#which is not only interesting but extremely shocking considering a large part of it is queer history | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

free-pool-trash · 3 years ago

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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.”

#george weasley x reader #harry potter x reader #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #marauders x reader #fred weasly x reader

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andypantsx3 · 4 years ago

Text

subtle | shouto todoroki/reader

pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Reader

status: complete

length: 2,171 words

summary: Someone leaves chocolates on your desk. You're determined to track down the sender, certain it's a mistake, and Shouto Todoroki makes himself as unhelpful as possible.

tags: romance, reader-insert, fluff, valentine’s day

warnings: aged up characters (no smut though!!)

There was a box on your desk.

There was a box on your desk, and the sight of it was enough to instantly set you on edge.

The box looked normal enough, if a little fancy, maybe. Its lacquered top glinted brightly under the fluorescent office lighting, its smooth, polished sides waterfalling into the soft matte of your desktop underneath. You weren’t close enough to read the inscription, but you could just make out some elegant, curling script inlaid into the top of the box, possibly the name of whichever company had produced it.

The box looked very normal, in fact. Only, you knew it wasn’t. Boxes didn’t just show up in the middle of the Todoroki Hero Agency, a campus swimming with pros and armed with layers of security so deep it took even you--Shouto Todoroki’s manager--fifteen full minutes to get through screening every morning. It was something very much like being a prison guard at Tartarus.

So either this box meant the agency was dealing with a security breach the likes of which had scarcely been seen before, or someone had mistaken your desk for somebody else’s.

Which, considering it was Valentine’s Day, made a lot more sense.

Buoyed by the realization it wasn't a security risk, you crept closer, peering at the box, and the script resolved itself into the name of the extremely fancy chocolatier in Hiroo district that you made a point of drooling over every time you had to make a house call on Shouto. Their prices were literally insane, so you had never let yourself wander inside, unwilling to shell out an entire week’s pay for a tiny set of chocolates. Even if they did look absolutely fucking unbelievable from the window.

Your mouth watered.

That confirmed it--this was a Valentine's gift, and it was definitely a mistake. For the briefest of seconds, you’d wondered if maybe you had gotten obligatory office friendship chocolates, but this was too much. Some poor, love-sodden flop had gone out, spent their week’s pay on someone they were clearly very serious about, and then proceeded to fuck the entire thing up by plonking their gift straight onto your desk instead of their intended’s.

You frowned, quickly checking the box over for some kind of clue as to who had left it. There was no note included, nothing even mildly helpful that would give you the slightest hint of the person who'd left it here. Which left you with the question of how to return the box to the sender without knowing who they were, or how to pass it on to whoever they’d really meant it for.

You drew your bottom lip between your teeth, staring hard at the surface of the box like you could crack its code if only you glared hard enough. The box stared back at you, unhelpfully silent.

You were still skewering the box with your gaze some minutes later, determined to unravel its secrets, when a deep voice murmured from your doorway.

“You look puzzled."

You startled, whipping around to find Shouto propping up the wall, looking as unfairly handsome as usual. He was watching you intently, those heterochromatic eyes fastened to your face in that careful way he had, the one that always made you feel too warm and slightly unfocused. As usual, it was all you could do to remind yourself that you were a professional and he was something solidly between a friend and a coworker, and no matter how cute and attentive he was, you shouldn't get any ideas.

This morning, he was dressed in his hero uniform, tall and broad-shouldered, his distinctive hair only a little ruffled from his early patrol. It wasn’t often someone tried something in the districts he watched over anymore, probably too nervous to find themselves on the wrong end of the number four hero’s temper. You knew from the reports you received to your phone that the only trouble he’d encountered this morning was a pack of amorous school girls purposely misusing their quirks to draw his attention.

Thirty minutes ago, in fact, you’d almost spit out your coffee laughing at a photo of him looking wildly uncomfortable as he attempted to ice down some girl’s lava quirk with his right hand while fighting off her unfathomably enormous bouquet with his left. It was only right that he should suffer once a year, when every other day he got to stalk about as handsome as you please, oblivious to the effects his appearance had on every breathing person within a five mile radius.

You gave him an absent nod, gaze drawn back to the box on your desk.

“Somebody accidentally left something in here,” you told him, gesturing to it. “I’m trying to figure out how to track down who it was, or who it was meant for.”

Shouto made a small noise in the back of his throat, almost like a cough, and it was enough to startle you into looking up at him again.

“What?” you asked, peering at him. Was he coming down with something? It wasn't often he got sick, but when he did, he usually attempted to hide it and needed to be steamrolled into taking time off. You looked him over, trying to assess whether or not you needed to start badgering him now.

Shouto gazed back at you evenly, his expression deceptively bland. “...You think it’s not for you.”

You felt yourself blink at him, surprised by the comment and struggling to discern his meaning. What did he mean, you think it’s not for you? “Of course it’s not for me, Shouto, it’s from Grégoire Chardin.”

You knew he’d know the place, considering he lived in the same fancy rich people neighborhood as the chocolatier, but Shouto looked unimpressed.

“Why should that mean it’s not for you?” he asked, his tone dry.

The remark caught you off guard, as his comments sometimes did, and you bit down something like a smile. Bless his sweet, oblivious, rich boy heart. Either he overestimated your appeal to his agency staff, or he really did not understand the concepts of cost and return on investment.

“It’s expensive, it’s not something you would give someone as obligatory chocolates,” you explained, watching as a white eyebrow went up. His expression sharpened into something you couldn’t read well.

“It could be a secret admirer,” he said.

You stared blankly back at him, absolutely floored by the idea.

He thought you had a secret admirer? The idea sent an excited thrill all the way down to your toes, but you quickly squashed the feeling. So far, you'd never been on the receiving end of any furtive but romantic gestures, and you really didn't get any interested vibes from anyone in the office, no lingering glances or excuses to spend more time with you. The person who paid you the most amount of attention was Shouto, which was to be expected, considering how closely you worked together. And obviously he wasn't interested, he was just happy to stand in your doorway spouting wild conspiracies about his agency staffers like they were completely reasonable things to say.

“I don’t have a secret admirer,” you told him.

Shouto’s mouth pressed into a thin line and he took an intent step forward into your office. “Is the point of a secret admirer not to be exactly that--secret? How can you be sure?”

You couldn’t help it--you gaped at him, your face going weirdly warm. Okay, was he--was he serious? You obviously weren’t the most unfortunate creature on earth, and you even had your good days, but nobody in their right mind was going to attempt anything with you when there were girls like Nejire Hado and Ibara Shiozaki roaming the hallways of his agency. Even several of the analysts and most of the support crew had you beat out in terms of appeal--literally bless this man for his obvious indifference to your appearance.

“I, uh--thanks for your confidence in me,” you said, fighting down a laugh. “But I assure you, it definitely wasn’t meant for me. I just have to figure out who left it and who they meant it for.”

Shouto shifted impatiently, like he was waiting for something.

“You’re so certain,” he said, sounding frustrated.

“Of course I am,” you waved at him vaguely. It was actually super cute that he thought you could net yourself a dude who was willing to shell out Grégoire Chardin dollars, but you were just wasting time now, lingering over the least important part of this entire affair. “Listen, Shouto. I know sometimes men talk in the locker rooms. If you--if you hear anything, will you let me know? I just want to return it, it looks way too good sitting here.”

It was actually taking all your willpower not to open it and avail yourself of Japan’s finest chocolate, considering you would never have another opportunity like this again. Maybe you should just pretend it was for you....Really, no one could fault you for opening something left in your own office. But...no. No, you knew better.

Shouto appeared indifferent to your internal struggle. He watched you for a long moment, his features impassive. “Under one condition,” he finally allowed.

You cocked an ear to show you were listening, rifling around with the paperwork on your desk to distract yourself from the chocolate. You were strong, a good person. You had willpower like steel. You did not need to eat it, no no no.

“If no one comes looking for it by the end of the day, you will open it,” he said, moving closer.

You glanced up at him, shocked. “Shouto, this is someone else’s gift,” you hissed. “I can’t just open it.”

He placed a large palm down on your desk, leaning over you slightly. “That is my bargain.”

“You want me to steal somebody’s shit in your own agency,” you accused him. You tried not to pay attention to how close he had gotten, how straight his nose was up close, the way his eyes seemed brighter and his mouth pulled into a pout almost too pretty for a man.

The rest of his expression slipped into something like annoyance, matching his pout. “If no one comes for it, then it must be evident that it was meant for you.”

You suppressed a derisive laugh. Now was not the time to get shirty with your own boss, especially when his delusions were kind of sweet. It was honestly just short of a miracle that a man who looked like Shouto did could possibly think anyone on earth would have a thing for you, regardless of his own tastes.

“What if they’re just too shy to ask for it back?” you asked, watching those heterochromatic eyes flick over you curiously.

“If it’s as expensive as you say, someone will come looking,” he said. Which was actually kind of annoyingly reasonable.

A smirk flitted across his maddeningly perfect face when you failed to come up with another argument. He had a point, and he knew it.

You let out a gusty sigh. “Fine, but only because I’m certain someone will come looking for it. Please be subtle when you’re gathering info, okay? I'm sure this is embarrassing for whoever made this mistake.”

Shouto looked almost offended. “I am perfectly capable of being subtle,” he intoned in his deep voice.

This time, you did laugh. He was quiet, maybe, very perceptive, and unobtrusive when he wanted to be, but no one had ever accused the man of possessing tact. “Yeah, okay. Just, try to channel more subtlety than you think you need, okay? No one else but the sender needs to know about the mix up.”

There was a moment of silence, and then Shouto was leaning over you more fully, eyes glittering strangely as his clean, fresh scent met your nose. You froze in your chair, brain going horrifyingly vacant as he leaned impossibly nearer. What the fuck was he doing?

“It will be like I’m not even asking,” Shouto promised, his voice light. “Not asking anyone at all.”

You tried to scrape your thoughts back into something resembling order, but the effort was all but futile. You needed to get him out of your space stat before you embarrassed yourself.

”Okay, then it’s a deal,” you said quickly. “Now go...flambé a villain or something.”

Shouto lingered for a long moment, his mouth curling a little at the corner, like he was being let in on a secret you couldn’t hear. His eyes brushed over you, almost like a physical touch. And then he was gone, pulling open the door to your office, looking annoyingly pleased with himself.

“You will see,” he said by way of farewell. “You will find out how subtle I can be.”

You stared at him in confusion, but he didn’t explain himself. He just smirked, and closed the door behind himself.

#todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto #bnha #bnha fanfic #bnha x reader #boku no hero academia #shouto todoroki x reader

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mc-lukanette · 3 years ago

Text

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]

—————

Luka took a breath as he hit the last emotion-filled note on his guitar. His body vibrated just as his strings did, though he realized soon enough that there weren't enough high notes to lift him from feeling so low.

Marinette was Ladybug. He was still absorbing it, even though a part of him insisted that it should've been obvious; not just because there could only be one girl in Paris who was so brave, kindhearted, and suited for the job, but... well—

There was also only one girl in Paris who could be so unlucky. Luka was upset - angry, really - at all the things he couldn't have known that just proved to put more pressure on her. People idolized and adored Ladybug, but he never once thought that he wanted to be her. She didn't get anything from being a superhero outside of wasted time and the guilt of having to lie to everyone. He'd felt bad enough keeping Viperion a secret from his family, and he was only a temporary hero.

He sighed, setting his guitar down and raking his fingers through his hair. Marinette being Ladybug would've been enough of a shock on its own, but Adrien being Chat Noir made everything both worse and more complicated. In the midst of all the realizations he'd been having at the time, he felt lucky that he was able to get Ladybug - Marinette - to believe that his mind had just drifted for a moment. She'd still looked worried, but there was nothing he could've told her at the time, his mind too scrambled to be certain what the right steps were.

He'd always imagined that past snakes had learned of other's identities before as well, and thus had wondered before what he'd do if such a thing ever happened. Chat wasn't the one "in charge," so Luka wasn't worried about him (at least not in terms of talking about identities), but Ladybug was a different story.

Previously, he would've said that he'd tell her without hesitation, but the problem was that she was Marinette and the way he found out made things messy. If he told her that he knew, she'd blame herself and demand to know what happened for him to know so she could try to "fix" it, except there was nothing to fix and a conversation about his abilities would inevitably lead to talking about Adrien being Chat Noir.

In essence, he was at a roadblock. There was probably no "right" solution either, as he figured Sass might tell him; that even seemed to be the message Sass wordlessly sent him as Ladybug took his miraculous back. He’d probably known, and maybe had intentionally given him the power to see red strings on heroes in the first place. He didn’t know for sure because he couldn’t ask, aware that it would make Ladybug even more suspicious after he’d already tried to assure her.

What he did know was that Chat was something else to think about now. Chat was tied to her, and he knew - everyone knew, really - that there was drama going on in their relationship. He'd done only a little digging and Face to Face was all the evidence he'd needed, as if seeing the two interact in person wasn't already enough.

There was a pressure there, for Ladybug and Chat Noir to be a couple. Chat Noir was a habitual flirt, and most people ate up any drama or “juicy details” about their relationship. Everyone went wild for the hand kisses that Chat gave Ladybug, whether or not she pulled away from it. Add on the red string of fate, and it just made everything worse, making him wonder what the ties meant; did Adrien's string being tied around his ring mean that he became the cat through fate, specifically so—

It made Luka feel gross just thinking about it, and knowing what he knew made it even worse; people were shipping his friend with someone she wasn't interested in, even if it was "one side" specifically that she wasn't interested in.

He shook his head, feeling vaguely possessive. It wasn't about Marinette being his friend; it was about her deserving better than something deciding her fate for her.

He was brought out of his thoughts by a familiar jingle, pulling out his phone to see a message from Marinette.

Are we still on for tonight?

FOR THE FIRE I MEAN.

I just don't want you to get in trouble! You're sure???

He chuckled, his shoulders easing at Marinette's usual enthusiasm. It was adorable that she was worried about him and not what they were planning to do.

He typed back immediately, I'm sure, Marinette. Don't worry.

He glanced at the drawer under his bed, where all the Adrien pictures were. He imagined Adrien's face plastered all over Paris, flashing back and forth between Adrien himself and Chat Noir.

He felt like he shouldn’t be shocked by the revelation, though he wouldn't be able to quite explain why.

—————

Luka looked over his work once more, checking to make sure the fire would start properly. It'd been a while, but he at least hadn't gotten rusty and even got a congratulatory pat on the back from his mother when she'd seen him carrying the supplies. Had she known that it was Marinette's decision to do this, she would've married them on the spot herself.

As he eyed the box of Adrien pictures set out, he had to bury another slew of thoughts. He knew it was right to try and get rid of Marinette's string, but and he felt guilty knowing that he’d be satisfied at seeing the pictures burn for reasons outside of Marinette.

Speaking of whom, he looked up as he heard a familiar set of footsteps to see Marinette herself heading towards the Liberty, having just made her way down the stairs. She was dressed fairly lightly for nighttime, but wore a fluffy pink shawl around her shoulders to make up for it. Considering what they were doing, it made sense that she wasn't concerned about the cold.

The gangplank had already been put up for her, so she walked across with a smile that warmed him more than the eventual fire would. "Hey."

He smiled back, plopping down comfortably on the seat behind him. "Hey."

She gripped her shawl closer to herself as she glanced at the setup for the fire, the moonlight briefly shining off of her earrings. Luka attempted to avert his gaze from them, but only ended up staring at the red string around her neck. He gave up looking at her entirely at that point, checking the setup again as if it was extremely important to do so.

"You can sit anywhere," he offered, gesturing vaguely to all of the mismatched seats he'd placed around the future fire. He'd wanted to make sure she'd have options, though he hoped the designer side of her didn't mind the chaos of it all. He'd just grabbed whatever spare seating they'd had.

Marinette's eyes scanned over the various choices. Giggling, she replied, "Thank you."

He nodded in acknowledgment. He wasn't in any hurry to get the pictures burned, even if burning them was their goal that day. He'd intentionally had her go slowly so as to test the red string as little as possible, and he planned on doing the same here.

"I brought one for you too," she suddenly said off to his side.

He looked over in curiosity and noticed her open purse, a large piece of blue fabric nearly bursting out of it. It took a bit of effort from her - he imagined that she'd wanted it to be a surprise - but she managed to pull it out, presenting him with a shawl that matched hers exactly outside of its color. He smiled in appreciation of her thoughtfulness, then reached for it before realizing with a start, "Wait. Marinette, did you make these?"

Before she could answer, he took the shawl in his hands, turning it every possible way. Without a doubt, it was her handiwork, and along the back was where the design broke with a Marinette.

"Yeah," she confirmed, and he could practically hear her shy blush. "It's just—you're doing this for me, but even if you weren't, I don't want you to get cold, so..."

"It's great," he cut in firmly, leaving no room for doubt on her end. "Soft. Comfortable. I wish I was better with fashion to say more."

"No, you said more than enough," she assured, taking a seat next to him. That fact looked both silly and intimate given the multiple other seats she could've chosen instead, but he tried not to think about it.

Instead, he gave a curious glance at her pink shawl, silently comparing it to the one she'd given him. "...You didn't have to make it blue," he commented, and clarified before she could think anything bad, "I would've happily worn your colors."

She gave him a look, though didn't seem weirded out by the idea. "But... it's pink."

"What's wrong with pink?" he asked, genuinely confused. "It's your color."

She blushed, her shoulders hunching forward shyly. He didn't even bother taking back what he said, because he meant it; he might've favored blue when he picked out an outfit, but pink made him think of her.

It was much better than red at the very least.

Marinette pursed her lips in response, idly tugging at her shawl and seeming to be in an internal debate with herself. Apparently making a decision, she closed her eyes and breathed up, letting out a soft, "Okay."

He blinked and gave a tilt of his head to show his confusion. "Okay?"

She turned to him, resolutely pulling the fabric off of her shoulders. "T-then you can wear mine?"

He couldn't get another word out, too distracted by Marinette leaning towards him and carefully settling the shawl around his shoulders. Despite the bold move, she couldn't keep eye contact with him, awkwardly hanging onto the front of the shawl as she stared at his lap. She wasn't exactly warm or exuded any particular body heat - in fact, he was sure that her hands would be cold if he held them - but there was a comfort there that couldn't be matched by anyone else.

It took him a moment to make a move, at which point he remembered the fabric underneath his fingers. In a motion equally as careful as hers, he raised the blue shawl and settled it around her shoulders. She finally met his gaze, surprised, but smiled gratefully and released her grip on the pink shawl.

"You can keep it," she said quietly, with less shyness than before.

"Really?" he asked, placing a hand on the fabric to make sure it was what she meant.

She nodded, gripping her own as she replied, "A-as long as I can keep this one in exchange?"

He snorted, even covering his mouth to stifle a chuckle. "You made them, Marinette. Of course you can." He gave an obvious glance at the shawl to admire it. "I'd be happy to match with you."

She beamed at him. "Me too."

That topic officially concluded, his mind went blank for anything more and both of their gazes drifted to the unlit fire. He didn't have to look to know that she was shifting in anxiety in her seat, either wanting to back out or just get it over with.

"Are you ready?" he asked experimentally.

"Yes," she responded, perhaps a little stiffly but the resolve was there. She wanted this.

Luka stood briefly, and within the next few moments, the fire had been lit. The flames started out faint at first, then grew until it was something respectable, easily illuminating the small area around them. The slight chill from the wind dissipated as the fire warmed their skin, Luka hearing Marinette sigh in content harmony with him.

Neither of them took their shawls off despite the increased warmth.

The additional light from the fire made the box of pictures more obvious, with it sitting on a table not too far away. Luka took a step towards it, but Marinette was faster, grabbing up the box and turning to him with a determined expression.

"I have to do it," she insisted.

He didn't exactly disagree - this wasn't his battle - but it didn't stop him from looking nervously at the red string, the dangling part of it laying across her hand and dipping itself in the box, taunting him.

"How many do you want to do at a time?" He was careful in his wording, not wanting his tone to imply anything.

She furrowed her brows, staring down at the box in deep thought. Her fingers flexed against the cardboard, a small gust of wind blowing by and causing the fire behind her to whip around in protest.

"...All of them," she muttered, then met his gaze cautiously. "Will that be okay?"

Luka glanced at the fire, but it wasn't that he was worried about. The string would try to fight her, he was sure of it, and the only thing he wasn't sure of was if it would be better or not to let her go with her wishes. He half expected the string to physically drag her off the Liberty, and the mere thought caused his neck to sting.

But, he also believed in her. She was fighting fate herself without having used the snake even once, and he wasn't going to deny her if she thought this was best.

"Yeah," he assured. "Just don't get too close. I don't want you to get hurt."

She nodded, obviously not catching onto what he really meant.

Luka sat down on his chair, toying with the rips in his pants to keep his hands occupied as he watched her. Her posture was straight and confident as she faced the flames, despite the shake in her hands, and he was sure the fire in her eyes wasn't just a reflection.

He didn't see Ladybug in her place. There was only Marinette and everything that he already knew about her. Knowing what he did now wasn't surprising, but heartbreaking, and he couldn't be prouder of her for doing what she was trying to do.

To go against what everyone - even fate itself - expected of her. He couldn't relate on her level, but looking as he did and having the mother he did, he understood.

Finally, Marinette stepped forward, and the string was already tightening around her neck. She froze, shutting her eyes and clutching the box tighter as she mentally fought the sensation.

He barely managed to keep himself still.

She swallowed, taking another step and managing to open her eyes again. She squinted at the fire, either from the light or from her own resolve.

Then, all at once, she thrust the box forward, the pictures flying out and mingling with the flames. The fire flared up in response, practically roaring, and the string tightened further in protest. Marinette even let out a cry as she tossed the box aside.

Luka barely had time to react when she suddenly rushed towards him. He outstretched his arms and she filled up his lap, her heart seeking him out as she clutched his jacket. He wrapped his arms around her, hoping his comfort came through without words.

Her breathing was ragged, and he couldn't tell whether it was from the string or her emotions running high. He brought one of his hands higher up on her back, knowing that he could do nothing more for her but wishing he could.

He took solace in the fact that the worst of it was over.

Staring over her head, he watched as the pictures burned, blond turning black as the flames singed the pictures and reduced them to ashes. Marinette, meanwhile, remained against him, desperately clutching his fabric for wordless support. He honestly would've been okay being the only spectator to what she'd done, but she then shifted in his lap to glance behind her.

They watched the sight together, the fire whipping about with the wind like it was making sure the job was done as they'd wanted. In no time at all, there was no evidence of the pictures left outside of what was allowing the fire to burn brighter.

Marinette let out sigh of relief, collapsing against him again and nuzzling his chest. "What's wrong with me...?"

"Nothing," he replied, clutching her tighter. "You were amazing."

She looked up at him, possibly searching his expression to ensure he meant it, then offered a tired smile. She shifted again, but this time without any urgency or need. Luka sucked in a breath as she nestled her head against his shoulder, making herself comfortable on his lap while still being in a position where they could watch the fire together. Slowly, he relaxed, and they ended up not needing those other chairs after all, neither moving from their comfortable positions.

And, maybe it was just him, but the string seemed looser around her neck than it ever had before.

#au: Dread String of Fate #Dread String of Fate: writing #Flower Arrangement Shipping #Pro LukaMari #Lukanette

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inkykeiji · 4 years ago

Text

i can take you there but baby you won’t make it back

character: dabi | todoroki touya

notes: stepcest (kind of—ur parents aren’t married yet) with dabi-as-touya x a very naïve and inexperienced reader, normal!AU (no quirks, dabi also has tattoos over his scarred + fully healed skin), university!reader, implied yakuza!dabi, excessive use of the words niichan and good, praise kink, fingering, face fucking, title credit = save that shit by lil peep lmao uhhhh yeah i hc dabi as a very intelligent and perceptive individual soooo i feel like he’d be a master at reading a person & their emotions and then adapting his manipulation techniques

warnings: 18+, pseudo-incest (stepcest), noncon/dubcon, slight somnophilia, emotional manipulation, toxic relationship, size difference, slight degradation, mentions of drug use

words: 7.1k

part 2.1 | part 2.2

synopsis:

“You want to be good for me, don’t you, sweetheart?”

“Of course,” you respond instantly. Later, when you lay awake in your bed, you’ll feel ashamed by your actions, by how readily captivated you were with him, by how easily he was able to manipulate you with those sapphire eyes and that rough voice—

But in that moment, you’ll do anything to pull that little smile from him, anything to hear him tell you you’re good. You just want to be good.

Something dark and primal flashes in those gorgeous eyes as they gaze down at you, a small grin spreading across his face. “Of course,” he repeats softly.

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

Your dad’s been dating Rei for a while—nearly a year, now—when things begin to get serious, and he proposes to her.

She accepts, so it’s not exactly a surprise when she suggests you guys move in with her—she’s got more than enough space, she tells you, it’s just her and her son in that big old house—and your dad seems pretty thrilled about it. This was the next step before marriage, after all.

You like Rei well enough, she’s always been nothing but sweet to you, and anyway, your father’s relationship really isn’t any of your business or concern.

It isn’t that you don’t want to move in with her—her house is in a better part of the neighborhood, a standard detached upper-middle class home, and just a short walk from a bus stop that’ll take you directly to university, which you start in a week.

It’s just…You’re a little apprehensive.

You know she has kids. She mentions them in passing every once in a while, but you can’t for the life of you remember their names, or their ages, or how many of them there are. You know they don’t all live with her, that her relationship with her ex-husband is complicated and rocky at best.

But you’re still surprised to hear that only one of them, her eldest, lives with her. She tells you he’s five years older than you are, that he’s a clever, smart boy, going off on a tangent about how disappointed she is that he didn’t go to university, because ‘he would’ve done so well—he could’ve shone so brightly.’ Something about the way she says that, the way her voice sounds almost sad, makes anxiety turn to lead in your stomach. She talks about him as if he’s already a lost cause, but he’s only in his mid-twenties, isn’t he?

You understand the moment you see him. The man standing in front of you as you shift from foot to foot unsurely in the foyer of this unfamiliar house is about as far from what you anticipated as he could possibly be.

He’s tall, skin pale as moonlight, with jet black hair and the most stunning blue eyes you’ve ever seen. But that isn’t what captivates you. It isn’t the lip ring curled around his bottom lip snuggly, and it isn’t the tongue piercing you’re about to find out he’s hiding in his mouth, either.

Every inch of the exposed skin of his arms is covered in intricate, seamlessly flowing tattoos—or, for a moment, you thought it was tattoos, plural. Upon closer inspection, you realize that each arm is actually covered in one giant tattoo, giving a new definition to the term ‘sleeve’. It’s all black ink, not a splash of colour anywhere, depicting an extremely detailed and anatomically correct mechanical arm, complete with what would’ve been joints, ligaments and bones in the form of wires and steel.

The tattoos extend onto the tops of his hands, made to look as if surgical staples are peeling his skin back to reveal the robot beneath. This same tattoo continues up his neck, along his jaw and onto his cheeks, all the way to his bottom lip, spreading across his entire face and disappearing into his hairline and onto his ears. Finally, there’s a small portion of the tattoo underneath his eyes, the surgical staples lining the edges of the face tattoos, too.

It startles you—you’re not necessarily scared, you just…weren’t expecting that. But there’s no denying the rush of breath that involuntarily escapes your lips as your eyes search his face, raking over his body in a brazen way that should make you feel shameful, travelling back up to find him smirking smugly at you, raising an eyebrow as your eyes meet again.

The look in his eyes tells you he knows, knows what you’re thinking about, knows how undeniably attracted you are to him, and scalding heat floods your cheeks.

He chuckles a little, which does nothing but add insult to injury, and sharp anger slices through your chest at the way that you stomach absolutely drops at his gravelly voice. You can’t believe yourself, can’t believe your body is reacting and responding so readily to this man—this stranger.

He introduces himself as Touya, in that rough, deep voice that forces a jolt of electricity to run through your veins. You idly wonder what your name would sound like on his tongue, how it might sound if his voice dropped to a growl, find yourself stuck thinking about this for the rest of the night.

✰ ✰ ✰

To your disappointment, and as much as you are unabashedly interested in him, you don’t interact much with Touya for your first few weeks in the house—in fact, you barely see him at all.

This only piques your curiosity about him more, finding that you’re unable to tear your eyes from him on the rare occasion that you are in a room together. He catches you staring every single time, and he has the audacity to chuckle to himself and shake his head when his gaze meets yours, your eyes quickly darting away and cheeks burning at his laugh.

You begin gathering little tidbits of information about him, purely sourced from interactions you witness in the house, desperately praying for something that’ll give you an opportunity to start a conversation with him.

Your efforts prove fruitless when, almost a month and a half since you moved in, you’ve still only spoken a handful of words to him. You do learn a bit about him through observing, though.

You discover that he’s a smoker, which really doesn’t come as a shock at all. Marlboro’s are his favourite, and he’s always got a pack in his back pocket or rolled up in the short sleeve of his t-shirt. He must have them imported—Marlboro’s are incredibly rare to find all the way in Japan.

Touya must have a lot of things imported.

You find out that every other Thursday, Touya discreetly stuffs an absurdly large wad of cash—all composed of ten-thousand-yen bills—into his mom’s hands, forcing her fingers to curl around it. She fights him on it, every time, but he’s firm and adamant that she take it. It always ends with Rei giving him a small, watery smile, Touya pressing a kiss against the side of her head and murmuring that he loves her.

After you witness this interaction for the first time, you begin to notice that, while the house looks relatively normal on the outside, it is stuffed full of luxury on the inside. Flat-screen TVs each complete with full entertainment systems, state of the art appliances that are somehow up to date with all of the latest trends (including a smart fridge—absolutely ridiculous), custom made furniture, ornate rugs, a housekeeper that drops by every Sunday…

You have no idea what he does for work, but you think you’ve got at least some sort of idea when you catch him one night, just past 2AM, exiting his room and using a thumb to brush excess white powder off his nose. His eyes catch yours, pupils blown and shining in the low light, and he smiles darkly at you, winking once as he walks away.

You don’t ask—no one ever does.

You don’t ask about the crimson splattered on the toe of his boot, or why he sometimes smells metallic, like copper, the strong scent wafting after him and invading the halls as he stalks leisurely toward the bathroom. You don’t ask why he leaves the house at odd hours in the night, and you definitely don’t ask about the soft clinking and clicking you hear through the thin walls every so often while he cleans his gun at 3AM.

You’re not sure if it’s really any of your business, anyway. So you stay quiet, and continue to wait.

The opportunity finally comes one Wednesday in October, two weeks before Halloween, when you’re in the kitchen after school busy fixing yourself an afternoon snack. Touya comes home uncharacteristically early—you rarely see him before 10PM, so his entrance scares you, and you jump a little.

“Sorry,” he murmurs as he passes by behind you, just an inch too close, just enough so you can feel his body heat radiating off of him.

“It’s fine,” you say quietly, shaking your head a little and trying in vain to stop your hands from trembling as you spread peanut butter across a piece of bread.

You can feel his eyes on you, and it makes you nervous, makes your skin crawl in a way you’ve never felt before. He laughs a little at your struggling, leaning against the counter next to you and crossing his arms over his chest.

“You don’t have to be so nervous around me, y’know,” he says with a smirk, eyes glittering at the way your lips part in surprise, your breath stuttering a little. “I’m your niichan after all, aren’t I?”

You hadn’t even considered using the honorific until he himself uses it.

Your hands freeze, hovering over your plate, and you look over at him slowly. “You…Want me to call you that?”

“You can, if you’d like,” he says smoothly, nonchalantly, like he doesn’t have a care in the world. It makes no difference to him, he tells you, but when he finally looks back at you, you think you can see it in his eyes—a sharp, small glimmer of…of something. Something that makes your stomach twist in a way you can’t decide if you like or not.

But this is it, you think, this is your opening to finally begin talking to him.

So you do. And the smirk he gives you the first time you address him by the honorific, voice quivering slightly as you ask him where Rei normally keeps the blender, is nothing short of predatory.

“It’s on the top shelf. It’s too high for you, though,” he says, voice so sickly sweet it almost sounds mocking. “Let niichan get it for you,”

It isn’t, but you let him get it for you anyway.

And he knows—knows he’s got you the moment you gasp at the honorific leaving his lips, trying to hide it behind your hand, nodding quickly and squeaking out a thank you.

It starts after that. He begins playing with you; a sick, perverse game of cat and mouse, hunter and hunted, and you play your part perfectly.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it, if you said it didn’t send wicked sparks of excitement shooting up your spine and an intense fluttering in your stomach.

And it starts slow. It starts with gentle pet names—honey, sweetheart, princess—and fingertips trailing down your arm as he passes you. It starts with a large hand placed on the small of your back, guiding you—out of the house and into his car, out of the kitchen and into the living room, out of the hallway and into his bedroom—and with little pecks on your lips stolen when no one’s watching, quick kisses that leave you feeling exhilarated despite their chastity.

Suddenly, he’s home a hell of a lot more. He’s sitting too close to you on the couch while you curl up with a textbook, his thigh pressed against you and flesh burning hot through his black jeans. He’s joining the family dinner a few times a week, idly hooking and unhooking his ankle with yours beneath the table while smirking at you from across it.

Suddenly, he’s asking you if you need a ride to school, or if you need someone to pick you up. You don’t, you tell him, the bus is just fine, but he insists. It’s what niichans do, he says. He wants to take care of you, he says.

Who are you to deny him that, really?

✰ ✰ ✰

The first time you experience Touya angry is about a month after the inciting incident, when he catches you walking home with a few of your university friends.

He had texted you earlier that day, telling you that he—very regretfully, he said—would be unable to pick you up from school this afternoon because ‘something had come up’.

You didn’t question what it was—you knew he’d lie even if you did. So you accepted it obediently, reassured him that it was fine, that you’d find another way home.

You’re pretty sure if you had told him that you didn’t have any extra change on you for the bus suddenly whatever important thing that had ‘come up’ which so desperately needed his attention wouldn’t be so urgent anymore. But you didn’t want to be a bother, or inconvenience him, so you say nothing.

Two friends decide they’ll accompany you on your walk home, so you aren’t lonely, they claim. Normally, the walk from campus to your house is about thirty minutes, but that day it takes you nearly an hour, wasting time goofing around and walking slowly as you talk idly.

Touya’s already pissed that it’s taken you so long to arrive home, that you’ve ignored all of his extremely considerate texts asking if you’re alright, but when he sees you squished between two boys, giggling as the three of you stumble up your driveway—he’s fucking fuming.

“Where the fuck have you been?” he asks, voice calm and monotonous, leaning casually against the doorframe.

Your head snaps up—you swear he wasn’t there just a second ago—blood running cold.

His stance is relaxed, arms crossed loosely over his chest, lazily raising an eyebrow as your wide eyes meet his. Technically, the only indication that he’s furious is the blazing blue fire in his eyes, but your friends can read the tension in the air surrounding him, shuffling a little closer to you. This minuscule action does not go unnoticed by Touya, sharp jaw clenching once.

“You had niichan worried,”

You’re frozen a few feet away from the porch, unable to find your voice, to move your legs, to breathe at all.

“I didn’t know you had an older brother,”

Your eyes do not leave Touya’s as you speak, the words hoarse. “Oh, we’re—”

“Yeah,” Touya bites, irritation finally bleeding into his voice. “She does,” his eyes float back to yours. “Come here, princess,”

Your body snaps into action, moving automatically before you can even comprehend it, allowing Touya to tuck you into his side the moment you reach him.

Your hands are shaking, but you have no control over them as your fingers curl in his white t-shirt, clinging to him. To your surprise, the arm around your shoulders hugs you closer in response, thumb caressing you.

“Thanks for making sure she got home safely,” he tosses over his shoulder, managing to make the simple sentence sound like an insult, tone bordering on patronizing, while he turns on his heel, marching you both inside.

“I-I’m so sorry,” you’re rushing to say the moment the front door shuts behind you two, Touya’s arm still wrapped firmly around you.

He looks down at you coldly. “Don’t you dare pull shit like that again,” he tells you, eerily calm voice forcing spikes of icy dread up your spine. He pauses for a moment, letting his words sink in as his eyes bore into yours. “You had me worried sick,” he breathes out then, squeezing you again. You’re surprised in the sudden change of tone, feeling your chest swell at the thought of him fretting over you, a small smile gracing your lips.

“I…I did?”

Touya’s eyebrows furrow, as if he’s offended at your questioning, mood morphing in the span of a second. “Of course you fucking did,” he spits like you’re stupid, arm dropping. “Do you ever check your phone?”

“Wh-What?”

Touya rolls his eyes. “Check your phone,” he calls out airily as he begins walking into the kitchen, shaking his head a little, disappointment rolling off him in waves.

Hastily fishing your phone out of your bag, you’re astonished to see eight texts from him and three missed calls. You scroll through the texts quickly, each one making you feel more nauseous than the next. ‘Is everything okay? You should’ve been home by now’; ‘Please answer me, princess, you’re making your niichan nervous’; ‘Where are you? Answer my fucking calls already’. Guilt turns sour in your mouth and you hurry after him.

“I-I really am s-so sorry,” you force the words out, unsure as to why there are suddenly tears stinging your eyes. He isn’t even doing anything—his back is facing you as he nonchalantly begins brewing a pot of coffee.

But the thought of him being upset with you, of losing his approval, sends a sharp pain searing through your chest.

“Are you?” he asks, and although his voice holds no malice in it, it causes your whole body to stutter with a harsh breath.

“Yes,” you whimper out, latching onto his arm and tugging in an attempt to draw his eyes to yours, to see how regretful you are, the remorse written across your face. “I should’ve…That was so careless and inconsiderate of me,”

“It was,” he agrees simply, voice still light, as if he’s discussing something as mundane as the weather. “But you’ll never do it again, right?”

“Right,” you agree readily, breathing out the word before you even realize what you’re agreeing to.

“Tell niichan you’ll never worry him like that again,” he finally looks over at you.

“I-I’ll never worry you like that again, niichan, I pr-promise,”

His eyes hold yours for what feels like eons, before he finally twists his arm out of your grasp, instead wrapping it around you and tugging you against his body. You stay staring up at him, eyes wide and obedient, breath bated as you wait for your next order, so pliant and ready to serve him.

“Good,” he whispers, eyes finally softening, and you feel like you can breathe properly again. His free hand cups your face, thumb running along your lips, then your chin, then your jaw. “You want to be good for me, don’t you, sweetheart?”

“Of course,” you respond instantly. Later, you’ll lay awake in your bed, feeling ashamed by your actions, by how readily captivated you were with him, by how easily he was able to manipulate you with those sapphire eyes and that rough voice—

But in that moment, you’ll do anything to pull that little smile from him, anything to hear him tell you you’re good. You just want to be good.

Something dark and primal flashes in those gorgeous eyes as they gaze down at you, a small grin spreading across his face. “Of course,” he repeats softly.

✰ ✰ ✰

He begins to trust you more. You meet his friends, each one terrifying in their own right. Jin is alright, although his brain is fried from drugs, and he talks to and contradicts himself a lot, earning the nickname Twice from Tomura.

Tomura horrifies you to your very core—a tall, lanky man with sunken red eyes and sickly pale skin who looks like he’s one bad day away from death—and Touya tells you very sternly to stay away from him.

A university student not unlike yourself, Keigo is your favourite. Keigo is the most normal, with his wild blonde hair and enticing gold eyes that always look like they’re playfully holding the secrets of the universe just out of your grasp.

Keigo’s brain is always going a hundred miles a minute, although you’d never guess it with his trademark lazy drawl, speaking as if he hasn’t got a care in the world. But he can always keep a conversation going, knows exactly what to say to avoid awkward silences or lulls in the discussion, and you appreciate that. You think he’s so cool—he has so much knowledge about the oddest things, everything and anything, ‘a walking encyclopedia’, Tomura calls it, and it fascinates you to no end.

It’s the speed, Touya tells you one night while you’re laying on the couch, your body on top of his, the pads of his fingers dragging down your back in rhythmic strokes. Speed is Keigo’s drug of choice, you find out. Speed is the reason why Keigo knows as much as he does.

“Sometimes he doesn’t sleep for days,” Touya says. “That’s how he has all the time to memorize everything he knows—though that big overactive brain of his plays a part in it, too,”

The thought inexplicably makes your heart sink in your chest, and you don’t say anything else. If Touya notices your shift in mood, he doesn’t mention it. You idly wonder what Touya’s drug of choice is, but you’re too scared of the answer to ask.

✰ ✰ ✰

It’s only a few nights later when you wake with a violent jolt, breathing laboured as you absentmindedly press your palm to your chest, trying in vain to calm your racing heart.

A nightmare.

You sit in silence for a moment, listening to the sound of your own harsh breaths echoing off the walls and debating what to do next. A minute later, you swing your legs over the side of the bed, wincing when your bare feet touch the cold hardwood, and pad down the hallway.

You try to trick yourself into believing that you aren’t using this purely as an excuse to spend the night with him. It really was so scary, you reason with yourself, it really has made you all shaken up…

Who are you kidding? You didn’t even attempt to go back to sleep.

You’ve been in his room plenty of times now—sitting daintily on his bed as he introduces you to new music, new movies, new books. Stuff that reminds him of you, he says, stuff that he thought you might be interested in. You’re grateful for it; there are so many things you’ve learned in the short time you’ve known him.

That isn’t all, though. There’s no denying the warmth that spreads through your body, that tiny excited flutter in your chest, when he calls your name and interlaces your fingers, leading you toward his room and telling you he’s got something to show you.

Yes, you’ve been in his room plenty of times now. But this is the first time you spend the night in his bed.

He’s still up, soft golden light leaking from under his closed bedroom door. Your hand quivers a little as you lift it to rap your knuckles against the wood. He appears in the doorway a moment later, leaning against the frame in a black t-shirt that looks like it’s a size or two too small for him, riding up to reveal a teasing sliver of milky skin, tips of his hipbones jutting out from the waistband of his plaid pajama pants.

“Princess? What is it?”

You didn’t realize you were staring, and you jump a little at his gravelly voice.

“Oh. I, um—Well, I just…had a nightmare a-and I can’t sleep,”

You can barely look him in the eyes as you say it, your cheeks burning. You both know it’s a lie.

But he plays along.

“Aw, baby,” he coos, drawing you into his arms, into his room, into his bed.

“You’re trembling,” he murmurs as he turns on his side to face you, propping his head up with a hand. “Poor thing. Was it a bad one?”

Your mouth feels like its been stuffed with cotton, rendering you incapable of speech, tongue dry and sluggish. You nod in response, heat seeping into your cheeks again at just how loudly your heart is thumping while you roll onto your side. There’s only a few inches of space between your bodies now, his hot breath fanning across your face as he speaks again.

“Do you want niichan to help you forget about it?”

The question hangs heavy in the air, and you suck your bottom lip into your mouth, eyes searching his. Your thighs squeeze together at the way his voice has dropped an octave, low and husky, familiar heat pooling in the depths of your belly. He waits patiently, lifting a hand to caress your cheek, then runs his fingertips down your bare arm, goosebumps following.

Finally, you nod. You think you see the corners of his lips quirk up into the slightest hint of a smirk, but you blink, and it’s gone.

“Here,” he whispers, hooking an arm around your waist and pulling you against him. Hand cupping your jaw, he tilts your face up and slots his mouth against yours.

You’ve kissed before, of course—in his bed, in yours, on the living room couch, on the kitchen counter with his hips shoved between your thighs—but this…this feels different.

These are kisses with intent, with purpose, with a goal in mind. These are kisses that keep you distracted—slow, soft, messy with saliva—as his hand slips down your body and between your thighs.

Your gasp breaks the kiss, wide eyes blinking up at him then fluttering shut as he brushes a knuckle against your clit. He hushes you, nimble fingers spreading your folds before he drags them up your slit, huffing out a laugh at how wet you already are.

“Were you thinking about something naughty before?” he gasps mockingly, sliding the pads of his fingers back down as he speaks.

His hand withdraws from your shorts and he orders you to lift your hips, tugging the waistband down your thighs. You squirm a little, forcing them further down your legs until you free yourself of them completely, eyes gazing up at him again, awaiting your next command.

Legs part dutifully as his hand travels back down to the apex of your thighs, pushing a finger into your soaking pussy.

It’s slow at first, thrusting leisurely with his middle finger a few times and loosening you up a little before adding his ring finger. Sapphire eyes watch his motions, captivated by how your eager little cunt sucks his fingers in selfishly.

“Look at that, huh?” he breathes, looking down at you. “Such a pretty little pussy you’ve got,”

You open your bleary eyes to peer at yourself, mesmerized by the way his fingers are pumping in and out of you, glistening in the dim light of his bedroom. He curls his fingers and you inhale sharply, hips twitching toward his palm.

“Oh?” he chuckles darkly, knuckles nudging the spot again. “Did niichan find something, baby?”

You don’t know, you’re not sure, you try to tell him, but all you can seem to manage is pathetic little whines while you nod your head.

“Have you ever touched yourself?” he’s asking as the pads of his fingers tap against that spot, your entire body jolting.

“Y-Yes,” you whimper out, a little breathlessly. “But it’s never felt like this,”

“Aw, baby,” he coos, and it’s so condescending. “Then you weren’t doing it right, sweetheart,”

He quickens his pace, chuckles at the way you try to desperately fuck yourself on his fingers at such an awkward angle.

“Poor little thing, can’t even get herself off properly,” he tsks. “You need your niichan to do it for you, don’t you?”

Soft whines spill from your throat as you nod eagerly, your stomach coiling tightly.

“One day,” he breathes, curling his fingers with a vengeance this time, your hips rolling up off the mattress. “When we have the time, I’ll teach you how to make yourself feel so good,”

He’s talking too much. You want to tell him this, tell him to shut the hell up, but every time you try to speak he presses the heel of his palm to your clit and grinds against it, effectively scattering all of your thoughts, soft mewls of niichan the only sound escaping your lips.

Can’t deny his voice is fucking hot though, a form of foreplay all on its own.

And he knows this, can read you like a goddamn book, especially when he’s got his fingers two knuckles deep inside of you. He can feel it, he tells you. You don’t even need to speak; he can feel your thoughts when his voice drops an octave and your cute little hole flutters, when he chuckles and your pussy clenches around his fingers—a slut for his voice, aren’t you?

“Pretty baby, you can’t do anything but nod dumbly, can you? Been fucked stupid by my fingers alone, huh?”

Your head barely moves, lost all control of your body by this point, only able to whimper in response.

“Gonna come all over my fingers, pretty girl?” the knuckle of his thumb begins grazing your clit in quick strokes. “C’mon, make a mess for niichan,”

And it’s pathetic, how quickly your body obeys. Your pussy squeezes once, twice, three times and you’re gushing all over his fingers, juices collecting in his palm, running down his wrist. You’re embarrassed—you’ve never cum that much before, have you?

Breathing still ragged, you nuzzle into his sheets, partially hiding your face from him. Nothing could hide the involuntary grin that forms on your lips, though. Arms snake under your boneless body, tugging a bit.

“Oh no, baby, we aren’t done yet,” Touya’s saying while he hoists you up, letting you lean heavily against him.

Head tilting in confusion, your glazed eyes find his. “Wh-What?”

He looks down at his lap and your gaze follows, a tiny whimper slipping past your lips at the bulge straining against his pants. “Doesn’t niichan deserve a nice reward for helping you forget that scary dream?”

Eyes darting back to his, you nod slowly, whispering out, “Yes. But—But…” But you’re hesitant; you’ve never done anything like this before. Shaking hands reach for the waistband of his pants, beginning to pull them down but freezing when the head of his cock peeks out.

Touya sighs. “Come on, you wanna be a good girl for niichan, don’t you?”

Of course. Of courses you do.

Then he wants you to touch him, he says. He’ll help you; he promises.

“But you gotta get it wet first,”

You ask how, and he laughs at you. “With your tongue, stupid,” he tells you.

He instructs you to kneel on the floor and you comply immediately, trembling legs folding beneath your body as you situate yourself between his knees. He inches forward on the bed a little, shuffling himself to the edge and caging you between his thighs. Bringing his cock close to your mouth, he taps the head against your closed lips.

They part instantly, obediently, his eyes flashing with something sinister as you take the head into your mouth and suck hesitantly, big eyes staring up at him waiting for approval.

He curses, his hips twitching ever so slightly, skin stretched taut over bony knuckles as a hand forms a fist in the sheets. Starting with kitten licks at first, the tip of your tongue barely touches him, tracing veins, then begins to gain more confidence as he groans a little, telling you what to you, that you’re doing good, so good for him.

Watching him through thick lashes, you have the audacity to look bashful as your tongue laves around the shaft, drenching it in saliva. A hand tangles in your hair and yanks, pulling you off his cock when he decides it’s sufficiently wet enough. Long fingers encircle your wrist, bringing your hand to form a fist around him.

“Like this,” he says, jerking your hand up and down.

You’re terrible at it, movements awkward and uncoordinated, but in that moment he doesn’t really care. He’s irritated a little, wondering out loud how anyone can be bad at handjobs while a large hand wraps around yours and forces you to speed up. Bad? Your heart sinks at the small three letter word, a hard lump forming in your throat, looking as though you may start crying.

But he cums quickly after that, ropes of searing hot white painting your cheeks and face. You watch him the entire time, panting a little, lips parted slightly and your tongue darts out to lick them, tasting him.

He laughs at your bitter reaction, and it’s such a patronizing sound.

“Don’t worry,” he says, collecting the cum off your face and forcing his fingers into your mouth. “Someday I’ll stuff your throat full of it.”

✰ ✰ ✰

You can no longer mention needing—no, wanting—anything around him anymore, because within the next few days it’s sitting pretty and perfect on your bed, propped up against your lace trimmed pillows.

He’s so good to you; you should be grateful you have such a generous niichan, one who eats you out and spoils you with gifts. You’re so spoiled.

And he tells you this, in the dead of night when you wake to find him shoving his cock into you, snarling a little at your soft whines of protest.

“Don’t be a brat,” he warns. Just be a good girl and take his cock. He does so much for you, can’t you be good for him?

Yes, yes, you want to be good for him, you want to be the best for him.

By this point you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve woken up in the middle of the night with his head between your thighs, prepping you to take him.

“Stay sleeping, baby,” he’ll tell you, words whispered into your hair as his cockhead nudges against your hole.

As if you could ever stay sleeping when only a few minutes later he’s pounding you into oblivion, large hand clasped over your mouth so tightly his blunt nails are digging into your cheek, so hard that it’s yanking your head back, neck beginning to ache.

He tells you to be quiet, “You don’t want anyone to hear, do you? Then we’d have to stop, and you don’t want that, right, sweetheart?”

You don’t, you whimper. Of course you don’t—you want whatever he wants, you want to be his perfect little baby, you want to be told how good you take his cock, the praise mumbled against your skin in a low, strained voice right before he fills you with cum.

✰ ✰ ✰

He disappears for a few days near the end of December. You have no idea where, Touya answering your curious texts with playful quips at first before he grows tired of it and tells you to stop fucking asking.

But eventually, he returns.

The front door slams shut and your body flinches with a jolt of excitement. Adrenaline spikes your blood when you hear his heavy boots colliding with the hardwood, getting louder, louder, louder…

He passes right by you, not glancing at you at all. Moments later, the sound of water hitting the tiled shower wall echoes down the hallway.

And you wait. Patiently, you wait, like the good little girl you are, not daring to move a muscle. Eventually he re-emerges, hair still damp, a few strands sticking to his neck.

With a groan, he collapses on the couch next to you, flopping his head into your lap and gazing up at you with glazed, blown sapphire eyes.

“You’re high,” you say softly, not accusatory, just an observation. He giggles a little.

“So what if I am?”

“What did you take?”

“Oh,” he gasps mockingly. “Oh no, baby, I can’t tell you that,”

Why? The question is burning on the tip of your tongue, and you can tell that he’s anticipating that to be your next response, but you bite down on your bottom lip, holding it in. You know his answer already, can practically hear his patronizing voice—Because good baby sisters aren’t supposed to know about stuff like this.

“Can I try some?” you ask instead.

All of the mirth fades from his eyes in an instant, and he moves in a flash despite his inebriated state, so quick you can barely tell what’s happening. His large hand wraps around your bicep in a bruising grasp, pulling you towards him as he sits up, his face an inch away from yours.

“Absolutely fucking not,” he spits, cobalt eyes blazing and voice rumbling against your chest. “And if I so much as catch wind that you’re using, have a mere feeling that you’ve tried it—even just once—I’ll slaughter you and the fucker you got it from. Do you understand me?”

Surprised tears spring into your eyes and you nod jerkily, body beginning to tremble as your breath gets caught in your throat. You want to tell him that you didn’t mean it, honest, you promise!; that you were just kidding around, you swear!, but you can’t, voice mangling itself with the hitched little breaths on the back of your tongue.

He growls at your silence, his grip around your arm tightening and you cry out, terrified that he might actually crush the bone with his bare hand.

“Say, yes Touya, I understand,”

“Y-Yes Touya, I understand,” you manage to stutter out, voice returning only at the command of a direct order, tears spilling over and rolling down your cheeks in pairs. His eyes search your face for a moment, his features contorted in fury, before he sneers at you, squeezing your arm once then roughly letting go, shoving you away from him.

You fall backward against the arm of the couch, heart thumping so vigorously you’re sure he can hear it. He groans, throwing his head back and closing his eyes, exasperated.

“Fuck,” he sighs, eyes opening to glare at the ceiling. “You’ve ruined my high,”

You stare at him, breath coming out in uneven huffs, clinging to the couch.

“I-I’m sorry,” you whisper, terrified to move lest you upset him more.

He’s silent for a moment, still staring up, until he lolls his head to the side, glancing at you through the corner of his eye. A small smirk spreads across his face.

“C’mere,” he says, nodding his head a little in indication.

“Wh-What?”

“C’mere,” he repeats. “Come make it up to me,”

Your body’s moving before you’ve given it permission to, crawling into his lap obediently, thighs on either side of his hips. His smirk widens, and you love it—you love how much control he has over you without even trying, you love the way a quiet whimper slips through your lips as his large hands begin kneading your flesh, running up your legs and grabbing your ass.

Lips trail up the column of your neck, and you tilt your head back, a silent plea for more. You can feel the way his lips curl into a grin against your skin, nipping at it a second later.

“So, how you gonna make it up to me? Huh?” he shifts his hips under you, pressing his hard cock into your clothed core. You whine a little, grinding against him.

“I’ve got a few ideas,” you breathe out while sharp teeth mar your collarbone.

“The hell you waiting for? Show me,”

You begin sliding down his body and he pushes on your shoulders, forcing you to your knees between his spread thighs. He watches you through half-lidded eyes, gaping pupils outlined by a thin ring of blue.

Holding his gaze, you lean forward with your pretty little tongue hanging out and begin licking along the straining bulge, tracing it slowly, the denim rough against your sensitive muscle. You relent though, lapping at his clothed cock in slow, long strokes, and his jeans are just thin enough for you to feel him pulse in response.

A giggle bubbles up past your lips, muffled by the denim, already beginning to feel heady as you pull simple reactions from him. Your mouth forms a cute little ‘o’ and you suck on him the best you can through his jeans, drooling all over his lap and soaking through the material.

The hand in your hair tightens into a fist, yanking hard and pulling your mouth away. “Stop fucking teasing,” he warns, a hint of something ominous in his voice.

You obey, because you always obey, tiny fingers working to quickly unbuckle his belt, pop the button, yank down the zipper. He aids you, lifting his hips and allowing you to tug his jeans down his thighs enough for his cock to spring out.

His own hand wraps around the shaft, you pausing mid-action as you reach for it.

“Open,” he demands, your dutiful lips parting immediately, letting him push his cock into the warm, wet cavern.

He sets a brutal, punishing pace from the start, refusing to give you a single moment to adjust. His other hand fists in your hair, forcing you to stay still as he rams his cock down your throat.

Reflexive tears burn your eyes, blurring your vision. You blink quickly to clear them, desperate to watch him, to catalogue all of his micro-expressions and the sound of his voice as he grunts out your name, to burn it into your mind, etch it into your very soul.

Touya’s head falls back against the couch, Adams apple bobbling with his rough whimpers, long neck and sharp collarbone on full display. If your mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied, you’d love to lick up his smooth skin, to trace the dips of his collarbone with your tongue and sign your name in brilliant splotches of blue and purple.

You’re gagging around his cock now, starting to feel lightheaded and struggling to inhale enough oxygen. The ache in your jaw is beginning to spread, but you ignore it, stretching your mouth open wider, to take more, to be good for him, to make him proud. It’s worth it for the hoarse, throaty moans you’re pulling from him, to hear your name shuddered out, followed by a breathy, “Fuck,”

He forces hot cum down your throat a moment later, and you choke on it, sputtering around his cock, throat spasming as it tries to force the foreign object out. He won’t let it, though. He holds your head in place, nose pressed against his pubic bone, and you can do nothing but take it, like a good little girl, like he tells you to.

But it’s all worth it. It’s all worth it, to hear his broken whines like that, to have him look down at you and pull your hair and tell you you’re good, so good for him.

And you’re sobbing by the end of it, gasping for air the moment he lets go of you, wheezing violently as your head collapses against his thigh.

“Did I—” you cough, voice raspy from having your throat fucked raw, “—Did I make it up to you, niichan?” you gaze up at him, eyelashes spiky with residual water. You’re the perfect picture of obedience, strands of hair stuck to your face where your salty tears have dried and swollen lips gleaming with saliva as you watch him with glittering eyes, waiting desperately for his praise.

He looks down at you, eyes devious and diabolical, chest heaving a little. “Of course you did,” he tells you, corners of his lips tugging up into a sharp smirk as you melt into him. “You always do, don’t you?”

#todoroki touya x reader #todoroki touya #dabi x reader #dabi smut #touya x reader #dabi may be a scumbag but he loves his momma #tomura baby i’m so sorry #promise u don’t horrify me at all oof #pls come horrify me more #christ if dabi isn’t touya we’re all gonna look like goddamn fools #a buncha clowns #anyway this is my first time posting something like this #n i haven’t written smut in an extremely long time #so pls be nice #actually u should always be nice #so pls be extra nice #no one beta’d this so there’s a good chance i’ll come back to it n revise it or whatever idk i’m just sick of looking at it rn #the ‘he talks too much’ is inspired by ch 271 w hawks where he’s all ‘he’ll keep talking’#dabi shut the fuck up challenge #prone to monologuing this boy is #also sorry abt the crazy sentences with a thousand commas #apparently now i’m oscar wilde w these run on sentences #idk i still kinda like em tho #i like oscar #tw pseudo-incest #tw noncon #tw dubcon #tw emotional manipulation #tw somnophilia #tw drugs

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realcube · 4 years ago

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The Maid Café || Saiki K x Reader

summary: nendou and kaidou keep pestering saiki to visit their favourite maid café but he shuts them down every time. however, after a bit of prying they manage to convince him to give the place a try and while they are there, you just so happen to be on shift.

tw// cussing, maid café, (she/her) reader

key:

“non italicised text” = somebody besides Saiki speaking

“italicised text” = Saiki telepathically communicating

‘italised text’ = Saiki’s thought

‘Of course Nendou and Kaidou would be into maid cafés of all things — not cat cafés, not internet cafés — it just had to be maid cafés.’

Saiki’s internal monologue began as Kaidou continued gushing on about the cute lady he met at the café a few days ago as an argument to why Saiki should join them next time they go. Not to say Saiki wasn’t listening as he felt extremely sorry for whatever lady had to tolerate Kaidou’s advances and his prayer went out to her but besides that, he really couldn’t care less about the maids or the café.

Until, his attention was involuntarily aroused at the vocalisation of his name from Nendou, “Saiki’s definitely in for Friday, I’m pretty sure I sold him when I told him that the sandwiches there are almost as good as the ramen we usually get.”

‘No, you didn’t. I won’t be coming to join you on Friday. I’d much rather stay--’

Somehow Kaidou managed to cut off Saiki’s internal monologue with his annoying voice, “Don’t be silly, Nendou. You’re not going to win Saiki over with such a ridiculous comparison, one that he clearly doesn’t care about.”

‘Am I delusional? Is this a hallucination? Or did Kaidou just say something logical and based in reality?’

Kaidou’s aura immediately changed to dark and sinister as a mischievous smirk crossed his face, the background squawks of the crows suddenly became much louder for some unknown reason. “Instead, you must locate your opponent's weak point before you can recognise the crucially important moment to exploit it. The process takes patience but it is one I have learned from my many years rebelling against Dark Reunion. Now, young Nendou, watch and learn.” He finished with a dramatic flip of his school jacket which was slung over his shoulders as a cape.

‘What was all that about?’

Saiki wondered before Kaidou turned to him, much less brooding than he was a few seconds ago, and said casually, “Your loss if you don’t come, Saiki — you’ll be the one missing out on some of the best desserts in our whole town — not to mention the coffee jelly.”

✿✿✿✿✿

‘How do I always end up losing to these people? I am a psychic for god’s sake!’

Saiki mentally cursed himself out as he stood shamefully in front of the maid café, wearing a carefully curated outfit — including his germanium ring — created especially to hide his identity from anyone from his school that might pass by the café and spot him in there through the window or something. Honestly, he wouldn’t be caught dead in a maid café, or so he thought.

However, all the reviews he read along with both Nendou and Kaidou’s thoughts helped him conclude that this place’s coffee jelly and general dessert selection is nothing to sneeze at. In fact, his favourite Tumblr blog - DeadlyDesserts11037 - visited the place and gave it a 5 star review, recommending everybody who happens to pass by the town to definitely check the place out. After that, he was sold.

Saiki looked over at his friends and couldn’t help but facepalm in response to their bright red, thrilled expressions. “Good grief, please don’t tell me you are both that excited over ladies in maid outfits.” As you might’ve guessed, Saiki didn’t really understand the concept of a ‘maid café’, so he simply assumed the male obsession with maids had something to do with the objectification of women hence he obviously did not want to take part.

“Saiki, you’re seriously just built different if this doesn’t touch your soul.” They both brushed the pink-haired boy’s comment off, completely mesmerised by the sight of a particularly pretty maid-lady walking by the window — probably on her way to serve a table — carrying a notepad in one hand and a plate with a scrumptious-looking coffee jelly on top.

Saiki followed their gaze, his breath hitching at the sight. He was speechless; no sarcastic comment, no running commentary, nothing. Just..woah! If he had known that the girls that work at this place were so gorgeous and the food looked so delicious, he would’ve came a long time ago.

He wasn’t even sure which one he wanted more; the girl or the jelly. In a way, one wasn’t complete without the other because the coffee jelly which she held high next to her head brought out her (E/C) eyes while her shapely figure highlighted the defined curves of the jelly. Drool was quick to start forming at the corners of his lips but he was even quicker to wipe it away; he was starving.

“We’re going in.”

✿✿✿✿✿

To Saiki’s dismay, it was not the stunning (H/C)-haired girl who he had caught a glimpse of through the glass that ushered them to their table. Rather, it was a slightly less gorgeous maid-lady who had long, bright purple hair which was clearly a wig.

Fortunately for him, after she left Kadiou, Nendou and himself to take their seats, she rushed off saying that someone will come take their orders whenever they are ready.

Even with his psychic abilities, there wasn’t much he could think of to alter fate so the pretty coffee-jelly lady would end up serving their table, and besides that, he was way too caught up in gawking at all the mouth-watering desserts they had pictured on the menu.

Simply glancing over the menu brought a stupid grin to his face, he wanted to try every delectable treat presented in front of him. However, he knew he must exhibit restraint, which was fairly simple as he knew deep down there was only one thing on the menu that he was truly after. You guessed it — coffee jelly.

Usually, he couldn’t care less about what his friends comrades were going to order but in this case, he was tempted to try convince both Kaidou and Nendou to order something he liked so he could take a bite of whatever they were having, “What are you two going to order?”

Yet again though, he was ignored as Nendou and Kaidou were both too busy checking out other types of snacks to care about the ones on the menu.

Then, a movement out of the corner of his eyes caught his attention so his head jolted from the menu to his new target, the beautiful girl he had saw through the window earlier. Previously, she was holding a coffee jelly but now she was basically empty handed, until she approached the table and pulled out a notepad and pen, “May I take your orders?” She asked in the most calming, melodious voice Saiki had ever heard, the sounds that left her mouth were nothing short of angelic. Which made sense since her serving their table must’ve been god’s gift to Saiki for all his hard work.

Chills, Saiki got literal chills before he mused, “A coffee jelly, and two brownies for the pair of clowns.” His blood ran cold; curse his smooth sarcastic comments! Most of the time, he was able to filter himself but due to the nerves that arose while talking to you, he probably shouldn’t be surprised that he had a little slip of the tongue. But now, you probably think he is a bitch that insults people on the regular; which he is, but not usually aloud! Plus, he couldn’t even tell what you were thinking due to his germanium ring and your distant expression, awful combo!

While he was in the middle of feeling bad for himself and considering teleporting away home, a miracle happened, you burst out laughing. And somehow, your laughter was even more silvery than your voice.

Saiki had zoned-out from pure shock for a moment before coming back to reality, noticing that you had started jotting down something in your notepad, a sweet smile still lingering on your face despite the fact you had stopped laughing. “Alright, so one coffee jelly and two brownies. Anything else?” You asked, glancing back and forth between the three equally unique and strange men sitting at the table.

“That’ll be all, thank you.” Saiki telepathically communicated as he usually did, considering actually using his mouth to speak for a change so he didn’t seem weird but in all honesty, he couldn’t be bothered. In any other situation, he would’ve gotten a drink of water or perhaps hot cocoa but right now he was way too afraid of making another error in his speech to request something else.

Silently, he extended his arm to hand you the menu he was given when he entered the café, along with the ones Kaidou and Nendou were given too. His actions single-handedly shooting down your plan of leaning across the table to ‘take the menus’ but in reality it is just a subtle way of showing-off how nice your torso looked in this maid outfit, a trick you learned from your supervisor.

You nodded, closing over your notepad and making your way over to the kitchen, being sure to swing your hips just a little bit extra to impress the pink-haired megane at the table you just took an order from. You mentally cursed your stupid brain though for always crushing on guys/gals who don’t seem the least bit interested in you. In this case, the guy’s attention was divided between his star-struck friends and the desserts on the menu, rather than you which was an unusual sight in a maid café considering that most people would only come to ogle at the waitresses.

✿✿✿✿✿

“So, Saiki.” Kaidou finally landed back into reality after a large chunk of the waitresses roaming around were now in the kitchen which he didn’t have viewing access to, “What did you order us?”

‘So, he was fully aware that the waitress came to take his order, he just chose to ignore her and left me to order his food. What a child, it must be a side-effect of his eighth grade syndrome.’

Saiki couldn’t help but sigh, “I ordered you both brownies.”

Kaidou stuck out his bottom lip to form a pout as he crossed his arm over his chest like a toddler, “I hate brownies.” He muttered to himself, realising that if he wanted something done right, he’d have to do it himself.

An amused smirk tugged at Saiki’s lips but he resisted the urge to laugh, ‘I know.’ He thought, his masterplan to eat more food without looking greedy falling into place. “Oh well, more for me then.”

Suddenly, Nendou spun his head around to abruptly join the conversation, “Hey guys, did you see the hottie that was serving our table?” He inquired with starry eyes, as if he was a kid in a candy store.

Saiki nodded, ‘Obviously I did, you moron. I was the one who ordered the food for goodness’ sake!’

Kaidou shook his head, his eyes lighting up as he leaned in close to Nendou, “Nope! I was busy looking at the other girls, but tell us!”

Nendou chuckled at Kaidou’s enthusiastic reaction before glancing to the side, outstretching his arm and pointing at the waitress that was now approaching the table with the food in her hands. “There she is!”

‘Don’t point at her, you idiot!’ Saiki mentally insulted his friend but instinctively followed the guidance of the tip of his finger until his eyes landed on your shapely figure — accentuated by the nature of the maid outfit — slowly heading toward his table, holding the coffee jelly and the plate of brownies in the same graceful way you did when he saw you through the window.

The gleam of your gorgeous hair, the movement of your luscious lashes, the gentle bounce of your upper body, how your perfectly manicured nails clutched the base of the jelly glass; everything about what he was seeing made him believe that if/when he were to die, this would be his ideal first sight as he passed through the gates of heaven.

Before he knew it, you had reached the table and placed his jelly down on the table, gently nudging it towards him, “One coffee jelly for the cute boy with antennas.” You mused, making Saiki’s heart flutter in a way he was unfamiliar with. Then, you placed the brownies in front of Kaidou and Nednou who sat opposite from Saiki, “And two brownies for the clowns.”

If it wasn’t for the fact the pair of clowns were too busy leching over you in your maid outfit, they’d probably be curious as to your choice of words but luckily for both you and Saiki, they were way to entranced by your visible bra strap to care about the little nickname.

Saiki felt a light blush creep onto his face, which only got worse as you discretely sent him a playful wink before turning on your heels to stroll back to the kitchen, “If you need anything else, just give me a wave.”

All of them hummed agreement in unison until the waitress was out of sight, giving Saiki a moment to process the events that had just went down. Not only did you refer to him as ‘the cute boy with antennas’ but you also winked at him, if that wasn’t a clear sign you were interested, what was? However, Saiki still had his doubts since this was a maid café after all, perhaps you were just trained to do that with all your customers.

Luckily, the had the foresight to slip off his germanium ring to read your mind and that helped him come to the conclusion that you were either interested in him or you were just very competitive as the whole time you were serving the table your thoughts were along the lines of;

‘I’ll adjust my skirt- Ha! You looked! Try resist falling for me now, you hot lil’ megane! Your heart is mine and I know it! See, I’ll fidget with my corset too-- just make a move already, pinkie!’

Although he didn’t appreciate being called ‘pinkie’, he had no right to judge what was going on in your brain. All he could do is be thankful that you didn’t say that aloud.

✿✿✿✿✿

You sighed as you noticed the pink-haired boy and his little posy exit the establishment without so much as a goodbye, or even a wave!

It was disappointing as you had already mentally planned your future with this guy and he had the audacity to do the real life equivalent of leaving you on read. But oh well, it would be approximately a week until you developed a crush on a random customer that lasts for around 30 minutes and for the time being, you can focus on doing your job.

You glumly shuffled over to their table to gather their plates to be washed, then a piece of colourful paper attached to the empty jelly glass caught your eye. As you held up the glass to inspect it further, you realised that it was a sticky note with a message written on it in black ink and neat, cursive handwriting. It read:

‘Dearest waitress,

Thank you for the excellent service, we (myself) tipped accordingly.’

You hadn’t finished reading yet but you were curious as to what he meant by that, and apparently you service must’ve been exceptional as the writer had left a whole ¥2000 tip. That’s a huge addition to the demonia fund.

Followed by this charming little message was an extra tip for you; the writer’s phone number! Meaning that this little sticky note was something you had to protect with your life..so you shoved it in your bra for safe-keeping.

But not before taking a moment to giggle with delight at who the note was signed by,

‘Sincerely, the hot lil’ megane (aka Kusuo Saiki)’

#saiki no psi nan #kusuo saiki x reader #the disaster of psi kusuo saiki #the disastrous life of saiki k.#saiki k x reader #saiki x reader #saiki headcanons #saiki k headcanons #kusuo x reader #saiki kusou no psi nan #kusou saiki x reader #saiki fluff #saiki k fluff #saiki k oneshot

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jayeray-hq · 3 years ago

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Twin Kittens (Part 1)

Hey everyone! This is my part for the Paws and Claws Collab that was with @katslutski The theme of the collab was hybrids (puppy/kitty/bunny etc) so if you’re interested check it out!

Unfortunately as usual I got excessively wordy, so this is going to be split into three parts. This part alone is about 20K words and we're only about a third of the way through! so it definitely had to be split up.

If you like this feel free to check out my Atsumu or my Osamu masterlists!

While there is no smut in this part there will be in the future thus this story is 18+ minors DNI please!

TW: Previous mentions of past abuse, gaslighting, verbal, death threats, hybrids have been treated like slaves before

This story is Fem Reader x Atsumu x Osamu but there will be no actual incest. While there will be a threesome at the end the boys won't ever touch one another sexually.

“Are you alright?” your neighbor Ojirou asked, a concerned look on his face as he watched you listlessly stir your drink with the straw, playing with the melting ice in the glass.

The two of you were actually good friends, having lived peacefully side by side for over five years now. You’d met on the very first day when you moved in, you’d been struggling to open the door with a large box in your arms and he’d rushed to the rescue. He and his hybrids diligent Kita, the blue merle border collie, and sly, sleek Suna the Siamese cat, had all pitched in to help you get moved in and settled. You’d been good friends with all three of them ever since.

It was his turn to host your traditional Friday night dinner, so you’d gone over to his apartment determined to enjoy yourself. However, something must’ve given away the rough day you’d had, because all three of them had been casting you concerned looks all night and trading glances when they thought you couldn’t see.

It was apparently Aran’s job to confront you about it, though both hybrids were looking at you expectantly. Well, Kita was looking at you expectantly, Suna was pretending not to pay attention, his phone in his hands, but you could see him watching out of the corner of his eye.

“What makes you think something’s wrong?” you asked determined to at least give it a try.

The stern look you got from Kita and the sympathetic smile from Ojiro told you how ultimately fruitless the effort had been, so you caved in with a sigh, pushing your glass away so you could slump face down on the table burying your head in your arms. You’d tell them, but that didn’t mean you wanted to be necessarily looking them in the eye when you did.

“You know how I went to that thing with some of my girl friends today?” you asked tiredly.

There were acknowledging hums all around even from Suna who you saw from the corner of your eye was no longer pretending to look at his phone and instead watching you like some rare breed of animal in a zoo doing something particularly fascinating.

“Well it was fun, great even,” you told them with a small quirk of your lips, “Right up until we started talking about significant others. Apparently two of them are getting married soon, one has a baby on the way, and the rest are in steady loving relationships or have openly declared they aren’t interested in that kind of thing. So guess who was the only sad single there?”

“Ah,” Ojirou acknowledged a well of sympathy in his voice.

“And of course once they found out, they were like ‘oh I think my husband has a brother’ or ‘oh I have this great friend from work you’d just love,” you ranted, earning a quiet snicker from Suna, which prompted you to lift your head up so you could dig back at the cat hybrid who looked to be having far too much fun at your expense.

“They even asked me why I didn’t date my nice neighbor, the one I’m always hanging out with,” you added on ruthlessly, ignoring Ojirou’s shocked sputters, “But I told them he was in a committed relationship. They were skeptical at first, but then I told them that I was sure because someone is extremely loud, enough that I’m forced to use headphones to drown out the yowling.”

Poor Ojirou was coughing, clearly dying of embarrassment, and even Kita had the faintest red tinge to his cheeks. Unfortunately, Suna, unbothered as ever, simply smirked at you, which confirmed some of your suspicions that he’d been doing it on purpose, the brat.

Heaving another forlorn sigh you decided to give up and give poor Ojirou a break, making a mental note to make it up to him somehow. The poor guy really didn’t deserve to be caught in the crossfire between you and Suna.

“So, I spent the time being relentlessly hounded until it was time to leave,” you continued on, pretending not to notice Kita patting Ojirou’s back sympathetically, “I tried to explain to them that I just don’t have the time and energy it takes to go out and start dating people, that work was taking up too much of my time, but they weren’t having any of it.”

“It sounds like a rough time,” Ojirou told you, with genuine sympathy, the man too kind even after you’d embarrassed the hell out of him, “like when I go home and baa-chan asks when I’m going to settle down and get married.”

Suna let out an involuntary hiss at that, and Kita’s shoulders stiffened up a bit. Even though hybrid-human relationships were accepted and even almost expected between them and their owners these days, it didn’t mean that everyone accepted them as ‘true’ relationships. There were a good chunk of people, mostly conservatives and the older generation who believed that human/human relationships were the only valid ones.

This was no doubt because of the fact that most hybrid children, once they hit eighteen chose to go to hybrid adoption centers rather than staying with their parents. This was partly because it was one of the few good ways to get out from under your parents roof.

Hybrid rights had come a long way from when they’d first been implemented a few decades ago, back when they were considered something of a toy and a pet, not better than a slave. However, they technically still required a human ‘owner’ to do things like go to school, find a job, or even be out in public unsupervised.

There were people working to change that of course, and you’d donated heavily to the cause and actively supported it, but change was slow going, so for now it was what it was. It didn’t help that there were a good deal of people around like Ojirou’s grandma who viewed hybrids as less than human, and would probably never acknowledge his relationship or any children they had, especially if the children were hybrids too.

It was something you’d listened to him vent about more than once, happy to lend him a listening ear, especially since he’d done the same for you plenty of times over the years.

“It wasn’t quite that bad,” you admitted, giving him your own sympathetic smile, “but it was rather depressing.”

“Do ya even want a companion like that?” Kita asked her reasonably, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard ya talk about wantin’ a relationship other than rantin’ about a few failed dates here and there. If ya don’t I don’t see why it should be a problem, and not any of their business either.”

“Except I think I kind of do,” you admitted with a grimace, to the practical dog-hybrid who always gave solid, dependable advice, “I never planned to spend the rest of my life alone you know? I just always put my career first figuring relationships could come later, when I had more time, but now I’m starting to wonder if later will ever come.”

“And ya don’t want to date?” Kita asked with a slight frown, “I’m sure ya could make time if ya really wanted to, we could change our dinners around fer a while maybe?”

“No way,” you protested immediately, “Dinners with you guys are my only bastion of sanity. Plus I’m not even sure I want to go out and meet people, frankly at this point I’m not even sure I know how. It just… gets a little lonely coming home to an empty apartment sometimes you know?”

“So why don’t you get a hybrid?” Ojirou asked, his tone eminently reasonable despite the shock of what he’d said.

“A hybrid?” you repeated a little dumbfounded, “Me?!”

“Well why not?” he defended, stroking his recently grown goatee with his thumb and forefinger, “You’re wealthy enough to afford one, it would solve your companionship issue, and you wouldn’t have to date anyone, just go to a hybrid adoption center and find someone you’re compatible with.”

When he put it like that it did sound reasonable, even if it wasn’t an idea that had ever occurred to you. A lot of your friends, not just Ojirou, had hybrid companions, one of the weddings discussed earlier that day was even to a hybrid even if it wouldn’t be official until they could get proper legislature passed. You just had never really considered it an option for yourself.

“Do you think I could?” you asked with a light frown, turning the idea over in your mind, the question directed more at Kita than anyone else, both because he was always the most reasonable of the three and because as a hybrid you thought he’d probably be more qualified to answer whether you were a fit ‘owner’.

However to your surprise it wasn’t Kita, but Suna who answered first informing you in his normal lazy drawl, “You’d do well with a hybrid I think, probably something lower energy, like a cat, and we’re pretty self-sufficient as you know, so you wouldn’t have to worry about leaving it home alone like you would a pet.”

“He’s right,” Kita agreed, after a thoughtful pause, “Personally I believe ya would do well with a hybrid, ya get along with us well enough. Plus if yer worried we can help ya look after them. Suna needs a playmate anyway, he’s been getting’ up ta too much mischief lately when Aran and I ain’t here.”

Suna didn’t even bother to protest, just shrugged, completely unbothered by the accusation. Figuring you might as well take advantage of the situation you asked a few more questions, all of which were answered by your friends who all had a lot of input on what kind of hybrid you should get.

You left that night with your head stuffed full of information, after telling them you needed time to think it over. Getting a hybrid was a lifechanging thing and you didn’t want to run off half-cocked. It had gotten you an approving nod from Kita and a supportive pat on the shoulder from Ojirou. Suna had simply given you a knowing smirk, as if the smug cat hybrid already knew exactly what you were going to do as you walked out the door.

You stared up at the hybrid adoption center, not quite sure how you’d ended up here. For the last week or so, ever since Ojirou had brought it up you’d had hybrids on the brain. You’d found your eyes wandering to look at them when they passed you in the street and idly daydreaming in your down time what it might be like to have one waiting when you came home and fantasizing about what kind you might get.

Normally you were very focused and productive at work, but somehow, you’d found yourself scrolling through different sites, putting in research into what kind of facility you should visit and what you’d need to do. It had gotten bad enough that some of your coworkers had noticed your distraction, which was the final nail in the coffin.

You’d already known which center Ojirou had used to choose Kita and Suna, and so at the end of a particularly long day, quietly dreading heading home to your empty apartment you’d instead found yourself driving over to the center.

It was on the smaller side when it came to hybrid adoption centers, privately run and owned by Azumane Industries, a fashion line that created clothes that specifically catered to hybrids. Ojirou had, had nothing but good things to say, and so gathering your courage you left your car to head resolutely inside.

The lobby was rather quiet, only one other patron and two people manning the desks, both of whom looked up when you entered. You were a bit surprised to see the only two workers in sight were hybrids, one a silver cat of some type and the other clearly a German shepherd.

In hindsight it made a lot of sense to have hybrids be in charge of the adoption of other hybrids as they would likely know best how to match people up. However, you rarely saw that kind of practicality when it came to hybrids especially because you knew there was a lot of prejudice out there.

You offered the cat a hesitant smile, stepping up to the desk, the smile he gave back one that was both kind and welcoming as he introduced, “Welcome to Azumane Industries Hybrid Adoption Center. My name is Sugawara, how can I help you today?”

“I’m looking to adopt,” you admitted, unsure what else to say you tacked on, “My friend recommended this place to me, so here I am.”

“Well, we��ll take good care of you,” he assured you calmly, “Usually we do this by appointment, but you’re lucky. It’s a slow day and we have an opening, so I’d be happy to start the process with you if you’re willing.”

“Great,” you told him with a quiet sigh of relief, glad that he could fit you in. Honestly you should’ve known that a place like this would require a call ahead at least. It would’ve served you right for being so impulsive if they hadn’t been able to squeeze you in, “Just tell me what I need to do.”

Sugawara offered you a sly grin, one that reminded you of Suna as he promptly pushed a large stack of paperwork in your direction and handed you a pen. You grimaced at the sight of it but set to work, quietly filling out the forms one by one and handing each of them to Sugawara after so he could log them into his computer.

The forms reminded you of a loan or job application in a lot of ways, asking after your health, your income, your living situation, if you had a criminal record, any previous experience with hybrids etc. It took you quite a while to fill them all out, and by the end of it your wrist was sore and you’d signed your name more times than you cared to remember. However, since Sugawara had been filling in as you went you didn’t have to wait long to move on to the next step.

“Congratulations,” he told you with an amused smile, watching as you massaged your wrist, “You’ve been approved to adopt from our center, which means we now get to the fun part.”

“Fun part?” you questioned a little warily, having learned from Suna that a cat hybrid smiling at you didn’t necessarily mean good things for your sanity.

“Tell me about what kind of hybrid you’d like,” he told you leaning forward, elbows braced on the desk as he watched you intently, “Do you have any preferences? I’ve read all your information as we’ve gone along so I have some ideas, but I’d like to hear from you what you think you want.”

“I’m not sure where to start,” you admitted, feeling a little overwhelmed.

“That’s alright,” he assured you, “That’s what I’m here for. Let’s start with species, that’s always good and will narrow things down a bit.”

“I know I want a cat or dog hybrid,” you told him immediately glad to have some kind of answer for him, “Rabbit and rodent hybrids have heats and ruts too often for me to handle given how busy work keeps me.”

Heats and ruts were one of the big things that separated hybrids from humans and were part of the reason it was hard for them to find and hold down jobs. There were two kinds of hybrid within each species, alphas and omegas.

Alphas were usually more aggressive, stubborn, and willful. You needed to have a more dominant personality to have an alpha hybrid otherwise they’d walk all over you. Alphas also had a period called a rut, where their hormones skyrocketed and made them want to breed with anything and everything. It was a really uncomfortable time for them, and made them even more aggressive.

Omegas were generally more passive, quiet and compliant. They tended to be favored over Alpha hybrids as companions because of their more docile nature. They had periods called heats, which were similar to an Alphas rut, the only difference being they wanted to be bred rather than to breed. It made them needy and clingy the entire time.

Both heats and ruts lasted anywhere from a couple of days to a week depending on the species of hybrid. Dogs and cats had week long heats, but they only happened two to three times a year, whereas rabbit and rodent hybrids only lasted a few days, but happened every week and a half to two weeks.

You knew it wasn’t necessarily expected for a hybrid owner to stay home when their hybrid was in heat or rut, but you also knew it was those times that hybrids tended to be more reckless. Most of the research you did advised that you should if you could, even if you weren’t the one who was going to be sexually intimate with your hybrid. There were of course hybrid heat centers, where hybrids could go to find willing partners and get their needs taken care of, but you’d heard horror stories about places like that and didn’t want to use one unless you absolutely had to.

“There are medications to manage heats and ruts,” Sugawara pointed out reasonably, a slight frown on his face.

“I know,” you agreed, “But I did some research and it looks like most hybrids don’t like to take them because they have nasty side effects, like potential infertility, mood drops, and weight gain. If there’s a rodent or rabbit hybrid that wants to voluntarily take the medication then that could be fine, but I’ve heard only a few ever want to risk it.”

Sugawara looked surprised for a moment, then slowly nodded, “It’s good you’ve looked into things, and it’s nice to see someone who’s come prepared. I’ve heard a bit of that too, so no rabbits or rodents. Do you have any preference Alpha versus Omega?”

“Not really,” you admitted with a helpless shrug, feeling a little bad for not being able to narrow down the criteria for him, “I’m pretty open so long as they can fit into my lifestyle, are a little more independent, and think they’ll get along with me.”

“Well you’ll at least have lots of options,” Sugwara assured you, with a smile that told you he wasn’t off put by the fact that you didn’t know exactly what you wanted either, “Does that mean you don’t have a preference for breed either?”

“That’s right,” you agreed with a firm nod, “I just want someone who’s going to be compatible with me, everything else is secondary.”

“Okay,” he told you cheerfully, “I’m sure we can do that! Though it might take us a little bit to narrow things down. Since you aren’t picky you might as well come with me to start looking. Daichi can you manage the desk on your own?”

“Sure,” the german shepherd hybrid agreed, from where he’d been sitting quietly, keeping watch over the two of you and typing away on his computer, since there was literally no one else in the lobby, “Just keep a radio on you so I can call you back up here if it gets busy Suga.”

Your soon to be guide agreed with a smile, plucking one of the aforementioned radios up and attaching it to his belt, before standing up from the desk. He stretched in a very feline manner, then ushered you towards a door that led toward the back of the building, tail swishing peacefully behind him.

“Each species of hybrid has its own floor,” Sugawara explained as he led you through the hall, “Bunnies are on the top floor, rodents underneath them, cats on the second floor and dogs here on the first. Each floor has four separate wings, separated into categories depending on whether the hybrid in question is male or female, alpha or omega. These wings have private rooms in them and are connected by a shared space.”

“We’ll be going into the shared space,” he explained pausing outside one of the doors, “It’s where hybrids come both to hang out, and to meet people. If a hybrid isn’t interested in being adopted by a specific human they’ll simply return to their rooms until the human leaves. This way we ensure that no one gets coerced into adoption. We also keep a close eye on things with security cameras in the shared space, for both the safety of humans and hybrids. Before we enter the room, I need you to give me verbal consent to allow yourself to be filmed.”

“That’s fine,” you told him, more than a bit impressed with how thorough and organized the whole thing was, along with the lengths they went to, to ensure everyone’s comfort.

“Alright then, let’s introduce you to the dogs,” he teased, with a confident smile.

The minute the door opened, almost every head turned in your direction, making you feel a bit awkward and unsure. Some of the hybrids were in their human forms, ears and tails the only hint of their non-human status, while others were lounging around in their secondary animal form.

The animal form of a hybrid was indistinguishable from a normal animal of the same breed. The only thing that might give it away was the high level of intelligence. Your research told you that hybrids tended to act more on their instincts when in animal form, which could be both a good thing and a bad thing.

Case in point, the minute you entered with Sugawara one enormous grey and white speckled dog came bounding over barking his head off. He was absolutely huge, and only the madly wagging tail kept you from cringing back as he charged over, his barking immediately setting off a few of the others.

You got the wind knocked out of you a bit as he collided with you, though thankfully the door was behind you, and kept you from being knocked off your feet as he placed enormous paws on your shoulders, burying his face in your hair and sniffing enthusiastically. You froze, unsure exactly what to do in this situation, and more than a bit uncomfortable.

Luckily Sugawara immediately came to your rescue, shoving the big dog off as he scolded, “Bokuto! What have I told you about jumping up on our guests!”

The big dog immediately began to whine, tail tucked between his legs, and you wanted to feel bad for him, except you were still a bit unnerved.

“Sorry about him,” Sugawara apologized with a sigh, “He’s harmless I promise, just incredibly enthusiastic about new people.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him, hesitantly reaching out to Bokuto palms first to see if he might be interested, only to have him turn away. Unsure what to do you glanced at Sugawara, whose tail was swishing in clear agitation.

“Ignore him,” the silver haired cat hybrid told you, “He’s just sulking because he got scolded. In fact, better yet ignore all of them, since they can’t stop being rude and barking.”

This last bit, along with the fierce glare that accompanied it was leveled at the room in general, earning some sheepish looks from a couple of the dog hybrids who were in human form, and managing to quiet several of the barking ones who were in animal form.

“Come on,” he urged with one last flick of his tail, “I should’ve started you with the cats anyway. You seem like a cat person to me, and I assure you they’ll have much better manners. If you don’t find what you’re looking for there, we’ll come back, but let’s explore the cat option first and give them time to recall their manners.”

You allowed him to usher you out of the room and toward the elevator, trusting his judgment. It was funny that he’d said you were a cat person, as he was actually the third cat hybrid to have told you so, Suna being one and the Siamese hybrid of one of your coworkers being the other.

It took you less than a minute to get up to the next floor, and when Sugawara ushered you into the cat hybrid room you could immediately feel the difference. There was no noise for one, just a bunch of curious eyes turned in your direction, but it didn’t feel hostile at all.

Sugawara quickly introduced you to the cat hybrids, telling them you’d come to adopt and had ‘just been slobbered all over by the dog hybrids’ so if they could all ‘mind their manners’ that would be great. You were a little amused at the exasperated hybrid’s antics, and you weren’t the only one, if the quiet snickering from a hybrid with particularly messy hair was any indication. However you were also grateful to him for being so diligent as he introduced you to everyone.

Slowly, several cat hybrids meandered up to you, some in human form, some in cat form, though some also stayed in place clearly observing everything. You chatted lightly with the ones in human form, while letting the ones in cat form do as they pleased, answering their questions and asking a few of your own.

It was a much more relaxed experience, something you were infinitely grateful for after the sudden chaos of the dog hybrid room, and you had to wonder if the cat hybrids who’d pegged you as a cat person hadn’t been right after all. You were in the middle of quietly talking to a lovely female alpha hybrid named Shimizu when Sugawara’s radio blared to life. Apparently, the front had gotten rather busy and Daichi desperately needed his help.

“Will you be alright if I leave you here?” Sugawara asked you seriously, “This shouldn’t take too long, and Shimizu is more than capable of looking after you.”

“Sure,” you agreed, after a quick glance at the hybrid in question, who gave an acknowledging nod of her head, “I don’t mind.”

“Good,” he agreed with a bright grin, before rounding on the rest of the room, “And all the rest of you better behave or I’ll hear why!”

With one last warning glare around the room he turned on his heel and left, leaving you in Shimizu’s capable hands. The two of you continued to talk amiably as several cat hybrids came by in one form or another to sniff at you or listen in on the conversation from nearby. A number of them only came over for a few minutes, lingered a bit and then left, spreading back out to the room or going into the hallways that led to their private rooms, however a good chunk of them stayed nearby as well.

Chatting lightly with Shimizu and a few of the others you found you really liked the poised and graceful cat hybrid and might’ve looked into adopting her. Unfortunately, Shimizu quickly made it clear that she had some plans of her own, that included getting herself and her young and adorable munchkin kitten hybrid Yachi adopted by one of their frequent visitors.

She was however, more than happy to give her own opinion on some of the other hybrids around, most of whom seemed to respect both her and her opinion a lot. You were listening to Shimizu tell you a bit more about Yachi, who was watching from a safe distance, clearly anxious, but also unwilling to leave, when you felt something paw at your leg.

A quick glance down revealed a long haired fluffy looking cat, in shades of silver and white who was staring up at you expectantly. None of the other cat hybrids had actually dared to touch you, a few coming close, but none making actual moves to greet you.

A little intrigued you crouched down so you’d be closer to his eye level, and extended your hands for him the same way you did for Suna when he was in his cat form, giving him a choice about whether he wanted to be touched or not. The cat hybrid eyed your hands thoughtfully for a minute, before sauntering within reach, nudging his head against your palm.

Taking your cue you allowed yourself to pet him, gently rubbing at his silky ears and enjoying the feeling of his thick, plush coat. His back arched pressing closer into your hands, eyelids lowering in contentment as you carefully massaged your fingers through his fur in a way you knew Suna enjoyed.

A rumbling purr escaped his throat and you couldn’t help the pleased smile that crossed your lips at the sound as he pressed his way closer to your torso, entering the circle of your arms and keeping himself there. You were caught up in petting him for a moment and didn’t immediately notice, but after a few seconds you realized the room had gotten very quiet.

It had been quiet before, as cat hybrids didn’t make a lot of noise in general, but now it was almost deathly still outside the small purring sounds from the cat under your hands. You immediately froze and glanced up at Kiyoko who was watching the two of you with wide eyes.

“Is something wrong?” you asked, more than a bit concerned.

“You pet him,” Shimizu murmured, more to herself than to you.

“Should I not have?” you asked worriedly, moving to pull your hands away, “I’m sorry I didn’t realize. I pet my neighbor’s cat hybrid all the time when he’s in the mood for it.”

The cat hybrid under your hands made a noise of protest as you pulled your hands away, giving Shimizu what you assumed to be a rather annoyed look based on her baffled and slightly contrite expression.

“No,” she assured you quickly, “We like to be pet, physical affection is important to hybrids. It’s just that particular one doesn’t usually allow anyone to touch him.”

“Do you mind?” you asked the hybrid in question, holding out your hands again.

He gave an agreeing mew and pressed his head to your palm, which you assumed meant you could resume petting. The fur under your fingers was clearly well taken care of, soft and plush and you truly wouldn’t have minded continuing to pet him until he got sick of you.

However, you were interrupted by a furious yowling sound that immediately made you jump, your head snapping up to search for the source of the noise. It turned out to be another long haired fluffy cat, this one in shades of gold and white who came charging out of the halls and ran straight at you.

You didn’t even have a second to react as the cat that had been in your arms darted around to hide behind you. Not that it stopped the oncoming golden one who didn’t even bother to go around and instead went right over you, claws digging into your arm as he attempted to get at the silver one.

You let out a yelp of surprise and pain, as he launched himself off your shoulder at the silver cat behind you who immediately darted out of reach, running around you in dizzying circles with the golden one fast on his heels both of them yowling, hissing and spitting, clearly having some kind of argument.

It only took a moment for you to regain your bearings and decide you needed to put an end to whatever this was, since poor Shimizu didn’t look at all ready to step in, an utterly appalled look on her face. Luckily you had quick reflexes and managed to snag both cats around the middle and stand up quickly, the abrupt shift immediately silencing both, no doubt shocked by your interruption.

“I think that’s quite enough of that,” you scolded firmly, as you hefted the two carefully, keeping them firmly separated. They were a bit heavier than they looked but certainly not too much for you to keep aloft.

“You,” you scolded the golden one, gently shaking him, who had turned to stare up at you with wide copper colored eyes, “I don’t know what he did to you or why, but I’m sure whatever it was could’ve been resolved without the ruckus. I also don’t appreciate being climbed on or used as a spring board.

“And you,” you gently shook the silver one in turn, who looked equally surprised to be addressed, “I’m not sure if he deserved whatever you did or not, but you shouldn’t have been causing a ruckus either, and I don’t appreciate you using me as a shield.”

“From what I understand, in order to be here you have to be considered adults,” you continued firmly, “So I suggest you act like it, and figure this out between yourselves without dragging innocent bystanders into your mess!”

With that you loosened your grip, fully expecting both of them to jump to the floor. However, both continued to simply hang limply in your grasp, watching you with curious eyes that you realized rather abruptly were almost completely identical.

“Siblings huh?” you asked no one in particular, nodding to yourself, “I suppose that explains a lot.”

“Are you alright?” Shimizu asked you worriedly, “You’re bleeding.”

A quick glance at your arm showed you were indeed bleeding, small pinpricks of blood welling up from where the golden cat had dug his claws into you. It stung a bit, but you didn’t think it was too bad.

“I’m alright,” you assured her, kneeling down and releasing both cats, since they seemed disinclined to continue fighting, and you wanted your hands free, “Though I’d appreciate some disinfectant and some band aids if you’ve got them.”

“Of course,” Shimizu assured you with a quick nod, “Just let me get them and I’ll be right back.”

The elegant hybrid moved with enviable grace and speed as she exited the room, leaving you alone. A quick look around the room showed that almost every eye was now on you, and you heaved a sigh, not exactly pleased to be the center of attention, especially since none of them did anything but stare, none of them bothering to approach, just look.

You glanced down in surprise when you felt something touching your leg, only to find the golden cat headbutting your shin, rubbing his face against your calf affectionately as he twined his way through your legs.

“Does that mean you’re sorry,” you asked, crouching back down and offering your hands to the pretty, fluffy cat.

He immediately rubbed his face against your hands too, which you took as permission to continue your petting, rubbing your hand affectionately over his head and earning a happy purr from the feline who arched happily into your hands.

You were distracted from your petting by a paw, which came to rest on one of your wrists, the silver cat watching with obvious envy in his pretty copper colored eyes. Luckily for both of you, you had two hands, and you reached out to pet him too after assuring it was okay. The golden cat clearly wasn’t too happy about his brother’s presence, but didn’t kick up a fuss, instead pressing himself closer and becoming more insistent as he purred ever louder. The silver cat didn’t seemed to pay him any attention though, simply soaking up your attention and affection.

“Here,” Shimizu offered as she came back, first aid kit in hand, “Do you need any help getting bandaged up?”

You were about to accept her offer, as attempting to bandage your dominant arm was always a pain, when you felt something strange under your hand. You turned your attention back to the cat hybrids you’d been petting just in time to see the silver one shift, form becoming large, limbs extending, body lengthening and bulking up until he stood in front of you in human form.

You blinked, utterly startled as you stared up at him, taking in his appearance. He was incredibly handsome in his human form, with the same silvery grey hair as his fur in cat form in an undercut and bright bronze eyes that peered out at you from under heavy lids. He had a strong, slightly square jaw and thick eyebrows, with blunt cheekbones and cupids bow lips.

He was also surprisingly big, at least six feet tall, and maybe a bit more than that, with broad shoulders and a trim waist. He was wearing a simple black t-shirt that clung to his chest, showing off the definition of his muscles. To top it all off he had two cat ears poking out from his silvery hair and a fluffy tail that was slowly waving back and forth as he looked at you.

“I’ll do it,” he told the two of you, his voice pleasant and lightly accented, his hand held out to Kiyoko gesturing for her to pass him the first aid kit, “I’ll bandage ya up. It’s only fair since the moron who scratched ya is too busy bein’ pampered.”

That earned a hiss from the golden cat, who immediately began to shift under your hands. You watched in surprise and no small amount of awe as he turned into a carbon copy of the other man who’d appeared, only with golden hair, ears and tail. You’d realized the two were related, but you hadn’t realized they were identical twins. Twins were really rare for hybrids, even more rare than human twins. As such they were usually snapped up for adoption right away, so it was rare to see them in any sort of center.

“If ya hadn’t stolen my puddin’ I wouldn’t have chased ya and scratched her in the first place,” the golden cat hybrid hissed at his brother.

“Well if ya hadn’t eaten my onigiri, maybe I wouldn’t have had to eat yer puddin’” the silver haired one retorted, his tone and expression both flatter compared to his sibling who looked like he might lunge at his twin at any moment.

Not wanting to get in the middle of a literal cat fight you held your own hand out to Kiyoko, who gratefully placed the first aid kit in your hands, then plopped down to sit cross legged on the floor. Your sudden movement startled both cat hybrids who turned to look at you, but you pointedly ignored them as you worked on opening the kit, and pulling out the things you’d need.

“Here I got it,” the golden haired one told you, plopping down beside you, “That scrub ain’t right about a lot of things, but he is right about this. I scratched ya, and I should fix ya.”

You gratefully held your arm out to him, and watched as he gently dabbed the scratches with disinfectant, grimacing slightly at the sting. You were distracted enough by his careful movements that you almost didn’t notice the other twin, right up until he gently smeared Neosporin over the scratches, placing small bandages over the deeper punctures.

“Thank you,” you told them both when they finished, automatically reaching up to pet their heads, but then pausing as you realized the gesture might not be as welcome in their human form.

Your worries were quickly allayed through as the golden one practically fell into your palm, soft, happy purring noises leaving his mouth as you gently scratched the base of his ears. His twin however didn’t immediately move for you, and you turned concerned eyes on him, worried he might be offended. The minute he saw you looking though he immediately leaned forward, pressing his head to your palm, his own soft purrs leaving his throat as you carded your fingers through his hair.

“I’m back,” a familiar voice sang, the door to the room sliding open to reveal Sugawara, with a cheerful grin on his face, a grin that was immediately replaced by wide eyed shock as he saw you and the two hybrids who were nearly in your lap with how close they were pressing towards you.

However, shock melted into fury as his eyes saw the open first aid kit and the bandages on your arm, his words nearly a hiss as he demanded, “What happened?!”

Both hybrids immediately stiffened under your hands, drawing closer to you, either looking to protect you or looking for protection you weren’t sure. Either way you allowed it, rubbing your hands over the backs of their necks in a way that always seemed to sooth Suna as you answered, “We just had a bit of a mishap is all, but we’ve cleared it up.”

“Are you sure?” Sugawara demanded anxiously, “We were told when they were brought in that they’d had a bit of trouble before, but they never mentioned that they might attack humans.”

The golden-haired twin seemed to bristle, and if he were in cat form you were sure all his fur would be puffed out as he glared at Sugawara. His twin didn’t look nearly as bothered on the surface, but close as you were, you could see how tight the muscles in his neck and shoulders were as if he was about to spring forward at any moment.

Instinctively you pulled the golden twin toward you, tipping him over into your lap. Despite his size it wasn’t all that difficult given he’d been practically leaning all his weight on you. He let out a yelp of surprise, but stayed still as you buried your fingers in his hair, keeping his cheek pillowed on your thigh. Your other hand gently squeezed the back of the silver twin’s neck, both holding him still and reminding him of your presence.

“It wasn’t an attack, simply an accident,” you assured Sugawara, as you soothed your thumb over the tense muscles of the silver one’s neck, hoping to get him to relax, “A bit like what happened with the dog hybrid earlier.”

“If you’re sure,” Sugawara told you, watching your pet the twins with wide eyes, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing, “Does that mean you’ve decided to take them then? I know you were a little worried about adopting one hybrid so I never imagined you’d want two at once.”

“What?” you asked, a little overwhelmed by the sudden onslaught of information, and the assumption he’d made.

“You’d have to take both of them,” Sugawara explained gently, “Admittedly sometimes twins are separated, but we don’t do that unless they want to be separated, and in this case both of them have stated they want to stay together.”

“That makes sense,” you agreed, with a smile. It was good that the center accommodated things like that, and you made a mental note to thank Ojirou for directing you to such an upstanding place.

“Should I get paperwork started?” Sugawara asked, with an answering smile, “If you’re taking the twins it will take a bit more work than usual, so I’d like to get started right away. No pressure though, you don’t have to make a decision today if you don’t want to.”

“I hadn’t really thought about adopting them,” you admitted, and felt both twins stiffen under your hands, so hurried to reassure them, “We haven’t had a chance to chat much yet. I’d like to talk to them a little bit first before we make any decisions.”

“Of course,” the kindly hybrid agreed with an understanding nod, “We’ll give the three of you some space and let you get to know one another a bit better.”

“Thank you,” you told him politely, waiting until he’d ushered Kiyoko a little bit away, clearly trying to give you some sense of privacy despite the fact that they were still well within earshot for hybrids, and likely interrogate the elegant female about what exactly had happened while he was gone.

“Do ya not want us,” the golden haired one asked you, once the two were gone, rolling over in your lap to peer up at you with wide copper eyes, the hint of a pout on his lips, and a little bit of hurt in his eyes.

“I don’t know yet,” you told him honestly, gently stroking his golden hair away from his eyes, “We don’t know each other, yet do we? Do you even know if you want to come with me?”

The two cat hybrids glanced at each other, clearly communicating silently with each other for a moment before turning back to you. The golden haired one had apparently been elected spokesperson because he was the one to admit, “We wouldn’t mind goin’ home with ya.”

“But you don’t even know my name, do you? And I don’t know yours either,” you pointed out, utterly baffled that they’d apparently already decided.

“I heard mister pleasant over there when he introduced ya,” the silver haired one told you with a shrug, “But if it matters so much to ya, I’m Miya Osamu and he’s Atsumu.”

“I can introduce myself ya know,” the golden haired on hissed, doing his best to glare at his brother, though you were sure the effect was entirely lost considering he was apparently refusing to move from your lap and was upside down, “And I didn’t get to hear yer name.”

“That’s because ya were sulkin’ in our room,” Osamu pointed out.

“And whose fault is that huh?” Atsumu demanded with a grimace.

“Yer own,” Osamu countered, looking utterly bored as he peered down at his brother. Atsumu made to lunge out of your lap, but was stopped by your hand pressed firmly to his forehead holding him in place. You took advantage of his moment of distraction to introduce yourself, gently rubbing behind his ears until he started purring again.

“And ya wonder why we want to go with ya,” Osamu told you sardonically, watching the two of you, “I ain’t ever seen anybody who could get ahold of Tsumu like that.”

“Do the two of you always squabble like that?” you asked, a little amused and a little concerned, “If I didn’t know better I would’ve thought one of you was a dog hybrid with how well you’re getting along right now.”

“It ain’t always so bad,” Osamu told you, turning his face away though you thought you saw the faintest hint of pink to his cheeks, “We’re just a little restless is all. We haven’t been here long so it’s just new, not as much freedom as we’re used to either bein’ cooped up for most of the day.”

“Surely they let you out if you want out,” you questioned, a little appalled that the center might be keeping hybrids like prisoners.

“Well sure,” Osamu answered turning back to you, his head tilted to the side as he studied you, “But there are only so many places a hybrid is allowed without an owner ya know.”

You winced slightly at the blunt statement, but couldn’t refute it. The law stated that all hybrids had to have a registered owner, and it was then up to that owner to set limits on the hybrid, about where they could go and what they could do. This was because if the hybrid caused any trouble, it was always on its owner to take responsibility which made things quite limited for them at times. There were lobbyists working to change that of course, as it was viewed as inhumane, but for now the law was the law.

“Did you have more freedom before here then?” you asked curiously, “I’ve heard this place is pretty good.”

“It’s not bad,” Atsumu piped in, his voice content and rumbly as he turned languid eyes in your direction, clearly not wanting to be left out of the conversation, “Better than the first center we were at when we first went up for adoption.”

“So you’ve been adopted before? Or did you just get moved from one of the other centers?” you asked curiously, only to have Atsumu go absolutely rigid under your hands as Osamu hissed at him, clearly angry with his brother, who’d apparently revealed something he shouldn’t if the way he shrank away instead of hissing back said anything.

You glanced between the two of them warily, unsure what to do as Atsumu pulled himself out of your lap so he could look at Osamu. The two of them were clearly communicating, both their tails swishing back and forth in clear agitation.

“We had an owner,” Osamu admitted at last, his words clearly careful as he peered at you from underneath the fringe of his hair, “But we didn’t get along with him so he surrendered us ta the shelter again and they sent us here.”

A part of you really wanted to ask why exactly they hadn’t gotten along with their old owner, but given the way Atsumu was refusing to meet your eyes, his nails practically digging into his thighs where he sat next to you, you got the feeling it would be kinder not to. Instead you carefully redirected the conversation back on topic and asked, “And what makes you think you’ll get along better with me than your previous owner?”

“Yer nothin’ like him,” Osamu told you bluntly, effectively shutting that avenue of conversation down.

“If you say so,” you told him calmly, holding his gaze until he glanced away, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

It was clearly a sensitive topic, and you didn’t want to push. You’d just met the two of them today after all, you certainly wouldn’t have liked it if they tried to pry into your past, fair was fair after all.

“What do you picture yourselves doing all day?” you asked instead, figuring you might as well.

“Doing?” Atsumu repeated confused, tilting his head in a manner that you couldn’t help but find rather adorable.

“I’ll be at work most of the day during the week,” you explained patiently, “Which means you’ll be by yourselves for quite a bit of time. You’d be more than welcome to laze around if you really wanted to, but I figured I’d ask.”

“What kind of things are we allowed to do?” Osamu asked slowly, a strange look on his face that you couldn’t quite interpret.

“Anything within reason,” you told him with a helpless shrug, “I have money, it’s not an issue, so long as it’s legal, and doesn’t have the potential to hurt me, you or anyone else then I see no reason to place restrictions. My neighbor has a dog-hybrid who works a small rice farm that Ojirou bought him, but his cat-hybrid Suna spends most of his time either lounging around their apartment or playing sports with some of the other hybrids who live in the neighborhood.”

“Which sport?” Atsumu asked, eyes bright, all hesitation forgotten in the face of this new information.

“Volleyball I think,” you told him with a shrug, “Ojirou and I have gone to watch a few games, though I don’t think it’s just volleyball either.”

If Atsumu had been a dog-hybrid you were sure his tail would’ve been wagging a hundred miles an hour with how eager he looked, copper eyes bright in his face as he told you, “I like volleyball. Do you think he’d let me play?”

“You’d have to take it up with Suna, but I don’t see why he wouldn’t,” you admitted cautiously, earning a happy smile from the hybrid.

“What about you Osamu?” you prompted gently, “Do you play too, or is there something else you’re interested in?”

The silver furred hybrid looked startled to be addressed, but then slowly admitted, “I like to cook.”

“That’s amazing,” you praised, “I live on take out a lot of the time, unless I’m headed over to Ojirou’s or Kita, his dog-hybrid makes an extra bento for me. I really should cook more, but I tend to be on the go a lot and don’t want to dedicate the time.”

“It’s a bit of a shame though,” you admitted, feeling more than a bit sheepish, “One of the best features of my apartment is the kitchen and I hardly ever use it.”

You continued to chat lightly with the twins learning quite a bit about the two of them in the process. Atsumu was definitely the louder twin, always eager and a bit blunt with his words, always saying the first thing that came to mind. Osamu was quieter than his twin, letting his golden furred brother do most of the talking for the two of them. He wasn’t necessarily shy per se, and would answer when spoken to, but he seemed content for the most part to quietly observe before adding his two cents in.

The two of them together were utterly charming, which made you wonder just how they hadn’t been adopted yet. You were fairly sure it must have something to do with the reason they’d been returned to their adoption center, though for the life of you, you couldn’t guess what that reason might’ve been.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Sugawara cut in gently, interrupting Atsumu telling you all about the last volleyball game he’d played in, “But the center is closing to visitors in a few minutes.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologized immediately, hurriedly scrambling to your feet, feeling more than a bit guilty, “I hadn’t realized how late it had gotten.”

“That’s alright,” Sugawara assured you with a kind smile, “It sounds like the three of you are getting along well.”

“I think so,” you admitted, glancing at the twins who’d both risen to their feet as well, both of them far more graceful than you could ever hope to be.

Both of them were watching you, Atsumu with tentative hope clear on his face, and Osamu completely unreadable except for the agitated twitch of his tail which told you he wasn’t pleased your conversation had been interrupted.

“I’m glad,” Sugawara told you, “Do we have any kind of decision made?”

“I…” you started glancing between the twins, who were both looking at you. Gut instinct meant you wanted to say yes. You’d gotten along well and you thought you might continue to enjoy one another’s company. They seemed like they’d slot into your life pretty easily. However you were still a bit hesitant. Adopting one hybrid had seemed like a big deal, but adopting two?

Plus you’d only met them today. Maybe you were being overly cautious but a single day didn’t seem like nearly enough time to get to know someone before inviting them to live with you, no matter how much your heart urged you to say yes.

“Actually, it doesn’t matter,” Sugawara interrupted, an apologetic expression on his face, pulling you from your thoughts as he explained, “We wouldn’t have time to finish the paperwork before it’s time to close, so you wouldn’t be able to take them home with you anyway, not today at least.”

“But…!” Atsumu tried to protest, but quelled as Sugawara shot him a stern look.

“I think that it will be good for all of you to sleep on your decision,” the cat-hybrid told all three of you firmly, gently beginning to usher you from the room, before telling you, “You can come back tomorrow if you like. We’re open at the same times then.”

“Alright,” you agreed, following after him without a fuss, only to pause in your tracks at a heartbreaking mewling sound.

You turned around to see Atsumu staring after you with devastation written all over his handsome features, his hand outstretched like he was trying to reach out and physically stop you from leaving. Before you’d really thought about it your feet had carried you back, and you’d pulled the hybrid into your arms.

Atsumu clutched you tightly, burying his face in your neck and rubbing his cheek against yours in a move you recognized as scenting. You let him do as he pleased without protest, gently running your fingers through his soft golden hair. However, you were conscious of Sugawara waiting for you, so you gently extracted yourself after a few minutes.

Turning you saw Osamu watching you with an unreadable expression on his face, but you stepped toward him, offering your open arms anyway, waiting patiently. You were rewarded for that patience as he stepped into your hold, nuzzling at you the same way his twin had on the opposite side.

“I’ll come back,” you found yourself promising, “I have work tomorrow, but after I’ll be here.”

Osamu drew back and peered into your face, copper eyes boring into your own, clearly searching for something before nodding, “We’ll hold ya to that.”

You let Sugawara usher you out after that, but found yourself tearing up a bit as you followed after him. You desperately didn’t want to leave the twins behind. Somehow, someway you’d gotten terribly attached to them in just a few short hours.

Your sniffling apparently caught Sugawara’s attention, because he turned around and hurriedly fumbled a packet of tissues from one of his pockets.

“I’m sorry,” he told you apologetically, “I thought maybe you wanted more time to think things over. We can still do paperwork tonight if you want I don’t mind staying a bit late.”

You looked at him, startled that he’d apparently picked up on your hesitation as you gratefully accepted the tissues, dabbing at your eyes and blowing your nose before replying, “No, no you’re right. It’s not a decision I should make impulsively. I do want to think it over I just…”

You trailed off helplessly, unsure what to say or how to explain that you’d gotten incredibly attached and were currently having a crisis as your head and heart were at war with each other. However, Sugawara apparently understood as he nodded in clear sympathy.

“Don’t worry,” he assured you, “That’s completely understandable, adopting a hybrid is no small thing. Those troublesome twins will still be here waiting for you tomorrow, so take all the time you need to think it over.”

“I will,” you told him, then tacked on sincerely, “Thank you, for all your help today. I really appreciate it.”

“It’s my pleasure,” he told you with a bright, pleased smile as he walked you to the door, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow,” you agreed with a smile, letting yourself out and heading back for your car.

The drive home your thoughts were absolutely full of the twins, and what it might be like to have them with you. Your heart and your mind were at war with one another, your heart desperate to run back to the center as soon as it opened in the morning for the cat hybrids, and your head worrying about what it might mean to have both of them and why they’d been returned to the center by their previous owner.

You were so preoccupied with your thoughts that you almost didn’t notice Suna as you walked passed Ojirou’s door, headed to your own.

“What is that?” Suna demanded, his voice making you pause in your tracks.

“What is what?” you asked him baffled as he strode toward you nose in the air, clearly picking up something.

“You smell like hybrid,” he informed you his tone accusatory, watching you with narrowed golden eyes.

“Do I?” you asked mildly.

“You do,” he affirmed, “Doesn’t she Kita?”

“Doesn’t she what?” the collie hybrid asked, emerging from somewhere deeper in the apartment.

“Smell like hybrid,” Suna explained, his tail twitching languidly behind him and eyes alight with interest.

“You do,” Kita agreed, after carefully scenting the air, “Two of them actually.”

“Really?” Suna asked, clearly surprised, moving closer to sniff at you again, “You sure?”

You held still, too used to his behavior to be bothered by it, partly amused and partly annoyed at the cat hybrid who was clearly digging for information.

“Yes I’m sure,” Kita told him calmly, “They’re very similar, but there.”

“They’re identical twins,” you explained, figuring the jig was up anyway, and hoping maybe Ojirou or Kita would have some advice that might help you with your quandary.

“Ho?” Suna asked a purr of interest in his voice as he inhaled and nodded to himself, then asked slyly, “And what were you doing with these twins to have their scent on you so thoroughly?”

“Is Ojirou home?” you asked Kita, completely ignoring Suna’s question, earning a chuckle of amusement from the Siamese.

“He’s here,” Kita agreed, “Did you need to speak with him?”

“Both of you, if you have a minute?” you questioned hopefully.

“For you? Always,” Kita assured you kindly ushering you in.

“Oya, I think I’m hurt,” Suna told you as he followed along behind, a feline smirk on his face, “What about me? Don’t you want my advice too? After all they’re cat hybrids aren’t they?”

“They are,” you agreed with a huff as you plopped into your normal chair, “But are you going to give me good advice, or are you going to say whatever you think will be most amusing for you?”

“What’s this about cat-hybrids?” Ojirou asked, emerging from the hallway, where Kita had gone to fetch him.

“She’s thinking about adopting twin cat-hybrids,” Suna informed him before you had the chance to speak up, smug as the cat who got the canary.

“Are you really?” Ojirou questioned with a grin, taking his own seat.

“Yes,” you agreed, shooting the smug Siamese a look for interrupting and stealing your thunder, “I went to that adoption center you recommended today.”

“That’s great,” Ojirou told you, leaning forward in his chair eagerly, “How did it go?”

You explained your meeting with the twins, happily accepting the drink Kita pressed into your hands, which was your favorite, as the collie hybrid got everyone settled and then settled in himself to listen. You talked about how much you liked them, but your wariness about getting not one but two hybrids, and the strange issue with them having a previous owner and being so cagey about it.

“I can see why you’re wary about used goods,” Suna noted.

“Don’t call them that,” you snapped, despite the fact that you could hear the tinge of sarcasm in his voice and knew he didn’t really mean it, unable to help yourself, “people aren’t like items, and shouldn’t be treated like them.”

“She’s right,” Kita told the Siamese sternly, “Even as a joke, that was a rude way to refer to them.”

Suna slouched in his seat, looking thoroughly chastised as he admitted, “I know you don’t see them like that. You’ve always treated us just like normal people.”

“That’s because you are just like normal people,” you told him, stroking your fingers through his hair to let him know you forgave him, “Just with enhanced senses and a different set of instincts at times.”

“I don’t know why you think you need our advice,” Ojirou pointed out reasonably, “It sounds like you’ve pretty much already made up your mind, you clearly adore them already.”

“It’s just a lot,” you admitted, “Do you think I can handle twin hybrids? Especially since I’ve never even had one before? I mean, I’m not like you, none of my family ever had one growing up, and the only ones I really know are Kita, Suna, and a couple that come into the office with Tendou from time to time.”

“We’re not exactly children,” Kita reasoned, logically, “We don’t actually require all that much care outside of the basics, which I know you’re monetarily able to provide, and companionship, which is the whole reason you decided to seek out a hybrid in the first place. One or two, does it really matter? It might even be better as they’ll be able to keep each other company if they get lonely when you’re gone, and I see no reason we can’t help you look after them too.”

“You’d do that?” you asked the collie hybrid, surprised.

“Of course,” he agreed with a tiny smile, “We’re friends are we not?”

You smiled at him, touched, and extremely reassured by his ever cool logic. It did make sense, and quelled some of your worries, plus knowing the extremely reliable hybrid would help you out if you needed it was incredibly comforting.

“I wouldn’t worry about them being returned to their center,” Suna told you, surprisingly serious, “Hybrids get returned for all sorts of reasons, but most of the time its owner incompatibility rather than behavioral issues. Plus that center wouldn’t let you adopt them if they thought they’d give you trouble.”

“But Sugawara did say they’d heard the twins gave someone trouble,” you admitted, recalling the conversation with the worried cat-hybrid.

“Yes, but they didn’t give you trouble,” Suna pointed out, “We cat hybrids tend to make up our minds pretty quickly about people. It sounds like they decided they liked you, and unless something really terrible happens they’ll keep liking you, we’re terribly stubborn that way.”

“If you’re really worried you can always ask the center about it,” Ojirou told you, “They keep records, and would probably tell you, especially if it’s a concern about their adoptability.”

“I don’t want to pry into something and lose their trust,” you admitted, even as part of you was incredibly tempted to do just that.

“Then maybe try asking if the center if they think whatever the issue was, will be an issue with you,” Suna reasoned, “And if they say no then let it lie and adopt them, and if they say maybe or yes, then tell the twins you can’t accept them if they can’t tell you what the issue was.”

“That seems fair to me,” Kita agreed with a nod, “Just make sure you’re honest and tell them you asked, just in case.”

“Okay,” you agreed, letting out a relieved breath, “Okay that sounds really reasonable to me. It’s just… do you think I’m rushing into this too fast? I mean going to the center today was an impulse.”

“I don’t think so,” Ojirou assured her thoughtfully, “You’ve been thinking about it for a while, haven’t you?”

“She’s put so much thought into it she’s actually over thought it,” Suna interjected wryly before you had a chance to answer.

You made a face at him but couldn’t actually argue. He might have a point about overthinking it. Reassured you spent a good couple hours talking with your neighbor and the two hybrids as they answered more of your questions, and you told them about the twins.

Eventually however you headed home, determined now to get at least a little bit prepared for the arrival of your two new housemates tomorrow. Luckily it wasn’t dirty, but running a load of laundry and doing a little vacuuming never hurt anyone. You didn’t have a whole lot for them and didn’t know what kind of things they might have or need, but hopefully your office with pull out futon and guest bedroom would suffice for now until you could take them shopping.

Falling into bed that night you let yourself feel your excitement for the first time. You were adopting a hybrid, not just one but adorable twin hybrids. You couldn’t wait to bring them home and maybe put an end to your loneliness once and for all.

Osamu glanced slowly around the room, trying not to look at his twin, the clock, or the doors to the main area of the shared living space the way Atsumu was. Yesterday had been a bit of a revelation. He’d never actually expected to approach the woman who’d shown up looking to adopt. After what happened with their last owner he’d never expected to ever actually want to be adopted again. However, somehow he’d found himself entranced by her, and he had no one but himself to blame.

When he’d initially strolled over, it was because he’d known via his bond to his older twin that he’d finally realized that Osamu had snagged his pudding for himself and was throwing a fit about it. He’d thought that his twin wouldn’t dare make a fuss if he was with a potential owner.

The rules of this place were pretty lax compared to the first center they’d lived in. It allowed them a lot more freedoms. It let them come and go from their rooms as they pleased rather than on a regimented schedule, and allowed them to turn down any potential adopter that they didn’t like, which had felt utterly shocking and unprecedented when he’d first been told about it. They gave them a small allowance they could spend or save as they chose, and even let them deal with their heats and ruts in whatever way they chose, including with other tenants so long as birth control was used.

It honestly felt like heaven compared to the first center they’d been at, and maybe even better than living with their previous owner even before everything had gone to shit. He wasn’t sure he’d even ever wanted to leave, which he’d been assured by several other tenants was also an option if he so desired.

However, the one rule that was the same between both centers was that they weren’t allowed to cause trouble with the humans that came looking to adopt. This was only good sense considering how much the law favored humans in cases of hybrid vs human issues. However, unlike the first center they’d lived, this one at least didn’t threaten to put them down if they misbehaved.

They’d been young back then, everyone in that center was, all of them below the age of twenty-one, because anyone who reached their twenty-second birthday disappeared and was never seen again. Thus he hadn’t known it was actually against the law to kill hybrids, none of them had known and the caretakers had perpetuated the rumor that those who reached twenty-two were killed instead of shipped off to other centers in order to make them that much more desperate to be adopted.

It had made him more than a bit bitter once he’d been with their new owner long enough to learn more about what was and wasn’t allowed when it came to human hybrid interactions. The man had actually found their previous beliefs amusing and had laughed at them more than once for being so naïve.

It was positively galling, and had made his hackles rise more than once. However he’d known better than to lash out and had better impulse control than Atsumu who’d been punished by their previous owner more than once for acting aggressively. Fortunately, Osamu had never liked being made fun of, and spite was a powerful motivator, meaning he’d practically memorized any and all of the laws that had to do with hybrids.

It meant the few times their owner had toed the line with Atsumu’s punishments that he’d been able to cite the law to pull him back, right up until their owner had decided he no longer cared and pushed too far, leading to them being removed from his home and put back up for adoption at this new center.

They had been here for just over a month and while several people had been interested in adopting the ‘rare gold and silver hybrid twins’ he had absolutely refused to engage with any of them. It was probably why that female alpha hybrid had been so shocked when he’d first approached.

He’d fully intended to just use the human to keep Atsumu at bay, right up until she’d crouched down and offered her hands to him and he’d gotten a whiff of her scent. He’d known from the few lessons their ma had bothered to teach them that hybrids relied a lot more on their sense of smell than humans did, and that scent was the basis of the instinct that told them who would be a good mate and who wouldn’t.

He’d originally thought compatibility could only be found with other hybrids, after all he’d met plenty of humans before both when he’d lived in the adoption centers and with his previous owner and never once had he gotten a hint of compatibility with any of them. He thought he could be forgiven for completely losing his head and giving over to his instincts as he caught the scent of the most compatible person he’d ever met.

Her scent was honestly indescribable, and his instincts had him purring within seconds as he tried to rub her scent all over himself. She’d obliged, petting him with fingers that had felt magical, her touch kind and soothing and perfect as she rubbed his ears, carded fingers through his fur and rubbed her hand along his back.

He’d been lost in a dizzy haze of touch and scent and probably would’ve remained that way if not for the fury of his brother, which had jolted him out of it. It had been like a bucket of cold water dumped over his head pulling him from his happy haze and reminding him of the whole reason he’d come up to the human in the first place.

He probably should’ve run off, but hadn’t been able to bring himself to move very far, instead darting around to hide behind her. He’d thought that once Atsumu saw her he’d stop and at least hold off attempting to get vengeance until later, but he’d overestimated his brother again, who was apparently more incensed than he’d guessed about the lost pudding.

Instinct had kicked in and before he’d really thought about it he was running away from his brother, darting around her legs in a game of chase that was both amusing and a bit annoying, especially when he could tell how much it was pissing his brother off, his sibling’s annoyance pulsing down their bond in waves of sparks.

He wasn’t sure how long it would’ve continued, as they’d actually run around like this until someone got tired before, usually Atsumu as he got fed up and didn’t have the patience to keep going. However, he’d suddenly found himself plucked right up into the air.

He’d been amused when she’d scolded Atsumu, though the amusement had faded a bit when she’d decided to scold him too, leaving him feeling properly chastised. He’d been more than a bit pissed off with his brother when he’d realized the nice smelling woman was bleeding because of him, though there’d also been a small frisson of fear, wondering what the consequences would be.

However, to his surprise she hadn’t actually seemed all that angry with either of them. Instead she’d immediately accepted Atsumu’s apologies as his brother, who’d managed to get a lungful of her scent had cuddled up to her. He could feel Atsumu’s deep interest in the human. His brother clearly also scented compatibility with her, which wasn’t surprising given they’d shared almost everything else in their lives.

He’d found himself more than a little bit jealous as he’d watched his brother soak up her attention. It had always been like that to an extent. Atsumu had always been the more outgoing one, the one who attracted attention, who wore his heart on his sleeve and somehow managed to win people over despite his often crass personality. Osamu had always kind of faded into the background as he was much quieter and had better control over his emotions, the silver to his gold, the shadow to his light.

Normally he didn’t mind, but this time being forgotten had stung. They’d always competed with each other, but most of the time he’d been humoring his brother, or simply hadn’t wanted Atsumu to win rather than wanting the prize of winning himself. This time though it had felt like more than that. No way was he going to let his brother steal her all to himself.

Before he’d really thought about it he’d reached out a paw, and to her credit she’d immediately offered him a sweet smile and resumed her wonderful petting. Atsumu hadn’t been pleased, but he hadn’t cared a bit.

It hadn’t surprised him at all that when Shimizu had come back with the first aid kit that Atsumu had insisted on taking over when he’d been the one to offer first. The two of them had continued to quietly compete over her attention as they fixed up her scratches, though he could at least feel his brother’s guilt for inflicting them on her in the first place, which did help sooth some of his annoyance with his older twin.

It was utterly gratifying that even when she had Atsumu literally in the palm of her hand, she’d still looked for him too. He’d tried to shove the feeling down and away, trying to remind himself that neither he nor his brother actually wanted another owner, but found it wasn’t working well. The combination of her scent and her fingers as she massaged her fingers through his hair enough to make him want to curl up in her lap and never leave.

He’d thought they might get in trouble when Sugawara returned. His fellow silver cat-hybrid belonged to the owner of the center, and took his job very seriously. He wouldn’t allow any of them to make trouble, and while he respected him, and admittedly envied him a bit for the clear trusting and loving relationship he had with his owner it didn’t stop him from wanting to claw his eyes out for bringing up their past in front of her.

Right when he was considering attempting to verbally eviscerate the other hybrid and damn the consequences his brother’s shock had pulled him from his thoughts, and he turned just in time to see her pull his twin into her lap. The feel of her hand gently squeezing his neck from behind practically made him limp with pleasure as Atsumu’s own bliss at being so close to her combined with his own to thoroughly distract the two of them, though not so much he didn’t notice her excusing their behavior and ensuring they didn’t get in trouble.

However, both of them had snapped to attention when the other hybrid had asked her if she wanted to adopt the two of them. He’d been able to feel his twin’s building hope, his impulsive brother apparently forgetting all about not wanting another owner, already clearly more than half in love with her despite not even knowing her for a day.

It was a trait he both hated and envied in his twin, the ability to be so impulsive, to move on so quickly and let go of past hurts. It wasn’t something he was capable of. He knew he was a grudge holder and far slower to trust than his brother was. He liked to think it served him well and kept him from being as naïve as Atsumu could be, though there were times it made things difficult too.

He’d been unsure whether he wanted her to state her intention to adopt them or not, right up until she’d said she hadn’t even considered it. It stung more than he’d expected, his own small hurt amplified by his brother’s though both of them had been somewhat soothed by her explanation that she wanted to know them better.

It was extremely reasonable and made him like her all the more, knowing she was the cautious type, more like him than like Atsumu, even if he simultaneously wished she’d been a little more impulsive just this one time and said yes instead. Though he found himself heartened by her honesty. That she’d actually asked them if they wanted to go with her rather than making any sort of assumption had settled things for him.

He hadn’t needed Atsumu’s silent pleading to forget their original plans to agree that maybe they should give this human a chance, though it did make it easier in the end to agree as he wasn’t the only one who wanted it.

They’d both tried to win her over, and though they’d accidentally fallen into squabbling more than once she’d handled it like a champ, not at all put off and even amused by it if the smile was any indication. However, despite the fact that they were the ones trying to win her over, it seemed every word she spoke was actually meant to win them over instead.

She was nothing like their previous owner, who’d been strict with his rules and harsh with his punishments. In fact she didn’t speak about punishments at all. He wasn’t naïve enough to think there wouldn’t be any if they misbehaved, but the freedoms she was offering in turn more than made up for anything she might throw their way.

The biggest hiccup had been when Atsumu mentioned their previous owner. The horror and guilt he’d felt from his twin was the only reason he’d managed to keep himself from doing more than hiss at him. His stomach had sunk when she’d gently pressed them for answers, but he knew they had to give her something.

He’d tried to give her as little as possible unwilling to volunteer the information, both because he hated even thinking about their time with their previous owner and because he was afraid she might somehow decide she didn’t want them because of it. In the end she’d changed the subject herself, and not brought it up again, but as she’d walked away from them with Sugawara, leaving them behind he’d wondered rather despairingly if that hadn’t been a mistake.

It didn’t matter that she’d turned around to comfort them when Atsumu had been unable to keep his heartbreak quiet. He’d known the minute she walked out the doors the chances of her coming back were slim to none. That was the other thing that remained consistent between this shelter and the last. Once a potential owner walked away claiming they needed to ‘think on it’ they never came back.

Still he hadn’t been able to turn away from her embrace, or to stop himself from scent marking the opposite side of your neck from the one his twin had claimed, laying his own personal stamp with the faint hope it would remind you to come back for them. However, no matter what you’d said, he couldn’t bring himself to hope. He knew hoping would only lead to more disappointment, and he wasn’t like Atsumu he wouldn’t be able to bounce back from it.

Not that his twin was making it easy on him. His brother’s hope was so fierce it was almost painful and he could feel the slightly desperate edge to it. He’d gotten attached to her, not that he could blame him, he was more attached than he wanted to be too. However unlike him, Atsumu had fill faith you were coming back, so much so he’d actually packed up his room into the bags they’d brought from his old place and was ready to go.

Nothing Osamu or any of the others, who also seemed to understand how small the chance was that she’d come back for them, said could sway him. The moment it had passed three o’clock Atsumu had brought hjs bags out to the shared living area and began to sit vigil, waiting for her to come back.

Stubborn as ever his twin had ignored all the pitying looks sent his way and the fact that slowly but surely time had slipped by, leaving just half an hour until they were supposed to close. Though his face was resolute, his brother wasn’t actually stupid and Osamu knew it was only stubborn pride keeping him in place. He could feel the slow onset of his twin’s hurt and despair as each minute ticked down.

He’d contemplated leaving him, going to his own room to wallow, but he knew he could never abandon his twin. They’d been through everything together, and he certainly wasn’t going to leave him now.

He was trying to figure out if he could coax his brother into leaving his post when the door swung open, revealing Sugawara, who had a wide beaming smile on his face. His fellow silver hybrid cast a quick glance behind him before ushering his follower into the room.

He barely caught a glimpse of her before his brother practically launched himself at her, but it was enough to freeze him in his place, because it was her. She’d actually come back after all.

His brother had wrapped himself around her, burying his face in her neck and clinging to her like favorite a stuffed toy, not that she seemed to mind, if the hands she was running over his hair and back meant anything. He couldn’t quite hear what they were saying, the words too quiet to hear over the sudden near painful hope and the rapid beat of his own heart at the thought that she’d come for them.

Atsumu’s joy was practically burning through him, combined with his restored faith and smug satisfaction that he’d been right all along about her coming back for them. It probably should’ve annoyed him, but he found that all he could really feel was a bone deep sort of relief.

“Where’s your brother?” she asked, as she finally managed to gently extract herself a bit from his twin’s embrace, though he noticed he didn’t let go entirely, one of his hands laced firmly with hers.

He immediately stood, letting himself fall back into his more human skin as he made his way toward them, not waiting for his brother to out him. She seemed to spot him immediately and the relieved smile on her face was enough to make his traitorous heart skip a beat.

“Osamu,” she greeted warmly, more warmly than he thought he’d ever been greeted by anyone before as she opened her free arm in an inviting gesture. It was maybe a little pathetic how readily he accepted that embrace, but he couldn’t bring himself to care, as he fell into her hold, face automatically nuzzling against the side of her neck that Atsumu had left unclaimed. A rumbling purr left his lips as he felt her press her face against his affectionately, as he allowed himself to cling to her for a bit.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” she murmured to him quietly, her arm squeezing affectionately around his waist, genuine regret in her tone, “My boss made me stay a little longer than usual, and then there was an accident on the freeway. I called ahead though and Sugawara has almost all the paperwork done. I just need to collect the two of you, do some signing and we’ll go home okay?”

“Really? Yer takin’ us home?” he almost didn’t recognize his own voice given how weak it sounded, the quaver in it making him feel utterly ridiculous and overly emotional, something that was supposed to be his twin’s job, and frustrated him enough that he bit his lip nearly hard enough to bleed as he wrestled with himself, trying to get back in control of his emotions.

“Yeah, as long as you want to come, then I’ll gladly take you,” she offered with a gentle smile that made his heart squeeze nearly painfully in his chest, “Though there’s something I need to admit to first.”

He froze a little at that, staring at her anxiously as Atsumu also looked on, his blabbermouth brother finally silent and clearly wary. She carefully released him, though she still reached for his hand, peering between the two of them, anxious but also obviously determined. He allowed her to grasp her fingers, squeezing them automatically, anxiety making his heartrate skyrocket and bile rise in his throat.

“I asked the center about your previous owner,” she confessed, the words automatically making his heart drop, as he wondered numbly what they could’ve told her. Had she asked for the details? Was she afraid now? Had she changed her mind or decided to add some stipulations to their adoption?”

“I didn’t ask for details,” she clarified, her voice managing to cut through the haze of panic that had been rising in his chest, “All I asked was if they thought whatever had happened with your previous owner would cause trouble for me, or put any of us in any sort of danger.”

That didn’t actually sound so bad, and was even fairly reasonable the storm of hurt and anger that had been building behind his anxiety slowly dispersing the more he thought about it. He noticed that his grip on her hand had loosened a bit, and he retightened his hold, hoping the center had responded in a way that reassured her. Given that she was here, talking to them, he thought it wasn’t unreasonable to be hopeful.

“They said none of us would be in any danger, otherwise they never would’ve offered to take you both in, in the first place, and that they were sure you’d be alright with me,” she explained, her hand gently squeezing his in return.

He wasn’t sure if the bone deep relief he felt was his or his brother’s but he couldn’t bring himself to care, too caught up in the surging hope that followed it as she asked, “So, even knowing that I asked that, are the two of you still willing to come home with me?”

“O course we want to go with ya, right Samu?” his brother replied instantly, nuzzling into her neck insistently, clearly begging for attention, attention she seemed more than willing to give if the affectionate smile on her face was any indication. When she looked at him for confirmation all he could do was nod in agreement, unable to find the words for how very much he did want it and unwilling to sound ridiculous again.

The next half hour passed in a strange almost dream like haze, as he packed himself up, his smug brother clinging to her and gloating over how he was already finished, soaking up her attention as he made a mental note to get back at his annoying twin later. Once he finished packing all there really was, was a couple of signatures before he found himself in a nice car that was speeding along the highway.

Atsumu was chatting away in the front seat, practically bouncing as he asked their amused new owner anything that popped into his head as he tried to digest what had happened. Somehow, someway, they had an owner again.

You smiled to yourself as you listened to Atsumu babble away happily in the seat next to you. The golden furred twin hadn’t stopped bouncing since you’d showed up at the shelter, clearly over the moon that you’d come back for him. Osamu was quiet in the back seat, and you might’ve been worried he was happy to come with you if not for the way he’d scent marked you, almost frantically his hand clutched tightly to yours as you’d signed the paperwork to take them home.

It was pretty clear both twins had thought you weren’t coming back for them, and it had broken your heart a bit, and made you even more resolute that you’d done the right thing for all of you. You’d been anxious the whole day to get back to them, not nearly as focused on work as you probably should’ve been, which had been part of the reason for your delay in the first place.

You’d panicked more than a bit when you’d encountered the accident on the way there, afraid that you’d break your promise to the twins. It had only been Sugawara’s kind voice, assuring you that he’d start the paperwork while you drove and even stay open late if necessary for you to get there, that had kept your guilt and panic at bay.

Now that you had them with you weren’t quite sure how you felt. Dazed that it was actually happening, excited for what the future might bring, and a little anxious about all the changes you’d have to make in your life even as you looked forward to those changes more than anything.

However, before you headed for home there were a couple things you needed to do first. Luckily you would hopefully find everything you needed in one place, at least for today. You wanted to give them time to settle in a bit, more shopping could come later when they’d decided what they needed.

“Where’s this?” Atsumu asked, pausing in his excited babble to look at you with confusion, as you pulled into the large parking lot, “Ya don’t live here do ya?”

“Don’t be stupid,” his brother huffed from the backseat, “Yer gonna make her think we’re some kind of bumpkins, ya know what a mall is Tsumu.”

“O course I know what a mall is,” Atsumu blustered, twisting around in his seat to glare at his twin, “I just thought maybe she had an apartment nearby is all. Who knows how rich people live?”

You huffed in amusement, reaching out without thought to ruffle his ears affectionately. The golden haired hybrid froze for a minute under your touch, and you wondered if you’d done something wrong, freezing as well, before a rumbling purr left his chest as he pressed his head further into your hand.

“You’re too cute,” you murmured almost to yourself as you gently scratched his ears and stroked your hand over his face and neck, unable to keep the smile from your lips.

“We’re only stopped here for a quick couple errands,” you explained to both twins, reluctantly pulling away from Atsumu who offered a pout but didn’t protest, “I noticed you don’t have as much as I thought you would, and I want to get you more comfortable collars to wear when we’re in public.”

Both twins hands immediately flew to the simple brown leather bands around their necks. All hybrids were required to wear collars in public to identify them as belonging to someone. The collars had a tag on them, which was essentially a small chip that had all their owner’s information in it, that when scanned would tell someone how to get in contact with their owner. It was to ensure they behaved and that if they didn’t their owner could be forced to take responsibility for their actions. Any hybrid who walked around without a collar immediately had the police called and was brought in and held until they could figure out why they were without.

You’d heard horror stories about the way such hybrids were treated, innocent hybrids who’d accidentally lost a collar somewhere and been so traumatized when they were finally returned to their owners that they were never the same again. Which of course was why you were determined it was never going to happen to your twins, even if a part of you balked at the idea of putting a symbol of ownership on another sentient being. Judging from the looks on their faces, Atsumu’s much easier to read than Osamu’s they’d heard stories too, and neither of them bothered to protest.

“Come on,” you urged gently, climbing out of the car yourself, “The sooner we get the unpleasant stuff done the sooner we get to the good stuff. I’ve got a couple things in mind I’d like to get you both as welcome home presents, but if there’s anything else you think you want or need feel free to ask.”

“Presents?” Atsumu asked eagerly, practically bounding out of the car.

“That’s right,” you agreed with a small laugh, watching him sulk a bit as he realized his brother had beaten him in securing your free hand, Osamu’s fingers laced with your own and a smug smirk on the silver hybrid’s face, “So keep close and let’s get going okay?”

Luckily the mall wasn’t too crowded, and while the twins got more then their fair share of admiring looks, doubtless both because of how good looking they were and how rare twin hybrids in general were, no one actually dared to approach your group, even as Atsumu practically bounced around glancing around the mall in fascination and reminding you more of an eager puppy than a supposedly slightly older cat hybrid.

Osamu was much more dignified and kept close to your side, though judging from his wide-eyed look that he couldn’t quite hide behind his stoic façade he was just as in awe as his brother. You were starting to get an impression of their previous owner and it was far from good.

You’d known that some owners kept their hybrids close to home, either because they were overly protective or possessive, and it had always rubbed you the wrong way. Ojirou had always allowed Kita and Suna to do as they pleased for the most part, treating them as capable adults and equals, more like roommates than the pets some treated their hybrids as and his was the example you were going to strive to follow.

It was why your errands today were so important, because while you would happily have let your twin hybrids run around as they pleased dressed however they pleased a collar was unfortunately the one thing they couldn’t be without, especially if they were going to go outside without you.

Luckily the mall was outfitted with several hybrid specialty stores and it didn’t take you long to find one dedicated entirely to collars. Both twins were a little wide eyed at the selection, and neither seemed to know quite what to say as you roamed through the aisles together looking at the selection.

Several of them made you grimace in outright distaste, the collars boasting accessories like inward facing spikes or tracking devices that would alert the owner if the hybrid tried to leave their home. It made you feel a little sick to your stomach, so you instead turned to the less intrusive ones.

“Do you see anything you like?” you asked the twins, squeezing Osamu’s hand affectionately, “You don’t have to wear collars in the house if you don’t want to, but you’re going to need them if you want to leave when I’m not home, which means you’ll probably be wearing them a lot, so make sure to pick something you like. You can even pick a couple if you want it to match your outfit for the day or whatever I don’t mind spending a little more to get a handful of chips programmed.”

Both twins blinked at you owlishly clearly startled by the offer, which made your heart hurt for them, even as they hesitantly turned back toward the displays, looking more closely than they had before.

“Do ya have any restrictions?” Osamu asked bluntly, not quite looking at you as he eyed a display of thick leather ones that didn’t look comfortable in the slightest.

“No,” you assured him, “I’m not the one who has to wear it.”

Osamu nodded slowly, and seemed to be taking his time as he perused the collars. You let him do as he liked, allowing him to lead. You’d only loosened your hold on him once, thinking he may like to wander the store like his brother and not have to tow you along with him, but the way his hand had reflexively tightened on yours in response had put paid to that assumption and you’d immediately re-laced your fingers together.

In the end Atsumu approached you first, holding a collar out to you hopefully. It actually looked like it was meant more for a dog hybrid, thick black leather with steel spikes on it, making it look fairly fierce. Personally you thought it was gaudy and was probably going to be uncomfortable, but you tried not to let your distaste show, after all you’d said anything they wanted and you’d meant it. Luckily in the end you didn’t need to say anything.

“What the hell is that?” Osamu demanded when he caught sight of the collar in his brother’s hands, the disgusted look on his face letting you know his feelings quite clearly.

“It’s a collar scrub, what else would it be?” Atsumu replied with a sneer for his twin you were beginning to think was automatic.

“I’m not the scrub you are,” the silver twin sneered, “Because only a scrub would wear somethin’ like that.”

“Oy,” Atsumu interjected, with a fierce glare, “She said we could have what we wanted.”

“Yeah but she probably thought ya had some sort of taste, she doesn’t know you well enough to know how scrubby ya are scrub,” Osamu hissed back.

“Alright guys,” you interjected gently, squeezing Osamu’s hand and reaching out to gently ruffle Atsumu’s ears, aware of the eyes of the cashier which had definitely turned in your direction given the twins were getting louder and louder by the second, “Let’s try to keep it to polite volume levels in public hmm?”

“Sorry,” both twins grumbled, identical pouts on their faces that made you giggle.

“It’s alright,” you assured them fondly, “Just try to be good okay?”

They nodded though Osamu clearly needed to get the last word in as he turned to you with pleading eyes, “Ya think it’s an abomination too don’t ya?”

“I said you could have whatever you wanted,” you told him diplomatically, “If this is what Atsumu likes, then of course he can have it.”

“Ha, see!” Osamu demanded of his twin, clearly seeing right through your attempt at diplomacy, “She thinks it’s ugly too!”

“Do ya really think it’s ugly?” Atsumu asked you sulkily eyeing the collar in his hands.

You’d known before that you were weak to pleading eyes, but it turned out you were even more weak to the pleading copper eyes of your hybrid, the thought that he might be sad tugging at your heartstrings.

“I just worry you’ll be uncomfortable,” you assured him, letting go of Osamu’s hand and gently cupping his face in your hands, rubbing your thumbs along his cheeks affectionately, the same way you did for one of the hybrids that occasionally came to your office to sulk when his owner brought him to work but didn’t pay attention to him.

Atsumu immediately leaned into your palms, heavy lidded eyes half-shut with bliss as you explained, “It’s summer right now, and there’s no padding so it will be hot, heavy and probably chafe. Plus didn’t you say you wanted to play volleyball? Won’t it get in the way? I can definitely get it for you if you like it, but maybe pick something else too, okay?”

“Kay,” your golden twin agreed, sounding completely and utterly content as he nuzzled into your hands, making your heart melt in your chest.

“What about this one?” Osamu offered, pulling your attention away from his brother.

He was holding a collar in his hands, one that actually looked more like a necklace a thin but sturdy looking cord of leather fastened with a silver chain in the front that clasped on both ends to a silver hoop that suspended a solid silver disc in the middle that on close inspection revealed that it housed the chip needed for identification.

“That looks really nice,” you praised, letting out a breath of relief at his choice. You weren’t a big fan of the collars in general, but seeing it look more like a necklace made it seem far more tolerable. Plus it was black and silver and thus would probably go with just about anything he chose to wear.

Letting go of Atsumu to take the collar from his twin, you completely missed the smug smirk directed over your shoulder by Osamu as you inspected it, though Atsumu certainly didn’t, giving his twin an annoyed glare above your head.

In the end, while Atsumu sulked and complained about it, he did actually put the original collar he’d offered back and go with Osamu’s choice, even though you offered to get him both. He refused, sulking slightly all the while, but remained insistent that he only needed the one, even though you ended up buying four collars total, so you could have two back-ups. Though he did insist on holding your hand to make up for the disappointment.

Luckily the manager didn’t seem to mind having to program all four collars, tapping away at the computer, while Atsumu sulked a bit by your side and Osamu somehow managed to all but radiate smug superiority. The cashier carefully ringing up your purchases for you as you pulled your wallet out.

“A word of advice?” the cashier offered as you waited for the programmed collars, surprising you with his forwardness.

“You’re too indulgent with them,” he continued on, not giving you the chance to refute the need for him to speak, “Hybrid’s need a firm hand. You’ll spoil them if you let them get away with raising their voices in public and causing a scene. Don’t ever let them forget their place.”

You felt more than saw both twins bristle on either side of you, and gently squeezed Atsumu’s hand, before laying your hand over the back of Osamu’s neck. You wouldn’t care a bit if they wanted to verbally eviscerate the man who was eying them with clear distaste, a distaste you were almost sure stemmed from jealousy given the lascivious looks he probably thought you hadn’t noticed levelled in your direction. Unfortunately, you also didn’t want them to get into trouble, and weren’t quite sure what the law said about how hybrids were allowed to defend themselves from humans, something you planned to rectify as soon as possible.

For now however you weren’t about to let the twins get in trouble and cut in your tone as cold as you could make it, “I don’t remember asking for your opinion, nor do I care about what you think in the least. I’ll treat them how I want to treat them, which means I’ll spoil and pamper them as much as I like. I suggest you keep your opinions to yourself in the future if you want to keep this business running. As it is I’ll be sending my complaint to your superiors. Let’s go guys, we can find other collars elsewhere. It’s not like they’re hard to find.”

“Wait! The chips are already programmed and you haven’t paid,” the manager protested, standing up from the computer looking utterly appalled.

“Should’ve thought of that before your employee opened his mouth, and decided to spew his unwanted bile everywhere,” you countered with a shrug, “I’d consider finding better employees in the future if I were you, or at least teach them to keep their mouths shut.”

“But the chips can’t be removed from these collars, they’ll be completely ruined,” the manager put in, sounding more than a bit despairing.

“I’m sorry,” you told her, feeling genuinely bad for the woman, after all it wasn’t her fault the other employee was an ass, “But that’s not my problem. I refuse to support any sort of business that would treat its customers like this.”

The glare she leveled on her fellow employee was utterly ferocious and had him cowering back in his seat. Not that you could blame her for being upset, each collar was about three hundred USD so the sale they were losing out on was enormous.

“I can offer you a discount?” she tried hopefully, “Fifty percent off?”

You tilted your head thoughtfully, but didn’t reply instead turning to look at the twins who’d clearly been more than ready to follow you out of the store, “What do you think?”

“Us?” Atsumu asked, clearly baffled.

“Yes, you,” you told him with a fond smile, “You’re the ones who got insulted, not me, and they’re your collars. I’m happy to buy you whatever you like from wherever you want it, whether that’s here or somewhere else.”

“Seventy-five percent off,” Osamu bargained from her other side, taking you by surprise. You turned to see him watching the manager with shrewd eyes, and when it looked like she would protest he added in, “Seventy-five percent off and we won’t leave bad reviews on every site we can or send letters of complaint to upper management.”

“Agreed,” the manager huffed, shooting another vicious look at her employee, one that clearly read that it would be coming out of his salary.

You huffed, amused at Osamu’s bargaining, gently massaging your thumb against the base of his neck affectionately before releasing both twins and moving to pay, only spending a quarter of what you’d originally planned.

“Nice work,” you praised the silver hybrid once the three of you were out of the store and out of earshot.

Osamu shot you a sly smirk, looking exceedingly pleased with himself as he walked beside you. Atsumu had claimed your hand this time, so he was carrying the bags, though it didn’t seem to bother him in the least.

“Now that, that’s taken care of, let’s go grab your gifts,” you told the twins, tugging them along to the PineApple store.

“Presents?” Atsumu asked eagerly, practically bounding along beside you, your intertwined hands swinging back and forth between you.

Laughing you simply pulled him with you into the store. Both twins were wide-eyed as you browsed through, clearly unused to the cutting edge technology on display, both of them exceedingly cautious with the expensive looking tech. It took some gentle urging, but eventually you managed to get phones and laptops picked out for each of them.

“Isn’t this too much,” Osamu asked you in an undertone, clearly worried as an employee walked Atsumu through getting his laptop set up. It turned out that of the twins Osamu was definitely more technically savvy and loved his new laptop, though Atsumu had already managed to download several apps and games on to his phone and was thoroughly enjoying them as well, “It’s expensive.”

“I have the money,” you assured him gently, “And besides, everyone has a phone these days. I want you guys to have them in case you get in trouble when I’m not home and need to reach me, like if you got lost or hurt or simply need a human to ensure you’re treated fairly. I’d feel awful if you needed me and I didn’t know.”

“The laptops are so you don’t get too bored at home, though I hope you’ll find things to enjoy outside the apartment too,” you continued, absently stroking your hand up and down his back.

“Will you be wanting hybrid trackers in the new phones?” the employee asked, her voice professional as she began to ring up your purchases.

You hesitated. On one hand you hated the idea of invading the twins privacy, and on the other you knew that you fully intended to let them roam as they pleased so wouldn’t it be better to have the tracker just in case? A quick glance showed that Osamu was impassive as ever, and even Atsumu just looked bored, not paying any attention whatsoever, instead tapping away at his new phone.

“What do you think?” you asked them, more than willing to hear their opinions on the matter.

“You’re the owner,” Osamu told her, apparently speaking for both of them as he gave an unconcerned shrug, which wasn’t helpful in the least.

You grimaced a bit trying to think of a compromise before finally pulling out your own phone and asking the employee, “Is there anyway to ensure all three of the phones will track each other?”

“Let me go ask,” she told you politely, turning away to go grab someone more knowledgeable.

“That’s fair right?” you asked hesitantly, “This way you know where I am too and can come find me if you need me.”

“Yeah,” Osamu agreed, giving you a look that you thought might be something as close to awe as you’d seen on the silver haired hybrid, “Yeah that’s fair.”

The employee quickly returned and confirmed they could indeed make all three phones track one another, and in the span of a few minutes managed to get your purchases complete. Feeling like that was probably enough for now, you led them back towards the car.

It was starting to get pretty late, and the minute you’d exited the mall Osamu’s stomach had given a loud rumbling growl. Atsumu had made fun of him for all of a minute, before his own stomach betrayed him. You’d shaken your head at their antics, but allowed a surprisingly eager Osamu to order whatever he wanted for carryout from the Chinese place near your apartment.

One quick stop for the food, and you finally managed to bring your new hybrids home. Both of them were a little quiet as you led them up to your apartment, staring around and clearly taking everything in. Either Ojirou, Kita and Suna weren’t home, or they’d decided to give you time to settle with the twins as they didn’t emerge from their apartment as you arrived in the hallway and fumbled the door open.

“Here we are,” you told them, hitting the lights, “Home sweet home.”

Both twins were laden with things, carrying their purchases, the food, and their things from the adoption center. Still looking at them was enough to make your heart clench. It had only taken one trip to bring everything up, but despite hybrids being stronger than normal humans it still made your heart clench to see how very little the twins actually had. Each of them only had a medium sized suitcase of things, and Atsumu had a worn volleyball but that was it aside from the things you’d bought them. It was something you were determined to fix for the future, but for now you’d make do.

“I know you’re hungry, so unless you want to settle in for a bit first we can eat and then I’ll show you around,” you offered.

The twins exchanged looks, but nodded in clear agreement. You pointed out the bathroom just in case, but then brought them to the kitchen, trying to show them where everything was as you pulled utensils from the drawers. Osamu clearly paid much more attention to her explanations than Atsumu did, though both diligently helped her set the table.

The food was really good, and thankfully sparked more conversation, even if it was more subdued than earlier, all of them worn out from the long day they’d had. Osamu was clearly very interested in food, and not just in eating it the way his brother was. You managed to coax out that he’d cooked for their previous owner from time to time, and told him that as long as he was careful he was more than free to use her kitchen and anything in it for whatever he wanted earning what felt like her first real smile from the silver haired twin.

Despite how tired they clearly were, both twins helped you clean up. For the first time since you’d first discovered the lovely little Chinese restaurant there weren’t actually any leftovers, the twins having consumed everything you said you didn’t want. As they worked you noted it really was kind of nice, even if things were quiet, to have the company as they went about their tasks.

“Alright, so I wasn’t sure if you’d want your own rooms or if you’d want to share,” you told them, gesturing for them to follow, “We’re going to have to do some shopping either way, since they’re your rooms and I want you to be able to personalize them any way you want, but I think they’re pretty equal in size.”

The twins stared at you, clearly surprised, glancing at each other, to the rooms you’d offered, to you, and back again, the gesture making her more than a bit nervous. You’d thought there was plenty of space for the two of them, but maybe they didn’t see it that way?

“We get our own rooms?” Atsumu asked at last, finally breaking the silence, his voice quiet and disbelieving, copper eyes huge in his face.

“If you want them, then of course they’re yours,” you assured him, concerned, “I still have to clean out my study, but I didn’t want to delay adopting you and I don’t think it will take too long. There’s a pull out futon in there, though you’re more than free to share if you want a bed, or I can take the futon and one of you can have my bed for now. I’ve certainly slept on the futon before and I don’t mind.”

“You’d give up your bed?” Osamu repeated, looking like you’d just smacked him over the head with a fish, more surprise on his face then you’d thought him capable of showing.

“Just until we find something for you,” you told him, a little puzzled at his surprise but with the sinking feeling that your suspicions about their former owner were correct.

“But, why?” Atsumu asked you, wide eyed and a little teary.

“Because, you’re mine now,” you assured him, unable to quite find the words you wanted to say, but hoping you were conveying your feelings at the very least, “And I’m going to do everything I can to keep you safe and happy.”

The sad mewling sound he made in response to your words was enough to break your heart, as he pitched forward squeezing you into his chest and burying his face in your shoulder. You pressed your cheek to his hair, rubbing his back soothingly with one arm even as you automatically opened the other one for his twin, a gesture that was slowly becoming more and more familiar to you.

Osamu didn’t sob the way his twin did, but the way he squeezed you tight let you know he was just as moved as Atsumu even if he was quieter about it. Seeing their genuine gratitude for what you felt was common courtesy broke your heart, but even as it ached and you did your best to soothe them you swore to yourself, to love and care for your new hybrids so they’d never want for anything ever again to be the best owner it was possible to be after all they deserved nothing less.

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meltwonu · 4 years ago

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| 𝔲𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔩 𝔦 𝔪𝔢𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲 | [CHAPTER 5] [FINAL]

pairing; fratboy!wonwoo x reader

this chapter’s notes; fratboy!wonwoo, dom!wonwoo, restraints, blindfolds, daddy!kink, dirty talk, sex toys, using panties as a gag, forced orgasms, squirting! 🥴💕oMG YOU GUYS I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS IS THE LAST CHAPTER WTF 😭😭😭 I just wanna say thank you so much for all the love and support you all have given me while writing Caffeine and Until I Met You I really cannot believe any of this… It’s crazy to me that you guys liked this fratboy wonwoo au so much… I really appreciate it! And expect some spin off chapters in the future! I already have 3 planned ☠️ Also, I mention it all the time but I never expect any of my fics to get this much love so every time I’m just shocked 😭 literally sitting here blushing just thinking about it 😭😭💕dfsdffds Also this is almost 4500 words so… strap in 😎🥴 Enjoy the last chapter, inbox roundup tmr and I love you so so so so much 💕

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 COMPLETE

Wonwoo stares at himself in the mirror, lips pursed and brows furrowed.

“I don’t know.”

Mingyu and Minghao both sigh; the latter throwing his arms up in defeat when Wonwoo grimaces in the mirror’s reflection. “Hyung, you haven’t liked anything we dressed you in. Why don’t you trust us?”

Mingyu places his hands on Wonwoo’s shoulders - squeezing the padding in the blazer as he meets the older male’s stare in the mirror.

“This is a date, right?”

“I mean… Yeah? I guess?” Wonwoo mumbles, a little bit shy. “I just don’t want her to think I’m trying too hard. I’m not trying to propose to her, you know. Just trying to get in the foot in the door towards the right direction.”

Minghao steps forward, sighing and shaking his head.

“Yeah, that’s true. But also… Isn’t think your first, real, official date with her? Don’t you want it to be special?”

This time Wonwoo laughs at the pair's dramatics - already shrugging off the blazer as Mingyu’s hands fall from his shoulders.

“God, the two of you make it seem like I’ve never dated a day in my life.”

“Hyung, aren’t you also kind of acting like that yourself? You asked us to help you dress for it in the first place.”

A crimson flush paints Wonwoo’s cheeks at Mingyu’s words; lips pressing into a firm line as he avoids their shit eating grins.

Goddamn it.

“Whatever, just show me other outfits you guys have.”

Wonwoo tells you to meet him in front of the library at 10AM.

‘It’s somewhere familiar.’ He says.

You’d rolled your eyes but agreed - already standing in front of the familiar doors ten minutes earlier than your agreed meeting time.

Part of you was extremely giddy and excited and the other parts of you were nervous and anxious at what Wonwoo had planned for today.

‘Did you have any suggestions for our date?’

Wonwoo bites the inside of his cheek as he sends you the text - palms clammy as he sighs.

‘You should ask for her opinion, hyung. Let her know you value her!’ Mingyu had said.

Wonwoo knows that.

But he blames being away from home a little too long for his airheadedness about it all. Tells himself it’s because he was gone for so long that he doesn’t really know how to act anymore.

Deep down inside, Wonwoo knows it’s really just because you make his heart do backflips when you smile at him and he just never knows how to respond except by shooting you an awkward tight lipped smile of his own.

He’ll call you beautiful all day long and praise you until you beg him to stop but something about the candid moments in between the pleasure that are the moments that make him feel like he’s falling in love for the first time all over again.

But Wonwoo wouldn’t quite admit that to you right now.

‘What would your ideal date be, Wonwoo?’

He runs late by ten minutes.

Soft curses spill from his lips the entire time he jogs over - the flower bouquet in his clammy hand getting crushed slightly at the death grip he has on it.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry I’m late!”

Wonwoo rambles on about how Minghao wouldn’t stop chasing him with a bottle of hairspray but your shaking pupils can only focus on the poor bouquet of flowers being throttled in the midst of Wonwoo’s animated retelling.

“A--are those for m-me?” You whisper; cutting him off as his eyes flit down to his hand.

“O-oh, um, yes, f-for you…” He passes you the bouquet - a shy smile on his face when you take it from his hands.

He’d picked them out himself after deciding on his own that he wanted to do something special for you.

Wanted it to mean something important.

“A dried flower bouquet?”

Wonwoo smiles sheepishly as he scratches the back of his head.

Was it too cheesy?

“They’re already dried so they’ll technically last forever now.”

You’re glad, for once, that you can manage to hold in the scream that almost escapes you when you look up to Wonwoo’s bespectacled face.

“O-oh… Thank you, Wonwoo.”

You want to learn about Wonwoo.

What he likes and dislikes and what he likes to do in his free time. You have a vague idea of it all, but you want to hear it from him directly.

You want him to turn to you and openly talk to you like you’ve been lovers for much longer.

He holds your hand as he guides you through the museum, but he’s oddly quiet and aloof when you try to pull him into conversations.

“Wonwoo, I--”

“Hey look, it’s a Hannah Höch piece. She’s one of the artists that pioneered that collaging thing Mingyu likes to do.” You lose him again as he reads off a biography off the wall and you can’t help but furrow your brows at his back.

You’d ask him over lunch.

The two of you spend a good few hours at the museum.

Although, admittedly, you spend more of that time following Wonwoo around as he silently admires the pieces instead of talking to you.

But by the time lunch is rolling around, he walks you over to a small hole in the wall cafe; flowers adorning the entrance and large windows letting in the sunlight as the two of you sit in a small nook away from most of the other customers.

“So, I--”

“Wonwoo, can I ask you a question?”

He tilts his head in mild confusion at your perplexed tone. “Sure?”

It takes a few seconds of you opening and closing your mouth, unsure of where to start before you sigh.

“So… is this a date?”

Wonwoo scratches the back of his head, ears and cheeks hot as you stare back at him. “I just–I want to understand where we are, Wonwoo. Or what we are, I guess.”

There’s a sigh on his lips and out of nervousness, all he can do is readjust his glasses for the third time.

“I told you I was bad at this.”

He was nervous the entire time the two of you were at the museum and he didn’t know how to let you know so he just didn’t.

He was hoping that he would’ve had the confidence like he usually did.

“I’m sorry, I know, I--I should’ve tried talking but god, you make me so fucking nervous?” He laughs at his own shyness as he runs a free hand through his hair, fully messing up the styling that Minghao had painstakingly done.

“I make you nervous?”

Oh god.

“I--yeah. You really do.” He smiles genuinely at you before his shy eyes focus on the cup of coffee in front of himself. “I know it’s hard to believe, all things considered, but you really do and sometimes I don’t know how to handle myself so I just… Don’t. And I know it’s not fair and I’m super fucking aware I do it too, I just--I can be bad at words sometimes, I guess.”

You try to keep your cool as you nod; lips easing into a soft smile as you stare at Wonwoo dreamily.

You make him nervous.

Letting it go for now, you stir your drink; thinking of ways to get Wonwoo to be more talkative but not in a nervous, panicked way.

“Hey, why don’t you tell me about your semester abroad?”

That manages to do the trick as Wonwoo spends the rest of the lunch portion of your date telling you various anecdotes of his trip.

And you learn that other than the long lectures and midday naps, his eyes light up at the stories he tells you about when they were actually at the archeological dig sites.

“It was so interesting to see remnants of what used to roam the earth before we did and to see little artifacts of old cities. I could’ve spent all day out there just excavating.”

“D’you think you’ll go again if you get the chance?”

Wonwoo squeezes your hand as the two of you walk out of the little cafe - already heading towards the last destination that he’d picked out.

“It’d be nice to.” He grins cheekily at you. “But maybe next time we could go together?”

You end up having to take a taxi to get to the final location.

‘It’d be too far to walk for you, pretty baby~’ Wonwoo had cooed.

The car stops after about 35 minutes and while he pays the fare, you step out to read the sign in front of the large domed building.

‘Planetarium.’

“You okay, baby?”

“Hmm? Y-yeah! I’m just… Wow, I don’t think I’ve been here in… ever.” You laugh awkwardly as Wonwoo places a gentle hand on the small of your back.

“I thought it’d be nice and quiet. We could just... Enjoy each others’ company. And talk. Finally.”

The two of you are quiet when you walk in but Wonwoo tells the receptionist that he’s booked a private room which makes your cheeks warm up.

He’d definitely gone the extra mile.

The two of you are led to a smaller room - just enough to fit ten or so people except it’s only you and Wonwoo once the receptionist shuts the door and leaves you be.

“Shall we?” You nod as you take a seat in one of the recliners; setting your things down into the seat next to you as Wonwoo takes the seat on your other side. The two of you get comfortable as you stare up into the projected night sky - only the buzzing of the projectors in the small room filling up the silence as you start to relax.

Wonwoo reaches for your hand in the darkness and you feel yourself jolt in surprise when he tugs you a little closer to himself.

“Have you ever heard the story of the sun and moon?”

“Hmm? Which one? Aren’t there a lot?”

He closes his eyes, sighing softly as he relaxes in the darkness.

“It’s that old story about how the Sun loved the Moon so much that he died for her every night so that she could breathe. He thought she was so beautiful when she’d glow but the Moon knew their fates were decided in different paths. So the Sun would see her in passing, short glimpses, right before he disappeared beyond the horizon. It’s a romantic story about sacrifice and star crossed lovers.”

“Is that what we are?”

Wonwoo lets out a loud laugh; eyes forming crescents as his glasses slide down his nose bridge.

“No, I think our story is much more fortunate than that.”

Black is Wonwoo’s favorite color.

“A-ah, hold on…!”

He likes to take naps when he’s not working or in his classes and sometimes spends his time playing PC games with his frat brothers until 3 in the morning.

“Wo--Wonwoo!”

He doesn’t have a ton of hobbies but he’s been thinking about videography lately since Mingyu’s brought it up.

“Baby, h-hold on, I’m gonna drop you if you don’t stop flailing!”

And he’s already thinking about taking a film class next semester and maybe quitting his job at the library to focus.

He tells you his favorite hyung is Seungcheol, ‘because he buys food all the time’ and his favorite dongsaeng is Seokmin, ‘because he cries easily so you know his heart is always in the right place.’

“Okay, finally!”

Wonwoo all but kicks the door to his room open, carrying you inside before he kicks it shut.

He lays you down gently on the bed as you giggle; a gentle smile on his face when he lays down next to you.

“I don’t know why you wanted to carry me up the entire flight of stairs but thank you.”

“Think of it as my sun sacrificing for your moon.”

You roll your eyes at his sudden cheesiness and in the heat of the moment, you find yourself rolling onto your side and immediately reaching for Wonwoo’s face as you tug him into a heated kiss.

“Mmph!”

He’s taken by surprise at first but quickly melts into it himself; eyes closing and hands reaching for your body when you start to roll on top of him.

His lips are soft and his kisses slow - the taste of coffee lingering on his lips and tongue when your lips part for him.

You’re reminded of his soft and gentle touches from a few days prior when you moan against his mouth and he’s quick to thread a hand through your hair before he flips your positions so that you’re underneath him instead.

“Mmh… Wonwoo…”

He kisses you on the lips one more time before he pulls away and takes his glasses off.

“I have one more thing for you to conclude our date.”

“Oh? A gift?”

“You can say that…”

He gets up from the bed and walks over to his closet - fetching a small box that he brings back to the bed as you sit up on your elbows.

“Wait, you’re not actually proposing, are you? On the first date?” Snorting, he takes the lid off and empties the contents of the box onto the bed.

“Depends. There’s definitely a cock ring in this pile somewhere.”

‘You can use anything in this box on me tonight. I wanna give you the freedom.’

“You look… wow.”

You try your best to not go over the top with the toys but you couldn’t help yourself when you reached for the blindfold and the set of handcuffs; shaky fingers helping Wonwoo get into position against the headboard before you had locked the handcuffs into place and wrapped the blindfold around his head.

“Everything you dreamed about, baby? Having me at your mercy?” He smirks and even through the blindfold, you already know his eyes are smoldering and staring holes into you as you sit on his thighs.

“Maybe we should switch off every now and again ‘cause you look really good like this, Wonwoo…”

“Hah, well, let’s see how well you do, hmm, princess? Maybe if you do a good job, I might let you.”

Gulping, your eyes flit down his half naked body and yours before you reach for one more thing from the box; turning it on and letting it buzz to life as Wonwoo tenses up slightly.

He holds his breath and anticipates it but he’s still not as prepared as he thinks when you press the vibrator against his cock through the fabric of his boxer briefs.

“Oh--s-shit!”

The sensations feel even stronger with his eyes covered by the blindfold and his arms bound above his head and no matter how much he wants to tug against his restraints, he knows he can’t do anything.

Your mouth is agape at the way Wonwoo squirms underneath you and for a moment, you wonder if this is what he sees when you’re the one squirming underneath him.

“You’re not usually this sensitive… daddy~”

The teasing lilt in your voice has Wonwoo clenching his jaw before he huffs. “Daddy’s not used to being the one tied up, sweetheart.”

He opens his mouth to comment again, only a soft moan floating past his lips as he thrusts up against the vibrator. You don’t do anything other than hold it against his clothed cock but it’s enough for him to want to give in and switch places with you already - even though it’s only been minutes since you started.

Wonwoo tells himself control is something he needs to learn how to manage.

You can’t help but touch yourself while you hold the toy against him; biting your lip to hold in your noises when you gently run your fingers over your clothed mound.

“Sweetheart…”

“Y-yes, daddy?”

Grinning, Wonwoo can already tell by the shakiness of your voice that you’re affected too and he can’t help but want his hands roaming all over your skin.

“You should have all your fun now while you can~”

Gulping, you heed the warning in his voice as you set the vibrator to its highest setting, causing Wonwoo to let out a broken cry as the vibrations make his entire body tremble and try to shy away from the toy.

“G--god, fuh--fuck, ngh…”

His moans have your pussy clenching around emptiness and your fingertips only press harder into the wet patch of your panties at the way he tugs against his restraints.

“D-daddy… I--Can I sit on your cock now? I can’t w-wait any longer, you look so good…”

“O-oh? Watching daddy being a little bit submissive got your panties all wet, huh, princess? Are you wet enough to take daddy’s cock already?”

“Mmhmm…”

You turn off the toy and pull it away from him, watching his body go slack before you shimmy off of his lap to take off your panties.

A grin etches itself onto your face as you hold the wet material in your hands. “Daddy? Do you wanna know how wet I am?”

You can see Wonwoo’s brows furrow from above the blindfold but he nods once, lips parted slightly as he catches his breath. Goosebumps are all over his skin and he can feel you starting to grind down onto his clothed cock as your wetness soaks into the material of his boxer briefs.

“Oh, sweetheart, I--mmph!”

Giggling, you stuff the fabric between his parted lips - muffling anything he was going to say after as you grind down onto him harder. “Mmh, daddy you’re so hard… ‘m gonna make myself cum on your cock now, okay~?”

Only what you can assume are muffled curse words fall from his lips when you scoot back down to his thighs, tugging his boxer briefs down before wrapping a hand around his cock.

You lean over and let saliva drip from your mouth to the head of his cock - smearing the spit and his precum up and down his shaft as you prolong his teasing before giving himself, and yourself, what you both really want.

“Daddy, I wish you could see yourself right now~ I can tell how much you wanna feel my cute ‘lil pussy wrapped around your cock… Squeezing you and making you feel good too~”

Wonwoo can only groan around the fabric, hips thrusting up into your palm.

“And I’m so wet now too… But daddy always gets me sooo wet…” You shimmy back up his body, positioning his cock at your entrance before you start to sink down slowly. “A-ah, sliding into my hot ‘lil cunt like you w-were made for me, daddy…”

The amount of expletives Wonwoo’s screamed into the soaked material is uncountable at this point, but he says a mental prayer thanking the powers up above when he’s finally fully seated in your warmth - cock already curving deliciously into your g-spot as you mewl.

“Mmh, I could cum like this… Your cock is s-so big it’s already filling me up s-so good and--and touching all the p-places inside me that make me w-wanna cum…”

You grind atop his lap, swiveling your hips before removing your bra and tossing it off to the side. “Ngh… daddy…” Your hands roam your skin, cupping your breasts and pinching your nipples as you whimper and clench down onto Wonwoo’s cock harder.

“Nod once if you wanna see me, daddy~ Or nod twice if you wanna talk to me~”

Wonwoo grits his teeth - you could really be evil when you wanted to.

But he nods once, sharply, to let you know he’s not happy he can’t have both. You laugh softly in return, leaning up to remove the silk ribbon from his eyes.

He blinks rapidly to adjust to the dimmed room, eyes on your naked body in a flash as you go back to teasing yourself.

“Do you like what you see, daddy?”

Wonwoo gulps, this time nodding shakily as he watches you pinch your nipples and cup your breasts. “Bet you wanna touch me too, huh, daddy?” He narrows his eyes - silently telling you to watch yourself.

“Hmm… s’not as fun when daddy doesn’t talk to me too~”

You smile at him teasingly before you reach over to pull the wet material from between Wonwoo’s lips and he doesn’t waste a second before he’s chuckling - quietly yet enough to make you shiver.

“Hah, gotta hand it to you, princess...”

He doesn’t say anything more which makes you nervous so instead, you start bouncing on his lap, fingertips on your clit as you chase your pleasure.

This won’t last much longer, you think, I gotta take what I can get.

Soft mewls spill from your lips as you maintain eye contact with him and the way he just stares at you is enough to make you cry out.

“D-daddy, d--don’t, ah, look at m-me like that…”

“Like what, princess?”

You pinch your clit, eyes clamping shut when he shifts slightly underneath you.

A choked sob bubbles up your throat when you throw your head back and the pleasure washes over you - your orgasm hitting you hard as you swivel your hips faster.

“Oho, my pretty ‘lil princess is already cumming~ Your hot ‘lil cunt is sucking my cock in deeper while you cum… Don’t you want daddy to fuck you good and hard? Feel my cock fucking you so deep you feel it in your stomach?”

“O-oh, god, daddy…!” Your thighs shake as you rub quicker circles on your clit - milking your orgasm for what it’s worth before you would give back the control to Wonwoo.

“Or maybe daddy should fuck you slow… Let you feel every inch of me when I’m sliding in and out of your pretty ‘lil cunt… Make you beg for me and crave me so fuckin’ bad, just like you did to me?”

His laugh is cruel and makes you whimper; orgasm ebbing away as your fingers slow down and your hips come to a stop.

Gulping, you know the second the locks click on the handcuffs that Wonwoo would most likely make you pay for all your teasing.

But you fish for the keys lost in the bedsheets - shaky, sticky fingers reaching above the silent male underneath you as you start to undo the locks keeping him bound to the bed.

And it doesn’t take long.

“Ah…!”

Wonwoo does the rest of the work himself, tugging himself free and maneuvering you swiftly until you’re on your back; the air knocked out of your lungs at how quickly he moved.

“Daddy, I--”

The words die on your tongue when Wonwoo pushes your legs up to your chest, not even bothering to rid himself of his boxer briefs when he sinks his cock back into you.

In this position, Wonwoo holds all the control; cock slamming into your sensitive cunt as garbled noises fall from your lips.

“D--daddy, ‘m se--sensitive… ngh…”

Your cunt is like a vice grip around his cock as he snaps his hips hard and fast - this time chasing his own pleasure after all your teasing.

In all honesty, he would’ve cum if you kept the vibrator on his body any longer and he mentallly reminds himself to not let you know how easily it affected him.

“I know you’re sensitive, princess~ Which is why you’re gonna cum for me again.”

Wonwoo reaches between your bodies, rubbing quick circles on your clit with the pad of his thumb as you scream out his name.

“Oh--oh, god! Wonwoo, Wonwoo, Wonwoo!”

“That’s right. Fuckin’ scream my name, princess. Who’s making you feel this good?”

“Y--You! Daddy! Fuck, ah, I--I can’t, I can’t, I--mmh!”

Wonwoo already starts to feel your body tense up with each thrust of his hips that has the head of his cock tapping your g-spot.

“You can and you will, princess.” He mutters, eyes focused on your face that contorts in absolute bliss. “Daddy wants to feel you cumming on his cock while he fucks you nice and deep. You take me so well, princess~ Fuckin’ taking all of me in your cute ‘lil cunt.”

Tears blur your vision as the pleasure starts to wash over you a second time - nothing leaving your lips except for an alternation of ‘Wonwoo’ and ‘daddy’ as your legs shake and toes curl.

“Fuck, princess…!”

Wonwoo’s cock is forced out of you as you cum hard; squirting all over his lower half as you cry out and convulse against the sheets.

The ringing in your ears is enough to block out anything he seems to say but he’s quick to wrap a hand around his cock and tap your swollen clit as he works you through your second high.

“Aww, my good ‘lil princess is so cute when she’s squirting all over daddy~ Making a big mess, too~” Your body jolts with each tap of his cock head against your clit and it only prolongs your orgasm as you thrash against his sheets.

“Da---daddy… I, hic, ‘m sor--sorry…”

When Wonwoo feels your body start to relax after a few tense minutes, he takes in your glowing form underneath him; thighs slicked with wetness and bed sheets soaked and crumpled underneath your bodies.

In a moment of gentleness, he lets your quivering legs down, fingertips massaging your tired body as he leans over you.

His lips are ghosting across your cheek as you open your teary eyes, soft cries still on your lips when he wipes at your tear stained cheek with the back of his fingers.

“You okay, princess?”

“Mm…”

“You wanna stop now? We can if you want.” His voice is barely above a whisper and the softness of it makes your body feel warm and sated when he kisses you gently. He repeats this a few more times as you catch your breath; leaving feather-light kisses all over your face as you mewl.

“You didn’t cum yet though, daddy…”

“I know, s’okay.” He smiles against your lips, “I want what you want… ‘Cause I really like you. And I’d really like to go on more dates with you, princess. And I wanna be able to tell everyone that I really like you too. And show you off to them and make them jealous that you’re mine. If you’ll let me. And learn with me.”

You giggle tiredly into his kiss, hazy eyes meeting his own.

You were happy.

And Wonwoo was too.

“Wanna start by grabbing me a glass of water from downstairs then, daddy?”

“Anything for you, my moon.”

“Does that really work?”

“What do you mean?”

“The ‘holding a cup to the door’ thing. Can you hear them?” Mingyu purses his lips at Minghao’s question.

“Not… really. Kinda just muffles it more.”

Jeonghan passes by the two currently hunched over each other in front of Wonwoo’s door; an incredulous look on his face.

“Why are the two of you listening in on them fucking? Fucking weirdos.”

Mingyu and Minghao both turn to look at the older male, lips pursed into a firm line “We’re not listening to them fucking, hyung. We’re trying to hear their conversation.”

Jeonghan laughs as he shakes his head.

“There’s absolutely no valuable conversation going on if she’s screaming ‘daddy’ so loud that Seungcheol is texting me about it from his bedroom. You should leave before Wonwoo finds out and decides to make rugs out of the two of you.”

“Ugh… Yes, hyung.”

💕

#wonwoo smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo fic #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #svt scenarios #svt imagines #uimy_meltwonu #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo #fratboy!svt

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not-enough-teeth-and-treasures · 3 years ago

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An Autistic’s Perspective on Tears of Themis’ Representation (spoiler alert: it’s bad)

Before you read, I should warn you that there will be spoilers for Chapter Five! Read at your own risk. Also, trigger warning for discussions of ableism and harmful disablility stereotypes. I get pretty heated as well, so if you’re not a fan of swearing and stuff, then it might be best to skip this.

So, I was debating whether or not I wanted to talk about this, mostly because this game doesn’t do anything new in regards to the perception of autism in media. Unfortunately, it ends up leaning into a lot of not great tropes and goes into “what the fuck that’s incredibly offensive territory” waaay to quickly. So here I am.

The most prevelant character with autism (or who we start out thinking has autism. Don’t worry, I’ll get to that) is a small, supergenius child (a boy as well *sigh*) is so overdone at this point that there aren’t many new criticisms I can say. The stereotype of autism presented in media is overwhelmingly extremely intelligent (usually with sciency or math based interests) men with no ability to socialize or be kind to others. This not only paints autism as a disability that effects men primarily (which creates intense stigma around AFAB autistic people and makes it harder for us to get diagnosed or believed), but also creates this expectation of greatness. Autistic people are often held to superhuman standards, which further others and dehumanizes us in the eyes of allistic people. The vast majority of autistic people are not savants, and that it perfectly fine.

But all of this is pretty standard. The red flags started popping up when it was revealed that the autistic kid, Hugh, doesn’t actually have autism and is faking it in order to keep people from asking hard questions about him or trying to pry into his life (which is full of secrets). I’m definitely not a fan of perpetuating the idea that people fake diabilities in order to manipulate people, so this plot twist was not my favorite. However, it wasn’t really enough to inspire me to write a whole ass essay about the representation. And then I got to the fucking text conversation with Vyn.

Here is where I’m gonna put a trigger warning for talk about eugenics, curing autism, ableism, and basically just a fuck ton of awful shit. Fuck, this makes me so mad.

So, I went in and took screenshots of both options just to see, and all of them lead to terrible bullshit. Lets start out pretty light with the MC and Vyn discussing symptoms.

This is a pretty limited and honestly incomplete explanation of autistic behaviors. These can definitely be symptoms, but they’re heavily overcovered and really basic. A lot of autistic people don’t have these symptoms, and it would be really nice if more media branched out and covered more of the spectrum. However, considering they don’t do anything different in any other areas, I’m not surprised.

Also not a fan of Vyn’s use of “abnormal.” It has some very negative connotations and is a bit insulting, honestly. These behaviors are perfectly “normal;” they’re just not as accepted by neurotypical people. Plus, no behaviors can really be labeled as normal because humans are complex and different.

That was the easy shit. Let’s get into the truly awful garbage.

This is treading into ABA territory here. For those of you who are unaware, ABA is pushed as the best autistic therapy, but a large majority of autistic adults consider it to be abusive and unhelpful. This is mainly because it seeks to “correct” many behaviors that are helpful for autistic people. It seeks to surpress stims (which are behaviors that improve the mental health of autistic children), force us to talk (as opposed to letting us use sign language and technology), and more. This harms our mental health and makes us ashamed of who we are. These behaviors do not need to be “corrected.” We don’t need to act “normally.” All this therapy does is make us more palitable for neurotypical people, and it’s bullshit.

It also doesn’t help that ABA was pioneered by Ivar Lovaas, a man who did not believe autistic people were human. He developed ABA as a way to “build a person” using harsh punishments such as withholding affection and ELECTRIC SHOCKS. If you think this is a think of the past, you’d be wrong. Electric shocks are still being used to harm disabled people. Look up the hashtag #StopTheShock to learn more and help push for legislation that bans this practice.

Oh, and did I mention Ivar Lovaas also inspired gay conversion therapy? Because he did! So yeah, fuck ABA and fuck Vyn for performing it (god damn it, Vyn, I liked you a lot).

And now, onto the eugenics. Fuck my life.

FUCK! THIS! BULLSHIT!

I am so tired of autism being treated as this horrific disease that needs a cure. I had a perfectly fine childhood. Yes, it was hard at times, yes I got traumatized, but a large part of that was due to ableism and abuse from teachers and peers. A large reason why autistic people suffer is because the world is not built for us, and we are often denied accommodations that would make our lives better.

It is beyond offensive and disgusting to suggest that we would be better off not existing than “suffering so much” because of autism. Because that is what this game and everyone else who thinks there should be a cure is suggesting. There is no me without autism. it literally affects my brain structure. You are wishing for a completely different person when you tell me that autism should be cured.

Now, I’m not going to get into the horrible consent issues that arise from talks about a cure, including genetic editing, fear mongering to parents so they think abortion is the only option, and straight up Nazi style eugenics. I do not have the spoons to delve into that exhausting discussion. But if you want to know more, then there are so many incredible autistic people who have written blogs, Twitter threads, and more about why a cure is a terrible idea.

Oh, and if you’re going to come at me with the “severely autistic people should be cured” bullshit, don’t bother. There is no such thing as “severe” autism, first of all, and second, non verbal autistic people (which are who people think of when they talk about “severe” autism), largely don’t want a cure. There have been so many surveys of tens of thousands of autistic people, and the result is that the overwhelming majority do not want to be cured. We want support and proper accommodations. Listen to us.

So, in conclusion, fuck this text conversation and it’s ableist and offensive bullshit. I really wish ToT had stayed away from autism, or at the very least did not touch on therapy or a possible cure. For a game that is about genetic experimentation on children and how bad that is, it sure peddles a lot of eugenics.

Fuck, this text conversation actually made me ill and I hate that. I’m so done with constantly trying to prove to the world that I am a human being who deserves to exist. I’m gonna go cuddle my service dog now.

#tears of themis #vyn richter #autism #autistic perspective #autism representation #seriously can we stop treating my disability like a disease? Is that so fucking hard?#i don't need a cure #i deserve to exist #aba is abuse #autistic people deserve to exist #hugh tears of themis #tot #tot vyn #god damn it vyn I simped for you

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years ago

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Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 28 - ao3 -

The answer, it turned out, was paint.

It wasn’t an answer that Lan Qiren would have anticipated in any way, shape, or form. He had been under the impression, as had Lao Nie, that Wen Ruohan had stopped painting long ago. After some teasing by Lao Nie, the man had even off-handedly confirmed it at a private dinner they’d shared at a discussion conference – there had been more than usual planned in this past year, accounting for the fact that all of the Great Sect sect leaders (except Wen Ruohan) were unusually young, and therefore active. And although no one acknowledged it as a reason, everyone knew that it was also meant to help calm the concerns of the smaller sects regarding the chaos in their Great Sect leaders’ personal lives, between Jiang Fengmian losing his servant to his beloved or possibly the other way around, Lao Nie’s extremely bizarre marriage situation, and Lan Qiren stepping up unexpectedly to the position of sect leader on account of his brother’s retreat from the world.

According to Wen Ruohan, it hadn’t been anything in particular that had made him stop painting, only a lack of time and then of interest; there had been a severe crisis some time ago, long before either of them were born, and he had been obligated to devote himself exclusively to those affairs for an extended period of time. When he had finally resurfaced, years later, he had returned and found an old painting sitting there half-finished, and staring at it, realized that he was no longer the same man who had begun it.

He had never painted again.

Lan Qiren was unsure if this was a real story or not – Wen Ruohan, he had learned, seemed to consider the truth about his past to be little more than a gentleman’s agreement between friends – as it seemed to be an especially pointed reminder aimed at Lan Qiren’s situation in particular.

Lao Nie had certainly taken it as such, throwing in his own concerns about Lan Qiren’s work schedule, and when even Cangse Sanren had joined the growing mob of all the rest of his friends, Lan Qiren had finally, if reluctantly, agreed to defer to their concern. He’d finally taken a step back and reorganized his duties as sect leader, standing his ground against the elders and insisting on having more time to devote to his own interests, including those outside of his work as a teacher – music, study, quiet contemplation, even maintaining his training with the sword, despite the fact that he would never match his brother as a sword cultivator.

It had, in fact, made him a better sect leader, less prone to working until he burned out, and he was grateful to his friends for their wisdom and steadfastness in the face of his stubborn grief.

At any rate, though, Wen Ruohan was no longer the painter he had been in his youth, and the hints of burning that marked all such paintings that Lan Qiren had seen suggested that the transition had been an unpleasant one for him. It was a surprise, therefore, to receive, as a gift from the Nightless City, a painting in that immediately recognizable hand which was so freshly made that Lan Qiren imagined he could still smell the grinding ink.

The painting depicted a dragon amidst a misty bamboo forest, its massive coils interwoven throughout the bamboo until it appeared almost part of the earth from which they sprung, or alternatively that speared through from above by a rain of spears; in its claw it held a beauteous dragon pearl, shining bright against the dark haze that surrounded the rest of the painting, and its eyes were fixed upon it as if it had forgotten all else.

The pearl, Lan Qiren presumed, was himself, given Wen Ruohan’s fondness for comparing him to one, which Lan Qiren still did not entirely understand – while he knew it was a sign of Wen Ruohan’s appreciation for him, and an indication that he treasured him, he thought that the particular choice in the type of precious stone was likely to be due to the fact Lan Qiren largely preferred white and grey and silver for his clothing.

(Privately, he had determined that one day, out of sheer spite, he would wear an outfit primarily composed of blue for no other reason than to give the other man a shock; he just hadn’t found a reason yet to justify the expense of having such clothing made when he would only use it the once.)

Similarly, the dragon was the symbol of imperial might, of overweening power and influence and even arrogance; naturally that would be Wen Ruohan himself. But as for the rest of it – the lonely but beautiful bamboo forest, often associated with moral integrity and loyalty, yet juxtaposed in this painting as piercing spears, penetrating the dragon’s hide as if attacking him – the dark mist that seemed to envelop the dragon, held at abeyance only through the light of its pearl –

Lan Qiren did not understand.

There were too many meanings possible, and he did not know how to differentiate between those that were there and those he only wanted to read into it. There was nothing for it, but that he would need to ask the artist himself what was meant.

When, as expected, an invitation came a few days later, requesting that Lan Qiren visit the Nightless City in his capacity as Wen Ruohan’s sworn brother, Lan Qiren accepted.

There were all the necessary pleasantries when he arrived, of course. No longer could he just slip in through the back door, a younger brother come to leech off some resources from an elder; he was the Lan sect leader, and that came with certain obligations even on a casual visit. There were a few formal procedures, and then dinner with Wen Ruohan and his wives, with whom his dynamics had completely reversed – Madame Wen had thawed towards Lan Qiren on account of his new position as sect leader, which guaranteed that he would never be able to move to the Nightless City and thereby obstruct her personal power, while the new concubine, former maid, seemed to think that his involvement in her ascension to the position she now held was a matter of embarrassment, resulting in her wanting to snub him whenever possible.

Wen Ruohan largely ignored their antics, his eyes fixed on Lan Qiren throughout their meal, and afterwards, he had finally dismissed them all and taken Lan Qiren back to the small study he preferred to use for their time together.

“The painting you sent was lovely,” Lan Qiren said, playing a little with the cup of tea that was warm and aromatic in his hands. “You have lost none of your skill.”

“I rebuilt it,” Wen Ruohan corrected, looking amused. “You ought to have seen the first few efforts; I think I wasted enough paper to feed a small family for a year.”

Lan Qiren smiled at the thought. He could scarcely imagine Wen Ruohan struggling the way he described, making an effort and finding his ability wanting; still less could he have once imagined Wen Ruohan having admitted to that fact in front of another.

It was a little like what Lao Nie had said, that between the two of them they were excavating the residual humanity left in Wen Ruohan, slowly and methodically moving aside stone and dirt in order to find the treasures lurking beneath.

“I like it even more, then,” he said, and decided to be a little bit bold. “I like knowing that you thought of me for as long as it took you to make it.”

Wen Ruohan’s eyes curved in delight. “You need not be concerned on that score,” he said, his voice still calm and unhurried as always. “You are not so easily expelled from my thoughts, now that you have entered them…ah, little Lan, little Lan, you make me impatient! I had made plans on how to broach the subject with you, and yet now that you are here, I find myself rushing forward, intent to get to the point like some savage Nie.”

A savage Nie of whom he was exceedingly fond, he did not say, and Lan Qiren managed not to roll his eyes at him.

Instead, Lan Qiren put down his cup and folded his hands in his lap. “Don’t hesitate on my behalf,” he said, then added, a little dryly, “I’ve had enough indirect statements to last a lifetime.”

“Welcome to politics,” Wen Ruohan responded, just as dry, but his smile faded and his expression grew more intense; he stood and came closer to Lan Qiren, looking down at him for a long moment before taking a seat beside him. “Qiren, why are you here?”

Lan Qiren blinked, a little confused by the question, but before he could put together an answer, Wen Ruohan continued. “You are sincere and true to yourself; you follow your sect’s rules because you believe in them whole-heartedly and wish to live up to their strictures. Yet do they not say Do not associate with evil?”

“I don’t think you’re evil,” Lan Qiren said. “I think we disagree on what actions constitute evil, on what divides good from evil, and that you are more comfortable walking closely along that line than I. I think that there will be many times in the future where we disagree once again on what is or is not the straight path, and what is the crooked, but – fundamentally, I don’t think you’re evil.”

He considered the question for another moment longer, then added: “And if you were, what is there to do about it? You’re still my sworn brother, bound by oath and blood, and that makes you my responsibility whether I like it or not. Even if you were evil, the only thing that would be left for me to do would be to try my best to lead you out of the dark and back to the light.”

Wen Ruohan was watching him again. His red eyes were narrowed a little, his gaze as intense as it had been when Lan Qiren had been little more than a child, although experience had made it a little less overwhelming.

“You know that I see you as a pearl in the palm of my hand,” Wen Ruohan finally said. His voice was low and intimate, and Lan Qiren shivered to hear it. “A treasure I never expected to find, a gem of such surpassing purity that I fear it will burn me to dare profane it with my touch. Time is eternal; the pearl flows, the jade turns, and yet I remain, walking my crooked path and you your straight broad bridge, shining with righteousness. I see you and yearn for you both day and night, and even in my dreams…”

He reached out and put his hand on Lan Qiren’s. “I would have you be mine, if you would have the same.”

No hollowed-out puppets soon to be discarded here, Lan Qiren thought nonsensically, and swallowed.

“I am yours,” he said carefully, pronouncing each syllable at a time. He had to get this right, he thought, and he would only ever have this one singular chance to do so, or else he’d lose something as bright and shining as the pearl Wen Ruohan was always comparing him to. “I am your sworn brother, as you are mine; I will always be yours.”

“I know,” Wen Ruohan said, and it seemed for once that Lan Qiren had expressed himself clearly rather than muddling it up: he hadn’t misunderstood him into thinking that what Lan Qiren had said was a rejection. “If I were not one of those evil men that your rules warn you against, I would find it in myself to be content with that. But I am, and I am not.”

Lan Qiren wet his lips with his tongue. “You know what I told you,” he reminded him. “About how I – I could compromise myself if I had to, if it made you happy, but I don’t want to have to. That is not who I am, what I am. I don’t want to have to bend and yield. I don’t want to break under the weight of love the way my brother did.”

Wen Ruohan was watching him, patient and waiting.

“I’m not comfortable with that type of intimacy, the type shared between lovers since the start of time,” Lan Qiren finally said. “I don’t want it intrinsically, and I don’t think I want it logically, either. More than that, I don’t think, having never wanted it before and not wanting it now, that I will ever want it. My brother once compared me to a block of ice or a mountain lake frozen over in winter, frigid, and there was something true to what he said. There is no heat that will make me melt as others do…and yet.”

“And yet?”

“And yet you are not the only one who wishes to possess.” He met Wen Ruohan’s eyes. “I, too, would have you be mine.”

His stupid Lan sect heart, burning a hole in his chest; it should have been enough to make him forget his own wishes and be willing to give in, to want to give everything to his beloved no matter the cost to himself, but it wasn’t – he wasn’t. And yet, at the same time, he judged his own affections to be no less than his brother’s for all that they were quieter and less flamboyant, understated rather than loudly proclaimed

Wen Ruohan leaned forward, bringing their faces closer together. “Then why don’t you claim me?”

“Because I cannot offer you what I should,” Lan Qiren said truthfully. “What you would expect –”

“And when,” Wen Ruohan cut him off, “have I ever cared for the expectations set out by the rest of the world? Would I have done half the things I did if I cared for the world’s conventions and determined my aims through their lens?”

Lan Qiren had to admit that he had a point.

“I know what you are,” Wen Ruohan said. “To taint you would be to ruin my own pleasure, to force you would be to deny myself – and I never deny myself. I am greedy, little Lan; I am not content with what the world would have me want, not when I can have what I really want.”

“And what is it that you want?”

“Lao Nie told me that he told you about his wife,” Wen Ruohan said. “How he stayed and she went, and they were still happy…I want that, with you.”

Lan Qiren frowned, not understanding.

“I want you,” Wen Ruohan told him, and his long-fingered hand traced over Lan Qiren’s cheekbone. “I want to have you, to own you, to keep you. I want to possess you down to the marrow of your bones; I want every inch of you in every way that I can have you. I want you to be mine – and I don’t need to fuck you to have it.”

Lan Qiren stared at him.

Wen Ruohan smile was like his smirk, triumphant and arrogant, certain of his impending victory. “If I want sex, I have my wives or Lao Nie for that, don’t I? To my wives I have only promised power, which I have given them. As for Lao Nie, I know now that he cannot promise me his heart: he is too facile, too free, too easy with others – he is compelled to share not only his body, which I wouldn’t mind, but also his heart, and I find that I am as unwilling to share in matters of the heart as you are to share your body.”

He shifted closer yet again, until their eyes were level with each other and their breath intermingled in the air between them.

“You will not be like him,” he said, voice dark and certain. “You’re barely willing to divide your attention to things you consider less important than your particular interests. Your heart is your clan’s curse and its treasure, taking you to the heavens and casting you down to the hells – if you give me your heart, full and entire, it will be as if you have removed it from your chest and put it in my hand. No one else will have any part of it, not like this, not in this way. It will only be me.”

“That is true,” Lan Qiren said. “I love no less deeply than my brother. My heart is a placid lake with a surface as clear as glass – you can see everything therein. Within it, there are only my interests, my nephew, my few friends, and you.”

Wen Ruohan’s smile widened.

“What exactly are you thinking?” Lan Qiren asked. His heart was beating in his chest so fast that it hurt. “If you want the assurance, you have it already: I am yours, and you are mine, and it would shatter me to let you go now. Is that what you want?”

“It is.” Wen Ruohan laughed, and it was full of pleasure. “Ah, little Lan! It is, it is.”

“What does it change?” Lan Qiren asked. “How is it different from what we have already?”

“It changes everything,” Wen Ruohan said simply, and Lan Qiren thought about and felt that he was right. “Knowing that you are mine makes it easier to release you into the world, to watch you shine and others see it; let them all look and know that it will never be theirs. All good things in the world are mine, and you are the best among them.”

“Pretty words,” Lan Qiren said, aiming for dry but probably just coming off as short of breath. “I’m a little more interested in the practical.”

“I would have you share my pillow while you are here,” Wen Ruohan said. “I do not need you to share your body with me, but I would have your company as a husband has his wife’s…and there are things that can be done without involving your body, depending on your tolerance.”

“Oh? Like what?”

Wen Ruohan grinned. “As it happens, that’s a matter I’ve given some considerable thought to…”

Lan Qiren rolled his eyes, and felt the heat in his ears fade a little; he appreciated the small reprieve from the emotional intensity, the humor breaking the tenseness of the moment.

“You know I find you beautiful,” Wen Ruohan said, and this time his hand came to rest on Lan Qiren’s cheek, his thumb brushing over his lips, and as quickly as that the reprieve was gone. “Perhaps you would permit me to find my own pleasure beside you, gazing upon you, or even invite another to share the bed while you busy yourself with your work – you are never as beautiful as when you are focused, your soul and mind wholly absorbed in your passion for the subject. Perhaps I would invite you to read a spring book for me, spilling out dirty words in that cool tone of yours that you use regardless of the circumstance, so that I might torment myself with hearing you at any time and think of that…I have a thousand and one ideas, little Lan, and I would try them all to see which ones you like and which ones you don’t, to yield to your preference and glory in so yielding.”

None of that sounded like something Lan Qiren would dislike, he thought to himself; it really was only his own personal involvement in the act that he truly objected to. And if Wen Ruohan had Lan Qiren’s heart and Lao Nie’s body, and both their friendship besides, perhaps even he in his ceaseless ambition could find a way to be satisfied with what he had for a time.

“I would like that,” he said honestly.

“Then having gained a cun, I will take a chi,” Wen Ruohan said. “I would like to kiss you.”

Lan Qiren swallowed.

“…all right,” he said. “You may.”

And he did.

#mdzs #lan qiren #wen ruohan #my fic #my fics #spilled pearls

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therealvinelle · 4 years ago

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Hi! I was reading through your meta (which is reeeeally interesting) and noticed you said you don't like Eleazar? I was wondering why that was?

Tumblr ate this ask when I had almost finished it and I hate everything. Also, thanks for the compliment, I’m really glad you like my things.

Now to try and remember what I wrote about Eleazar…

I think Eleazar is a disagreeable person whose gift wasn’t useful enough to warrant a place in the Volturi guard, and Aro jumped on the Carmen-shaped excuse to give him an honorable discharge.

To start with the gift, we see him use it twice and neither time is particularly impressive.

Siobhan Siobhan has the power of reality manipulation. Her gift is noticeable enough that Carlisle is certain she has it, so when he gets Eleazar and Siobhan in a room together he pulls Eleazar over to see if he was right. Eleazar squints at Siobhan. And he squints. Finally he says, «I’ve got nothing.» Now, gifts are an iffy, complicated matter everyone has their own theories about, but I think that at the end of the day we can all agree it’s a binary, you’re gifted or you’re not. Some gifts may be weak, but those are still gifts. And maybe someone will touch the gray zone of «is it a gift or is Johnny the vampire just really good at juggling?», but Siobhan has the power to manipulate reality, and she must do it a lot for Carlisle to have come to suspect it in the first place. She has a definitive and powerful gift. And even if I’m wrong about gifts being binary, if Eleazar wants to be useful to Aro he should still be able to say: Yes, this person has a gift, or no, this person does not have a gift. Sadly, he is not. When brought before Siobhan he says «She could have a gift, she could also not have a gift.» This means he hasn’t detected her gift, which is bad enough by itself. Being able to tell if someone has a gift or not should be a dealbreaker. The way he answers, though, that she could very well have a gift he doesn’t know about, makes it clear that people having gifts he couldn’t detect has happened enough for him to be open to the possibility that the gift there, and he can’t see it. In other words, Eleazar isn’t reliable for detecting gifts and will give Aro false negatives.

Bella This is an aside but as it’ll inevitably come up later in my blog I’ll just drop here that I think Bella’s gift is something more complex than a shield. She has prophetic dreams, hallucination!Edward, and there’s a weird inconsistency as to who is blocked by her and who isn’t. I think her gift is self-preservation, and the shield is one of its manifestations. Anyway, onto discrediting Eleazar. (I’ll be pretty closely paraphrasing what happens in chapter 31 of Breaking Dawn, but since the interaction goes on for several pages I’m not going to clutter this post by pasting all of it.) To his credit, he does notice Bella right away, and he identifies her as a shield based on the fact that he gets this sense of nothingness from her. This is all he can do, however, and I can’t stress that enough. He assumes that she can block Edward, but he’s shocked to learn that she can block Aro. He’s just as surprised that she can block Jane and Alec. He has to interview her to deduce exactly what her gift does, which again has nothing to do with his gift. Anyone could ask questions, in fact Aro found all this out two books ago, without the help of Eleazar. Eleazar then starts musing aloud about who-would-win in a Renata vs. Bella showdown (more on that later), which is as tactless as it is revealing. The guy genuinely doesn’t know, and it’s because he doesn’t understand their gifts well enough. Eleazar’s power means he can tell Bella that she has a gift, and he knows roughly what it is. He muses that usually he can’t even tell that much, which again is quite damning. He can’t tell her exactly what she does without a game of 20 questions first. She gives him more information than he gives her, which he then regurgitates back to her with slightly different wording, and everybody claps. «My god, Eleazar, you’ve done it again!» (No, really, this is pretty much what happens. Eleazar brought no new information to the table, yet he blew Bella and Edward’s minds.) It’s all fun and games to do this for Bella and Edward, as they for various reasons genuinely didn’t realize she had a gift. For Aro, who figured this one out on his own, one begins to wonder what Eleazar was bringing to the table.

Carlisle Bonus bullet point! I’ll make this one brief. I believe Carlisle in canon has a gift he’s unaware of (Yes, I have a post planned, but it will get ugly long so god knows when it’ll come), which makes him another one of Eleazar’s gift detection fails. In short, I think he’s extremely charismatic, able to win over anybody. To list a few examples - he has an extremely diverse set of friends who in Breaking Dawn are willing to lay down their lives for him, Jacob muses how his instinctive hostility around vampires doesn’t apply to Carlisle, and vampires are terrifying to humans (don’t be fooled by the movies, people) yet Carlisle is able to work as a successful doctor, meaning his patients don’t mind being exposed to a killing machine even when they’re at their most vulnerable. He’s able to keep his family of sociopaths in line. There’s not a single person in the Twilight ‘verse that dislikes him. (Billy and Caius excepted, but Billy has no direct exposure to him until late Eclipse, and Caius is responding to a coven that’s potentially threatening the Volturi) People are free to disagree with me on this one, but if I’m right (and I have a lot of book quotes as well as a theory on what gifts even are to back me up on this one. I’m right, damnit!) then Carlisle is another gifted vampire Eleazar failed to detect.

So. We’ve established that Eleazar’s gift will yield false negatives, and that he can’t tell you much about the gifts he does detect.

I think his power is to point out the obvious.

Which means that Aro’s eyelid was twitching slightly, but alright, Eleazar could still be useful.

Unfortunately, there is the matter of weighing up your pros with your cons.

The Volturi are, at the end of the day, a group of people who live in a commune together. Coven, guard, evil minions, call them what we like but they’re exposed to each other and some sense of agreeability is required. And Chelsea is not omnipotent.

More, I imagine that in a coven as large and old as the Volturi, they’ve developed a culture of their own. This means that newcomers will need social awareness and a willingness to fit in.

Eleazar, from what we see of him in Breaking Dawn, appears to lack both.

It’s in the way he speaks of the people he used to work with. It’s utterly impersonal. He tells us how their gifts work, no more and no less. When he speaks of Aro, he speaks only of actions Aro took and orders he gave, nothing about the man’s personality. Now, considering the context, he was speaking in a context where Jane’s thoughts and feelings were far from relevant, but it’s still notable.

Also notable is the fact that he has no issue contemplating a Renata vs. Bella scenario, even though this would mean the deaths of two people he worked with for years. Perhaps it’s a thought exercise, but it’s not a thought exercise I would have gotten into when it was days away from becoming reality. If Renata can’t deflect Bella’s power, she and Aro die.

I’ll put it this way - I don’t think he’d do a «who would win» like this involving Carmen.

At no point in the book does Eleazar show any concern for the eventuality that members of a guard he used to be a part of may get killed.

It seems he didn’t form personal relationships with the rest of the guard. I suspect he considered himself... if not quite above them, then still someone who could evaluate them. Their gifts is what he looked at in them. I also think it’s likely he asked Aro not to use Chelsea on him, which in turn would have made him stick out even more as there’s nothing making him and Volturi Guard Member X just click in the way I imagine Chelsea can be very helpful with. Which in turn means that the other guard members will feel close to one another in a way they’re not close to Eleazar.

Also… he’s just a douche. I’m sorry, but I don’t make the rules and the whole guy radiates douche. I can’t even point to a specific quote in the book, it’s just is.

I don’t think this guy never really fit into the Volturi guard, and his gift wasn’t useful enough to keep him. Aro was thrilled to have him at first, but as time went on and Eleazar proved to just not be all that, he eventually realized he had to get rid of him.

Because as others have pointed out before me, the Carmen excuse makes no sense. There would be no problem in one more vampire in the castle, yet Aro wouldn’t let her in and Eleazar had to choose.

It was a solution that sent Eleazar on his way with his ego intact, and no hard feelings towards the Volturi. More, Aro is on record doing this with it’s-not-you thing with at least one other vampire. Laurent wanted to join the Volturi, had nothing to bring to the table, and Aro used past association with the Romanians as an excuse for why Laurent couldn’t join rather than tell him to his face that he was useless. With Marcus, Aro, and Chelsea around, the Romanian connection isn’t a problem, meaning Aro was bullshitting.

TL;DR: Aro is the kind of person who’d lie and say his grandma died if he doesn’t want to go to your party, and Eleazar is the kind of person who’d say «My condolences».

#eleazar #aro #volturi #laurent #siobhan #bella swan #carlisle cullen #twilight meta #twilight renaissance #twilight #long post #Anonymous #ask

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pumpkinpaix · 5 years ago

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Hi! Loving your meta on suibian :)) Just wondering what were your frustrations with cql, especially considered you've watched this in multiple mediums? (I've only watched cql)

Hi anon! thank you so much!

Oh boy, you’ve unlocked a boatload of hidden dialogue, are you ready?? :D (buckle up it’s oof. Extremely Long)

@hunxi-guilai please consider this my official pitch for why I think the novel is worth reading, if only so you can enjoy the audio drama more fully. ;)

a few things before I get into it:

I don’t want to make this a 100% negative post because I really do love CQL so much! So I’m going to make it two parts: the changes that frustrated me the most and the changes I loved the most re: CQL vs novel. (again, don’t really know anything about donghua or manhua sorry!!) Sound good? :D

this will contain spoilers for the entirety of CQL and the novel. just like. All of it.

talking about the value of changes in CQL is difficult because I personally don’t know what changes were made for creative reasons and what changes were made for censorship reasons. I don’t think it’s entirely fair to evaluate the narrative worth of certain changes when I don’t know what their limitations were. It’s not just a matter of “gay content was censored”; China also has certain censorship restrictions on the portrayal of the undead, among other things. I, unfortunately, am not familiar enough with the ins and outs of Chinese censorship to be able to tell anyone with certainty what was and wasn’t changed for what reason. So I guess just, take whatever my opinions are with a grain of salt! I will largely avoid addressing issues related to how explicitly romantic wangxian is, for obvious reasons.

OKAY. In order to impose some kind of control on how much time I spend on this, I’m going to limit myself to four explicated points in each category, best/worst. Please remember that I change my opinions constantly, so these are just like. the top contenders at this specific point in my life. Starting with the worst so we can end on a positive note!

Henceforth, the novel is MDZS, CQL is CQL.

CQL’s worst crimes, according to cyan:

1. Polarizing Wei Wuxian and Jin Guangyao on the moral spectrum

I’ve heard rumors that this was a censorship issue, but I have never been able to confirm or deny it, so. Again, grain of salt.

The way that CQL reframed Wei Wuxian and Jin Guangyao’s character arcs drives me up the wall because I think it does a huge disservice to both of them and the overarching themes of the story. Jin Guangyao is shown to be responsible for pretty much all the tragedy post-Sunshot, which absolves Wei Wuxian of all possible wrongdoing and flattens Jin Guangyao into a much less interesting villain.

What I find so interesting about MDZS is how much it emphasizes the role of external forces and situations in determining a person’s fate: that being “good” or “righteous” at heart is simply not enough. You can do everything with all the best intentions and still do harm, still fail, still lose everything. Even “right” choices can have terrible consequences. Everyone starts out innocent. “In this world, everyone starts without grievances, but there is always someone who takes the first blow.”

It matters that Wei Wuxian is the one who loses control and kills Jin Zixuan, that his choices (no matter how impossible and terrible the situation) had consequences because the whole point is that even good people can be forced into corners where they do terrible things. Being good isn’t enough. You can do everything right, make every impossible choice, and fail. You can do the right thing and be punished for it. Maybe you did the right thing, but others suffer for your actions. Is that still the right thing? Is it your fault? Is it? By absolving Wei Wuxian of any conceivable blame, it really changes the narrative conclusion. In MDZS, even the best people can do incomprehensible harm when backed into corners, and the audience is asked to evaluate those actions with nuance. Is a criminal fully culpable for the harm they do when their external circumstances forced them into situations where they felt like they had no good choices left?

Personally, I feel like the novel asks you to forgive Wei Wuxian his wrongs, and, in paralleling him with Jin Guangyao, shows how easily they could have been one another. Both of them are extraordinarily talented sons of commoners; the difference lies in what opportunities they were given as they were growing up and how they choose to react to grievances. Wei Wuxian is adopted early on into the head family of a prominent sect and treated (more or less—not going to get into it) like a son. Jin Guangyao begs, borrows, steals, kills for every scrap of prestige and honor he gets and understands that his position in life is, at all points, extraordinarily unstable. Wei Wuxian doesn’t take his grievances to heart, but Jin Guangyao does.

To be clear, I don’t think the novel places a moral value on holding grudges, if that makes sense. I think MDZS only indicates that acts of vengeance always lead to more bloodshed—that the only escape is to lay down your arms, no matter how bitter the taste. Wei Wuxian was horribly wronged in many ways, and I don’t think I would fault him for wanting revenge or holding onto his anger—but I do think it’s clear that if he did, it would destroy him. It destroys Jin Guangyao, after all.

(It also destroys Xue Yang, and I think the parallel actually also extends to him. Yi City, to me, is a very interesting microcosm of a lot of broader themes in MDZS, and I have a lot of Thoughts on Xue Yang and equivalent justice, etc. etc. but. Thoughts for another time.)

Wei Wuxian is granted a happy ending not because he is Good, but because public opinion has changed, because there’s a new scapegoat, because he is protected by someone in power, because he lets go of the past, and because the children see him for who he is. I really do think that the reason MDZS and CQL have a hopeful ending as opposed to a bleak one hinges on the juniors. We are shown very clearly throughout the story how easily and quickly the tide of public opinion turns. The reason we don’t fear that it’s going to happen to Wei Wuxian again (or any other surviving character we love) is, I think, because the juniors, who don’t lose their childhoods to war, have the capacity to see past their parents’ prejudices and evaluate the actions of the people in front of them without having their opinions clouded by intense trauma and fear. They are forged out of love, not fire.

In CQL however, it emphasizes that Wei Wuxian is Fundamentally Good and did No Wrong Ever, so he deserves his happy ending, while Jin Guangyao is Fundamentally Bad and Responsible For Everything, so he got what was coming to him (even if we feel bad for him maybe). That’s not nearly as interesting or meaningful.  

(One specific change to Jin Guangyao’s timeline of evil that I find particularly vexing, not including the one I will discuss in point 2, is changing when Jin Rusong was conceived. In the novel, Qin Su is supposedly already pregnant by the time they get married, and that matters a WHOLE LOT when evaluating Jin Guangyao’s actions, I think.)

2. Wen POWs used as target obstacles at Baifeng Mountain

I know the first point was “here’s an overarching plot change that I think deeply impacts the narrative themes” and this second one is “I despise this one specific scene detail so much”, but HEAR ME OUT. It’s related to the first point! (tbh, most things are related to the first point)

Personally, I think this one detail character assassinates like. almost everyone in attendance, but most egregiously in no particular order: Jin Guangyao, Jin Zixuan (and by extension, Jiang Yanli), Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji and Lan Xichen.

First, I think it’s a cheap plot device that’s obviously meant to enhance Jin Guangyao’s ~villainy while emphasizing Wei Wuxian’s growing righteous anger, but it fails so spectacularly, god, I literally hate this detail so much lmao. I’ll go by character.

Jin Guangyao: I get that CQL is invested in him being a ~bad person~ or whatever, but this is such a transparently like, cartoon villain move that lacks subtlety and elegance. Jin Guangyao is very dedicated to being highly diplomatic, appeasing, and non-threatening in his bid for power. He manipulates behind the scenes, does his father’s dirty work, etc. but he always shows a gentle, smiling face. This display tips his hand pretty obviously, and even if it were at the behest of his father, there’s literally no reason for him to be so “ohohoho I’m so evil~” about it—if anything, this would only serve to drive his sympathizers away. It’s a stupid move for him politically, and really undercuts his supposed intelligence and cleverness, in my personal opinion.

Jin Zixuan: yes, he is arrogant and vain and likes to show off! But putting his ego above the safety of innocent people? Like, not necessarily OOC, but it sure makes him much less sympathetic in my eyes. I find it hard to believe that Jiang Yanli would find this laudable or acceptable, but she’s given a few shots where she smiles with some kind of pride and it’s like. No! Do not do my queen dirty like this. She wouldn’t!

Wei Wuxian: where do I start! WHERE DO I START. Wei Wuxian is shown to be “righteously angry” about this, but steps down mutinously when Jiang Cheng motions him back. He looks shocked and outraged at Jin Zixuan for showing off with no concern for the safety of the Wen POWs, only to like, two seconds later, do the exact same thing, but worse! And at the provocation of Jin Zixun, no less! *screams into hands* The tonal shift is bizarre! We’re in this really tense ~moral quandary~, but then he flirts with Lan Wangji for a second (tense music still kinda playing?? it’s awful. I hate it), and then does his trickshot. You know! Putting all these people he’s supposedly so concerned about at risk! To one-up Jin Zixuan! It’s nonsensical. It’s such a conflict of priorities. This is supposed to make him seem honorable and cool, I guess? But it mostly just makes him look like a performative hypocrite. :///

Lan Wangji: I cannot believe that Lan Wangji saw this and did not immediately walk out in protest.

Lan Xichen: this is just one part of a larger problem with Lan Xichen’s arc in CQL vs MDZS, where his character development was an unwitting casualty of both wangxian censorship and CQL’s quest to demonize Jin Guangyao. One of the prevailing criticisms I see of Lan Xichen’s character is that he is a “centrist”, that he “allows bad things to happen through his inaction and desire to avoid conflict”, and that he is “stupid and willfully blind to Jin Guangyao’s faults”, when I don’t think any of this is supported by evidence in the novel whatsoever. Jin Guangyao is a subtle villain! He is a talented manipulator and liar! Even Wei Wuxian says it in the novel!

(forgive my rough translations /o\)

Chapter 49, as Wei Wuxian (through Empathy with Nie Mingjue’s head) listens to Lan Xichen defend Meng Yao immediately following Wen Ruohan’s assassination:

魏无羡心中摇头：“泽芜君这个人还是……太纯善了。”可再一想，他是因为已知金光瑶的种种嫌疑才能如此防备，可在蓝曦臣面前的孟瑶，却是一个忍辱负重，身不由己，孤身犯险的卧底，二人视角��同，感受又如何能相提并论？

Wei Wuxian shook his head to himself: “This Zewu-jun is still…… too pure and kind.” But then he thought again—he could only be so guarded because he already knew of all of Jin Guangyao’s suspicious behavior, but the Meng Yao before Lan Xichen was someone who had had no choice but to suffer in silence for his mission, who placed himself in grave danger, alone, undercover. The two of them had different perspectives, so how could their feelings be compared?

Chapter 63, after Wei Wuxian wakes up in the Cloud Recesses, having been brought there by Lan Wangji:

他不是不能理解蓝曦臣。他从聂明玦的视角看金光瑶，将其奸诈狡猾与野心勃勃尽收眼底，然而，如果金光瑶多年来在蓝曦臣面前一直以伪装相示，没理由要他不去相信自己的结义兄弟，却去相信一个臭名昭著腥风血雨之人。

It wasn’t that he couldn’t understand Lan Xichen. He had seen Jin Guangyao from Nie Mingjue’s perspective, and so had seen all of his treacherous and cunning obsession with ambition. However, if Jin Guangyao had for all these years only shown Lan Xichen a disguise, there was no reason for [Lan Xichen] to believe a famously violent person [Wei Wuxian] over his own sworn brother.

Lan Xichen, throughout the story, is being actively lied to and manipulated by Jin Guangyao. His only “mistake” was being kind and trying to give Meng Yao, someone who came from a place of great disadvantage, the benefit of the doubt instead of immediately dismissing him as worthless due to his birth or his station in life. Lan Xichen sees Meng Yao as someone who was forced to make impossible choices in impossible situations—you know, the way that we, the audience, are led to perceive Wei Wuxian. The only difference is that the story that we’re given about Wei Wuxian is true, while the story that Lan Xichen is given about Meng Yao is… not. But how would have have known?

The instant he is presented with a shred of evidence to the contrary, he revokes Jin Guangyao’s access to the Cloud Recesses, pursues that evidence to the last, and is horrified to discover that his trust was misplaced.

Lan Xichen’s willingness to consider different points of view is integral to Wei Wuxian’s survival and eventual happiness. Without Lan Xichen’s kindness, there is no way that Wei Wuxian would have ever been able to clear his name. Everyone else was calling for his blood, but Lan Wangji took him home, and Lan Xichen not only allowed it, he listened to and helped them. To the characters of the book who are not granted omniscient knowledge of Wei Wuxian’s actions and circumstances, there is literally no difference between Wei Wuxian and Jin Guangyao. Lan Xichen is being incredibly fair when he asks in chapter 63:

蓝曦臣笑了，道：“忘机，你又是如何判定，一个人究竟可信不可信？”

他看着魏无羡，道：“你相信魏公子，可我，相信金光瑶。大哥的头在他手上，这件事我们都没有亲眼目睹，都是凭着我们自己对另一个人的了解，相信那个人的说辞。

“你认为自己了解魏无羡，所以信任他；而��也认为自己了解金光瑶，所以我也信任他。你相信自己的判断，那么难道我就不能相信自己的判断吗？”

Lan Xichen laughed and said, “Wangji, how can you determine exactly who should and should not be believed?”

He looked at Wei Wuxian and said, “You believe Wei-gongzi, but I believe Jin Guangyao. Neither of us saw with our own eyes whether Da-ge’s head was in his possession. We base our opinions on our own understandings of someone else, our belief in their testimony.

“You think you understand Wei Wuxian, and so you trust him; I also think I understand Jin Guangyao, so I trust him. You trust your own judgment, so can’t I trust my own judgment as well?”

But he hears them out, examines the proof, and acts immediately.

I really do feel like this aspect of Lan Xichen kind of… became collateral damage in CQL. Because Jin Guangyao is so much more publicly malicious, Lan Xichen’s alleged “lack of action” feels much less understandable or acceptable.

It is wild to me that in this scene, Lan Xichen reacts with discomfort to the proceedings, but has nothing to say to Jin Guangyao about it afterwards and also applauds Wei Wuxian’s archery. (I could talk about Nie Mingjue here as well, but I would say Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen have very different perspectives on morality, so this moment isn’t necessarily OOC for NMJ, but I do think is very OOC for LXC.) This scene (among a few others that have Jin Guangyao being more openly “evil”) makes Lan Xichen look like a willfully blind bystander by the end of the story, but having him react with any action would have been inconvenient for the plot. Thus, he behaves exactly as he did in the book, but under very different circumstances. It reads inconsistently with the rest of his character (since a lot of the beats in the novel still happen in the show), and weakens the narrative surrounding his person.

None of these overt displays of cruelty or immorality happen in the book, so it makes perfect sense that he doesn’t do or suspect anything! Jin Guangyao is, as stated, perfectly disguised towards Lan Xichen. You can’t blame him for “failing to act” when someone was purposefully keeping him in the dark and, from his perspective, there was nothing to act upon.

This scene specifically is almost purely lighthearted in the novel! If you take out the Wen POWs, this just becomes a fun scene where Wei Wuxian shows off, flirts with Lan Wangji, gets into a pissing match with Jin Zixuan, and is overall kind of a brat! It’s great! I love this scene! The blindfolded shot is ridiculous and over-the-top and very cute!

I know this is a lot of extrapolation, but the whole scene is soured for me due to you know. *gestures upwards* Which is really a shame because it’s one of my favorite silly scenes in the book! Alas! @ CQL why! ;A;

3. Lan Xichen already being an adult and sect leader at the start of the show

This is rapidly becoming a, “Lan Xichen was Wronged and I Have the Receipts” essay (oh no), but you know what, that’s fine I guess! I never said I was impartial!

CQL makes Lan Xichen seem much older and more experienced than he is in the novel, though we’re not given his specific age. In the novel, he is not sect leader yet when Wei Wuxian and co. arrive at the Cloud Recesses for lectures. His father, Qingheng-jun, is in seclusion, and his uncle is the de facto leader of the sect. Lan Xichen does not become sect leader until his father dies at the burning of the Cloud Recesses. Moreover, my understanding of the text is that he is at most 19 years old when this happens. Wen Ruohan remarks that Lan Xichen is still a junior at the beginning of the Sunshot Campaign in chapter 61. (If someone has a different interpretation of the term 小辈, please correct me.) In any case! Lan Xichen is young.

Lan Xichen ascends to power under horrific circumstances: he is not an adult, his father has just been murdered, his uncle seriously injured, his brother kidnapped, and his home burnt to the ground. He is on the run, alone! Carrying the sacred texts of his family and trying to stay alive so his sect is not completely wiped out on the eve of war! He is terrified, inexperienced, and unprepared!

You know, just like Jiang Cheng, a few months later!

I see a lot of people lambasting Lan Xichen for not stepping up to protect the Wen remnants post-Sunshot, but I’m always flummoxed by the accusations because I don’t see criticisms of Jiang Cheng with remotely the same vitriol, even though their political positions are nearly identical:

they are both extraordinarily young sect leaders who came to power before they expected to through incredible violence done to their families

because of this, they are in very weak political positions: they have very little experience to offer as evidence of their competence and right to respect. if they are considered adults, they have only very recently come of age.

Jin Guangshan, who is rapidly and greedily taking the place of the Wen clan in the vacuum of power, is shown to be more than willing to mow people down to get what he wants—and he has the power to do so.

both Yunmeng Jiang and Gusu Lan were crippled by the Wen clan prior to Sunshot. And they just fought a war that lasted two and a half years. they are hugely weakened and in desperate need of time to rebuild, mourn, etc. both Jiang Cheng and Lan Xichen are responsible for the well-being of all of these people who are now relying upon them.

I think it’s very obvious that Jiang Cheng is in an impossible situation because he wears his fears and insecurities on his face and people in power (cough Jin Guangshan) prey upon that, while we, as the audience, have a front row seat for that whole tragedy. We understand his choices, even if they hurt us.

Why shouldn’t Lan Xichen be afforded the same consideration?

I really do think that because he’s presented as someone who’s much more composed and confident in his own abilities than Jiang Cheng is, we tend to forget exactly what pressures he was facing at the same time. We just assume, oh yes, of course Lan Xichen has the power to do something! He’s Lan Xichen! The First Jade! Isn’t he supposed to be Perfectly Good? Why isn’t he doing The Right Thing?

I think this is exacerbated by CQL’s decision to make him an established sect leader at the start of the show with several years of experience under his belt. We don’t know his age, but he is assumed to be an Adult. This gives him more power and stability, and so it seems more unacceptable that he does not make moves to protect the Wen remnants, even if in essence, he and Jiang Cheng’s political positions are still quite similar. He doesn’t really have any more power to save the Wen remnants without placing his whole clan in danger of being wiped out again, but CQL implies that he does, even if it isn’t the intention of the change.

It does make me really sad that this change also drives a further thematic divide between Lan Xichen and the rest of his generation. Almost everyone in that generation came of age through a war, which I think informs the way their tragedies play out, and how those tragedies exist in contrast to the juniors’ behavior and futures. Making Lan Xichen an experienced adult aligns him with the generation prior to him, which, as we’re shown consistently, is the generation whose adherence to absolutism and fear ruined the lives of their children. But Lan Xichen is just as much a victim of this as his peers.

(the exception being maybe Nie Mingjue, but it’s complicated. I think Nie Mingjue occupies a very interesting position in the narrative, but like. That’s. For another time! this is. already so far out of hand. oh my god this is point three out of eight oh nO)

(yet another aside because I can’t help myself: can you believe we were robbed of paralleling scenes of Jiang Cheng and Lan Xichen’s coronations? the visual drama of that. the poetic cinema. it’s not in the book, but can you IMAGINE. thank u @paledreamsblackmoths for putting this image into my head so that I can suffer forever knowing that I’ll never get it.)

I said I wasn’t going to talk at length about any changes surrounding Wangxian’s explicit romance for obvious reasons, but I will at least lament here that because a large percentage of Lan Xichen’s actions and character beats are directly in relation to Lan Wangji’s love for Wei Wuxian, he loses a lot of both minor and major moments to the censors as well. Many of the instances when he encourages Lan Wangji to talk to Wei Wuxian, when he indulges in their relationship etc. are understandably gone. But the most significant moment that was cut for censorship reasons I think is when he loses his temper with Wei Wuxian at the Guanyin temple and lays into him with all the fury and terror he felt for his brother’s broken heart for the last thirteen years.

Lan Xichen is only shown to express true anger twice in the whole story, both times at the Guanyin temple: first against Wei Wuxian for what he perceives as gross disregard for his little brother’s convictions, and second against Jin Guangyao for his massive betrayal of trust. And you know, murdering his best friend. Among other things.

I’m genuinely so sad that we don’t get to see Lan Xichen tear Wei Wuxian to shreds for what he did to Lan Wangji because I think one of the most important aspects to Lan Xichen’s character is how much he loves, cares for and fears for his little brother. The reveal about Lan Wangji’s punishment in episode 43 is a sad and sober conversation, but it’s not nearly as impactful, especially because Wei Wuxian asks about it of his own volition. I understand that this isn’t CQL’s fault! But. I can still mourn it right? ahahaha. :’)

I’ll stop before I descend further into nothing but Lan Xichen meta because that’s. Dangerous. (I have a lot of Feelings about how there are three characters who are held up as paragons of virtue in MDZS, how they all suffered in spite of their goodness, and how that all ties directly into the whole, “it is not enough to be good, but kindness is never wrong” theme. Anyways, they’re Xiao Xingchen, Jiang Yanli, and Lan Xichen, but NOT NOW. NOT TODAY.)

So yes, I’m a Lan Xichen apologist on main, and yes, I understand my feelings are incredibly personally motivated and influenced by my subjective emotions, but no I do not take concrit on this point, thank you very much.

4. all of the Wen remnants turning themselves in alongside Wen Qing and Wen Ning

Okay, back to plot changes. This change I would be willing to bet money was at least partially due to censorship, but it hurts me so deeply hahaha. It makes literally no sense for any of the characters and it completely janks the timeline of events post Qiongqi Dao 2.0 through Wei Wuxian’s death.

It’s not ALL bad—this change makes it easier for the Peak Wangxian moment at the Bloodbath at Nightless City (You know. Hands. Cliff. etc.) to happen, which I did very much enjoy. It’s pretty on-brand for CQL to sacrifice plot for character beats that they want to emphasize, so like. I get it! This moment is a huge gift! I Understand This. CQL collapses the Bloodbath at Nightless City and the First Siege of the Mass Graves into one event for I think a few reasons. One, Wangxian moment without being explicitly Wangxian, which is excellent. Two, it circumvents the Blood Corpse scene, which I do not think would have made it past censorship.

I’ll get to the Blood Corpse scene in a minute, but despite being able to understand why so much might have been sacrificed for the impact of the cliff scene, I still wish it had been done differently (and I feel like it could have been!), if only for my peace of mind because the plot holes it creates are pretty gaping.

The entire point of Wen Qing and Wen Ning turning themselves in is specifically to save their family members and Wei Wuxian from coming to further harm. That’s explicit, even in the show. Jin Guangshan demands that the Wen brother and sister stand for their crimes and claims that the blood debt will be paid. The Wen remnants understand that Wei Wuxian has given up so much for their sakes, that he has lost his family, his home, his respectability, his health, all in the name of sheltering them. To throw all of that away would be the greatest disrespect to his sacrifices. Wen Qing and Wen Ning decide that if their lives can pay for the safety of their loved ones and ensure that Wei Wuxian’s sacrifices matter, they are willing to go together and give themselves up.

So. Why did they. All go?? For… moral support???? D: Wen Qing says that Wei Wuxian will wake up in three days and that she’s given Fourth Uncle and the others instructions for his care–but then Fourth Uncle and the others all go with them!! To die!! There’s also very clearly a shot of Granny Wen taking A’Yuan with them, which like. Obviously didn’t really happen.

Wen Qing, who loves her family more than anything in the world, agrees that they should all go to Lanling and sacrifice themselves to…. protect Wei Wuxian? Wen Qing, pragmatic queen of my heart, agrees to this absurdly bad exchange?? Leaves Wei Wuxian to wake up, alone, with the knowledge that he had not only killed his brother-in-law but also effectively gotten everyone he had left killed also??

I can’t imagine Wen Qing doing that to Wei Wuxian. Save his life? For what? This takes away everything he has left to live for. You think Wen Qing doesn’t intimately understand how cruel that would be?

(Yes, I’m complaining about all of this, but I’m still about to cry because I rewatched the scene to make sure I didn’t say anything untrue, and g o d it manages to hit hard despite all of that, so who’s the real clown here!!)

Anyways. So that’s all just like. Frustratingly incoherent. It’s one of several wrongs I think CQL committed against Wen Qing’s character, but my feelings about Wen Qing in CQL are pretty complicated (I love her so much, and I love that we got more Wen Qing content, but that content sure is a mixed bag of stuff I really enjoyed and stuff I desperately wish didn’t exist) and I decided I wasn’t going to get into it in this post. (is anyone even still reading god)

This change also muddles Lan Wangji’s choices and punishment in ways that I think diminishes the severity of the situation to the detriment of both his characterization and his family’s characterization. The punishment scene is extremely moving and you should read this post about the language used in it but. sldfjsljslkf.

okay well, several things. In the context of CQL, which really pushes the “righteousness” angle of Wei Wuxian (see point 1), I think this scene makes a lot of sense in isolation: both Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian are painted as martyrs for doing the right thing. “Who’s right and who’s wrong?” The audience is asked to see the punishment as “unjust”. That’s perfectly fine and coherent in the context of CQL, but I don’t think it’s nearly as interesting as what happens in MDZS.

Because CQL collapses both the First Siege and the Bloodbath into one event, Lan Wangji’s crimes are sort of unclearly defined. In episode 43, when Lan Xichen is explaining the situation, we see a flashback to when Su She says something along the lines of, “We could set aside the fact that you defended Wei Ying at Nightless City, but now you won’t even let us search his den?” (of course, this gives us the really excellent “you are not qualified to talk to me” line which. delicious. extremely vindicating and satisfying. petty king lan wangji.) Lan Xichen goes on to say something like, “Wangji alone caused several disturbances at the Mass Graves. Uncle was greatly angered, and [decreed his punishment]”. (Sorry, I’m too lazy to type out the full lines with translations, just. trust me on this one.)

Lan Wangji’s actions are shown to be motivated by a righteous love. Wei Wuxian is portrayed as someone innocent who stood up for the right thing against popular opinion and was scapegoated and destroyed for it, having done no wrong. (See, point 1 again.)

In MDZS, Lan Wangji’s crimes are very specific. It isn’t just that he caused some “disturbances” (this is just Lan XIchen’s vague phrasing in CQL—we don’t really know what he did). He steals Wei Wuxian away from the Bloodbath at Nightless City, after Wei Wuxian killed thousands of people, and hides him away in a cave, feeding him spiritual energy to save his life. When Lan Wangji’s family comes to find him, demand that he hand over Wei Wuxian (who is, remember, a mass murderer at this point! we can argue about how culpable he is for those actions all day—that’s the whole point, but the people are still dead), Lan Wangji not only refuses, but raises his hands against his family. He seriously injures thirty-three Lan elders to protect Wei Wuxian.

I don’t know how to emphasize how serious that crime is? Culturally, this is like. Unthinkable. To raise your hand against members of your own family, your elders who loved and raised you, in defense of an outsider, a man who, by all accounts, is horrifically evil and just murdered thousands of people, including other members of your own family, is like. That’s a serious betrayal. Oh my god. Lan Wangji, what have you done?

Lan Xichen explains in chapter 99:

我去看他的时候对他说，魏公子已铸成大错，你何苦错上加错了。他却说……他无法断言你所作所为对错如何，但无论对错，他愿意与你一起承担所有后果。

When I went to see him, I said, “Wei-gongzi’s great wrongs are already set in stone, why take the pains to add wrongs upon wrongs?” But he said…… he had no way to ascertain the rights and wrongs of your actions, but regardless of right or wrong, he was willing to bear all the consequences with you.

I think this is very different than what’s going on in CQL, though the differences appear subtle on the surface. In CQL, Lan Wangji demands of his uncle, “Dare I ask Uncle, who is righteous and who is wicked, who is wrong and who is right?” but the very act of asking in this way implies that Lan Wangji has an opinion on the matter (though perhaps not a simple one).

Lan Wangji in MDZS specifically says that he doesn’t know how to evaluate the morality of Wei Wuxian’s actions, but that regardless, he is willing to bear the consequences of his choices and his actions. He understands that his actions while sheltering Wei Wuxian are not clearly morally defensible. He did it anyways because he loved Wei Wuxian, because he thought that Wei Wuxian was worth saving, that there was still something good in him, despite the things he had done under mitigating circumstances. Lan Wangji did not save Wei Wuxian because he thought it was the right thing to do. He saved him because he loved him.

He is given thirty-three lashes with the discipline whip, one for each elder he maimed, and this leaves him bedridden for three years. Is this punishment horrifyingly severe? Yes! But is it unjustly given? I think that’s a much harder question to answer in the context of the story.

Personally, I think that question underscores the broader questions of morality contained within MDZS. I think it’s a much more interesting take on Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji as individuals. This asks, what can be pardoned? The righteous martyr angle is uncomplicated because moral certainty is easy. I think the situation in MDZS is far more uncomfortable if you examine its implications. And personally, I think that’s more meaningful!

(Not even going to touch on the whole, 300 strokes with a giant rod, but he has whip scars? And they were also sentenced to 300 strokes as kids for drinking alcohol…? CQL is not. consistent. on that front. ahaha.)

God, every point so far in this meta is just like “here’s one change that has cascading effects upon the rest of the show” dear god, okay, I’m getting to the Blood Corpse scene.

So in MDZS, the Wen remnants (besides Wen Ning and Wen Qing) do not go to Lanling. After the Bloodbath at Nightless City, Lan Wangji returns Wei Wuxian to the Mass Graves. Wei Wuxian lives with the Wen remnants for another three months before the First Siege, where he dies and the rest of the Wens are killed (except A’Yuan).

(Sidenote that I won’t get into: I love the dead spaces of time that MDZS creates. There’s very clear gaps in the narrative that we just never get the details on, most notably: Wei Wuxian’s three months in the Mass Graves post core transfer, and Wei Wuxian’s three months in the Mass Graves post Jiang Yanli’s death. They’re both extremely terrible times, but the audence is asked to imagine it instead of ever learning what really happened, what it was like. There’s something really cool about that narratively, I think.)

The Wen remnants are not cremated along with the rest of the dead. Their bodies are thrown into the blood pool.

At the Second Siege, when Wei Wuxian draws a Yin Summoning Flag on his clothes to turn himself into bait for the corpses in order to allow everyone else to escape to safety while he and Lan Wangji fight them off, there’s a moment when it gets really, truly dangerous—even with the help of the juniors and a few of the adults, they probably would have been killed. But then a wave of blood-soaked corpses come crawling out of the blood pool of their own accord and tear their attackers apart.

At the end of it, the blood corpses, the Wen remnants, gather before Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian and Wen Ning. Wei Wuxian thanks them, they exchange bows, and the blood corpses collapse into dust. Wen Ning scrambles to gather their ashes, but runs out of space in his clothing. Several juniors, seeing this, offer up their bags to him and try to help.

It’s just. This scene is so important to me. Obviously, it couldn’t be included in CQL because of the whole undead thing, but it’s such a shame because I maintain that the Blood Corpse scene is one of the most powerful scenes in the whole goddamn book. It ties together so many things that I care about! It’s the moment when the narrative says, “kindness is not a waste”. Wei Wuxian failed to save them, but that doesn’t mean that his actions were done in vain. What he did matters. The year of life he bought them matters. The time they spent together matters.

This is also the moment when the juniors finally see Wen Ning for who he is—not the terrifying Ghost General, but a gentle man who has just lost his family for a second time. This is the moment when they reach out with kindness to the monster that their parents told them about at night. It matters that the juniors are able to do that! That they see this man suffering and are moved to compassion instead of righteous satisfaction.

(Except Jin Ling, for very understandable reasons, but Jin Ling’s moment comes later.)

It’s also the moment that we’re starkly reminded that many of the adults in attendance were present at the First Siege and directly responsible for the murders of the Wen remnants, including Ouyang Zizhen’s father. We’re reminded that he’s not just a comically annoying man with bad takes—he also participated in the murder of innocent people and then disrespected their corpses. But what retribution should be taken against him and the others? What retribution could be taken that wouldn’t lead to more tragedy?

There’s someone in the crowd in this scene named Fang Mengchen who refuses to be swayed by Wei Wuxian’s actions. “He killed my parents,” he says. “What about them? How can I let that go?”

“What more do you want from me?” Wei Wuxian asks. “I have already died once. You do not have to forgive me, but what more should I do?”

That is the ultimate question, isn’t it? What is the only way out of tragedy? You don’t have to forgive, but you cannot continue to take your retribution. It is not fair, but it’s all you have.

okay. so. those were my four Big Points of Contention with CQL, as I am currently experiencing them.

Honorable mentions go to: Wen Qing’s arc (both excellent and awful in different ways), making 13/16 years of Inquiry canon (I think this is untrue to Lan Wangji’s character, though I can understand why it was done), Mianmian’s departure from the Lanling Jin sect being shortened and having the sexism cut out (there’s something really visceral about the accusations against Mianmian being explicitly about her womanhood that I desperately wish had been retained in the show), cutting the scene where Jin Ling cries in mourning for Jin Guangyao and is scolded for it by Sect Leader Yao (my heart for that scene because it also matters so much)

but now!! onto the fun part, where I talk effusively about how much I love CQL!! this will probably be shorter (*prays*) because a lot of my frustrations with CQL are related to spiraling thematic consequences while the things I love are like. Simpler to pinpoint? If that makes sense? we’ll see.

CQL’s greatest virtues, also according to cyan:

1. this:

[ID: Wei Wuxian, trembling in fear, screaming “shijie!” as Jiang Cheng threatens him with Fairy in episode 34 of The Untamed drama. /end ID]

I understand that this is like, a very minor, specific detail change, but oh my GOD, it is like. Unparalleled. Every time I think about this change, I get so emotional and disappointed that it’s not in the novel, because I think it strengthens this scene tenfold. In the novel, Wei Wuxian calls out for Lan Zhan, which like, I get it. The story at this point is focused on the development of his romantic feelings for Lan Wangji, so the point of the scene is that the first person he thinks of in a moment of extreme fear is Lan Zhan, which surprises him. That’s fine. Like, it’s fine! But I think it doesn’t have nearly the same weight as Wei Wuxian calling for his sister to save him from his brother.

Having Wei Wuxian call out for his sister drives home the loss that the two of them have suffered, and highlights the relationship they all once had. Jiang Yanli is much more relevant to shuangjie’s narrative than Lan Wangji ever was, and this highlights exactly how deeply the fracturing of their familial relationship cuts. Wangxian gets so much time and focus throughout the rest of the novel. I love that this moment in the show is just about the Yunmeng siblings because that relationship is no less important, you know?

Calling out for Jiang Yanli in the show draws a much cleaner line through the dialogue. “You dare bring her up before me?” to “Don’t you remember what you said to Jin Ling?” It unifies the scene and twists the knife. It also gives us more insight into how fiercely Wei Wuxian was once beloved and protected by his siblings. Jiang Cheng promised to chase all the dogs away from Wei Wuxian when they were children. It’s clear that Jiang Yanli did as well.

Once upon a time, Wei Wuxian’s siblings defended him from his fears, and now one of them is dead and the other is using that fear to hurt him where he’s weakest. The reversal is so painfully juxtaposed, and it’s done with just that one flashback of Wei Wuxian as a child leaping into Jiang Yanli’s arms and calling out her name. Extremely good, economical storytelling. The conversation between shuangjie is much more focused on their own stories independent from Lan Wangji, which I very much appreciate. Wangxian, you’re wonderful, but this ain’t about you, and I don’t think it should be.

2. Extended Jiang Yanli content (and by extension, Jin Zixuan and Mianmian content)

Speaking of absolute goddess Jiang Yanli, I really loved what CQL did with her (unlike my more mixed feelings about Wen Qing). Having her in so many more scenes makes her importance to Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian a lot clearer, and we get to experience her as a person rather than an ideal.

On a purely aesthetic level, Jiang Yanli’s styling and character design is so stellar in CQL. The more prevalent design for her is kind of childish in the styling, which I don’t love (I think it’s the donghua influence?). And even I, someone who’s audio drama on main 24/7, personally prefer her CQL voice actor. There’s only a few characters in CQL that I look at and go “ah yes, that’s [character] 100%” and Jiang Yanli is one of them. I was blessed. I would lay down my life for her.

I’m really glad that CQL showed her illness more explicitly and gave her a sword, even if she never uses it! Her weak constitution is only mentioned once in the novel in chapter 69 in like two lines that I blew past initially because I was reading at breakneck speed and was only reminded of when my therapist who I conned into reading mdzs after 8 months of never shutting up oof brought it to my attention like two weeks ago. /o\

We never read about Jiang Yanli carrying a sword in the novel, though we are told that her cultivation is “mediocre”, so we know that she at least does cultivate, even if not very well. Highlighting her poor health in CQL makes her situation more clear, I think, and explains a little more about the way she’s perceived throughout the cultivation world as someone “not worthy of Jin Zixuan”. The novel tells us that Jiang Yanli is not an extraordinary beauty, not very good at cultivation, sort of bland in her expressions, and, very briefly, that she’s in poor health. I really love that description of Jiang Yanli, because it emphasizes that her worth has nothing at all to do with her talents, her health, her cultivation, her physical strength, or her beauty. She is the best person in the whole world, her brothers adore her, and the audience loves and respects her for reasons wholly unrelated to those value judgments. We love her because she is kind, because she is loyal, because she loves so deeply. Tbh, her only imperfection is falling for someone so tragically undeserving of her. (JK, I love you Jin Zixuan, and you do deserve her because you are an excellent boy who grows and changes and learns!! I can’t even be mean to characters as a joke god.)

Anyways, I just think the detail about her health is compelling and informs her character’s position in the world in a very specific way. I’m happy that CQL brought it to the forefront when it was kind of an easily-missed throwaway in the novel. It does mean something to me that Jiang Yanli, despite her poor physical health, is never once seen or treated as a burden by her brothers.

Something partially related that really hit hard was this:

[ID: two gifs. Jiang Yanli peeling lotus pods, looking up uncomfortably as her mother loses her temper about the Wen indoctrination at the table from episode 11 of The Untamed drama. /end ID]

D8 AAAAHHH this was VISCERAL. The novel is quite sparse in a lot of its descriptions and lets the audience fill in the missing details, so Jiang Yanli’s expression and reactions are not described when, after Jiang Cheng quickly volunteers to go to Qishan, Madam Yu accuses her of continuing to “happily peel lotus seeds” in such a dire situation.

“Of course you’ll go,” she snaps to Jiang Cheng. “Or else do you think we should let your sister go?”

This scene triggered me so bad lmfao, so I guess it’s kind of weird that I love it so much, but I felt Seen. Something about the way her nail slips in the second gif as she breaks open the pod is like. Oh, that’s a sense memory! Of me, as a child, witnessing uncomfortable conflict between people I cared about. I know this is an extremely personal bias, but hey, so is this whole meta. Because Jiang Yanli is often silent and quiet, it’s more her behavior and expressions that convey her character. It’s why the moment she lets loose on Jin Zixun is so powerful. We don’t get to see a lot of it in the novel, but because CQL is a visual medium, her character is a lot easier to pin down as a human as opposed to an abstract concept.

Anyways, in this moment, which I also think is a tangential reference to her weak constitution (it doesn’t feel like, “your sister can’t go because she’s a girl”; it feels like, “your sister can’t go because she couldn’t handle it”), we get to see Jiang Yanli’s own reaction to her perceived inadequacy. We see it in other places too—like how upset she is when Jin Zixuan dismisses her in several scenes, but this is the one that hits me the hardest because it’s about how her weakness is going to put her little brother in grave danger.

Last Yunmeng siblings with focus on Jiang Yanli scene that isn’t in the novel that I’m just absolutely wrecked over: the dream sequence in episode 28, when Jiang Yanli dreams about Wei Wuxian sailing away from her, but no matter how she shouts, or how she begs Jiang Cheng to help her, she can’t bring him back home.

I’m not going to gif it because I literally just like, fast-forwarded through it and started sobbing uncontrollably in front of my laptop, dear god.

I don’t know where the CQL writers found the backdoor directly into my brain’s nightmare center, but?? they sure did! IDK, I can see how this might be kind of heavy-handed, but it just. The sensation of being in a dream where something is going terribly wrong, but you’re the only one who seems to see it happening? But there’s nothing you can do? I feel like it’s a very fitting nightmare to give Jiang Yanli, who is acutely aware and constantly reminded of how little power she has in the world: not good enough for the boy she likes, not healthy enough to cultivate well, not strong enough to keep her family together.

The whole, elder siblings trying and failing to protect their younger siblings pattern is A Lot in the story, but there’s something particularly painful about seeing it happen to Jiang Yanli because of that awareness. All the other elder siblings are exceptionally talented or powerful in obvious ways. All Jiang Yanli has is the force of her will and the force of her love, and she knows it isn’t enough.

I care a lot about the Yunmeng siblings, okay! And I think CQL did right by them!

I’m only going to spend two seconds talking about Jin Zixuan and Mianmian, but I DO want to mention them.

Anyways, because we get more Jiang Yanli content, we ALSO get more soft xuanli, which is Very Good. Literally my kingdom for disaster het Jin Zixuan treating my girl right!! CQL said het rights, and I’m not even mad about it! I’m really happy that we get to see a little more of how their relationship plays out, and how hard Jin Zixuan works to change his behavior and apologize to her for his mistakes. The novel is from Wei Wuxian’s POV, so we miss the details, alas. Jin Zixuan covered in mud, planting lotuses? Blessed.

I think part of making Mianmian a larger speaking role is for convenience’s sake, but oh boy do I love that choice. Especially the Jin Zixuan & Mianmian relationship. Like, they’re so clearly platonic, and Mianmian is never once portrayed as a threat to Jiang Yanli. They just care about and respect each other a lot? Jin Zixuan’s distress when she defects from the Jin sect gets me in the heart, because it’s just like. God. I think there’s a lot of interesting potential there for her own thoughts re: Wei Wuxian. After all, she leaves her sect in defense of him, but he later kills a friend that she respects and loves. The moments shared between her and Jin Zixuan are minor, but they hint at a deeper relationship that I’m really glad was in the show.

3. To curb the strong, defend the weak: lantern scene (gusu) + rain scene (qiongqi dao 1.0)

I think I basically already explained why I love this so much in this post (just consider that post and this point to be the same haha), but just. Okay. A short addendum.

As much as I love novel wangxian, I really think that including this scene early on emphasizes why Lan Wangji loves Wei Wuxian so deeply. Of course he thinks Wei Wuxian is attractive, but this is the moment when he realizes, oh, this is who I love. Having that moment to reflect upon throughout Wei Wuxian’s descent is so excellent. I have enumerated all of my issues with the “perfectly righteous Wei Wuxian” arc that CQL crafted, but having this narrative throughline in conjunction with the novel arc would be like. My favored supercanon ahaha. (It would need some tweaking, but I think it would work.) It shows us exactly who it is that Lan Wangji sees and is trying to save, who he thinks is still there, underneath all the carnage and despair and violence and grief. This is the Wei Wuxian Lan Wangji loves and is unwilling to let go. This is the Wei Wuxian that Lan Wangji would kill for, that Lan Wangji would stand beside, that Lan Wangji would live for.

4. Meeting Songxiao

As much as I love the unnameable ache of Wei Wuxian never meeting Xiao Xingchen and learning only about his story through secondhand sources in the novel (and the really cool parallel to that where Xiao Xingchen tells A’Qing the story of Baoshan-sanren’s ill-fated disciples: both Xiao Xingchen and Wei Wuxian learn of each other only through the eyes of others, and that is Very Neat), I think the reversal that this meeting in episode 10 sets up wins out just slightly.

I said once in the tags on one of my posts that “songxiao is the tragic parallel of wangxian” and like. Yeah. Basically! If we take songxiao as romantic, the arc of their relationship happens inversely to wangxian, and that parallel is so much clearer and stronger when we have wangxian meeting songxiao in their youth.

The scene of their meeting really does have that Mood™ of uncertain youth seeing happy and secure adults living out the dreams that they’re afraid to name. Wei Wuxian’s eager little, “oh! just like me and Lan Zhan!! Right, Lan Zhan??” when songxiao talk about cultivating together through shared ideals and not blood is. Well, it’s Something.

When they meet again at Yi City, there’s a greater heaviness to it. So this is what happened to the people you once dreamed of becoming! Wangxian have already come to a point where they have an unspoken understanding of their relationship, but Songxiao have lost everything they once had. When Song Lan looks at wangxian, it’s like looking at a mirror of his past, and everyone in attendance knows it.

To me, that unspoken parallel is really emotionally and thematically valuable. All that good, and here is the tragedy that came of it.

okay, look! I managed to keep it shorter!! here are my honorable mentions: that scene where Jin Guangyao tries to hold Jin Ling and Jin Guangshan refuses to let him (it’s hating Jin Guangshan hours all day every day in this household), the grass butterfly leitmotif for Sizhui (im literally crying right now about it shut up), the Jiang Cheng/Wen Qing sideplot (look I know it’s wild that I actually liked that given that I headcanon JC as aspec, but I actually really like how it played out, specifically because Wen Qing and Wei Wuxian are NOT romantic—it sets up an unexpected and interesting comparison)

um. Anyways. I uh. really care about this story. And have a lot of thoughts, which I’m sure will continue to evolve. Maybe in 8 months I’ll return to this and go well, literally none of this applies anymore, but who knows! It’s how I feel right now. I cried literally three times while writing this because MDZS/CQL reached into my chest and yanked my heart right out of my body, but I had fun! *finger guns*

and like, I know I had a LOT to say about what frustrated me about CQL, but I really really hope it’s clear that I adore the show despite all of that. I talk a lot because I care a lot, and my brain only has one setting.

anon, this was like 1000% more than you bargained for, I’m SURE, (and I’m still exercising some restraint, if you can. believe that.) but I hope that you or someone out there got something out of it! if you made it all the way to the end of this meta, wow!! consider me surprised and grateful!!

time to crawl back into my hovel so I can write Lan Xichen fic and cry

(ko-fi? ;A;)

#the untamed #the untamed meta #mdzs #mdzs meme #mo dao zu shi #mine #mymeta #asks and replies #Anonymous #HOOOOOO BOY GUYS #we are just shy of 10k on this #*buries face in hands*#cyan writes #cyan gets too deep in the weeds #i will be shocked if more than like ten people read this #by the end it was just like well i guess this is just for me now lmfao #anyways. i will now. leave the internet for a while. thanks

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