don’t forget son, there is someone up above

Four children ran around the backyard, jumping in leaf piles and chasing each other with sticks. Jo seemed to rule the yard, keeping her older cousin at bay with her stubborn persistence. Dean smiled proudly. 

“She’s quite the pistol.” Jessica noted with a laugh, jutting her head towards Johanna. She was sitting beside you, bouncing her baby niece in her arms. 

“I wonder where she gets that from.” You gave your husband a smirk. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your temple. 

“I love you so much.” He whispered. The tone in his voice made you glance up at him. He was watching you with intensity in his eyes. So much love and yet… there was pain there. 

“I love you too.” You laced your fingers with his, your concern evident in your voice. “Dean, are you okay? You’ve been acting a little weird all day.” You spoke quietly so you wouldn’t worry your brother-in-law. Your husband gave your hand a gentle squeeze. 

“I’m fine, really. I’m just…”  Dean felt an overwhelming wave of emotion and choked back tears. “Really happy.” He lifted your chin up, bringing your lips to his. Everything was perfect, right down to the way your lips fit perfectly against his. He knew, without a doubt, that this was real. 

Soon it was time to put the kids to bed. Sam’s boys slept on the pull-out couch in the basement. Eric was exhausted from a day of excitement, as well as his baby sister. Dean was charged with the task of putting a rambunctious Johanna to bed. 

“I want to stay up and drink beer like a big kid.” She pouted, making the adults in the room chuckle. Dean crouched down and picked her up. 

“Alright, here’s the deal. I promise that when you’re a big kid like me and your mom, then you can stay up and have a drink with us. But until then, you’re gonna be my little deputy right?” He tapped the golden plastic badge that she never took off. Jo grinned from ear to ear and nodded. Humming a Bob Segar tune, he took her upstairs to her room and tucked her into bed. 

When he came back down stairs, his brother and the two women were smirking at him. 

“What?” You and Jessica exchanged a look and burst out laughing. “Come on, what?”

“That girl has you wrapped around her finger, Dean.” Jessica snickered. You took a sip of your beer. 

“Oh, he’s like that with Ellie, too. He dotes on them like you wouldn’t believe. One little pout from Johanna and he melts.” You couldn’t help but beam at your husband. You loved the way he was with the kids. 

“I got her in bed, didn’t I?” Dean huffed, taking his seat beside you and resting a hand on your knee. Sam shook his head. 

“It’s all in the looks, brother. You may think you’ve one this round, but I saw the look in Jo’s eyes.” Sam gave his brother a sure nod. “She knows where she stands.” 

“At least I’ve got Eric,” You sighed teasingly. “He’s a mama's boy, through and through.” 

You curled up beside Dean, comfortable in his warmth. He kissed the top of your head.

The hours passed with plenty of laughter and love. Soon, it was getting close to 11:00 and you wanted to get plenty of rest for the busy day tomorrow. Everyone would be helping prepare the massive Thanksgiving meal that the Winchesters made every year. Sam and Jessica said goodnight and headed to the guest room while you and Dean made your way upstairs. 

You reached your rooms and Dean’s hands found your waist, his lips trailing up your shoulder to your neck. You leaned back into his embrace, bringing your hand up to tangle your fingers in his golden-brown hair. His hands started to wander and you sighed mournfully. 

“Baby, we both have to be up in the morning.” You groaned, breaking away from him. When you turned around, he was pouting, his green eyes big and sad. So that’s where Johanna got it. He was just so impossible to resist, but if you didn’t go to bed now, you’d be exhausted before dinner even started. You draped your arms around his neck. “I’ll tell you what; how about we get a good night’s sleep tonight…” you pulled him close and whispered into his ear, “and I’ll give you something to be really thankful for tomorrow.” 

Dean’s eyes widened and his smirk spread into a smile. 

“Mrs. Winchester, we have a deal.” He loved the way that sounded coming from his lips. Mrs. Winchester. 

You gave him a long and passionate goodnight kiss before changing into your pajamas and climbing into bed. 

It must have been around 12:30 when the baby started crying. The baby monitor was on your nightstand, so you were awakened by the sound first. Dean moved to get up, but you stopped him. 

“I’ll get her.” You sleepily shuffled out of the bedroom. Reaching the hall, you muttered something that your half-asleep husband only half comprehended. Something about the electricity acting up again. 

The crying continued and you didn’t return. Dean yawned, rubbing the tiredness from his eyes and got out of bed. He slowly made his way down the hallway to the nursery. The door was ajar and the lamp had been turned on. You must have gone downstairs to get her a bottle. 

Dean picked up his crying daughter, rocking her soothingly in his arms. She wailed and wailed until she heard his voice. 

“Alright, sweetheart. It’s alright. Daddy’s got you.” He hushed. After a moment of rocking and soft whispers, Ellie started to settle down. As soon as her cries reduced to the occasional sniff, Dean set her back in her cradle. “That’s it. You’re going to be just fine. I’m not gonna let anything hurt you.” 

Smiling down at his beautiful baby girl, Dean felt something on the back of his neck. When he touched it, his hand came away red. He froze, and as if his body went into auto pilot, he turned around. At first he couldn’t scream. He just stared. 

Your mouth gaped at him, your eyes filled with terror and pain as the blood spread out from your stomach. Ellie started to cry again. 

“No!” Dean screamed. That’s when the fire started. 

And that’s when he woke up.

-

And be a simple kind of man

Oh, be something you love and understand

Dean sat straight up, sweat soaking through his t-shirt, his scream still on his lips. The cool air of the bunker made him shiver. He couldn’t breathe. He heaved and coughed as if the smoke really filled his lungs. A sudden hand on his shoulder made him jump out of the bed and flatten himself against the wall, holding out his fists to fight. 

“Dean?” You rose slowly, walking towards him cautiously. “It’s okay. It was just a dream. You’re okay.” 

He just stared at you, taking in every feature. You watched his eyes fill with tears and his chin tremble as he tried to speak. Nothing came out, just a strangled sounding cry. Dean fell to his knees and you rushed to hold him. Whatever it was, it wasn’t just a nightmare. 

Dean wrapped his arms around your middle and leaned his head against your stomach as you soothingly ran your fingers through his hair. He didn’t make any sound as he cried, but the tears fell endlessly down his face. He was shaking in your arms. 

“Dean, honey, what’s wrong? You’re scaring me.” You whispered. This wasn’t the first time that he’d woken suddenly from a dream, but it had never been like this. 

You told him that you were pregnant today. He seemed happy. Shocked, but happy. But now? Whatever was going through his head was breaking him. You sunk down in front of him so you could hold him fully, letting him cry into your shoulder. 

“I’m sorry.” He finally choked out. “I’m sorry that this is all I can give you. I’m sorry that we don’t have a big house full of kids. That Sam has lost any chance at happiness. That we can never have a normal life.” You pushed back. 

“Baby, what are you talking about?” 

“I’m sorry that this baby is going to grow up haunted and broken… just like me.” His voice cracked. You put a hand on his cheek. 

“Dean…” You pressed your forehead against his, feeling your own tears start to fall. “This baby is going to be loved and wanted and cherished, just like you.” You kissed him gently, reminding him of your adoration of this hero of a man. 

Dean held you closer, letting your words sink into his heart. He wanted to believe it. He wanted more than anything to believe it. Even in his beautiful dream, you ended up burned and bloody. Even in his dream, he was broken. 

But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try. He would try like hell to give you a life as close to perfect as he could manage. Maybe that meant hunting together until you went down guns blazing. Maybe that meant settling down, someday, somewhere. He would try. 

Baby be a simple kind of man

Oh, won’t you do this for me, son, if you can

-

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination;  @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado; @suckmyapplejacks​ Supernatural: @desimarie12; @deandreamernp; @vicmc624; @halesandy; @livshaes; @d-whinchestergirl87; @mrspeacem1nusone

[robininthelabyrinth]

Light on the Door (ao3) (WWX in the Nie sect) - on tumblr: part 1, part 2

-

“Absolutely not,” Nie Mingjue said.

“I know this has come as a surprise to you,” Jiang Fengmian said, and his voice was calm and pleasant the way it always was. Reasonable. “But you must understand that –”

Nie Mingjue held up a hand. “Perhaps I was unclear, Sect Leader Jiang,” he said. “Let me clarify: absolutely fucking not.”

Jiang Fengmian was not an easy man to anger, nor did Nie Mingjue truly want to do so: he needed as many allies in the inevitable war against the Wens as he could manage. If he was smart the way Jin Guangshan was always encouraging him to be, he would soften his words, smile, try to make things palatable – but he was not Jin Guangshan, and he had never bent on a matter of principle.

Especially not when the principle was small and young and still unsure of himself underneath his bravado, afraid of losing all that he had gained in a single moment.

“His father was my right hand,” Jiang Fengmian said, a rare frown creasing his face. “The Jiang sect would raise him as his father had intended.”

“His father is dead,” Nie Mingjue rebutted. “And before he died, he was a rogue cultivator – your Jiang sect has no claim here.”

“Legally, no,” Jiang Fengmian said. “But morally –”

“He joined my Nie sect willingly,” Nie Mingjue interrupted. His hands are clenched into fists behind his back: of course this would be the thing that Jiang Fengmian refused to bend on, it was different when it was his family that died, their legacy he wished to see fulfilled, and never mind about the murderer that still walked free and unhindered even by mere criticism. Never mind that that had been a father, too. “As is his right. If he wishes to go, I will not stop him –”

There was a moment there where Jiang Fengmian looked pleased, as if he thought Nie Mingjue was giving in.

“– but I do not understand him to want to,” he finished. “And no, before you ask, I will not let you bully him and bribe him until he does as you wish; as long as he is part of my Nie sect, he will be protected even from that.”

“Am I not even allowed to make the offer?” Jiang Fengmian asked, clear challenge in his voice. He even permitted his qi to flare up, cultivation acting to suppress those in the area – absolutely inappropriate, a tremendous breach of etiquette that could only barely be ascribed to Jiang Fengmian’s emotional state rather than a deliberate desire to intimidate.

Nie Mingjue kept his back straight despite the pressure. No one would blame him for faltering, not even his sect elders; the pressure was immense, and he was in the end only sixteen years old, his body not yet fully formed or even fully grown despite him already being taller than Jiang Fengmian –

But he had his pride. His pride, and Baxia, and the Nie sabers did not bend for anyone.

“Sect Leader Jiang,” he said, allowing his rage into his voice. “Control yourself, or you will not see him at all.”

Jiang Fengmian closed his eyes briefly, recalling his power; there was a hint of apology on his features when he opened them again – perhaps it really had been a mistake. Either way, it didn’t matter.

“Do you know what that sort of pressure can do to someone who’s not yet of age?” Nie Mingjue demanded, crossing his arms. “If Wei Ying was harmed because of you –”

“I would never hurt Wei Ying! Or any other child!”

“Perhaps,” Nie Mingjue said, omitting to mention that by some measures he already had. “Perhaps not, if he refused you; you’re not exactly demonstrating dignity in the face of being told ‘no’ right now.”

Jiang Fengmian’s eyes narrowed, but he couldn’t say anything – he had, in fact, been intolerably rude. He took a deep breath, calming himself forcefully, and then focused on Nie Mingjue.

“His father was my closest friend,” he said, and there was a touch of real pain in his voice. “His mother was very dear to me. I only wish what’s best for him. If he comes back with me, I would make him a direct disciple –”

“So will I,” Nie Mingjue said.

That got a reaction out of Jiang Fengmian beyond anger and selfishness.

“A direct disciple of your Nie clan?” he asked, clearly shocked. “But your clan – there’s only you and your brother in the main line!”

“I’m aware.”

“You don’t seriously mean that you would risk the inheritance of your sect –”

“I have already announced it to my sect,” Nie Mingjue said. “Three weeks ago. If what you want is what’s best for him…other than stories of his parents, which you could give him without taking him away, is there anything else you can find lacking and insufficient in my Nie sect?”

“I didn’t mean to insult you,” Jiang Fengmian said, suddenly belatedly cautious.

“You did,” Nie Mingjue said flatly. “You persist in treating me as a child when I am a sect leader, the same as you. I have told you that the answer is no, and that the answer will remain no. You are in Qinghe, Sect Leader Jiang; if you’re going to insult me to my face, I suggest you pick better ground.”

Jiang Fengmian bit his lip and looked down. “You will not let me take him.”

“I will not,” Nie Mingjue agreed. And then, because Wei Ying really did deserve to know his parents, he added, “But I would be willing to consider something else.”

Jiang Fengmian looked up. “What do you mean?”

Nie Mingjue shrugged, having just thought of the idea himself. “You have children around his age, don’t you? Send them to the Unclean Realm for a season, and I’ll send Wei Ying and my brother to the Lotus Pier for another season in return – it’s not an uncommon arrangement to build relationships between sects.”

An extremely old-fashioned and out-of-date one – nowadays, heirs would only go for long-term visits if there was a real reason to go, like Teacher Lan’s lessons; even the Lan sect, which was close allies to the Nie, would only come to visit for a few weeks.

But it was something he could offer. Something that would make clear to Wei Ying that he wasn’t being abandoned or given away or sold; with Nie Huaisang by his side, he would always remember that he was a part of the Nie sect first and foremost, and get some good experience in the world besides.

“I would like that,” Jiang Fengmian said slowly. “Yes – I would like that a great deal.”

“We’ll work out the details, then,” Nie Mingjue said. The sooner this meeting was over, the better; he wanted to go scream and hit something. “Is there anything else?”

“One more thing.”

Scream. And hit things. Many, many things.

“Yes?”

“You call him Wei Ying,” Jiang Fengmian said. “Have you thought of a courtesy name for him yet?”

He had offered the man an inch and he was trying to take a mile, but Nie Mingjue could see the desperate hope on his face, the need for him to leave some mark of the Jiang sect on Wei Ying – to honor his parents’ legacy or to make up for having failed them, it didn’t matter which.

Perhaps this would convince the man to finally drop the issue for good.

“I would be willing to listen to any suggestions you might have,” Nie Mingjue finally allowed, still hedging in case it was something really inappropriate. “What did you have in mind?”

-

“Wei Wuxian has a good ring to it,” Nie Huaisang said thoughtfully once the horrible meeting was finally over and they could creep out of their hiding spot to stretch their legs. It was getting a bit cramped in there. “And I suppose it really was the very least da-ge could do, after having all but told him off to his face – especially since the Jiang clan really is quite powerful. I’m really very proud of da-ge for managing to keep his temper as well as he did; we should do something nice for him in return. Don’t you think?”

He paused for a moment.

When he didn’t receive a response, he frowned. “Wei Ying?”

“Is that what a direct disciple means?” Wei Ying said, staring blankly at the wall in front of him.

“What?”

“A direct disciple,” Wei Ying repeated. His face was frozen stiff, maybe from shock or something. “You said it meant I’d be a member of the family.”

“That is what it means.”

“Yes, but you didn’t – you never said – being a direct disciple puts me in line to inherit the Nie sect?”

“Well, yes,” Nie Huaisang said, scratching the back of his head a little. He had no idea why Wei Ying was behaving so strangely. “I mean, the Nie clan runs the Nie sect, and we’re the Nie clan, so joining the Nie clan obviously means – ”

“There’s nothing obvious about it!” Wei Ying exclaimed. “You have cousins! Cousins and aunts and uncles and – there’s so many of them I can barely even keep count –”

“Branch families after many, many years,” Nie Huaisang said with a shrug. “But Qinghe Nie doesn’t make everyone with a drop of blood in them a direct disciple; you have to be part of the main family for that.”

“But…!”

“But what?”

“It’s your sect,” Wei Ying said. “My surname isn’t even Nie!”

“Well, first off, stop assuming you’re going to inherit the sect because that requires both my brother and I to be dead,” Nie Huaisang said. “Which we have no current plans to be. Secondly, if you did end up as the only direct disciple left, you’d be required to marry in with one of the cousins and have Nie babies before you were allowed to actually be sect leader. So for the sake of your future marriage, you have to keep us alive –”

Wei Ying grabbed him into a hug.

“Thank you,” he said, and Nie Huaisang very nobly decided not to complain about how his tears and snot were getting his very nice robes all wet. “I don’t know why you want me, but you do, and – thank you.”

“Of course we want you, you’re great,” Nie Huaisang said, delicately patting Wei Ying on the back. “Look at you, not just one sect wanting you, there are two fighting over you; how many people can say that…?”

“He wants my parents, not me,” Wei Ying said. “If I went there, he’d love me for them, and if I didn’t have anyone else, that’d be good enough – but da-ge picked me for no reason at all, and you grabbed onto me just because –”

“I mean, I did have some ulterior motives, I do so much less saber training now that you’re here –”

“Just accept the compliment.”

Nie Huaisang grinned. “Okay, fine. Besides, you can finally stop saying you need to pay me back now!”

Wei Ying pulled back and wiped his eyes. “How’s that?”

“Didn’t you hear da-ge? You’ve just gotten me a free vacation to Yunmeng for a whole season! It’s going to be great!”

“I hope so,” Wei Ying said. “We’ll be spending a lot of time with the Jiang sect heirs…I hope they’re as nice as Lan Zhan.”

Nie Huaisang patted him on the shoulder. “Just accept it now, Wei Ying. No one’s ever going to be as perfect as Lan Zhan in your eyes.”

“Shut up. Do you know anything about them?”

“The Jiang sect heirs? There’s a girl and a boy, that’s all I know. They’re too young to be the subjects of gossip, though, so I can’t tell you anything about their likes and dislikes.”

“That’s fine,” Wei Ying said. “I guess we’ll find out when we see them.”

-

“Your dog is wonderful,” Jiang Cheng said.

“Thanks,” Wei Ying said, beaming. He liked the other boy already. “Yours are pretty great, too!”

“They are, aren’t they?” Jiang Cheng said, face lighting up. “This one’s Jasmine, and this one’s Princess, and the last one’s Lovely!”

“Mine’s Xiao Bai! And he’s big enough to be three dogs all together!”

“No kidding! I’ve never seen a dog that big! Why’s he that big?”

“Dunno. Da-ge says he’s a sheepdog from the mountain, and they get really big there.”

“Do they have to fight bears or something? I bet he could fight a bear.”

“Well, maybe if he had to,” Wei Ying said. “Unfortunately, I kind of raised him into a glutton, so now all he wants to do is lie around and eat meat –”

Xiao Bai barked.

“...and he knows the word for ‘meat’.”

“He’s so smart,” Jiang Cheng said, reaching out to rub Xiao Bai behind the ears. “Such a good boy –”

“Please tell me you like something other than dogs,” Nie Huaisang said to Jiang Yanli, who hid a giggle behind her sleeves. “Please. I can already foresee the rest of the season going like this.”

“Well, dogs are very distracting creatures,” she said, her eyes curving into crescents. “They’re warm and furry and all that. But I’d be happy to talk about something else with you…do you like painting?”

“Very much,” Nie Huaisang said, interest piqued at once. “Do you paint?”

“I’m average,” she said with a small shrug. “But I enjoy it. You’re welcome to join me, if you like – I don’t think A-Cheng and Wei Wuxian are going to stop anytime soon.”

“A-Ying can do it for hours all on his own,” Nie Huaisang said mournfully. “He used to be afraid of dogs, you know? I almost miss those days…can we really go paint?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t we?”

“Well, I mean, I don’t know. We were sent here to learn, weren’t we? I thought it’d be lessons all the time. ‘Go to the training field!’, that sort of thing.”

Jiang Yanli smiled and visibly resisted the urge to pat his head. “Some lessons are taught outside of the training field. Do you know the motto of Yunmeng Jiang?”

“Uh,” Nie Huaisang said. Memorization had never been a strong point. “I mean…”

“It’s ‘attempt the impossible’,” Jiang Yanli told him. “To live bravely, without restraints on your heart.”

“So,” Nie Huaisang said, trying to parse it, “you get to do whatever you want?”

“Not quite,” she laughed. “But we get more freedom to govern ourselves than most, yes. I don’t train too much – I don’t have much talent, you see.”

“Neither do I!” Nie Huaisang exclaimed, beaming. “But da-ge’s always pushing me to do better, work harder, try more…”

He trailed off when he saw the wistful, almost envious expression on Jiang Yanli’s face.

“…don’t you like not being forced to cultivate?” he asked, a little hesitant.

“Your brother loves you very much,” Jiang Yanli said. “He only wants what’s best for you. He pushes you because he thinks you can do it.”

Nobody pushed her because nobody believed in her, she meant, and even Nie Huaisang – a devoted good-for-nothing – felt awkward about it.

She didn’t even have a sword.

“Well, don’t worry,” he said, clumsily trying to offer some comfort. “You’re coming to Qinghe next season, aren’t you? You’ll get more than your fill of people pushing you to do things there!”

“I’m sure,” Jiang Yanli said, not sounding as if she believed him at all. “But for the moment – do you want to go paint? And perhaps later we can convince A-Cheng and Wei Wuxian to go shoot kites while we pick lotus seeds.”

“That sounds like an excellent plan,” Nie Huaisang said. “And maybe we can go to the market and see if they have any fans? I have a collection, you know.”

“Well,” Jiang Yanli said, smiling again. “If you have a collection, then of course…”

-

“I’m not sure I’m entirely suited for this, Sect Leader Nie,” Jiang Yanli said, breathing hard.

“I don’t see why not,” Nie Mingjue said, putting Baxia up on his shoulder. “Take a walk around the yard so you don’t get cramped while your heart-rate comes down, then we can start again.”

“Sect Leader Nie, with all due respect, I wasn’t really intending on picking up something new – much less saber, which isn’t even practiced in the Jiang sect.”

“Well, you have to train in something, you didn’t bring your sword, and all we’ve got are sabers,” he pointed out with a shrug. “What else were you planning on doing while you were here?”

Jiang Yanli smiled a little. “Feminine activities?”

Nie Mingjue let his eyes drift over to the nearby field where three of his aunts were pulverizing a training model that looked almost startlingly similar to one of his uncles.

Jiang Yanli coughed as if she could hide the laugh. “I admit I was more in mind of – cooking. Or sewing, or painting…”

“You can do that in your free time,” Nie Mingjue said briskly. “Nie Huaisang sang your praises in every one of his letters; the least I can do to repay you is making sure you get the full benefit of your time here. Consider it a gift.”

Jiang Yanli did not seem especially pleased by the gift. Her face did exactly the same sort of ‘thanks I hate it’ twist as Nie Huaisang’s.

He wondered idly what excuse she was going to try next. She might not realize it yet, but she wasn’t going to have any more luck than Nie Huaisang had ever had.

“Sect Leader Nie…don’t you think I’m too old for this?”

He stared at her. “You’re joking.”

“Most sword cultivators start in their childhood –”

“You’re fourteen.”

“It’s more difficult to pick things up once you get above ten,” she said with a shrug. “There’s nothing to do about it –”

“Pick a skill you’re good at,” he said. “Any skill, and teach it to me.”

She stared at him. “What?”

“You’re not that much younger than me, and I can still pick up new things,” Nie Mingjue said. “You teach me a skill, and I’ll teach you one, and that way we’ll be fair – and if I really can’t pick up yours and you really can’t pick up mine, then, and only then, will I admit that you have a point about our ages.”

Jiang Yanli still seemed uncertain, although she also looked somewhat intrigued. “Sect Leader Nie…what’s the point?”

“What’s the point of what? Of cultivating? You’re a cultivator, aren’t you? Isn’t that point enough?”

“I’m not going to ever be an outstanding cultivator,” she pointed out. “I’m going to be someone’s wife, someone’s mother –”

“We’re literally cultivating against the heavens,” Nie Mingjue interrupted her. “Aren’t you Jiang sect people supposed to attempt the impossible? You can be someone else’s and still be yourself.”

He’d never been very good with words, retreating when possible into silence, but something about what he’d said left a mark.

“Very well,” Jiang Yanli said, and raised the practice saber she’d already adorned with a pink bow – a clear sign that her subconscious had committed to it, even if her mind hadn’t yet caught up. “I’ll take you up on that bet, Sect Leader Nie. Saber, and then you can join me in the kitchen to cook.”

Cooking? Cooking was fine, he could do cooking –

“And we’re not making barbeque.”

…maybe he couldn’t do cooking.

Whatever. That was a problem for later. Nie Mingjue lifted his saber and bared his teeth at her in a grin. “This time,” he said. “Make an effort, will you? I’d like to break a sweat sometime today.”

Her eyes flashed, and she attacked.

-

“You two are going to get along and that’s final,” Wei Wuxian announced, hands on his hips. “Now I’m going to get us some snacks and while I’m going you guys are going to get over yourselves, you hear me?”

He made a show of storming out the door, but the second he was outside he waved his hand furiously to send a passing servant to get the snacks and crept back to listen.

Neither Jiang Cheng nor Lan Zhan was his shidi – that was Nie Huaisang – and of course no one could match his da-ge, but he loved them both very much, so they had to get over this inexplicable rivalry they had.

They had to!

“…very special,” Lan Zhan was saying.

“I know,” Jiang Cheng said. He sounded unusually serious – unlike Lan Zhan, who was always serious (except when he was being teased, in which case he was delightfully flustered). “He’s just – I don’t know. It’s hard to share, you know?”

“En.”

“It’s…let me tell you about my sister.”

Wait, why were they talking about Jiang Yanli? She was great, but not relevant to the issues here.

“When she first came to Qinghe, she got into a bet with Sect Leader Nie over…I don’t even know what. She practiced the saber a lot.  And then she took one of the sabers home, and she kept practicing with it – my parents were pretty confused, but they mostly let her do what she likes, and Mother was pleased that she’d at least started cultivating something even if it was the wrong thing – and…she’s happier now. Like a candle lit for the first time.”

“…I understand,” Lan Zhan said, which, good for him because Wei Wuxian was totally confused. “It was the same for me. The first ray of sunlight in the morning.”

“Yes! Exactly like that.”

They were quiet for a few moments.

“I suppose,” Jiang Cheng finally said, sounding rather begrudging about it, “that sunlight is meant to be shared.”

“En,” Lan Zhan said. “We are all equal under the sun.”

“I could manage equal,” Jiang Cheng said. “As long as we’re the same, yeah? Best friends.”

There was a brief pause, and then – “Best friends,” Lan Zhan echoed. “Agreed.”

Wei Wuxian couldn’t help himself: he burst in through the doors at once. “You can’t be each other’s best friends!” he exclaimed. “You’re my best friends!”

They both looked at him, eerily identical long-suffering expressions on their faces, and then they looked at each other, and then for some reason they both nodded to each other like they were sealing some sort of pact.

“Okay, it’s all decided,” Jiang Cheng said. “We’re all best friends from now on.”

“All of us?” Wei Wuxian said hopefully. “Both of you?”

They nodded.

“And Nie Huaisang, of course,” Wei Wuxian said. “We can’t leave him out! He’s my shidi!”

“We wouldn’t dream of it,” Lan Zhan assured him.

“Yeah,” Jiang Cheng said. “I guess second place to the Nies isn’t bad, if it’s shared.”

“Xiao Bai,” Lan Zhan said.

“…third?”

“Suibian.”

“Fourth.”

Lan Zhan nodded.

“What are you two even talking about?” Wei Wuxian complained, but not really – he was too happy. He threw himself in between the two of them, wrapping an arm around each one. “I leave you alone for less time than it takes to make a cup of tea and suddenly you’ve got some sort of secret code…”

“Don’t worry, you idiot,” Jiang Cheng said, rolling his eyes. “We still like you the best.”

[peterxwade24]

Safety Found in Red Sleeves

Chapter 9

I know it's been nearly four months (just five days shy of four months) and I apologize for that.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy.

Thana watched as all of the patrons of the Iceberg Lounge turned to look as they entered. She knew they weren’t the usual crowd, seeing as how Adrien had on a fanny pack, but since they all had red, or some shade of pink, sleeves Uncle Ozzy would let them in.

“I’m sorry. Do I-” Oswald Cobblepott was, fundamentally, a good man. He would never turn away a child in need and he remembered the children he gave shelter to, so imagine his surprise when the person standing in his place of business was none other than the girl who’d managed to burrow under his skin and earn a special nickname. “Chick? Is that- are you- you’re really here?”

Thana let out a laugh and rushed at the man, throwing her arms around his neck before letting out a louder laugh. “I’m taller than you Uncle Ozzy!”

Oswald laughed before his gaze drifted back to the rest of the teens gathered just inside his place of business. “Chick, as much as I love seeing you, who’re they?”

“Oh!” Thana pulled away from Oswald before turning to her friends. “Well, the tall boy with black hair and frosted tips is Kim, the blonde girl is Chloé, the guy with short brown hair is Nino, the other blond is Adrien, and the short sporty girl is Alix. They’re friends I made in Paris, with my mother’s cousin.”

Oswald smiled and waved. “I see my niece has given you a heads up on the dress code around here.”

Kim nodded, a smile on his face. “Mèo con’s always reminding us that we have to wear red when we’re in Gotham, says she’ll ditch us if we don’t.”

Nino snorted before his eyes drifted over to the turntables. “Do you mind if I?”

Oswald smiled and nodded. “Go ahead, you can’t be any worse than my usual guy.”

Nino drifted over to the turntables and began playing some music.

Chloé strode over to the duo, a smile on her face. “It’s so nice to finally meet Fragolina’s Uncle Ozzy.”

“You must be the one my Chick won’t stop saying reminds her of the second Robin.” There was a twinkle in his eye as he pulled Thana close.

Adrien and Alix followed Kim over to the trio, where Kim draped an arm around Chloé’s shoulders. “That’s a possibility.”

---

Thana and her friends, accompanied by Thana’s Uncles Ed and Jon, toured Gotham. Thana made sure to show her friends around, showing them shortcuts to use to get around if they ever get separated from Madame Bustier. Eventually, the group came to an overgrown looking park.

“Uncle Ed, Uncle Jon. I’m going to show them around, and if we run into her introduce them. If we don’t, could one of you text her to let her know where they’re staying so we can do the introductions there?”

“Of course Mini Todd.” Her Uncle Jon nodded and wrapped an arm around Ed, who smiled softly at the act before nodding as well.

“And we’ll keep an eye out for You-Know-Who. He seems to think that you will come crawling back any day now.” Her Uncle Ed rolled his eyes.

“Thank you both so much.” Thana pressed kisses to their cheeks and smiled. “If we ever come across him, I’ll send an SOS to the group chat and then beat his ass.”

Jon and Ed pressed kisses to her cheeks and smiled. “Be safe.”

“With Aunt Pam? Always.” Thana turned towards the park and took a breath, smelling the local flowers and feeling better than she had since she’d been removed from the streets.

---

Thana led her friends around the park, pointing out all of the Poison Ivy original plants and warning her friends to stay away from them since they hadn’t built up an immunity to the toxin within the plants, with a smile on her face. “Aunt Pam always has a new plant that she’s making, and she’s been sorta kinda courting my Aunt Harley since she first saw her, although Aunt Harley used to be with this abusive asshole. I do wonder what happened to Aunt Harley’s daughter, I know she said she was with her sister but still.”

“Who?” Adrien asked, his hand hovering dangerously over a hybrid Venus Flytrap and Trumpet Pitcher plant, as he looked back at the group.

Adrien’s hand was saved by a wall of Boston ivy that shot up out of the ground. A loud scoff could be heard just beyond the plants before a beautiful head of red hair appeared through the leaves. “Didn’t your parents ever teach you not to touch wild plants?”

Thana smiled and allowed Kim to pull her into his side. “Are all of your relatives ridiculously attractive people?”

“You’ve met my Ma’s cousin,” Thana shrugged and settled more firmly against his side, “and Jervis Tetch is a rotten man, he’s rotten to the core.” Thana’s head rested against Kim’s chest, her ear close to his heart, as she forced thoughts about her birth father out of her head. “My Uncles and Aunts have this friend, Harvey Dent, who’s a little disfigured. He was in this really bad accident a while back and his face is a little hard to look at. He’s kind of nice, never really been mean to me specifically. I think he’s kinda cool though, he’s got a whole schtick about truth and luck.”

Kim nodded, his eyes flitting over the rest of their friends. Kim had never really had a big friend group, not until Thana joined their class, and then suddenly Kim was always around other people, had a shadow who was nearly as protective of him as his Mẹ was, and suddenly his fledgling crush was one of his best friends. Kim would probably always be thankful that Thana showed up when she did. Without Thana, Kim probably would have always been just a dumb jock who fell for some perfect princess. Kim knew his Mè was as thankful as he was that Thana had shown up in their lives, that Thana had stayed after she learned about the skeletons in their closets.

Kim looked at Thana, and he could see how much lighter she was here in what was the darkest city Kim had ever stepped foot in compared to back home. He could only hope that no matter where she went after Lycee, she would keep in contact with him and his Mè.

---

Thana and her friends left Robinson Park just before dinner that evening, her Uncles Jon and Ed escorting them back to the hotel when Thana’s friends went in for the night. Thana, however, followed her friends in and ate a meal with the class before ducking out of the hotel to go spend the night on the streets.

Thana refused to spend any more time in that building than absolutely necessary. She could still feel the cold lead encased in steel as it pierced her abdomen.

Thana hunkered down in an old spot, one she knew like the back of her hand, and could only hope that she would be safe here. She could only hope that she wouldn’t catch a cold while she slept on the streets.

Thana’s friends, however, slept fitfully that night in their comfortable beds in the hotel. Their thoughts filled with worry about Thana on the streets.

-*-*-*

Jason puttered around the kitchen, his feet encased in his slippers, and let out a yawn. He looked at the counter and noticed the already full coffee pot. He glanced around the room and frowned when he didn’t see anything before the sound of the TV reached him a moment later. “Duke?”

Duke’s head popped up over the back of the couch and he gave Jason a sheepish smile. “Yeah?”

Jason let out a breath and his whole body sagged for a moment. “Just had to make sure. Little twitchy after our late night visitor last night.”

“Who stopped by last night?” Duke stood up off of the floor and walked into the kitchen, sitting down on one of the counters like Tim, Steph and Cass had started doing.

Jason set his coffee mug (which read “World’s Greatest Dad” in a similar red to his helmet) down on the counter with a little more force than necessary. “The Bat.” Jason turned to the fridge to pull out the coffee creamer, but frowned when the only creamer left was the Southern Butter Pecan Pie flavour. He simply reached past and grabbed the milk to add to his coffee instead of creamer. “He wanted to know why I’d ‘taken you as well’. Because he sees you all as things to be taken and not children to be taken care of.”

---

Jason pressed a kiss to Steph and Cass’ foreheads before hitching Damian further up on his hip. “I’ll be back later. I just need to take Damian to finish introducing him to his aunt’s aunts and uncles. Unless of course, you two wish to join us.”

Steph looked at Cass and shrugged. “Timmy’s got work. I think Bart is out running around.”

Cass nodded before mussing up her hair and frowning at her sister in question.

“Kon might be in Kansas, I think he mentioned going to visit Clark’s parents. Cassie is hanging out with Donna, getting advice most likely. Cissie is spending the day with Oliver.” Steph slung an arm around Cass’ shoulders and smiled. “Give us a few minutes to get dressed and then we’ll join you.”

Jason nodded, a small smile on his face. “Of course. Take all the time you need.”

Steph and Cass disappeared into the room they had officially claimed, coming out a few minutes later in coordinated outfits.

Steph walked out wearing a dark purple crop top with black shorts and a black sweater tied around her waist. Her hair was pulled back into a low ponytail and a pair of black sunglasses, easily recognized as Kon’s, sat atop her head.

Cass, who walked out just a step behind Steph, wore a black t-shirt under a black and yellow flannel paired with black high-waisted jeans. Her hair was freely flowing around her shoulders while her wrists sported scrunchies she’d pilfered from Cassie and Cissie.

Jason shook his head at his sisters, Cass who was just a scant six months older than he was but acted so much younger and Steph who was just a few months older than Tim, and smiled. “Any particular reason for the attire today?”

“Just felt like coordinating.” Steph smiled at Jason and slung an arm around Cass. “Well, what are we waiting for?”

---

Jason led the way into the Elizabeth Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane, his sisters just behind him and Damian clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping him attached to the planet.

“So, not to question your sanity or anything but, why are we here?” Stephanie’s voice was filled with trepidation and Cass’ arm was wrapped around Steph’s in an act of comfort for both girls.

“One of Thana’s uncles is here right now. He’ll be out soon. Do not compare him to the guy who killed me.” Jason smiled at the guards on duty and continued into the building.

The person at the front desk, a young individual of indeterminate gender with short brown hair and brown eyes, looked up from the clipboard in front of them and deadpanned. “Name of the patient you’re here to see?”

“Jerome Valeska. He should be expecting me, Jason Todd.” Jason smiled and shifted slightly so Damian’s face was more comfortably buried in his neck. “My son and sisters will also be joining us today.”

The receptionist nodded and jotted down the details relayed to them. “Identification?”

Jason handed over his identification card while Steph and Cass pulled out their driver’s licenses. “My son is only nine and only has a passport, will that work?”

The receptionist nodded and smiled. “A passport will work.”

Jason pulled Damian’s passport out of his pocket and handed it over. “We’ll come back to collect those when we’re finished visiting.”

“Have a good visit.”

“Thank you.” Jason smiled and led the way back into the rehabilitation center, his sisters sticking close to his back with their free hands clinging to the back of his shirt just over where Damian’s leg rested, passing the cells filled with the more humane residents of the asylum. Jason paid them no mind, having grown used to their hooting and hollering as he passed on his previous visits.

The little four person group of the family finally reached the rehabilitation center and were let in by one of the orderlies, a bulkier individual dressed in teal scrubs. They all gave the orderly a smile and a nod as they passed into the room.

Jerome was sitting at a table with blank sheets of paper mixed in with sheets of paper filled with writing, and as soon as Jason could read what was on the paper he could see that the pages were filled with apologies and plans to become a better person if for no one other than his favourite niece and her wellbeing. Jerome looked up when Jason started to cast a shadow across his paper. “Hey buddy. You’re standing in my- Jason! What a surprise!”

Jason’s face grew soft, a smile on his face and pulled out the chair next to Jerome to sit down in. Damian was settled into Jason’s lap while Steph and Cass sat down in the chairs next to Jason’s. “How are you today Jerome?”

“I’ve been better.” Jerome had been better, before his parents and his uncle died, before his twin fell apart and brought him down with him. Jerome had been happy in the circus, performing with his family for crowds of people who adored their act, and then everything changed.

“Jerome, I’d like you to meet my son. Damian al Ghul-Todd, nephew of your niece Thana Todd, as well as my sisters, Cassandra Cain and Stephanie Brown.”

“Oh come on Jace. Why’d you have to use last names?” Steph pouted and punched Jason’s upper arm.

“Because now that Uncle Jerome knows of your parentage he’ll be less likely to toss anything you say aside.” Jason smiled as Jerome spoke about himself in the third person.

“What he said.” Jason let out a chuckle. Damian frowned at the lack of attention he was receiving and simply headbutted Jason in the chin. “Yes, yes, we know you’re here Kutlat Saghira. I’m sorry that we’re not paying attention to you.”

Damian pouted and puffed out his cheeks. “Baba, not here.”

Jason smiled at his son, knowing that he was safe in his arms. “I love you my Little Nugget.”

“Baba!” Damian frowned and looked towards the table, effectively ignoring the four other people at the table.

Steph and Cass watched the moment between father and son, sharing only a look before looking back at the duo.

Jerome watched as his niece’s brother smiled at his child, glad that he got to see it but all he really wanted was to see Thana.

“She’s in the city.” Jason’s voice was quiet, barely heard over the lull of the rest of the patients in the center. “She’s in the city and she, she got so big Jerome. She has a really good group of friends. You’d be proud of her.”

Taglist:

@amigotasbien @maribat-is-lifeblood @mystery-5-5 @our-preciousss @mochegato @chocolatecatstheron @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @2confused-2doanything @wannajointhecrabcult @dreamykitty25 @tomanyfandomsonmymind @moonlightstar64 @justafanwarrior @mialuvscats @pheony1882 @pepelachanel @moongoddesskiana @abrx2002 @ladybug-182 @greatcatblaze @thatonecroc @vixen-uchiha @superbwhispersconnoisseur @sauseyyy @susiej1118 @bluesimani @thatonecroc

[tiny-maus-boots]

Queen of Hearts pt 11

A/N: sorry it took so long. my world crumbled and well...it’s been a hard ass pandemic.

--

“So, this is how mobsters live…”

Aubrey flicked her gaze over the interior of the entry way, noting the mix of Corinthian columns and Romanesque sculpture with a splash of modern 80s interior decoration. It was a little over the top and gaudy but her Aunt Rosemarie thought it was the height of tasteful and luxurious décor. It wasn’t how Aubrey would ever decorate but if she were being honest with herself, she kind of liked it. It was familiar and comforting.

Aubrey ran a hand down a heavy marble column and chuckled. “Only the ones with style.”

Stacie’s laugh was sweet and light and soothed the nerves she didn’t even know she had. Aubrey took her fiancée’s hand and gave it a squeeze. Once they crossed the threshold into the living room there would be no turning back. Once you were in the family, you were IN the family, and no one leaves the family. Almost as if sensing what she was about to say, Stacie turned to bring their foreheads together, her smile wide and warm and just for Aubrey.

“You and me, right Bree?”

The blonde matched Stacie’s smile and nodded. “You and me.”

“And me. Don’t forget about me. Which I think you do forget about me because you never call me. You don’t write. No one knows nothing until you text that you’re bringing over the love of your life. You must be love of her life by the way. Hi. I’m Jesse, the smarter, more attractive, and talented, not to mention younger, cousin. Sorry dollface, you got stuck with this sad sack instead. It’s not too late to change your mind though. Just saying.”

A laugh bubbled out of her and Aubrey turned her head to face the annoyingly eager figure hovering just over her shoulder. His giddy smile was ridiculous and she knew she might have to threaten to shoot him to get him to stop being…well himself. Jesse put an arm around each of them, pushing himself further into their personal space and if he were someone other than family Aubrey would definitely shoot him.

“You’re really annoying.”

“Your face is really anno….” It was all the taunt he managed to get out before a black lace folding fan smacked noisily off the back of his head. Aubrey chuckled as Jesse winced and reached up to rub his head. “Ma! It’s said in love!”

“Basta! Get out! Go…”

Jesse wasn’t the biggest guy in the world but he still almost a foot taller than the woman he was cowering away from. Her severe dark brows rose as she hissed out a warning when he didn’t move fast enough down the hall. She watched until she was sure Jesse was actually going before turning to Aubrey, her hard stare going soft as she took in the blonde and pulled her into a tight hug.

“You don’t call except for business; I never see you anymore. Who’s feeding you? You’re wasting away!” Aubrey bore the clucking and poking and prodding because arguing with her Aunt Rosie was like trying to fist fight the tide. She might be a big boss at the table but she was still and would always be Rosie’s little duckling. The small woman finally stopped her scolding tirade turned to take in Stacie in one long look from feet to face. “And who is this?”

“Zia Rosie, this is my girl. Stacie…this is my Aunt Rosemarie.”

“It’s really nice to meet you.” If Stacie was nervous meeting Aubrey’s aunt, she didn’t show it, which was smart. Any hint of fear shown now would last forever in Rosie’s mind. She might never mention it but it would be a mark against Stacie that would never go away in her aunt’s eyes. “Your cooking has been all Bree can talk about.”

“Hmmm.” Rosemarie tapped her hand fan lightly against her palm as she considered the brunette towering over her. “You cook? You don’t look like you eat much.”

Aubrey held her breath, unwilling to break into tension of the moment. On the surface it seemed like such a simple if slightly rude question but it wasn’t. Acceptance in the family only came through Rosemarie. If she didn’t like you, no one would trust you. No one.

“Not as well as I’d like to. Yet. But I’m getting there.”

“No one taught you? You have no mother?” The idea of a grown woman not being able to cook wounded something in Rosie’s spirit and Aubrey could feel the smaller woman gather herself to her full tiny tower of 4 feet, 11 inches of righteous indignation. “Who feeds you??”

“My mother is more proficient at ordering food rather than making it.” Stacie’s smile didn’t slip but somehow dimmed in its intensity making the air around them seem somehow heavier. “To be honest with you I didn’t realize how important cooking for your family was until I had one to feed. I could definitely improve…and I will. For my family.”

Rosie gave a slight nod and slid her arm through Stacie’s completely shutting Aubrey out of the conversation. Her aunt gave Stacie one more intense gaze, reading all her flaws and weighing them against whatever ideal she saw in her head.

“You like gnocchi?”

“I love gnocchi.”

“Good. Tomorrow we make. Come early.” Aubrey felt a huge weight slide off her shoulders as she watched her aunt give Stacie’s arm a squeeze. The small woman disengaged their linked arms and whirled on Aubrey with a sharp smack of her fan to the blonde’s shoulder. “And you! You wait so long to bring a good girl home, what’s wrong with you??”

“Sorry Zia…took me awhile to find her.” Stacie gave her a wink over her aunt’s head and Aubrey could feel herself smile in response, almost forgetting her aunt was standing between them. “But I promise I’m not going to let her go now that I have her.”

“Hm, finally something smart. Go…today you work. Tomorrow we eat, hm?”

Aubrey gave an obedient nod of her head and smiled when she was pulled into the softness of her aunt’s chest for a strong rose water scented hug. It reminded her of her childhood and her aunt comforting her through the upheaval of her mother leaving and her father going to prison. It had been a lonely five years for Aubrey but Zia Rosie had always been there waiting, just as ready and eager to give hugs as she did swats of her fan.

Her aunt pulled back and gave her a gentle shove towards the dining room to send them on their way. “Vai mia piccola anatroccolo.”

Aubrey glanced back from the doorway to the dinning room at her aunt still standing there watching her with a soft smile. Her own mother had left her but Aubrey had never lacked the love and caring a mother gave a child. She’d had Zia Rosie to hold her and comfort her through all her childhood hurts and fears, to teach her to cook, and raise a family, to grow from a girl to a woman. No, she hadn’t had the woman that gave birth to her in her life, but she wasn’t without a mother. Rosie turned away toward the kitchen and Aubrey squared her shoulders as she faced the dining room.

She could feel the slight current of nervousness energy from Stacie and gave her a reassuring smile and a wink before leading her into the big room filled with old men with loud voices. There was a chorus of greetings and a few claps from her suit clad uncles sitting around the table. A few of her cousins smirked and teased playfully about being whipped into bringing her girlfriend to the table which Stacie chuckled through. But one man was quiet, his arms folded over his chest, his dark suit pressed perfectly with sharp lines. Franco raised one hand and the boisterous greetings tapered away to silence.

“Hey Uncle Frank.”

He stood slowly from the head of the table and opened his arms. Aubrey didn’t hesitate, she let go of Stacie’s hand so she could go to her uncle and sink into his embrace. He was in his seventies now but the arms enfolding her had the same strength and warmth they had when she was a child. He kissed her head tenderly and held her out at arm’s length to look at her fully.

“Look at you hm? California is good for you; you have a tan and a smile. Who is this bella you bring? Are you why my girl here looks so happy?”

Stacie gave a soft chuckle, her eyes all for Aubrey. “I certainly hope so.”

“Uncle Frank this is Stacie. My fiancée.”

He gave her an approving nod and gathered Stacie in for a tight welcoming hug, kissing her on each cheek before placing her hand back in Aubrey’s. It was enough for him to know that Aubrey was happy and his acceptance was unconditional.

“Jesse…bring an extra chair for Bella.”

“It took me six years to earn a chair and she gets one on the first day? Wow Pops.”

Paolo, her cousin swatted Jesse in the back of head making all of them laugh. Her Uncle Pete leaned back in his chair and shrugged. “Hey kid, if you had looked like her, you’d have been in on the first day too.”

Jesse held out his hands in mock offense. “Whoa….hey not for nothing but I AM the only one in this family with the looks, okay? Look at this face. It’s gorgeous. This suit? This suit cost more than your third wedding.”

They all laughed at that as he set the chair next to Aubrey’s at Franco’s right hand and settled Stacie into it. Aubrey gave him a nod of thanks and slid into her seat with ease. She had missed this, being around her family, The Family. Not all of her uncles and cousins were related by shared blood, some of them were bound by the blood they had spilled. Sometimes that was as strong if not stronger than sharing similar DNA.

Stacie gave Jesse a mild smirk and tossed her dark hair over her shoulder so she could take in all of blonde woman at her side. “And for all that you still don’t look as good as Aubrey.”

Her uncles crowed with delight, teasing their sons and nephews with the statement until Uncle Frank cleared his throat and patted the tabletop to get everyone’s attention. He wasn’t a loud man and he didn’t have to be. A respectful silence fell heavily over the table.

“Now we’re all here, we’ve had some laughs, now we get to business, yes?” He gestured to Jesse and settled into his chair while a box was passed around the table. Each of them divesting themselves of their phones before the meeting started. Franco waited for his son to get back from locking the box away in the office before he started speaking to the group. “We all know why we’re here at this emergency meeting. When the Feds start looking at one of us their looking at us all.”

No one said anything but all their attention had gone to Aubrey. She was the reason they were having to close ranks and the weight of their judgement was resting heavily on her shoulders. Her fingers drummed on the table for a moment before she spoke.

“They’ve got nothing. Everything looks legit, runs legit, and is legit as far as the books go.” She ran her business carefully, making sure that she paid her taxes, and kept all the right paperwork to back herself up. The problem wasn’t how she managed the businesses she used as fronts for other lines of work. The problem was she’d gotten sloppy with something personal and that wedge was just enough opening to look deeper at her and anyone that did business with her. “But they do have pictures of me getting on to a boat that was later found on fire with its owner dead.”

“Jesus, kid…”

There were grumbles and a few headshakes but no one dared to confront her directly about it. One of her uncles leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table. His deep voice was slow as he weighed all of his words carefully.

“This have anything to do with what you did to Nicky?”

Aubrey let her eyes reflect the cold empty place inside of her that felt nothing for the people she had to hurt. Guilt could eat you whole if you let it and she wasn’t going to feel guilty about other people making bad choices.

“Nicky was into bad shit that was going to get us all noticed. I did you a favor.”

“Nicky was a good earner! You took away nearly 25 percent of my bottom line when you had your little tantrum.”

Stacie was listening intently to every word and if she was surprised at any of it, she was careful not to let it show on her face. Aubrey’s fist tightened at the word tantrum and Stacie’s hand covered hers with a squeeze, letting her know she had something to say. Aubrey’s gaze flicked to her and she nodded for Stacie to speak her mind.

“The main benefit of having your pal Nicky around wasn’t the money he brought from the women he supplied to rich influential men. It was the leverage he bought with his knowledge of his client base. And while that leverage was a powerful tool it only got you to gate of the manor, it could never get you inside. You can only push the buttons you know about.”

Franco laced his fingers together and leaned back slightly in his chair. The sharpness of his gaze measuring Stacie with vivid intensity. “I’m listening.”

Stacie pressed on at his slight nod. “I was born into politics, you could pay off a dozen interns in twice as many offices and you’ll still never have as much control as you would if you knew their secrets, their agendas, their entire family history. I know what these people are and how they think because I am one of them.”

“And so that fixes the little problem Big Mike has with Nicky. You want bigger prey, get a better hunter. Bene. Now what do we do about these Feds?” Her uncle, the one that earned some of his money from Nicky, grunted and nodded still unhappy with the situation but unwilling to go against Franco once he’d made up his mind about something. As far as Nicky the pimp was concerned that was just a loose end that got tied up. “Who is running this investigation?”

Aubrey gave a soft huff. “Alice Esposito.”

Franco gave her a disappointed shake of his head and Aubrey felt her cheeks flame. “Her?”

She could feel the tremor of a laugh being tightly held in by Stacie and threw her hand up in frustration. “I know! She just showed up again like a bad penny.” Aubrey was acutely aware of the fact that it was her actions that had made Alice so hellbent on taking her down. “My guy says she’s running loose with this. But I don’t have my own source in the Bureau to confirm that.”

“Quincy, talk to our man in Virginia. I want to know everything on Esposito. Where she eats, who she talks to, who she sleeps with, when she last shit. EVERY SINGLE THING. I want to know who is pulling her strings and I want them cut. You understand me?”

Quincy gave a nod and Franco made a gesture of dismissal. “Everybody else you move quiet. No changes. It’s business as usual until we find out where we are. Now go, I have to think.”

It hadn’t gone great but it could have gone a lot worse. Aubrey let out a breath as she watched everyone file out of the dining room to retrieve their phones and leave. She turned to give her uncle a look but he jerked his chin at the door.

“You too. Go show your girl around…go shopping. Something huh?”

She gave a nod at that and bent to kiss him on the cheek before she led Stacie out too. They might not all agree with the way things had happened but at least they were all on board with the direction things were going to go from here on. If they could figure out where this attack was really coming from, they could resolve it before it became a threat to the Family business. If not…Aubrey was going to have to find a way to make Alice and her evidence disappear for good.

[hotchley]

because no is a complete sentence.

hi! so @m0rcia is amazing and has been talking about a spencer hotchner au, which sounds like a really cool thing. it also sounds very chaotic given that diana is still his mother, which would lead to a lot of different parenting techniques. however, she was an absolute angel that answered my asks, which kinda? maybe? hopefuly got me out of my writer’s block. so even though the spencer hotchner au isn’t a complete fic yet, i wrote a really short drabble about it. because it’s amazing. like seriously, you need to see the posts about it.

@m0rcia: thank you. i hope this is okay- i wanted to surprise you because i only followed you recently but your blog always makes me laugh and it’s just really nice okay? and you’re also really nice. right i’ll stop ranting.

this is basically spencer learning that he never needs to justify himself after saying the word no. to anyone. regardless of who they are.

trigger warnings: references to child abuse

Spencer Hotchner is four years and three months old when he first learns that the word “no” is a full sentence.

His mother had often taught him about linguistics, and the way that sentences were formed in different languages. She taught him lots of different words- some of them his dad thought were not appropriate for him to be saying. Why, he didn’t know, because adults said those words all the time with no repercussions.

His dad struggled with the explanation. Spencer still doesn’t understand, but what he does know is that when he goes to stay with his mom, he can say what he wants, so long as he isn’t rude or disrespectful to anyone else around. Dad is more traditional- something to do with his southern upbringing- and he seems a bit different when he uses the so-called bad words. Sometimes they slip out.

But his dad doesn’t shout at him when he uses them. He just takes a deep breath and explains why he doesn’t like Spencer using them. Spencer starts to understand that his dad doesn’t like hearing them, but his mother thinks it’s okay. It’s still a bit confusing for him, but he thinks he grasps it.

Mom doesn’t have a lot of friends that want to touch him. He likes that, because there are only some people who he doesn’t mind touching him. Mom is the first person on that list. She always avoids the places that make him feel weird- his stomach and the back of his neck. Dad is also allowed to hug him. Most nights, he can’t sleep without his dad holding him close. He knows that the two of them are safe people, that’s why he likes them. And Dad is always gentle with him, never holding him too tightly.

Well, he did one time. They were in the shop and it was busy and all the people were so much bigger than Spencer. He found it overwhelming and started crying. Dad dropped the shopping right there in the aisle and took him to the toilets until he was able to explain through their hand signals what it was upsetting him: the lights, the tightness of Hotch’s touch and all the people.

After that, his Dad started taking one day a week as a work from home day. On those days, they would do their grocery shopping in the morning, when it was quiet and less colourful, and then Spencer would spend the afternoon with his Mom whilst Hotch did his work.

So Spencer had never really felt uncomfortable with touch. There were certain fabrics that he hated, but neither parent ever made him wear them. Mom let him wear whatever he wanted. Dad wanted him to change out of his pyjamas in the mornings when it was a weekday, but on weekends, they both spent their time in their pyjamas. It was really nice.

Dad’s family were less so. His dad didn’t have a dad anymore, nor did he like talking about him. Mom said that Dad’s dad was dead, which meant he no longer existed on this planet. Mom told him all sorts of theories about what happened to people after they died, but Dad said the conversation made him feel “icky” so they didn’t speak about it much.

But Dad took him to meet his family one weekend. Or the family he had left. Spencer knew all of their names. There was his Uncle Sean, his grandmother, two grand-aunts and three granduncles. One of his cousins was going to be there too, but they were much older than him.

When Dad rang the doorbell, he was doing the thing with his hand. Spencer had learnt he did that when he had sick feeling in his stomach that people described as butterflies.

“Why are you nervous?” he asked, staring up with wide eyes.

“I don’t really get on with most of my family. But you might like them, and you have a right to know who they are, which is why we’re here,” Dad answered.

“If it makes you feel icky then why did you do it?”

Dad did not answer. Spencer wondered if it was an impolite question. In reality, Aaron was trying to find the words. No had never been a good word in his house. At best, it meant he was being a difficult child, refusing to eat their vegetables. But most of the time it meant his father was refusing to have mercy or listen to him.

The door was opened before he could formulate an answer that wouldn’t terrify his son.

“Aaron! I was wondering when you would get here!” his mother said, kissing him on the forehead. Aaron didn’t let go of Spencer as he entered, remembering to slip his shoes off and put them to one side.

“Well, I’m here now, so,” he said.

Spencer shifted so he was slightly hidden.

“Is this Spencer? Hello, I’m your dad’s mommy, but you can call me whatever you’re most comfortable with. I prefer Nanny, it makes me feel less old and more loved. I have no idea what it is about it, it just does.”

“Mom, we talked about this. Please don’t overwhelm him,” Aaron said, already exasperated.

“Oh I am so sorry. Sean! Your brother is here!” she yelled.

Sean came rushing down the stairs. “Hey Aaron. Hi Spencer, I’m Sean, Aaron’s brother.”

Spencer gave him a shy wave. He wasn’t sure he wanted any of these people hugging him. But it was okay, because his dad understood that and kept them distracted to the point that they didn’t even realise.

The problem came when they were leaving. His dad had gone to get both of their coats, and Spencer was alone in the living room. Dad’s relatives were looking at him strangely as he was mesmerised by the art on the walls. He wondered if his Mom knew where it came from, and what it meant. The colours were muted, but pretty to look at.

“We’ll be off then,” Aaron said, once Spencer was all zipped up.

One of the grand aunts held her arms out. Spencer looked at his dad, who was engaged in conversation with his brother. He didn’t know what the woman expected her to do, so he stood there, watching her. Her face had an expression that he didn’t recognise on it.

Before he could register what she was doing her arms were wrapped around him, in a hug, that he did not want.

He let out a shout and Dad turned around.

“Spencer?” he said, trying to work out what was going on.

Spencer was squirming, trying to get away, but the woman just tightened her grip as he frantically shook his head, not knowing what he was supposed to say. He didn’t like the smell of her perfume, or the scratchy material of her dress. He wasn’t a baby anymore, but he could feel tears forming in his eyes.

And then suddenly he could breathe again. Dad had pulled him away. He buried his head in the soft material of his coat. It was nice and familiar and safe.

“Did he say you could hug him?” Aaron asked, his voice cold.

“I’m his family member, he should just do it,” she snapped.

Aaron swallowed. He wasn’t going to make the same mistakes his own family had. He couldn’t. “No, he shouldn’t. If he doesn’t want you hugging him, then you don’t. Understood? Mother, I’ll see you soon, hopefully. Spencer, we’re going home.”

Spencer nodded. He didn’t speak the whole journey home.

“How are you feeling now?” Dad asked, when they returned.

Spencer shrugged. “I didn’t like her hugging me.”

“That’s okay. When you don’t want somebody doing something, you say no. Okay? That’s all you have to say. No is a complete sentence. You don’t need to explain yourself. Ever. To anyone. Even to me. If you don’t want me to hug you, I won’t. And if that person makes you feel bad then they’re silly. Do you understand me?”

“Yes Dad.”

“And if they don’t stop, you hit them as hard as you can, and then you tell me. Or your Mom. Whichever one of us you see first.”

Spencer nodded. No was an interesting sentence. He’d have to ask his Mom about it. She then said it was one of the most important words a child could learn, and she was glad that his dad had taught him how to use it. They even practiced using it. It was much more fun to say: no I do not want to hear your opinions on Moby Dick again than it was to say: no I do not want a lollipop- which is what dad had made him say.

He was six years old when his dad first saw him use it.

They were in the playground. Dad was talking to Haley Brooks, who was there for her nephew. His Dad was not very good at disguising his attraction to her. Spencer thought it was a bit silly that he didn’t just say he was interested in her. He’d told his mom about what he thought was going to happen. She’d listened attentively and eventually deemed this Haley a good person.

Spencer had gotten bored and wondered over to some of the other kids, who were also waiting for their parents to finish their conversations. He was actually taller than one of them, but the rest were slightly bigger than him. They were playing a more gentle game of tag. Although he’d never met any of them, they quickly let him join the game.

When it was over, because one of them had to go, they asked to hug everyone. All the other children agreed like it was nothing.

Spencer didn’t want to hug him. But he didn’t want it to be like the other time, with Dad’s aunt. He hesitated and tried to see where his dad was. Dad had one eye on him and the other on Haley, ready to step in if he was needed.

No was a complete sentence. It always had been, and it always would be.

So when the little boy turned to him and asked if he could hug him, Spencer knew what to say.

“No,” he said.

The boy looked a little saddened, but shrugged and said bye to him anyways, before going over to his mom and leaving. Spencer used that moment to go back to his dad, who was done talking to Miss Brooks and smiled at him.

“Hey buddy. How was your little game?”

“It was nice. The boy wanted to hug me, but I didn’t want that to happen, so I told him no. And he just said okay and goodbye.”

Aaron smiled, holding his hand out in case his son wanted to hold it during their walk home. “Well done buddy. I know it can be a bit difficult to say it sometimes, but you did good. Shall we go home now?”

Spencer nodded. “Goodbye Miss Brooks.”

“Goodbye Spencer. See you soon Aaron.”

Aaron blushed and turned away, leading his son out of the school. His son that had no problem taking control of his own body or making his needs and wants known. He smiled to himself. Him and Diana may have not agreed on a lot of things, but this? This he was going to tell her all about. Because this was both of them.

Aaron Hotchner may not have grown up knowing that no was okay.

But Spencer Hotchner never had any problems using the word. Because in the Hotchner household, and everywhere else they went, regardless of who or where it was, no was a complete sentence. As it should be everywhere.

[louiseleblancdiggory]

Hiding-your-face hug for Rowaelin please

Little but cute. This is heavily influenced by where I was raised so know that where I come from we call everyone uncle and aunt if they are family friend’s since your childhood. That does not mean they are family, it’s just a type of nickname. Meaning their kids are also not your cousins! Enjoy!!

Matchmaking dances

--

Aelin loved her nonna’s birthday parties.

Technically, nonna wasn’t her grandmother, but she had been in Aelin’s life since birth. Aelin’s parents were best friends with nonna’s kids, and so Aelin had been raised with her around. Her father, Rhoe, used to tell Aelin stories of his childhood. Stories of meeting her mom, Evalin, and her sister, Adelpha, when they were still kids. Stories with Viktor and Amidala, nonna’s kids, and Gavriel, Cal and Marion.

Rhoe and Evalin were the first to get married, followed then by Gavriel and Adelpha. Cal and Marion married a few years later, and in the mean time Viktor had married a woman named Gaia and Amidala married  her college boyfriend, Quinn.

They had been friends since their childhoods, and when they all got married and had their own kids, they were raised together too.

Aelin’s whole childhood had been filled with memories of Elide, Aedion, Fenrys and Rowan. They had all lived near each other, but spent most of their free time in nonna’s house. Her childhood had been filled with days spent in the family estate’s garden, the house in the outskirts of the city. All five of them running around the house, almost breaking old vases and sculptures. Days spent inside the library whenever it was raining, just quietly reading or talking. Days spent at the infirmary with aunt Marion tending to their cuts and bruises, and nights spent camping on the backyard, jumping over the fire, counting the stars. All those years playing and growing together could never be forgotten by her.

The parties, however, were the best. The whole family and family friends would come together and they would celebrate from sunrise to sunrise. Aelin remembered playing tag with Elide and Fenrys. Remembered playing pranks on the adults with Aedion. Remembered grumbling every time nonna forced her and Rowan to dance. It had happened since both could walk, and it had grew extremely uncomfortable when both had the age to realize that nonna was trying to pair them up. They complained every time after that, although as they grew even older, both waited excitedly for the dancing part.

They were absolutely horrendous dancing, making up their own steps and butchering the original choreography.

Aelin barely had a memory that didn’t involve at least one of them, and she smiled whenever she thought of it.

As they grew old and moved away from the estate, the only time they really all visited at the same time was during big celebrations. Since she had opted to stay in Orynth and study art with her grand uncle Orlon, Aelin was the one that always managed to go back home and see everyone. Aedion had opted to stay in Orynth too, the two cousins sharing an apartment off campus. Elide had gone to Perranth, so she did come back but only on holidays and birthdays. To her nonna’s eternal sadness, Fen and Rowan had gone off to Doranelle, meaning that their visits were usually made by a video chat for the past three and a half years.

“Happy birthday, nonna!” Aelin said, smiling at the silver headed woman.

“A hundred and twenty seven, right?” Aedion said, and nonna hit him with a towel.

“Eighty, you little brat.” Nonna narrowed her eyes at Aedion, but he just laughed it off. “That’s why your cousin was my favorite.”

“We all know you always loved me more.” Aedion hummed, walking by her and giving her a peck on the cheek. “Is uncle Rhoe here?”

“In the back.” Nonna called and Aedion nodded, going to find Aelin’s dad.

“How is eighty, nonna?” Aelin asked softly, hugging the woman.

“Tiring. I’m sure that if I were to run after you and Rowan again to stop both from shaving off Fenrys’s dog, I’d break a hip.”

Aelin’s cheeks heated, but she smiled nonetheless. “That was once.”

“The two of you.” Nonna laughed, hugging Aelin’s side and walking her to the back. “All five were little devils, but the combination of you and Rowan alone was enough to bring this house down if you weren’t supervised.”

“It really was.” Aelin heard a sweet voice coming from the backyard, Elide walking in their direction with a devilish smile on her face. She wore a small wrap summer dress like Aelin, but instead of red, hers was purple. “It is good that Rowan didn’t go to college with Ace. I can only imagine the catastrophe.”

“You’re such a—“ Aelin said, mouthing bitch.

“I’m not stupid, Aelin Galathynius.” Nonna pestered, making sure to let Aelin know that her attempt of not cursing in front of elders had failed, and Elide cackled. “I need to speak to Aed’s mom. I’ll tell Adelpha you said hi, Aelin.”

“Thanks.” Aelin said, walking up to Elide and giving her friend a hug.

“Don’t get into trouble the two of you.”

“We would never!” Elide shouted back, but the smile she gave Aelin promised the contrary. “We have a surprise to nonna.”

“We?”

“Yes, we.” Aelin turned back at the voice, smiling at her aunt Amidala and her uncle Quinn. “My Fenrys called yesterday. He and Rowan are coming today to celebrate nonna’s birthday. Viktor and Gaia are ecstatic to see their son again.”

Aelin turned around to see her father and mother talking to Viktor and Gaia. As if they could feel her stare, both turned to her and smiled. Uncle Viktor was usually serious, reserving his smiles. Aunt Gaia, though, was always a happy presence. With her silver hair and blue eyes, the woman looked like a goddess. Rowan looked so much like both of them. He had his mother’s hair and smile, but his father’s eyes, face and seriousness. Aelin smiled back and waved at them.

“When?” She turned back to Amidala and Quinn. “I haven’t seen the two in ages.”

Aelin was beyond excited because of it. She had only talked to Ro and Fen through phone and postcards, and she couldn’t wait to see both in person again. For the next few hours, Aelin spent most of her time with Elide and Aed, all three sitting on the grass and laughing while retelling their childhood stories. They all held some sort of cocktail drink that uncle Gavriel had made them, and it was good enough that Aelin didn’t question what was inside, just asked for more when she emptied her glass. Morning ended and the afternoon sun was burning up. Aelin knew she should get up and put on some sunscreen if she didn’t want her face peppered with even more freckles, but she was feeling so calm and comfortable that she couldn’t bring herself to do so.

Coming back to nonna’s house with one of her friends always made her feel like this. She was twenty two, but sitting on the grass, laughing with Aed and Elide, she felt as if she was seven again. It was the greatest nostalgic feeling she could ever imagine.

“And then Aelin fell in the lake with Rowan.” Aedion was retelling the time both she and Rowan fell from a tree straight into the river nearby. Aedion was laughing so much he was doubling over, almost no sound coming out anymore. Aelin didn’t know if Elide was laughing at the story or at Aedion.

“Why is it always the stories where Rowan and I get fucked up that you all decide to tell?” Aelin grumbled, but she couldn’t help but laugh and smile too.

“Because you and Rowan had a penchant for trouble like no one else I have ever seen, that’s why.” Aelin heard a voice coming from behind her, and even before she could turn around, a huge smile was already on her lips. Standing there, a lot more taller than she remembered, was Fenrys.

“Oh my God!” Aelin screamed, standing up and tossing herself at Fenrys. He laughed and hugged her back, extending another arm for Elide who had also ran in his direction. “You’re back!”

“And for good this time.” Fenrys said and Aelin took a step back to stare up at him. Fen winked at her and Elide. “Ro and I decided to take the last semester in Orynth.”

“Rowan and Aelin in the same college. This will be a sight to behold.” Aedion said, getting up from his spot on the grass. He smiled at Fenrys, both sharing a hug. “Good to see you, Fen.”

Fenrys was going to reply something but Aelin interrupted him. “Where’s Rowan?”

Fenrys pointed a finger to a huge man with a silver head standing near her dad and uncles. “He’s—“

Aelin didn’t even stop to hear what he was gonna say next, tossing her sandals on the grass and running on Rowan’s direction. “Ro!”

Rowan’s head immediately snapped to her, a wide smile on his lips. He was talking something with his dad, but he fully turned to Aelin and took a few steps on her direction. Aelin threw herself at Rowan, her face hiding in his chest. His arms came around her, crushing her with the same force she was crushing him. Aelin’s feet weren’t touching the ground, Rowan holding her up by the hug.

“Oh my god, Ace.” He said, and although her face was against his chest, she could hear his smile. “I haven’t seen you in forever. I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too.” She tried to say, but the words sounded muffled by his chest. He laughed, and she did too while drawing back her face and looking up at him. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He said softly.

“So,” they both broke their staring and turned to nonna standing a few feet away. Everyone was smiling at them, but nonna had be biggest smile of them all. “When are you two going to dance?”

Tags:

@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @jlinez @courtofjurdan @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ladywitchling @lexflame @sleeping-and-books @annejulianneh111 @perseusannabeth @linshryver @mu-si-ca-l @camilamartinezdunne @dank-queen7 @minaidss @starborn-faerie-queen @booksofthemoon @abookishfreak @faerie-queen-fireheart @maastrash @morganofthewildfire @queen-of-glass 

[miracleonice87]

Say You Won’t Let Go

a Sidney Crosby wedding series

Part 1

a/n: here’s part 1 of ??? ! It won’t be a long series, maybe 2 or 3 parts, but I just want to keep the door open for more!

summary: a Pittsburgh royal wedding. Juliette Lemieux (100% made up) is the niece of Pittsburgh legend Mario Lemieux, who is practically a father to her. She falls in love with Sidney Crosby after meeting him as a college student while living in Pittsburgh. this series tells the story of their fairytale wedding weekend.

warnings: brief mention of deceased family member. otherwise, so damn fluffy it’s practically cotton candy.

_____

I burst through the door of my uncle’s palatial home to find him standing in the grand entryway waiting for me, my aunt and four cousins not far behind him.

“Bonjour!” I greeted them, scurrying toward my uncle’s open arms. He pulled me into his six-foot-four frame, a whole foot taller than my own, for a warm hug with a wide smile on his face, one that looked so much like my late father’s. A sharp pang went through my heart at the thought, causing me to hold onto him tighter.

“Juliette! Bonjour, princesse,” Mario said warmly, kissing the top of my head. “Tu es si belle!” (You look so beautiful!) he exclaimed, pulling back and holding my smaller hands in his large ones. I beamed.

“Merci, oncle,” (Thank you, uncle) I thanked him, dropping my head a bit bashfully as he took in the sight of me, dressed in a classic white sheath dress and strappy nude heeled sandals. I could see the tears forming in the corners of his eyes as he stared at me. I knew just what he was thinking.

“Don’t start crying already, or I’ll be crying for the next 48 hours!” I warned, a laugh escaping me despite my and my uncle’s evident shared sadness over my father’s absence from this special moment.

“I’ll try my best,” Mario promised. All I could do was nod and squeeze his hands.

My aunt Nathalie enveloped me next, kissing my cheeks before audibly admiring my new diamond choker. I reached up to touch it and felt a blush creep onto my face at almost the same moment I felt a warm hand come from behind me and rest on my hip. I glanced in the familiar figure’s direction.

Sidney leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to my temple. I placed my palm flat against his stomach and gave him a bright grin.

“Thank you,” I said to Nathalie. “Sidney gave it to me before we left the house, as a wedding present,” I added softly, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth. As a rule, I never bragged to anyone about the extravagant gifts that my fiancé often lavished upon me, but I certainly didn’t mind giving Sidney full credit in front of only my aunt, who knew us both so well.

Nathalie’s eyes widened slightly and she gave Sidney’s upper arm a squeeze. “Well done, my boy! It’s so beautiful,” she praised. He kissed her cheek and said, “I have you to thank — every time I shop for jewelry, I hear your voice in my head.” Nathalie laughed. “You’ve always heeded my advice! Not that you needed much of it. You have wonderful taste — in jewelry and women,” she teased, giving us a wink.

Sidney and I both chuckled and then greeted my cousins excitedly — Lauren, Stephanie, Austin, and Alexa, with whom we were both incredibly close, with Sidney having lived with them for several years at the beginning of his career. We had that arrangement and Mario’s longtime mentorship of Sidney to thank for the two of us ever meeting in the first place.

Growing up, I had typically visited with Mario’s family three or four times each year, whether in Pittsburgh or in his and my shared hometown, just outside Montreal. My father, Mario’s oldest brother, had passed away suddenly from a massive heart attack at 45, when I was only 12, shattering my world during a crucial time in my adolescence. While my mother did her best to financially provide for me, an only child, she had always been emotionally unavailable to me — even when I was very young. I was always a daddy’s girl, making the loss of him that much more jarring. My mother shut down completely after my father’s death, and my aunt and uncle took notice immediately, worried for my well-being. They became my unofficial guardians and quasi-parents.

In the years that followed, I started to spend even more time in Pittsburgh with Mario, Nathalie, and my cousins, with my uncle quickly stepping in to fill the role of a father figure for me in place of his older brother. I was sandwiched between their two oldest, Lauren and Stephanie, age-wise, almost exactly. For many years, but particularly after my father’s death, I had lived with them for several months out of the year, around my school schedule.

Mario and Nathalie included me in every family vacation, holiday celebration, and birthday party possible, even purchasing my first car and paying for my private school and then college education. At 18, I decided to move to Pittsburgh officially to attend Duquesne University, just a block from the Penguins arena, as a marketing major, allowing me to spend much of my free time with my family at Mario’s house, where, at the tender age of 18, I met Sidney.

I owed nearly every good thing in my life to Mario and Nathalie, including intimately encouraging me to pursue a relationship with Sidney, after some initial reservations about our age difference, which quickly faded as they saw Sidney and I grow closer together. They had truly done it all for me, and now, they were throwing me a rehearsal dinner in their sprawling backyard in just a couple of hours, along with a wedding reception to follow tomorrow’s church ceremony.

As Mario walked out the back door to speak to some of the rental company employees finalizing the set-up of our beautiful tent and chairs for tonight’s dinner and tomorrow’s reception, and Nathalie and my cousins scattered to grab their belongings, Sidney pulled me to his body, his hand on my lower back. He simply stared at me with a satisfied look on his face, causing my pulse to quicken as I looped my arms around his neck.

“What are you thinking about, mon amour?” (my love) I inquired. Sidney shook his head slightly.

“Everything. How beautiful you look right now. How beautiful you’ll look tomorrow. How beautiful you’ll look when you’re carrying my baby,” he told me, placing soft kisses to my face between each thought. “How beautiful you’ll look with our little ones in your arms. How beautiful you’ll look when you’re 90.” I smoothed my fingers over the neat hair at the nape of his neck, a wide smile across my features.

“When I’m 90, you’ll be 97,” I offered, feeling as though I might burst into tears unless I broke up the moment with some levity. Sidney laughed loudly and then groaned. “Don’t remind me, please,” he begged. I leaned up to kiss his plump lips. “Okay, I won’t,” I whispered against his mouth, causing a soft moan to escape him.

Just as I pulled away from him, my maid of honor, ever the Type A event coordinator, called to us from across the spacious room.

“Come on, lovebirds,” Lauren teased, smiling. We both looked to her, still wrapped up in each others’ arms, and saw her tap the face of her gold watch. “We’ve gotta be at the chapel in 30 minutes and it’ll take every bit of that to make it,” she added.

“Leave them alone!” Alexa piped up, giggling as she adjusted her heels. “They were having a moment.” Her older brother rolled his eyes, grabbing his sunglasses from the coffee table in front of him.

“Have you met them?” Austin joked. “They’re always having a moment.” Nathalie appeared from the hallway, fastening the back of her earring, and mused, “And that’s why they’ll be married for the next hundred years.” She winked in our direction.

Sidney looked down at me and waggled his eyebrows, making me giggle. I smoothed my fingers over the collar of his crisp new white golf polo, which he had matched with a pair of navy blue slacks and loafers, a signature look of his.

“I suppose they’re right, my blushing bride,” he said. “Let me put my overnight bag in the guest room and we’ll be on our way.” I nodded as he pressed a kiss to my cheekbone and turned to pick up his leather travel bag near the door and took it to the basement, his former living quarters.

With both of us being fairly traditional people, we had agreed to sleep apart the night before the wedding to honor the age-old custom, despite having lived together for almost two years. To combat that complication, Sidney had insisted that I be the one to stay in our house for the night and that he stay at Mario’s, since he, my uncle, Austin, and Sidney’s father and groomsmen were meeting there the following morning anyway for a game of golf at the fabled Oakmont Country Club prior to the ceremony. He wanted me to feel as comfortable as possible as I got ready for our big day.

After a minute or so, Sidney’s hands came to rest on my waist from behind me, and I smirked to myself at how clingy and affectionate he had been these last several weeks as we prepared to begin our lives as husband and wife.

“You ready for this, Jules? There’s still time to run,” Sidney purred softly into my ear, kissing the skin there.

I turned to face him, holding his jaw in one hand. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” I murmured before kissing him long and hard.

[just-call-me-the-intrusive-thot]

Soulmate September - Day 11

Day 11 - Pick your favorite Soulmate AU and write about it, it can be from this list or something completely different.  

(Balloon AU: you have a spirit-like balloon with the name of your soulmate written on it that only you can see. It will often drift towards your soulmate’s when they’re close by.)

Pairing(s): Romantic Logicality, Romantic Remile

TWs: Character Death (it’s loosely based on Disney’s UP, so y’all know whats going on), implied homophobia for a small section, unspecified heart condition mention

Author’s note: please forgive any inaccuracies in time periods and such, I did my best ;w; 

Also don’t let the tags throw you off, this story’s bittersweet but it’s really lovely, thank you if you do indeed keep reading, ily <3

–

They met when they were just children back in March of 1950. 

Logan Crofter had just come from the theatre after having seen the newest Walt Disney movie, Cinderella, when he overheard a commotion coming from the children’s park on his way home. He was always a cautious young lad but as he caught sight of his balloon begin to sway that way, Logan wasted no time in hurrying towards the sound of children arguing.

“Boys don’t wear dresses, stupid!!!”

“But it’s really pretty!!”

Logan arrived in time to see an older boy shove another boy about his age into a puddle, soaking the light blue dress he was wearing over a light t-shirt and dungarees. Upon realising the dress was likely ruined, the boy began crying. Logan wasted no time in getting between the two of them,

“Leave him alone, or I’ll inform the proper authorities!”

“.... You’ll what?”, the taller boy asked dumbfoundedly.

“It means I’ll tell your mom!!”

He was bluffing of course, Logan had no idea who the boy was, but the threat was enough to send him running. With a sigh of relief, he turned his attention to the boy in the puddle. Instead of crying anymore, he was gazing up at Logan in excited adoration,

“Wow!! You saved me!! Just like Prince Charming saved Cinderella!!!”

The boy wiped his face of tears and stood up to grasp Logan’s hands, “Thank you, thank you, thank youuuu!!”

Embarrassed by the overly sweet gesture, Logan cleared his throat, “You’re far too kind, I simply cannot tolerate bullying, I’m certainly no Prince Charming.”, he tried to assure the boy, “Truly, it was no trouble. Are you going to be alright, um-?”

“Patton!”, the boy, Patton, beamed.

A gasp left Logan, the name wasn’t that common, so perhaps….  “Patton Hart?”

The boy nodded, surprised, “That’s me-”, then realised, “A-Are you Logan Crofter!?”

Logan’s smile must’ve said it all as Patton threw his arms around him, “I can’t believe it! My soulmate saved me! I really am like Cinderella!”

“You are pretty like Cinderella as well.”, Logan offered shyly, shuffling his feet awkwardly. Patton giggled and took his hands. 

“Come on! I wanna introduce you to mama!! She’ll like you lots!!”

Patton was right, Logan adored Mrs Hart from the moment they were introduced. He loved the whole family with every member he was introduced to; it wasn’t hard to see where Patton got his shining personality from, happiness and warmth radiated from every one of them. Logan remembered the way Patton had introduced him to his parents and that summer he’d done the same for all his grandparents, his ‘tios and tias’ as he referred to them, and his many cousins who welcomed Logan with open arms.

He was grateful for such a loving family especially when his own disowned him. Logan had known from the day he finally brought Patton home to meet his parents - six years after they’d first met - that they would never accept his soulmate. Despite the majority of the world’s population accepting that the soulmate bond was a fixed infallible system, the Crofters had their minds made up that their son’s soulmate would be someone worthy of their expectations. Someone stoic and serious, not bubbly and energetic. Someone who was all work and no play, not someone who wanted to have fun and just enjoy life. Someone who was female, not another male. Logan hadn’t anticipated that extra twist of the knife but all the same, he wouldn’t trade Patton for anyone else.

It was hard being fourteen and having to turn his back on the family home he’d grown up in, but as Patton’s family helped him move his things into the room they’d painstakingly cleared out for him, Logan figured that feeling would soon pass.

--

Throughout high school, the two grew even more inseparable; Logan helped tutor Patton in math and science while Patton helped Logan with art and music. Logan joined Patton’s cooking club to support his cause while Patton would always attend Logan’s debates, captivated by his drive and dedication.

Another routine they’d started over the years was attending the latest screenings of each new Disney movie. In truth, Logan had lost his taste for “childish exploits” around the age of ten, but he would never admit out loud that seeing the way Patton would smile during their theatre dates made his heart race faster than any other sight on the entire planet. That was why for their 27th anniversary, Logan proposed to Patton during the double bill screening of The Many Adventures of Winnie The Pooh. He burned the moment Patton threw his arms around him in sheer glee into his brain forever. He would carry the joy of hearing his soulmate - no, his husband-to-be - cry out that wonderful “yes!” with him for eternity.

Sending out the invitations had been a nerve wracking affair for Logan, but Patton had assured him that everything would be okay in the end as he sent out his half of the invitations. He knew his parents wouldn’t show so he didn’t bother to invite them, but he wasn’t sure if his grandparents or distant aunts and uncles would. Aside from them, he’d never met much of his own family, most of them residing outside of the states. 

In the end, only his paternal grandparents and mother’s brother agreed to attend. Logan didn’t mind, he was just glad to have someone. Thankfully, his side of the church wouldn’t be too empty for the friends he made in his highschool years were more than happy to fill the pews.

Logan Crofter-Hart married his husband Patton Hart in the spring of 1981 after four years of planning and saving for their first home together. Logan’s endless studying and training to become a lecturer combined with Patton’s enthusiasm and drive to make money working at Foster’s Family Diner had all led up to this moment. As Logan placed the ring on Patton’s finger and promised to love and honour him - in sickness and in health, til death did they part - he couldn’t help but think himself the luckiest man alive. After the ceremony, his uncle and paternal grandparents had congratulated him, with the former asking what their next step would be.

Logan wasn’t sure about the far future, but at the time while he watched the love of his life dance and gesture for Logan to join him, all he could think to answer was “Simple, our Traditional Disney Movie Date.”, as he got up to indulge Patton’s request.

Said movie was The Fox And The Hound, and Patton, bless him, had cried for most of it. Logan draped his arm around his husband’s shoulders and softly wiped his tears with his other hand. While the scene where Todd’s owner sadly releases him into the wild played, Patton snuggled closer to Logan for comfort. Logan would deny that he teared up at that part too, though the memory of Patton humming the tune of Goodbye May Seem Forever would always stick with him even on his saddest days...

--

“Logan?”, Patton softly piped up as they lay in bed watching TV together one night.

Logan turned to face his husband, “Yes, starlight?”

“What do you think about...”, he hesitated, but continued at Logan’s nod of encouragement, “...us adopting?” 

The idea had indeed occurred to Logan. They’d been married only a year but he knew his husband would make a wonderful father. 

“.... Do you think I’d be ready, Patton?”, Logan offered unsurely. Patton softly removed his head from Logan’s shoulder and sat in his lap to properly apply one soothing hug directly to his darling husband.

“Only you’ll know for sure, but I think you’ll be an amazing father, Logie Bear.”

A soft kiss from his husband destroyed any doubt Logan had harboured. “Just imagine it, getting to watch our son or daughter grow up and get married someday! Ooh, or maybe they’ll become an astronaut! The second person to go into space!”

Logan chuckled, knowing Patton was playing on his fondness for space travel, “Perhaps, however, they would in fact be the fifth person to go into space-”

With a fond sigh, Patton brought Logan into a gentle kiss, one that Logan had no intentions of breaking to keep infodumping. He wrapped his arms around his husband’s waist, pulling him closer as if no amount of closeness would ever be enough. Another memory that would burn itself into his brain forever. Patton pulled back to his Logan with those puppy dog eyes that resulted in him getting what he wanted at least 80% of the time.

“So, does this mean you want to give adopting a try, Logie Bear?”

Feigning annoyance with a smiling eye roll and a forced huff of air, Logan replied, “Yeah. I guess-”

He spent the rest of the night returning Patton’s delighted kisses and listening to him ramble adorably about all the wonderful memories they’d make as a family.

--

The rejection hit the Hart couple hard; Patton even more so than Logan. 

Yes, he was just as crushed by the news, but Patton was distraught. 

They’d done all they could to be sure the adoption would be a success. Logan had been hired as part of the local university’s astrophysics division which did bring in enough money to allow the couple to renovate Logan’s old office room into a bedroom for their potential child. The day had been filled with laughter and, with some coercion from Patton, dancing along to the radio in between paint drying times. They’d been sure to go through all the steps, make sure their house was child friendly, even going as far as to secure references from friends and family in case they were needed.

Alas, some bad luck out of nowhere had been the first blow to the couple. After hanging on for a good decade or so, Foster’s Family Diner was bought over by a larger franchise and thus, Patton had been laid off with little warning to cut down the number of employees. The only comfort he found at the time was from his fellow staff who were devastated to see him go. The full weight of the situation really hit home when they realised it’d put enough of a dent in their income to make things a little less comfy for a while.

The second blow was the twins. Two young boys Patton had grown attached to during an Adoption Activity Day he and Logan had attended. Logan knew while he watched both boys painting his husband’s face with vastly different degrees of success, that they’d be the children Patton wanted to adopt. The boys seemed to love them too, going by their reluctance to let either of them leave at the end of the event. But the blow to their finances and the lack of a large enough room for twins had been a cause for concern with the agency, and try as the Harts might, they just weren’t able to get the room up to code in time.

Both boys were adopted that same week, and Patton further spiralled even further. Logan tried his best to try and cheer him up, but nothing seemed to work. As a last ditch attempt, Logan even requested to be able to be put in contact with the twins’ adoptive parents to ask for a visit but he was told, as anticipated, that the agency couldn’t allow it.

Logan refused to give up though. Using his university’s connections, he was able to find Patton a prospective new job; one of the researchers in the history department had a brother who worked for the local zoo. She assured Logan that with her brother’s approval, Patton would more than likely be offered the job opening they had going.

It wasn’t much, not really, but when he brought Patton to the zoo to surprise him with the offer of running the park’s souvenir shop, his husband’s glowing smile stole Logan’s breath away. For the first time in months, he heard Patton laugh with delight as he accepted the job.

--

With both of them working again, Logan put all of his effort into a new goal; helping Patton feel ready to adopt once more. It would be a slow venture; they cut out anything that wasn’t necessary and swapped the pricier items for store brands. The 80s rolled into the 90s and it felt like for a while the world would doom them to a life of endless saving, even having to eventually forgo their sacred cinema dates in favour of waiting for video and later DVD releases. 

But they were happy. 

Happy to have each other, and happily thinking of the day when they could try adopting again.

As the years went on, however, Logan began to worry. With he and his husband approaching their fifties, Patton’s hopes of adopting a young child to raise dwindled, knowing that they often gave other couples older children to look after. He knew Patton wanted to see them attend their first day of school, to teach them to ride a bike, to spend as much time as possible with them.

So Logan made a bold suggestion to Patton that night that they try again. 

Patton was quiet for a while causing Logan to fear it was still too soon, but his husband agreed that it had been long enough. They once more gave adoption a try.

--

The second time proved to be a charm and the Harts welcomed their son - six year old Emile - into the family in 1993.

He was an eccentric, curious young lad with a love of cartoons and biology; a perfect combination for the happy parents. Not that it would have mattered in the long run, they’d have loved their son no matter what.

Logan looked to the man asleep on his shoulder and their son who had also tuckered himself out watching The Nightmare Before Christmas with them. With a fond smile, Logan rested his head against the back of the sofa, catching sight of his soul balloon. It’d been years since he’d really paid much attention to it, but the name Patton Hart still glistened in wonderous golden letters set against the baby blue of the balloon. He glanced over to Patton, seeing that same cute sleepy face he always made. Logan wondered how, whenever he believed he had hit the maximum, he ended up falling more and more in love with Patton. 

The stronger the feeling grew, the more Logan felt like he could conquer anything, and he would do so in a heartbeat for his husband, and now his son too.. 

--

Love alone, however, couldn’t conquer all things. 

During Emile’s 14th birthday party, Patton collapsed. It was sudden and terrifying, but thankfully Logan was able to keep him out of harm's way until the paramedics arrived. Luckily, they were able to treat Patton at home, coming to the conclusion that heat exhaustion had been the culprit when they were informed that Patton had given himself little time to rest coupled with the unusually hot day.

Logan still wanted Patton to see a doctor as soon as possible, but Patton sweetly but stubbornly insisted he was fine. He didn’t want to cause more of a scene during Emile’s big day. Reluctantly, Logan let him make the final call, relief setting in as Patton went about the rest of the day as his usual cheerful self. Logan made sure to stay by his husband just in case, but the day passed without another hitch.

That couldn’t be said for the second time.

The call came for Logan during one of his lectures; Patton had been catching up with an old coworker from his diner days who’d come to the zoo with their granddaughter when he’d just crumpled to the floor without warning. Logan wasn’t sure what exactly happened, but the next thing he knew, he was parking his car outside the hospital and desperately asking the staff where his husband was being treated.

Fortunately, once again, Patton was more or less alright. When Logan saw him sitting upright in his hospital bed chattering away to a young girl in a hospital gown, he knew for sure his husband was alright. At least for now.

“Will you ever stop giving me a heart attack?”, Logan had sighed with fond exhaustion as he sat next to Patton with his hard carding through his soft umber hair. Patton chuckled and played with the blue tie Logan was so fond of, “Not if it means you’ll keep coming to my rescue like Prince Charming.”. 

Logan let out a huff of laughter, fondly recalling their first meeting. It felt like yesterday still…

“Does that mean you’re still my Cinderella?”

Patton tapped a finger to his chin and finally answered with a smile, “Maybe not. Glass slippers and fairy godmothers or not, I’d never leave your side for anything, Logie Bear.”

Logan wished Patton could have kept that promise.

--

The following years passed with a couple of stumbles along the way in regards to Patton’s health and still the doctor’s weren’t sure what caused his episodes. Logan was naturally worried; he and Patton were in their sixties, he knew that even though Patton kept bouncing back that one day statistically he wouldn’t be able to. That one day Patton would…

Logan didn’t allow himself to think about it. Instead he sat with his husband, enjoying the movie they’d put on; Disney’s UP. His attention wasn’t so much on the movie as it was on Patton. Every time he looked at his husband, Logan didn’t see the silver roots, eye wrinkles, and laughter lines; he saw the boy he’d moved in with at 14, the beautiful young man he went on regular cinema dates with like clockwork, the man whose excited tearful “yes!” still echoed in his brain no matter how many years had passed. 1979 felt both so long ago, yet like it was just yesterday. And now they were doing just what Logan had hoped; growing old together while their son was out in the world working as a therapist alongside his own husband. 

Logan had been skeptical of Remy the first time Emile had introduced them to his parents, but in spite of their sharp tongue and sassy attitude, Logan had easily grown fond of the person who would later become his child-in-law. Logan wasn’t sure if that was the term, but he did his best to keep up. He remembered the day Emile had come home from high school, excitedly babbling about his soulmate. Patton had been on cloud nine the whole time, and while Logan was just as delighted for their son, he was too wrapped up in admiring the happiness that radiated from his husband.

Goodness, when had Logan gotten this sentimental? He asked, knowing full well he’d always been that way when it came to Pat. He decided to tune back in to the movie only to realise he’d been lost in his memories for nearly the entire run time.

On screen, Carl Fredricksen had just discovered the rest of his late wife’s additions to her adventure book. The more stoic Logan of the past would never have been swayed by such a heart-string tugging moment, but well. The years had softened that stony exterior. At least, that's what he told himself while he felt tears roll down his cheeks silently. Patton’s gentle thumb wiping away his tears, drew his attention, noting that his husband was also tearing up. But my god, that smile. Logan could’ve stared at that sunshine grin til the end of time itself. Seizing the moment, Logan gently leant in to give Patton a kiss, which his husband returned in kind.

At that moment, Logan had an idea. It took a lot of string pulling to make it happen, granted, but he refused to allow anything to get in the way of his plans. 

January of 2010 saw Patton’s 66th’s birthday roll in, and Logan first surprised his husband by driving their old car, a blue 1955 Ford Thunderbird, into the driveway. It wasn’t in the greatest condition, having been kept in their garage for years, but Logan had secretly washed and maintained it leading up to today. It still had their cassette tape in the player; the Beach Boys’ Wouldn’t It Be Nice played just as it had back in the day.

The car was only one of the surprises Logan had in store; he’d found an old diner that, while it wasn’t much like Foster’s, was dedicated to capturing the 1980s vibe they were both familiar with. After a couple of milkshakes and Patton’s insistence that they dance together when the jukebox would play their favourite tunes, Logan parked outside of a familiar sight.

Their old theatre and origin of Patton’s nickname, The Starlight; it’d been renamed of course, but thankfully the former owner’s daughter remembered the couple from back in her father’s day, and so Logan had asked if the old sign could be replaced just this once. She’d done one better, adding a lovely “Happy Birthday Patton!” banner underneath. Logan wasn’t sure if hugs could be fatal, but the one Patton sent his way nearly crushed him with the weight of it’s love.

Once inside the foyer, Logan directed Patton to their private screening of Cinderella. He had wanted the same movie he’d proposed to Patton with initially, but alas, the owner couldn’t track it down in time, thus they went with the movie that had led Logan to his soulmate in the first place. The Harts sat in a comfortable silence throughout the film; they didn’t need to say anything, their intertwined hands and soft sighs of adoration were enough. When the movie ended, they began to drive home until Patton spoke up, “Logan, look!”, he gestured out the window towards a familiar sight; the park where they’d met.

The old equipment had been removed and changed  somewhat over the years, but the familiar landmarks were all still there. Logan didn’t need to be asked the question as he parked nearby and walked with his beloved towards the spot where they’d met. The small indent in the ground where the same puddle he’d helped Patton out of was still there in all it’s sentimental glory. Logan raised an eyebrow as Patton sat at the edge of the former puddle until he realised what he was up to,

“Oh no! I’ve fallen! And I can’t get up! Oh where is my Prince Charming who shall come to save me?!”

Logan had to stifle his laughter with his hand for a second before offering it to Patton, rolling his eyes fondly as he stated, “I’m here, I’m here, don’t worry, fair Cinderella.”

He helped Patton to his feet, stumbling a little but thankfully he caught his husband in his waiting arms. With a smile that shone like the gold of his soul balloon’s cursive, Patton met Logan’s eyes, whispering a soft, loving, “I love you, Logan.”

Logan gently brushed a strand of Patton’s hair away from his soulmate’s eyes, “I love you too, Patton.”

The two began to walk back to the car, hand in hand, while Patton explained to Logan where he’d gotten the blue dress he’d met him in when Patton stopped. 

“Patton? Is everything alright-?”

Patton’s breathing hastened, and before he could try and say he was okay, he curled in on himself, grasping his chest. Terrified for his husband, Logan called 911, doing his best to get Patton to the car to drive him to A&E.

--

Nothing was alright.

Logan stayed by Patton’s side in hospital when the doctors delivered the bad news. 

Heart failure. 

The doctor was apologetic the whole time - “I’m so sorry” “If only we’d caught it sooner” “Too late for a transplant” “Surgery would only prolong the inevitable” - but Logan couldn’t bear to hear it. The love of his life lay dying in a cold, sterile room when he should be at home; dancing around their living room, baking with him in their kitchen, laying next to him in bed as they held hands and regaled each other with happy memories and countless “I love you”s. 

The decision wasn’t difficult, not for Logan anyway. The doctors offered to let Logan take him home so he could pass in the comfort of his own home, and while Emile had tried to convince his parents to try for more time in hospital, his fathers both refused. Patton was stubborn when he wanted to be, and Logan even more so. They’d wasted three days with Logan having to stay in hospital with Patton, he wasn’t about to jeopardise any more time. 

Emile and Remy came to visit each day once Patton came home. Neither one would comment on just how tired he looked, but Logan could see the concern in their faces. They both knew as well as Logan that any day could be Patton’s last. Every time they left, both would hold Patton tightly, making sure to always leave with an “I love you, dad”, no matter how late it made them for an appointment or the like.

--

One night, Logan noticed Patton was sitting outside on the porch step in the early morning sunrise, in one hand was a pack of balloons, and in the other, some string and markers.

“What’re you up to, starlight?”, Logan questioned curiously, unable to stop himself smiling as Patton sent him a smile at the old nickname.

“Just wanted to try something, Logie Bear. Here, you can pick out your color.”

Ah. Logan understood, rifling through the pack for the right shade of baby blue to make his soul balloon. He and Patton had of course described their balloons to each other, “Mine’s this lovely dark blue with silver writing! Bold and smart, just like you, Logan!”, Patton had said. He watched Patton try to blow up the balloon, but upon giving himself a coughing fit, Logan went to get the helium pump he’d used for the balloons at Emile’s 14th birthday. 

Once both balloons were safely inflated and tied with some string, the Harts set about writing each other’s name in an imitation of their respective soul balloon. Patton wasn’t sure whether to write Logan’s married name or the one on the balloon, but Logan assured him he didn’t mind. With both balloons finished, the couple tied the ends of their strings together, Patton requesting Logan take some pictures with his phone to show Emile and Remy later. With the request indulged - along with some depicting the couple sat cuddled together with their respective balloons - the two held out the tied end of the balloons and let them go.

Bobbing in the wind, the balloons carried themselves into the sky, twirling in a dance as they soared towards the clouds. The Harts watched until they could no longer see the pair anymore; eventually just sitting side by side on the porch, their fingers locked together and their heads rested against one another. 

The morning was stunning; soft cloudy skies that let the sun peek through while a warm breeze drifted by. 

“Hey, Logie Bear?”, Patton quietly requested. His voice ghostly even in it’s happiness.

“Yes, starlight?”

Logan couldn’t explain how or why he knew that it’d be the last thing he heard Patton say, but he simply held his husband of thirty nine years, his soulmate since birth, even closer as Patton’s last words carved themselves into his memory;

“Thanks for the adventure.”, his stunning eyes met Logan’s one last time, “I love you, Logan.”

“You too, Patton,”, Logan couldn’t stop the tears that rolled down his cheeks, “I love you too.”

Even as Patton’s grip loosened, as his eyes closed, as his breathing shuddered to a halt, Logan stayed with his husband for hours. He knew he’d soon have to break the news to their son before the poor lad and his husband found them still sitting together like always. But Logan couldn’t bring himself to move an inch. 

“I’d never leave your side for anything, starlight...”

--------

I’m not crying I’m SOBBING

This one has me in tears just rereading it to make last minute corrections, god...

Day 12 will be back to much happier themes, I promise!

@tsshipmonth2020

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