#i need less people to suffer like my mum did. she was eaten from the inside

[simptasia]

i'm getting my cervix poked today and not in the fun way. nevertheless it must be done, and i highly recommend cervical screenings to anybody that procedure applies to. early detection is so so important when it comes to cancer, my mum would still be alive if they found it in stage one, so i implore you not to ignore your body

[freddie-weaselbee]

Everything You Do

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Language, love potion, small argument but honestly really fluffy

Summary: Y/N tries to get back at Fred for years of pranks, only to have her plan blow up in her face and she has to suffer the consequences for 48 hours. 

Request: @darthwheezely i literally loved writing this so much and now magic’s gonna be stuck in my head for the next week so thanks for that

Word Count: 7.9k yeah I may have gotten a little carried away

Song: Magic by One Direction

A/N: For the sake of the story One Direction exists in the 90′s and Hogwarts has Muggle radios. Also I spent my Valentine’s Day writing this instead of actually doing something romantic because Fred owns my heart and real men don’t compare. That’s my excuse. 

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“This is a really dumb idea.”

“I know, that’s what makes it so fun!”

Angelina Johnson was standing guard outside of a small broom closet while you were mixing together dozens of ingredients you had swiped from Snape’s storage room. He had been distracted punishing the troublemaking twins, giving you the perfect opportunity to grab everything you needed. Ironic how they were the ones who made it possible for you to enact your plan against them. 

“I still can’t believe you roped me into this.” Angelina was one of your best friends since your first year at Hogwarts. The two of you had been inseparable for years, which meant she always had your back, even if that consisted of concocting a love potion for a certain redhead Gryffindor. 

You added the last of your ingredients and continued to stir, being careful not to mess up the very specific directions for this spell. “C’mon Angie,” you said, “you know you want to get him back as much as I do.”

Angelina sighed heavily but didn’t argue. The two of you were usually on the receiving end of pranks from Fred and George and anything you ever planned to do to get them back failed miserably. But the second you overheard them talking about making love potions to sell an idea formed in your mind. 

“It’s finished.” You poured the cauldron’s contents into a small vial before cleaning up any traces of your unlicensed actions. This small potion was about to make your life a lot more interesting. “You can get us into the kitchens, right Angie?”

The girl nodded and led you out of the closet and down abandoned corridors. Angelina’s prefect status had been extremely helpful in many cases, as no one would question why the two of you were out late. You could barely contain yourself as you thought about the chaos that would be happening in less than 24 hours. And by God did Fred Weasley deserve all that was coming to him. 

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

You had everything planned out. Angelina and you spent the night baking the potion into some brownies with the help of the house elves, a treat you knew Fred wouldn’t be able to resist. The plan was simple. 

Angelina had asked George the other night if he would want to go on an early morning walk and get in some extra Quidditch practice, so it would only be Fred and Lee in their dorm room when they woke up. The way the potion worked was that, once consumed, the first person the victim makes eye contact with is the person they fall madly in love with for 48 hours. And you and Angelina had decided on the perfect person to be on the receiving end of Fred’s love. Lee Jordan. 

While both Fred and George were responsible for the annoying pranks, Fred was always the instigator, which meant it was he who deserved revenge. Angelina had a soft spot for George and didn’t want to involve him in this prank. However, she had no reservations about seeing Lee, the boy who constantly flirted with her during Quidditch games, suffer from Fred’s pining for a few days. 

You made your way to the boys dormitory, bouncing with excitement of the prospect of messing with the boy who would tease you to no end. You knocked loudly on the door, which you knew would only put Fred in a bad mood. But you didn’t care. He’d be feeling nothing but love and bliss shortly.

The door was jerked open and a tall mess of ginger hair was standing in front of you, clothed in only a pair of boxers that had cute little Gryffindor lions on them. You had to stifle a laugh and remind yourself that it’s probably not polite to knock on someone’s door early in the morning and proceed to stare at their crotch. 

“What the bloody hell do you want?” he groaned, eyes still half closed. 

“That’s not a nice way to greet someone who just brought you food, now is it Freddie?” His face changed as he registered your voice and finally opened his eyes wide enough to see you. A slight blush formed on his face as he realized the little clothing he was wearing, but it was quickly replaced by his signature cocky smile. 

“And what can I do for you this morning, love?”

You rolled your eyes and pulled the brownies from behind you, one of them normal and the other containing the love potion. “Angelina and I snuck out to the kitchens last night and snagged a bunch of brownies. I’ll give you one if you promise to leave me out of your pranks, at least for a little bit. I’m tired of waking up to centipedes in my bed and green dye dripping from my hair.”

Fred laughed and snatched the brownie you handed to him. “I appreciate the negotiation, darling, but it’s gonna take a lot more than some baked goods to get me out of your hair. Just ask my mum.” 

He was about to take a bite from the brownie, you knew this was it. “You’re insufferable Weasley, I’ll see you in class.” You turned and walked away, counting the minutes until the fun would begin. A door slammed behind you and you assumed Fred had gone back to his bed. With a skip in your step you made your way back to your dorm. 

You were about to open the door when you felt a rough hand on your shoulder. You gasped and spun around to see Fred towering over you. 

“Sorry to scare you love, but I needed to ask you something.” Before you could stop yourself you looked up at him. In his right hand was the half eaten brownie. His eyes caught yours and you watched, horrified, as they glazed over. The spell had worked. But now you were the target of Fred’s love. 

“Oh Godric, oh no.” 

Fred’s expressions suddenly changed. His previous cheeky and somewhat nervous grin was gone, replaced with a lovesick smile. “Have you always looked this beautiful?”

You screamed and pushed him into your dorm room, casting a locking charm from the outside. You hoped Fred didn’t have his wand and that would buy you some time. 

Sprinting back to Fred and Lee’s dorm you threw open the door and practically jumped on the dark haired boy sleeping tangled in his sheets. 

“Lee, wake up wake up!”

He groaned and slapped your arm away but you wouldn't give up. It took all of your might but you rolled him off of his bed, and he gasped loudly as his limp body hit the floor.  

“You’re an arse, you know that right?”

Lee finally sat up after he realized that pretending to be asleep would not stop you from frantically shaking him. As he rubbed his eyes and moved to get off the floor he saw the scared look that adorned your face. 

“Lee…” you said in a panic, “I messed up.”

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

George, true to his nature, was absolutely no help. Angelina had brought them back up early so she could check up on the plan, only to walk in on you groaning into Fred’s bed and Lee yelling about how you deserved it for trying to prank him. It only took a few minutes to fill George in, and he and Lee were both beside themselves imagining the possibilities of this turn of events. 

“Guys shut up,” you said, slamming your head into one of Fred’s pillows. “This is serious. How am I supposed to deal with Fred being in love with me for two days?”

“I don’t know Y/N,” Lee began mockingly, “it must be really difficult. Not something you would want anyone to have to experience, huh?”

You threw the pillow at his face. “You deserved it Jordan, Angelina agrees.”

The other girl nodded hesitantly. “I did think it would be great to see Fred madly in love with Lee, but now that this has happened…” her face shone with a sly grin that was so rare to find on the prefect, “I think I want to see it play out.”

“You are all horrible people.”

George moved to sit next to you and rub your back. “Hey, don’t worry, love. Maybe the potion isn’t as bad as you thought? Maybe Fred’s not going as crazy as you expected.”

He was. 

As you opened the door to your dorm you were engulfed in a bone crushing hug, one very similar to Molly Weasley’s embraces. “I missed you so much, don’t ever leave me for that long again!”

George and Lee had to walk away because they were laughing so much, leaving Angelina to stare at the scene in front of her. 

“Umm, Fred,” she asked, peering into the bedroom, “what the hell did you do in here?”

Fred released you from his hold and you could finally see the mess that he created. Everything you owned was pulled from your trunks and scattered across the floor. Your uniform, your books, even your underwear was haphazardly thrown onto your sheets. 

You and your roommate were glaring daggers at the boy in front of you, but if he noticed he didn’t care. 

“You like it?” he asked. “I wanted to be as close to Y/N as I could while she was gone, so I spread all of her belongings out to make it feel like she was right next to me.” He said the last few words with a dramatic sigh and you smacked your head, hoping it would knock you out of whatever nightmare you were in. 

You grabbed his hands in yours and led him back to his room, hoping too many people wouldn’t see him clad in only his underwear. “C’mon Freddie, let's get you dressed. We have a long two days ahead of us. 

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

You didn’t know if having most of your classes with Fred was a blessing or a curse. On one hand, at least he wasn’t skipping class to be with you all day and you could keep a close eye on him. On the other hand, you already had lost 50 house points and it wasn’t even lunch yet. 

“You look stunning with your hair pulled back like that.” Instead of doing his potions assignment, Fred was bent over resting his head on his hand and staring at you mixing together your ingredients. 

“And you look like an idiot standing like that, get back to work before we get in trouble again.” You thought that if you were rude to Fred then maybe he would get the hint and back off. But your potion turned out to be stronger than expected, and nothing you did could get him away from you. 

He pushed a strand of hair that had fallen out of your ponytail behind your ear, letting his fingers linger for a few seconds. It made you blush furiously but you didn’t want to give the boy any satisfaction. “Back to work Fred, now.”

The ginger sighed and grabbed a few ingredients, not checking to see what they were. He hummed and danced around the table, throwing them in while he quietly sang a familiar tune. 

You rolled your eyes and looked down at your own cauldron, before his hands were on your chin and your faces were inches away from each other. “Everything you do is magic, love. I could watch you all day.”

“I’m a witch, dummy. Of course everything I do is magic.”

“That’s not what I meant.” He went back to throwing random ingredients into his pot and you couldn’t help but laugh at the lovesick mess standing in front of you. That is, until the cauldron exploded. 

“Mr. Weasley, Miss Y/L/N, you insufferable idiots.” Of course Snape would blame you too. “Detention tonight.”

You groaned and slammed your head onto the table, but Fred just wrapped his arm around your shoulder. “Isn’t that great? Now we can spend even more time together.”

“Don’t remind me Weasley.”

------------------------------ 

The rest of the day had gone by surprisingly smoothly. George and Lee tried to distract Fred for a few hours to give you a little peace and quiet, but he always found his way back to your side. You started to attract odd glances as you moved through the castle with Fred’s hands intertwined with yours and his constant complimenting that made you turn even deeper shades of red. 

You tried to avoid public spaces as much as possible. If people saw the way Fred was acting around you it wouldn’t take long for them to piece everything together and recognize the effects of a semi-illegal love potion. And you really didn’t want to be known as the girl who forced someone to fall in love with you, even if it was a complete accident. 

However, dinner was difficult. Fred walked into the Great Hall with his arm draped over your shoulder, booping your nose and handing you a flower he had picked from the courtyard. You blushed and quickly put it in the pocket of your robe, hoping no one would notice. But they did. 

“Finally!” someone shouted, and you turned to the Hufflepuff table to see Cedric Diggory yelling. “MacMillan, you owe me 5 galleons!”

You furrowed your brow in confusion and turned to look at Angelina and George, who avoided eye contact with you. “Guys, what is he talking about?”

The four of you sat down, followed by Lee. Fred’s arm stayed stuck to you, even when you tried to shove him off. Angelina looked a little sheepish as she took a seat in front of you. 

“Well, we tried to keep it from you and Fred because we didn’t want it to get awkward, but…”

“Everyone has bets on when they thought you two were gonna shag, or at least snog or get together or something,” Lee piped up. 

You looked between the faces of your friends, searching for a joke. “You’re kidding. I know you’re kidding.”

George just shook his head and gave a small laugh. “Nope. Everyone’s in on it too. Even heard McGonagall and Dumbledore discussing their bets.”

Your jaw dropped and you looked up at Fred. “Did you know about this?” 

“The only thing I know, bunny, is how incredibly adorable you are.” He leaned his head on your shoulder and nuzzled himself into you, breathing in your scent. 

Your mind started to race with what this meant. “Oh no, now everyone’s going to be paying attention to us! How am I supposed to explain it in two days when suddenly we’re back to normal and everyone’s asking what happened? I’m gonna be in so much trouble…”

“Better you than me,” said Lee, who was growing increasingly more glad that your plan backfired and he wasn’t the one having to deal with Fred. 

“I hate this so much.” You tried your best to eat your dinner in peace, but with people congratulating you and passing around money the entire meal you started to lose your appetite. You completely lost it when you saw George grab a few sickles from a Ravenclaw student. 

“You bet on this too?” He shrugged sheepishly and looked down to count the coins in his hands. “I told you, everyone knew you were gonna get together, might as well place my own bets on it.”

“Are you forgetting Georgie,” you said, starting to get angry with him, “that we’re not together?”

A few confused heads turned your way and you immediately quieted down. If you had to play along, then that was what you would do. 

You stood up and grabbed Fred’s hand in yours. “C’mon, Fred, it’s time for detention. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” They said their goodbyes as you rushed out of the Great Hall, ignoring the comments thrown in your direction. 

The two of you arrived in Snape’s classroom and you practically broke down the door, just ready to get all of this over with. 

“Miss Y/L/N, please refrain from damaging my classroom any more than you and your idiot boyfriend already have.” The greasy professor stood in the corner, flipping through the pages of one of his potions books. 

“He’s not an idiot, professor. And he’s not my--” you stopped yourself from correcting your teacher and instead opted for quietly dragging your ‘boyfriend’ over to where your detention assignment was. 

“I want this room spotless, do you understand me? Not a speck of dust. And if I find out that you two have gotten up to anything...funny--”

“Trust me professor, you don’t have to worry about that.” You looked at Fred whose eyes were glassy and looking at you. You had to admit, the thought of something happening with Fred had crossed your mind in the past, but you knew it was only a fleeting thought. Besides, you would never take advantage of your best friend or anyone for that matter, especially when he was literally under a spell that made him fall in love with you. You’d have to be really careful with anything Fred did while the two of you were alone. 

Snape set out a checklist for your tasks for the night before sweeping his cape dramatically and gliding out of his classroom. 

“So,” Fred began with a sly grin, “now that we’re alone…”

“Not a chance Weasley. You’re under a love potion and I want to get this done quick so I can head to bed and pretend this day never happened. So let’s get to work.”

He pouted and tried to put his arm around your waist but you slapped it away. “I’m serious Fred. If you love me then you’ll help, ok?”

Fred’s expression changed quickly and he nodded with enthusiasm, grabbing all the supplies needed to begin cleaning. You couldn’t help but stare at your best friend gleefully prance around the room, sweeping all of the dust while humming that familiar tune under his breath. 

Your mind went back to what your friends were saying earlier at dinner. Did everyone really think that you two would get together? I mean, you did always flirt with each other, but that was just how you were. Your personalities bounced off of each other so well, which led to you being practically inseparable for the past few years. Even after his pranks and jokes you could never be mad at him for more than a day, and you always found your way back to his side. 

You were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn’t notice that the boy was suddenly right behind you. “Dance with me, my love?” 

As you turned you saw him bowing with an arm extended to you, and you couldn’t help but giggle at him as his long red hair covered his face. “Fred, I told you, nothing’s gonna happen tonight.” 

But he grabbed your hand anyways and pulled you tighter to him. “Who says anything has to happen? This is just a friendly dance with the love of my life.”

“There’s not even any music, how are we supposed to dance?” He dipped you down and pulled you back up to his chest. You hated to admit it, but his lovesick state was growing on you. 

“We can dance to the beats of our hearts, my dear.” And the feelings were gone. You rolled your eyes at his tacky remark and had to remind yourself that this was just a fabrication of love and obsession that was created in a cauldron and consumed by your friend against his will. But some innocent dancing wouldn’t hurt. 

“Fine,” you said, “we can dance for a little bit, but then we work, got it?” 

He cupped your face and his thumb rested on your slightly parted lips. “Anything for you, my love.”

While you hated the cheesiness of Fred’s words, you had to admit that dancing haphazardly around the potions room, knocking over empty cauldrons and vials, was pretty fun. Fred hummed the song he had been humming nonstop for the past few days as he spun you around and pulled you back close. 

There were many instances where he tried to press his lips to yours, but every time you would spin away and distract him with some more dancing. His smile grew wider and wider after every second, and you thought it was a sight you could get used to. You probably would have continued to dance all night, except for the fact that you tripped over the broom Fred used earlier and it reminded you that you had a punishment to fulfill. 

But while you cleaned up the mess you couldn’t stop yourself from staring at the ginger boy across the room, and wondering what it would be like to dance with the real him some day. 

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

You awoke with an awful crick in your neck and aches all over your body. As your eyes adjusted to the dim light you realized that you weren’t in your dorm room lying on your comfy four poster bed. No, you had fallen asleep sitting against a wall of the potions room floor, with Fred laying his head on your lap, still fast asleep. 

You blushed at the position, but selfishly stayed still for a few minutes, staring at the slow rising and falling of Fred’s chest. He’d always been the cuter twin in your opinion. Slightly shorter, but with a rounder face and less bumped nose than his brother. His soft features were a huge contrast to his sharp and blunt personality, and they balanced each other so perfectly. 

He slowly shifted so his head was facing you, still laying on your lap. He looked up through his lashes, smiling softly. 

“Hey beautiful, hope you slept well.” Your heart melted at his words, along with his deep morning voice. But you had to remind yourself that this wasn’t real. It would never be real. 

“I reckon you slept fine, you had me as a pillow.” You lifted his head and shoved him off of you, standing up to brush yourself off. “I was stuck leaning against these cold walls with a 6’ 3” ginger laying on top of me. Best sleep of my life.” 

That was when the reality of what happened actually kicked in. It was the next morning, and the two of you were still in your clothes from yesterday and still in Snape’s classroom, who was bound to return any minute. 

“Shit.” You grabbed your friends hands and dragged him to the door. “C’mon Freddie, we have to get back to the Common Room before Snape sees us. Or someone else.”

“Who cares who sees love?” He stopped in his tracks which made you fly back into him. “I want the whole world to know how much I love my little angel.”

“I care who sees. And you don’t love me Fred, it’s the spell. C’mon let’s hurry up, please.” No matter how many times you tried to explain the love potion Fred just wouldn’t listen. But he finally decided to follow you through the labyrinth of the dungeon and back to Gryffindor tower. 

You thought you were home free before you heard a voice from behind you. “Looks like someone had a fun night, didn’t she?” 

You increased your pace and shouted back at the laughing figure, clad in green and silver. “Sod off Malfoy, it’s none of your business or anyone else’s for that matter.”

But he just continued to laugh and ran away, probably to tell his goons all about what he saw protruding from Snape’s classroom early in the morning. 

“He’s a real arse, isn’t he, doll?” Fred’s words made a small smile spread on your face, glad that the potion didn’t take all of his personality away. 

“Yeah he is, Freddie. Now let’s get you dressed and ready for class, ok?”

Fred grinned as you spoke the Gryffindor password to the fat lady. “Only if you promise to meet me in the courtyard for lunch. I have a surprise for you bunny.”

You pushed him through the door and back to his room. “Fine, but don’t call me bunny, ok?” He nodded reluctantly. “Oh and Fred?”

The boy turned around and stared at you dopily, hanging on to every word you said. 

“Please give me my tie back. I see it in your pocket.”

Fred sighed and gave you his best puppy dog eyes, which almost worked. But he eventually grabbed the tie and handed it to you. “Just wanted something to remember you by, that’s all rabbit.”

“I think that’s worse than bunny. Now get dressed and meet me back here for class. And if anyone asks you where we were last night, you lie, ok? We were in our dorms.”

He nodded so hard you thought his head would fall off. “Yes ma’am! How about a goodbye kiss?”

You sighed and kissed him on the cheek. “That’s all you get. Now off you go Weasley.”

Fred skipped back into his dorm room and started singing some song, which quickly turned into a scream, making you assume that one of his roommates had attacked him for waking them up so early. One day down, one to go. Easy, right? But what scared you was you didn’t know if you wanted this to end or if you wanted it to continue forever. 

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“He’s insufferable, Angie. How am I supposed to deal with this again? Especially alone.” It was only minutes away from when Fred was supposed to take you out to lunch, and you really didn’t want to see him, especially since you had no idea how to feel about him now. 

Angelina smiled at you and sat down in the courtyard. “He can’t be that bad. It’s Fred!”

You gave her an ‘are you serious’ look. She nodded in understanding. “Yeah, ok it’s probably bad.”

“I just want things to go back to normal,” you groaned. “But that won’t even happen, because everyone thinks we’re dating now! Oh he’s gonna hate me when the potion wears off.”

“As if Fred could ever hate you, Y/N. You’re his favorite person, he’s said so himself.” Her words were not helping the internal crisis you were having.

“But what is everyone going to think? There’s no way they’ll believe we broke up after two days, and it’s not like Fred would play along and fake date me. I’m doomed.”

“You’re overdramatic, that’s what you are. We’ll figure it out, ok? And Fred will help once he’s back to normal. He could never get mad at you.”

“I hope you’re right. I just wish that he’d keep everything quiet and not make any big scenes.” The second you said that you saw Fred approaching you, but not from the ground. No, the drama queen decided to fly down on a broom, attracting everyone’s attention. “Oh great.”

“Have fun on your date you lovebirds!” Angelina called after you. You flipped her off as you walked to where Fred had landed. 

“Hello lovely, care for a ride?” Everyone was staring at you and you wanted nothing more than to get out of there. A display like this probably wouldn’t have bothered you if it was with someone you were actually dating, but the more people saw you and Fred together the more complicated an explanation would be. 

So you hopped on the back of his broom and whispered for him to fly away, fast. You zoomed through the air, away from the castle and down toward the Black Lake. 

The strong lake air filled your nose as your hair whipped around your face at top speed. You wrapped your arms around Fred tighter as he made twists and turns in every direction, causing you to scream and laugh at his antics. 

The afternoon sky was beautiful, and you took a mental note to do this again sometime, preferably with the man sitting in front of you. 

Fred finally landed the broom on an open piece of land, wildflowers blooming all around and the wind whistling in your ears. 

He grabbed your hand as you stepped off the broom and led you to a spot set up with a blanket and a basket of food. 

“Freddie…” It was too much for you to take in. This love potion must have been powerful stuff to make him go out of his way to do this for you. 

“Come here, dove, let’s eat.” 

You were speechless as you sat down on the blanket and were handed an assortment of foods, from mini sandwiches to grapes and strawberries to cupcakes for dessert. Fred grinned at the shocked expression on your face. 

“Fred, I...I don’t know what to say.” 

“Then don’t say anything, love.” He leaned in toward you, eyes flicking down to your lips. His beautiful, soft lips. At the last second before your lips met you grabbed a grape and plopped it into his mouth. Fred looked surprised at first, but he quickly recovered and did the same thing to you, feeding you a grape that he grabbed from the basket. This quickly turned into a food fight, with the two of you grabbing handfuls of fruit and chucking them at each other, diving out of the way and making barricades to protect yourselves.

You were laughing harder than you ever had before, so much so that the two of you lost track of time. 

“Oh, shoot, Fred. It’s probably time for our next class.” You tried to grab all of the supplies and pull him over to his broom, but his big hands wrapped around you from behind and held you in place. 

“Don’t leave, darling. I want to spend every minute of every day with you.” He rocked you from side to side, his words sending shivers down your back. You knew his words weren’t his. Deep down, you knew that this wasn’t the real Fred Weasley talking. But that didn’t stop you for pretending that it was real, at least for a few seconds. 

“Don’t say things like that, Freddie,” you said, unwrapping yourself from his hold. “You’re only making this harder than it already is.”

He followed you to the broom, you carrying the basket and blanket while tangling your arms around him again. You took off into the sky and you closed your eyes, soaking up every ounce of this fleeting beautiful moment. 

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

“So how are things with my brother going? Do I hear wedding bells in the future?”

You slapped George upside the head and huffed as you sat down for dinner, ignoring the laughs from your friends. 

“Shut up, George, I’m just glad this day is almost over. All I have to do is make it through dinner and then we can go back to our dorms and go to bed.”

Lee gave you a suggestive smile. “Yeah, our dorms. Just like what you two did last night.”

George started cackling like a hyena and you smashed your hand over Lee’s mouth. “Don’t say one word about that,” you hissed. “Malfoy’s already talking to enough people, I don’t want Fred thinking I took advantage of him and slept with him while he was practically drugged!”

This seemed to get through to the boys and they quieted down. 

“Nothing did happen though, right?” George was starting to get nervous, finally realizing what could’ve happened to his brother in this state. 

You shook your head. “Of course not. Only some dancing and falling asleep in awkward positions.”

“I am so glad that wasn’t me then,” Lee joked, trying to lighten the mood. You smiled slightly and turned to look for the man of the hour. 

“Hey, where is Fred anyways? We haven’t been apart for this long since he ate the brownie.” 

As soon as you spoke your words, Angelina sprinted into the room and sat next to you. “I’m sorry, Y/N, I tried to stop him but he wouldn’t listen.”

Your eyes went wide at Angelina’s words. “Angie, what are you talking about?”

Suddenly the doors to the Great Hall were flung open, and in rode Fred on his broom, throwing rose petals from a basket he was carrying. 

“Oh no,” you muttered. 

“Oh yes,” said George, who tapped Colin Creevey and asked him to get as many pictures of this as possible. 

Fred made a couple of laps around the hall and landed right in front of you. “Hello, lovely, are you ready for the show?”

You wanted nothing more than to crawl under the table and hide for the rest of eternity, but Lee was holding you in place and you were forced to witness the monstrosity of what was about to happen. 

Fred waved his wand at a nearby Muggle radio that he had planted, and the song he had been humming for the past few days came on, blaring louder than a normal radio should be able to. Just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, Fred began to sing. 

“Baby c’mon over I don’t care if people find out!”

George whistled at the scene and Creevey snapped a photo, the first of many to come. 

“They say that we’re no good together and it’s never gonna work out.”

You scanned the room frantically, looking for someone to help you out of this situation. But even Dumbledore looked intrigued as he sat back in his seat. 

“But, baby, you got me moving too fast,”

He kicked some food off of the table and it landed next to Malfoy, splattering his face with warm mashed potatoes. 

“Cause I know you wanna be bad,”

Fred started to do a very provocative dance move involving his broom and you could hear dozens of girls cheering for him. 

“And girl, when you’re looking like that, I can’t hold back!”

He held your face in his hands and pressed a kiss to your forehead before jumping on his broom and flying around the room, singing the chorus of the song at the top of his lungs. 

“Cause you, you’ve got this spell on me!”

Oh if only he knew. 

“I don’t know what to believe”

He did a loop on his broom and winked at you, making you smile against your will. No matter how annoying Fred was, especially under a love spell, he was still cute. 

“Kiss you once, now I can’t leave! Cause everything you do is magic, but everything you do is magic.”

He continued the song getting louder with each verse and making occasional stops to give you a small peck on the cheeks or forehead. 

After what felt like an eternity, the song died down and cheers from every table grew, even the Slytherins getting excited about the display. 

Fred landed next to you and sat down, hugging you tightly into his chest. “I love you, Y/N, with all of my heart.”

You felt yourself give in to your desires and you hugged him back tightly. “I love you too Weasley. More than you’ll ever know.”

He finally released you and you went back to your meals, your red blush not once leaving your face throughout dinner. After you and your friends finished you made your way back to your rooms. 

“I think I’m gonna turn in early Freddie, ok?” You didn’t really give him a chance to respond before you stepped into your room and started getting ready for bed. As you brushed your teeth and put on your pjs, the events from the past few days raced through your head. You pushed the thoughts out of your mind. After tomorrow morning, they wouldn’t matter. You and Fred would be back to your normal friendly selves and you would be struggling to come up with a way to justify the scene he had made in front of the entire school. 

As you pulled the covers up over your body you heard a shy knock on the door. Assuming it was Angelina you yelled for her to come in, only to see Fred standing in the doorway looking at you. 

You sat up slowly and gazed at the tall man, the one you felt yourself falling for even more in the past two days. “What’s up Freddie, are you alright?”

He nodded and made his way to sit on your bed. “I can’t sleep. Wanna sleep here with you. Can I sleep with you my love?”

You blushed at his words but nodded, scooting over to let him crawl into bed with you. You made sure to stay as far away from Fred as possible, but it didn’t help that he was constantly trying to pull you closer. 

“Fred,” you said, shifting out of his hold once again. “We shouldn’t be doing this. You’re not in your right mind and I don’t want normal Fred to wake up and wonder why we’re laying together.”

“But I wanna be here with you, pumpkin.”

You sat up again and adjusted the pillows underneath him so he would be comfortable. “How about you sleep here and I can lay on the floor, ok? That way I’m still close to you.”

Fred whimpered at the lack of heat from your body, but he nodded as you made a makeshift bed on the ground. Two days in a row sleeping on the floor. You guessed this was payback for ever thinking you could get back at Fred Weasley. 

You slowly fell asleep on the ground, listening to Fred’s soft breathing and your own pounding heart. Everything would be different in the morning. Everything would be normal again. 

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

You woke up early again, more aches and pains haunting your body. Groaning, you sat up to look for Fred, but he had disappeared. Had the potion worn off and he decided to head to his own bed? No, it wasn’t a full 48 hours yet, there was still a little time left. 

Your bathroom door shot open and out bounced Fred, looking more energetic than you had ever seen him this early in the morning. 

“Glad you’re up, love. I’ve got something to show you.”

Before you could protest, Fred was dragging you out of the Gryffindor tower and straight to the Astronomy Tower, which was usually empty this time of day. You were still clad in your pajamas but you figured no one would see you this early.

You made your way to the top and saw what Fred had meant. There was another blanket set up, but with a radio sitting on it instead of a basket of food. 

“I figured we could watch the sunrise together, sunshine,” he whispered into your ear, before pulling you onto the blanket with him. 

Fred turned on the radio and some soft music began to play. He threw his arm around your shoulders but you shrugged it off, knowing that the potion was going to wear off any minute now. 

“Y/N?” Fred asked. 

You looked at him tilted your head, gesturing for him to continue. 

“You know I love you, right?”

The look in his eyes made you want to break down. He was so beautiful, sitting in the glow of the sunrise. His eyes gleamed brown and gold, and you wanted nothing more than to get lost in them. 

“Yeah, Freddie. I know. Right now you do.”

Fred looked like he was about to say something else, when he started to get dizzy and he had to steady himself by holding onto your shoulders.

“Fred, are you alright?”

He didn’t answer, but instead took a deep breath and looked up at you. 

Fred shot away faster than a snitch at a Quidditch game, and you knew this was it. Your prank was over. 

“Y/N? What, how…? What’s going on? Did I just say I loved you? Bloody hell…” Fred’s head was spinning and you tried to calm him down. 

“Hey, it’s alright, don’t worry Fred.” You took his hand in yours and pulled him closer to you. “What do you remember?”

You didn’t know how this specific love potion worked in regards to memories. Whether Fred would completely forget the last two days or if he would remember them completely, you had no idea. Either way you planned on filling him in on everything. He deserved to know. 

“I, umm, I remember eating a brownie, and, and I needed to tell you something, but you looked too beautiful and I couldn’t. And all I wanted to do was tell you how amazing and incredible you are...and there was detention, and a picnic, and--did I really sing that song to you in front of everyone?”

You laughed at the boy who finally felt the embarrassment of his actions. “Yes you did Freddie, but it’s not your fault.”

He furrowed his brow at you. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” you began, “you know how you’re an insufferable twat who likes to prank me all the time?”

Fred smiled and gently nudged your shoulder. “That I do know, continue.”

“So, Angelina and I decided to get back at you, using my expertise in potions.”

His face dropped. “Potions? What potions? Did you use a potion on me?”

You felt horrible having to explain this to your friend. While nothing bad happened during the last two days, you couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for Fred. “You see, we sort of concocted a love potion to give you, as a joke--”

“What?” he screamed incredulously. 

You jumped as he spoke and he pulled his hands back from you. 

“A love potion? Are you serious?”

“I-I’m sorry Freddie, we didn’t think you’d get this upset, it was honestly--”

“So this… all of this?” Fred looked as if he was going to explode. He was tugging at his hair so hard you expected him to pull it out. “You toyed with me? You played with my feelings? So everything I’ve felt for you the last year has been nothing more than a stupid love potion?”

You were taken aback by his harsh words, dumbstruck by the side of Fred you’d never seen before. He was furious, and not at Snape or Malfoy like usual. He was furious with you. 

“Fred, what--”

“I can’t believe you, Y/N. I’ve been in love with you since the summer and now I find out that my feelings aren’t even real, just one big joke. Is that all I am? Just a joke to you?”

What was he talking about? The potion didn’t make up false memories of love. He shouldn’t have been in love with you for longer than the 48 hours. You reached forward to put your hand on his shoulder but he shrugged it off. 

“Freddie,” you began, “we gave you the potion two days ago. Everything else was...not our doing. I promise you that. We just thought it would be a fun joke and we knew it would rub off quickly. But I swear, we haven’t been toying with you. I care about you too much to do that.”

You’d never seen Fred look more confused in his entire life, and that was counting the time that you took polyjuice to make yourself look like him and convince him that you were his long lost triplet. 

“You...I...only two days?” He turned to face the edge of the tower, staring into the sunrise. You moved with him and ended up sitting in front of him, so close that you were practically on his lap. 

“I gave you the potion thinking that you were going to fall in love with Lee. But you of course had to ruin the plan and fall in love with me instead. Everything you’ve been feeling for the past two days in fake. But other than that, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Your brain was racing with possibilities of what he could mean about the last year. It settled on one, but there was no way that could be it. 

You rubbed your thumb over Fred’s knuckles soothingly as you watched him try to comprehend what was going on. “So, the butterflies I got when I saw you in a swimsuit over the summer? The way my heart beats faster every time you look at me? The way I can feel myself falling in love with everything you do? That’s not...that’s not fake?”

You felt your breath hitch in your throat. Butterflies? Heart beating? Falling in love? “Fred, if this is some sort of reverse joke to get back at me it’s not funny at all.”

He shifted and pulled you into a tight hug as he noticed your vulnerability, so uncommon with you. “Of course this isn’t a joke, love. But you have to tell me, was it all real? Please tell me it was all real and that the potion’s over with now.”

You smiled and felt small tears prick your eyes. “The potions over, Freddie. Whatever you felt before and whatever you feel now...it’s real. There’s no spell on you anymore.”

Fred pulled back from the hug and cupped your cheek in his hands. His eyes seared into yours and you never wanted to look away. “Y’know,” you whispered, “sometimes I wonder if you’ve got me under a spell.”

Fred laughed and twisted your hair in his fingers. You thought he had never looked more handsome laughing at you in the morning light. “That’s the cheesiest thing I’ve ever heard you say, love.”

You scoffed at his remark. “You got up and sang that to me in front of the entire school!” you nearly shouted, slapping his chest. 

“Yeah, while I was literally under a love potion that you gave me! Just that desperate for me, are you?”

You knew he was joking, but he was poking at the truth. “Maybe I am Freddie, maybe I--”

But you didn’t have time to finish, because you were cut off by his lips on yours. It caught you by surprise, but it wasn’t long until you melted into the kiss. His one hand rested on the small of your back and the other moved to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. 

You sighed into the long overdue kiss and crawled on top of the love of your life, straddling his hips.

Your hands played with his hair like they had countless times before, but this time it was different. This time it really meant something, to the both of you. Fred pulled you closer and you shifted so you were pushing him onto his back. Unfortunately, neither of you were very aware of your surroundings and his head hit the radio, forcing it to change stations. 

The two of you giggled and continued to make out in the morning sun, but you stopped once you heard the song that came on. 

“Is that…” you asked. 

“It can’t be. There’s no way.”

But the radio was without a doubt playing the song that the whole school was now familiar with. You sat up and stared at Fred, eyes asking him if he somehow planned this. 

Fred just shrugged and pulled you back onto him. “Must be magic love.” You smiled and went in to kiss him again. As the song ended Fred spoke the last lyrics into you, sending shivers down your spine. 

“But everything you do is magic.”

[vulpes-z3rda]

how you met them

a/n: how are we all feeling?? i apologise if the writing isn’t the best, its old content from my wattpad that i’m moving across!!

Tanjiro

Well, you met at the Final Selection. He was running through the wisteria flowers on the trees and had finally reached the end of it all. Before he could walk further into the opening, he walked right into someone. "Hey. Watch where you're walking, will you?" You grumbled, saddened by the loss of your friends in the forest. He gulped at your facial expression and rubbed the nape of his neck in embarrassment. "Ah, I'm sorry... I'm Tanjiro Kamado! It's nice to meet you..." He trailed off not knowing your name. You huffed and gave him a small smile. "Y/n... Y/n L/n! It's nice to meet you too Kamado-Kun!" He smiled and walked with you over to the twins that stood before you all to explain your swords. "I hope we work together L/n-Chan." Giggling you nodded. "Me too!" With that, the pair of you stood together, a sense of pride and happiness surrounding you both. "Hey, Kamado-Kun?" You said quietly. "Hmm? What's wrong?" He asked, concerned about you. "I promise to protect you and stay by your side!" You pledged with a wide smile. He chuckled and nodded. "I promise to do the same L/n-Chan."

Inosuke

You both met at the butterfly estate. You had already become a demon hunter and was working under Rengoku. This is what attracted him to you originally. I mean Rengoku was strong so in his mind, you would be a worthy opponent to fight right? He was right about that, however, he could never get to ask. So he charged at you with his pig assault as he usually does. "Huh? What happened?" You asked in a daze as he'd made you hit your head rather harshly on the floor. "Fight me!!" He yelled as steam came out of his boar mask's nose. "Get off me, you idiot!!" You yelled as you pushed him off you and stood up dusting yourself off. That was until you froze and looked up at him in pure rage. "You... YOU RIPPED MY HAORI INOSUKE!!!! YOU DUMBASS!!" You screeched as you chased after him. "AHAHA!!! ARE YOU GONNA FIGHT ME NOW Y/N!?" He yelled back in near-psychotic joy. "Fight you? I'm gonna beat your ass, you damned idiot!!" You quietly threatened as you ran at him. "Rengoku? Shouldn't we stop this?" Tanjiro asked as he and Zenitsu stood beside him. "Hmmm, no. Let them teach young Inosuke a lesson."

Zenitsu

You were the baker's daughter at a village at the foot of a mountain a few miles east of the Demon Slayer Corps. For two weeks teens and children had been going missing, adults had started to go too. So naturally, people began to suspect a demon was behind the disappearances. Your village elder sent for some demon slayers to come and help but it was too late. "HELP! PLEASE, SOMEONE!!" You screamed as a demon had begun to chase you after killing your father. "No one is coming to help you, brat!" He screeched as he pinned you by the neck to the wall of a house. A flash of yellow flew past you and stopped to your left. "HEY! Get your hands off them!" A blonde boy yelled as he drew a sword out on the demon. "Ah, a slayer? This should be fun..." He smirked as he dropped you to the ground. Before he could even react, the blonde had sliced his head off. "Are you okay?" He asked with obvious tears in his eyes. "No.. my dad... he killed him!!" You wailed in pain. "Hey... come with me so we can protect you. My name is Zenitsu." He exclaimed trying to comfort you. You stood up and grabbed his hand. "I'm y/n... please don't leave me Zenitsu.." You whimpered, scared of anything and everything at that moment. "I wouldn't dream of it Y/n-Chan."

Giyu

You were a simple first aider at the Demon Corps who worked under Shinobu at the butterfly estate. At first, he gave you no attention. I'll be honest, he didn't even know who you were. That all changed when he was injured after a mission in a village that had more demons than anticipated. Aoi and Shinobu had forced him to go to you as you were one of the best aiders there. "Y/n? We have one more for you to help." Aoi sai giving you a slight smile. "Hmm? Ah, okay. Just place him on that bed there and I'll get right to it and help him." You stated blandly looking at them with dull e/c eyes. Despite this, upon seeing him, they lit up slightly. "You were injured on a mission right Tamioka-San?" You asked as you cleaned his cuts. He looked at you curiously and nodded. "How do you know my name?" He asked blandly. "It's my business to know everyone who Shinobu works alongside so I can welcome them if I need to. I'm Y/n L/n by the way." A small, unnoticeable chuckle left his lips as you bandaged his wounds. "Thank you L/n." You smiled at him and carried on. "I'm simply doing my job, there's no need to thank me."

Muzan

He was strolling through a random village in which he knew demons had been attacking continuously for a few days or so. The pained cries of devastated families were like music to his sinful ears. What can I say? He has lived for a thousand years and has come to enjoy killing humans and seeing them as less than worth sparing. Well... that was until he saw you. A particularly aggressive demon had trapped you in an alleyway. "Oh god... I'm going to die..." You whispered as the demon lifted his hand to hit you. Now he was just as confused as you must have been when he grabbed the demon and immediately snapped its head clean off. "Sir? How did you..." You looked up into his eyes and for some reason calmed down. Heaving out a sigh he helped you up and helped you. "Thank you for saving me... I'm Y/n L/n." He chuckled at the bluntness of your reply. "You're welcome. I'm... I'm Muzan." Smiling you kissed his cheek. "Thank you, Muzan.." A blush overcame his pale face and he smiled slightly. More to the point, he was surprised you hadn't recognised his name.

Genya

You met him before everything when you were both kids and grew up together. However, when your father was killed by a demon, your mum took you away from everything and forced you to move in with her friend Ubuyashiki Kagaya. It wasn't until he became a demon slayer did you meet again. "Y-y/n? Is that you?" He asked looking at you, unsure of whether he had called the right person or not. "Huh? Genya?" You asked in confusion. "Why're you here? You know where you are right?" You asked with a small smile. "I'm a demon slayer... where did you go way back then?" He mumbled as he walked up to you and hugged you. Giggling you shook your head and hugged back. "My mum brought me here and I was trained to be a demon slayer. I'm a pillar alongside your brother!" The shock on his face was priceless as he stared at you in disbelief. "YOU'RE A PILLAR!?"

Kyojuro

"I need to get away from here..." You whispered as you ran, well tried to, away from the demon who was once your brother. "Y/n!? Come back, I only want a piece of you and then I'll let you go~" He tormented gaining on you. "NO!" You yelled before tripping on a tree root. "Oh no... no no no." The crazed and human meat starved demon stared at you hungrily. "There you are." He growled as you scooted away from him. "B/n... please... please don't do this!" You cried. "Well, why would I spare y-" You looked up to see his head cut off and rolling over the floor and a tall blonde man stood there with a katana. "Are you okay?" He asked holding a hand out to help you up. "He... My brother... I." Stuttering for a reply you looked up at him crying. "Please... please don't leave me..." You begged quickly standing up and gripping onto his haori. He gave a small chuckle and patted your head to try and comfort you. "I won't... I'm Kyojuro Rengoku." After introducing himself, you pulled away and looked up at him. "I'm y/n. y/n l/n."

Sanemi

You were a demon much like Nezuko. You'd never eaten or harmed a human and wished to help them against Muzan and to make your situation better, it was Genya who brought you back to the Demon Slayer Corps. "Another one? Why are so many docile demons appearing??" Gyomei questioned as he stared at you. You smiled back at him and looked over to Genya. "What's gonna happen to me Genya?" The pillars looked on in shock, apart from Sanemi, and fussed over how you were able to talk. "Will you guys shut up? They're nothing amazing. Just another demon like that other one." He grumbled as he glared at you. Giggling you sauntered over to him. "Y/n? Don't annoy Sanemi..." Genya mumbled, being flustered about the demon he brought home annoying his brother. "I'm simply checking out something that's captured my interest!" A blush spread across the Wind Pillars face like an out of control wildfire. "Will you shut up? You're fucking annoying." You laughed and smiled tilting your head. "But I want to get to know you Sanemi-kun~" You teased and you smirked at him. "GENYA!! GET Y/N AWAY FROM ME BEFORE I HIT THEM!!" He shouted. "Sanemi!! Don't you dare!!" The pillars yelled as they held him back. "I'm going to like you a lot I think..." You said with a light blush.

Mitsuri

You met Mitsuri when she was on a mission with Obanai. You weren't the demon they were after but you know if they found you, they'd kill you. However, after seeing them fight and both become injured by the demon which has been terrorising the village you lived in, you decided you'd help them and heal their wounds. "You. You're a demon." Obanai glared at you after you had swiftly chopped the head of the demon off and turned to face them. "Yes. A demon that just helped you. I could've left you to suffer." You said as you kneeled beside Mitsuri and looked over her injuries. "Which ones hurt more?" You asked as you got ready to heal them. "These one do.." She whispered as she pointed to the deep scratches on her arm. "HEY! Get away from Mitsuri!!" Mitsuri told Obanai to calm down as a pink light surrounded her and her wounds healed rather quickly. "See Obanai? They helped me!" She exclaimed as she smiled at you. "You're another docile one... like the one that kid has." Obanai still glared as you turned to face him. "It's your turn. Let me help you." Reluctantly he allowed you to heal his wounds. "What's your name?" Mitsuri asked as you stood up and stretched. She smiled and walked closer to you, much to Obanai's dismay. "Y/n... y/n l/n." You answered as you went to turn and walk away. "Hey wait! You can come with us back to the Butterfly Estate! There's another demon there so you won't be alone and you can continue to help us!!" She exclaimed as she giggled at your confused expression. "Hmmm, I'd like that I think Mitsuri..." You said with a small smile. "Yayyyy!!! Come on!! Everyone is going to love you!!"

[prettywordsyouleft]

Heaven

Prompt: #163 for @jinseunie​ – “Oh I didn’t realise you’re dead.”

jinseunie said:

hmmm 163. it seems like it could go many ways 👀

Pairing: Park Jinyoung x reader

Genre: university au / friends to lovers / fluff

Warnings: none

Word count: 1878

Groaning, you threw yourself down on Jinyoung’s bed, thumping the bed once and then you stilled completely. If you stopped breathing, you wouldn’t have to worry about anything anymore.

No more bad grades.

No more botched confessions to Mark Tuan.

And definitely no more gaining weight when you strayed from your diet to binge on chocolate after point one and two occurred.

“And hello to you too,” Jinyoung dryly greeted, not even moving from his desk to check on you.

“I’m dead, don’t bother me,” you spoke from within his pillow, wondering if you tried hard enough if you could actually become one with the furniture.

“Oh, I didn’t realise you’re dead,” your best friend continued, closing what sounded like a book and then pushed his chair back. “The dead sure can move into my dorm room quickly. Did you even use the door or did you apparate here?”

“Not funny.”

“Nor is your interruption. What do you want?”

Scowling as you finally lifted your head out from his pillow, you were met back with a similar look from Jinyoung. You huffed indignantly. “Even my best friend can’t help me in my time of need.”

“I asked what you wanted.”

“Peace. To escape. Everything’s a mess.”

“That’s not surprising when it comes to you,” he agreed and you gaped at Jinyoung, sitting up and pointing at him.

“Don’t you have a conscious?!”

“I have a conscious desire to kick you out when I’m trying to study for my thesis,” he bit back and you flung your legs off the bed and stood up, waggling a finger in his direction.

“Never ask me for help again!”

“When have I asked you for any?” Jinyoung questioned and you opened your mouth, only to close it. You repeated this until a smug smile crossed his lips. “Because I don’t live in a dramatic world like you do.”

“Sue me for having more going for me!”

He glowered and you cringed. “Take it back or get out.”

“Okay, so fine. You’re stable, I’m not. That’s what you like about us anyway. When you feel like being reckless you can rely on me. And when I need grounding, you’re always there. So ground me. Or I might just float off to heaven right now.” Jinyoung smirked. “Are you sure you’d end up there?”

“Stop berating me and be a friend, Park Jinyoung! I need you, okay!”

“Fine.” Throwing a leg over the other, Jinyoung folded his arms across his chest and waited expectantly.

You took a deep breath and began to relay your issues.

It wasn’t as if you hadn’t tried to solve them yourself first. You had asked for the extension on your assignment, given you had a family emergency, but that hadn’t been accepted. And like the evil witch she was, your lecturer hadn’t even taken into account the grievances you had faced and submitted alongside your essay.

She had left a less than stellar C- on the grading slot, the worst mark you had ever received.

Afterwards, you had misread the situation with your crush, blurting out in the cafeteria that you liked him. Mark had brushed you off politely, if rejection could ever be described as such.

When that was all said and done, you had eaten so much chocolate as you cried that you had felt sick for the entire following day.

Even if you told yourself you deserved better, you had concluded that it was in your nature to suffer like this. Another season of poor results both personally and academically.

You feared what it would be like when you left this institution and failed to get a job in the industry you wanted to, starving out on the street because you couldn’t even afford rent.

Jinyoung merely sat there when you had finished and then rolled his eyes. “As if you would starve.”

“I could!”

“You would mooch off of me.”

“Mooch?! I’m having a crisis and you play me like this?”

“You’re as dramatic as Jackson can be. Why didn’t you confess to him instead?” Jinyoung quipped and you groaned.

“You don’t take me seriously!”

“Because you don’t care to do the same for yourself, Y/N. You are acting like it’s the end of the world. You almost failed Math in high school but here you are studying in one of the best universities. Not only that, but you also received multiple acceptance letters and got to choose where you went. Not everyone is that lucky.”

“Only because of my creative writing. I’m on a scholarship, in case you’ve forgotten. A C-minus affects that!”

“So make a more rigid study program. You can recover with the next essay if you put in enough effort. You are good at working under pressure. Show that witch what you’re worth.”

“You think?”

Jinyoung sighed heavily. “As for Mark, how many times did I tell you he’s not interested in dating anyone? He merely hooks up with girls. And you let him hook up with you that one time and got it into your head you could change him.”

“Well, he was kind to me afterwards.”

“Who burns a bridge they could cross again if they need to?” Jinyoung retorted and your mouth fell ajar.

“Don’t eat so much chocolate next time. Go for a run or even a walk. Exercise will not only clear your mind but allow you to feel the same effect.”

“How does exercise comfort you?”

“One, your body won’t hate you for too much of it,” he pointed out and you nodded glumly. “And why didn’t you tell me any of this until now?”

“Because you told me not to interrupt you studying for your thesis.” Jinyoung’s eyebrow shot up with amusement as he gestured to your presence now. You laughed awkwardly. “I needed you.”

“Do you?” he asked softly, turning back for his desk. “I don’t know if you truly need me.”

“Who else is going to save me from starving on the streets?” you attempted loosely, noticing he didn’t laugh back. “Jinyoung?”

“One, I got a good grade on my last assignment but I never got excited about it like you do. Two, I’ve never confessed about how I feel for anyone because I worry they won’t like me the way I do them. Three, maybe chocolate isn’t so bad. At least you let your emotions out whilst eating it.”

“Why are you talking me up like this? I’d much rather be like you.”

Jinyoung smiled wistfully. “The feeling’s mutual.”

“You want to hook up with Mark Tuan?” you offered and Jinyoung rolled his eyes. Moving over to hug your best friend, you smiled encouragingly at him. “If you want chocolate, I’ll give you my stash. I’m on a no chocolate month.”

“You won’t last a week.”

“Give me credit, I could last two,” you corrected with a laugh, nestling your head into his chest. As his arms encased your body firmly, you sighed in content. This is what you had come here for. If there was one person on this earth that you knew could make you feel better and less erratic as he held you, it was Jinyoung.

You wouldn’t trade him in for anything this world had to offer.

Nuzzling his broad chest until you found the perfect spot for your head to rest, you smiled. “Jinyoung, you should confess when you feel strongly about people. Anyone would be grateful to have such an amazing human as their partner.”

“Even you?”

“Of course! I’m the luckiest person right now since I’m in your arms. I bet there’s a bunch of girls who would love to be in my position just waiting for their chance.”

“I don’t want them though,” he murmured. “Just you.”

“Well, here I am,” you answered, renewing your hugging position and sighing again with the comfort. However, Jinyoung stopped breathing and his chest turned rigid. You looked up at him. “What is it?”

“I want you,” he repeated, smiling softly. “I’ve never confessed because you always friend-zone me.”

“Wait, what?”

“I like you. Have for years. Who else would put up with how your mood swings from one end of the scale to the other? You’re crazy, Y/N. But you’re my crazy. Of course, I wouldn’t let you suffer because I’m always thinking about you.”

“Oh.”

“Are you going to reject me politely now?” Jinyoung edged, his dark eyes now removing the vulnerable expression that had resided there with his confession.

“Why are you always so slow when it comes to things like this?!” you complained and Jinyoung frowned. “I crushed on you so badly when I was ten. I even cried to my Mum about how handsome you were and how ugly I was!”

“You have never been ugly, Y/N.”

“And then you took Lisa to the formal instead of me in our first year at high school. Do you know how upset I was with you?! I had been hinting at you to buy a purple tie for it for three months all because my dress was purple!”

“You did?” Jinyoung started to frown.

You stomped your foot in annoyance. “And after finally getting over my crush on you since I’m now an adult and shouldn’t keep thinking of you that way, you confess?! Wow, why is my life like this.”

“I’m still trying to understand about you liking me first. That’s impossible. I know you inside and out.”

“I have loved you for years!” Letting him go, you waved your arms around excessively. “Why are you telling me this now?!”

“Will you not accept it?”

“Of course I will, but ugh, I’m just a mess! Back then I had the excuse of still growing up if you so much as liked me back. What can I give you now?!”

“Honestly?” Jinyoung breathed and shook his head, his lips spreading into a smile. Taking you back in his arms, he held you firmly. “Your heart, that’s what you can give me.”

“That’s all you want? What about an elegant partner who doesn’t disappoint you and isn’t clumsily making her way through life?”

“If I wanted all that, would I love you as much as I do?” Jinyoung teased and you thumped his arm as he chuckled into you. “Oh, I do want one other thing.”

“What?” you asked dejectedly and then blinked as Jinyoung’s hand curled around your chin so you would look up at him. You began to pout.

“Stop pouting and kiss me,” he instructed, leaning in to meet your lips. It wasn’t your first kiss; that you had given him in a game of truth or dare when you were thirteen.

But unlike that one, which had been a little more than a peck, this one continued until he had stolen your breath entirely.

Panting, Jinyoung pulled away and then rested his forehead on yours. He smiled. “Still feeling like life is hopeless and you need to give up?”

“Hm?” You blinked a few times and then smiled giddily. “You need to not let me go. I’m certain this time I will float away to heaven if you keep kissing me like that.”

“Even if you go there, I’ll be right beside you,” he confirmed, leaning in to kiss you again.

_________________

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[imjeralee]

Comfort in Despair: Chapter 17 - Leon with Flowers, Part 2

Leon x F!Reader

Disclaimer: Do not own Pokemon

Summary:

Galar is rich in folklore and tales of the supernatural.

As a Pokemon Researcher who specialises in ghost types, this is a great opportunity for you to investigate and learn more about the paranormal.

Along the way, you meet Leon (in the most awkward way possible) who becomes embroiled in your adventures.

^ Basically this story is about ghosts :/

Rating: General/Teen

@marydragneell​ - here is chapter 17

Leon with Flowers

(Part 2)

…

…

["I don't know how to describe the places I was in today, the searing pain and torment of thousands and thousands of beings, myself with them, tortured to their breaking point and then beyond. I did not want to believe that regions of such unspeakable horror existed. I moved through layer after layer of anguish, descending into more and more primitive levels until eventually I reached a level I can only liken to hell itself. Excruciating pain. The suffering tears you apart until you've died a thousand times and can't die any more. Then you find a way to die some more."

- A Perinatal Interpretation of Frightening Near-Death Experiences: A Dialogue with Kenneth Ring, by Christopher M. Bache, Ph.D.]

…

…

It’s time for dinner and you are starving but unfortunately for you, Graves cannot cook even if his life depended on it and so he takes you to Bob’s Your Uncle in Circhester for a swanky three dollar fifty burger meal.

You stand beside Graves with your Rotom who continues struggling to get a signal; he isn't doing so well for some reason and you're beginning to think maybe he could be ill and a trip to the Pokemon centre might be needed.

Beside you, a father and daughter duo are ordering food at the counter adjacent to yours. The dad bears a striking resemblance to Rose and is extraordinarily loud as he orders from the menu whilst his daughter cringes and glances around, hoping no-one is staring at them.

Graves is unaffected.

“Yeah, she’ll have the, uh, Bob’s cheeseburger meal with the Bob shake-shake fries and a Bob soda. I’ll have a Bob’s triple cheeseburger with extra Bob special sauce, Bob large fries, a portion of Bob nuggets and the Bob spicy wings,” he says as he leans on the counter and stares up at the menu board that hangs off the ceiling; the lightbulb is about to give way and it crackles and fizzes weakly.

Is there anything here that isn’t ‘Bob’? you wonder to yourself as the cashier reiterates the order.

Even the toilet signs are labelled ‘Bobs’ and ‘Bobettes’.

The cashier punches the order in and Graves pays, then he grabs two Bob straws and some Bob napkins and Bob-BQ sauce. He tells you to search for a seat whilst he waits for the food.

You haven’t eaten at Bob’s Your Uncle since Sonia took you a year ago or so, and the food is yummy but greasy and mostly geared towards families and kids; you find a quiet seat away from a large family of six where the exhausted-looking parents deal with their screaming children who are playing with plastic Centiskorch figurines.

And Graves arrives in a few minutes with a large tray of food.

“Here we are,” he says, placing the tray down and rubbing his hands together as you glance at the two wrapped burgers, the fries, the nuggets and wings; he begins stripping the paper covers of the Bob straws and hands one to you, “Help yourself.”

“Thanks.”

He holds up two Centiskorch figurines wrapped in plastic. “They gave me these for free. One for you and one for me.”

Although it's been a while, Graves still treats you like a baby.

You want to decline but Graves hands you one and pockets his own, then picks up his large Bob burger, inspects it briefly before taking a large bite.

“How's your arm?” he grunts out.

"I'm fine. How was your talk with Rose?"

"Oh. Right. Yeah, this is for you," Graves fumbles in his pockets before he pulls out an envelope for your taking, "I know you told me to look for the painting but we swept the entire area and found no painting made of human skin, hair and blood."

"Damn it. Rose hasn't contacted me for any follow-up nor has he mentioned anything regarding my payment."

"I covered it. You don't need to do a thing. I spoke to him about your contract and terms and conditions, also told him you're my goddaughter so we came to a mutual agreement. I managed to persuade Rose that he was being a bit too quick to penalise and you're still kids so you're bound to mess up and he agrees he's being harsh, so he says he understands your hard efforts and he says thank you for everything you've done, so he's forking out a bit more than what was on your contract. But I don't want you speaking to Rose anymore and he don't wanna talk to you either."

"I didn't mess up," you bark as you lift the flap and pull out a little piece of paper lodged inside. It's a cheque and the figure is huge. In fact, the sum is bigger than any case you've taken. Your eyes widen in their sockets at the extortionate amount and you gape at Graves.

"You did well," he says.

"This is hush money," you hiss, waving the cheque in the air.

"Just be glad you got some kind of compensation."

"What about Tanner and Cole?"

"They got paid too. The amount was less than yours, of course."

"Are you serious?! They got paid off too???" you exclaim. Graves merely blinks numbly and you growl in response, your fist curling tightly around the cheque, "I don't want it."

He narrows his eyes, puts down his burger and you know he's serious when the food is no longer his priority. Looking at you squarely in the eye, Graves jabs a finger at your direction and says, "Here's some advice: take the damn money."

"You don't understand-"

"No, I do understand. You're bitter and angry and you look like you're in the wrong. He used you and he's managed to shift it in his favour. He got away with it and I get how you're feeling, with the injustice of it all. But this is Chairman Rose of Macro Cosmos we're talking about and we have no proof of whatever shady business he was up to which you and I both know, and this is the best I could do. And I'm very sorry, but you need to accept it, okay?"

"But-"

"This is a life lesson. Learn from this."

".............Fine," you begrudgingly grunt under your breath after a prolonged and insufferable, tense bout of hesitation, and you angrily stuff the cheque into a random pocket of your bag and concentrate on devouring the rest of your meal.

The atmosphere has turned horrendous and as usual, it's because you and Graves are at odds some way or the other and an uneasy silence spawns between you and your godfather. Frustrated, you discover you may no longer have any appetite if you look at him any longer therefore you avert your gaze to the window where various passerbys with their Snoms and Bergmites brush past and Graves focuses ahead at the wall behind your head. Occasionally, he will clear his throat and grunt.

"I got a question," he suddenly says.

“What?”

“Are you dating Leon?”

You almost choke on a fry. “No.”

His expression scrunches with mild disbelief whilst you avert your glimpse to your lap and Graves raises a brow.

"I know that look. I know what that means," he says, but your lips remain sealed. "Alright, you don’t wanna tell me. That’s fine. It’s none of my business anyway. As long as you’re not doing drugs or smoking or whatever, I’m not going to pry.”

You suppose you can tell him, Graves being your godfather and all.

“Leon and I met in the Wild Area a while ago; this was before the Giant's Seat incident. He helped me with a case, and afterwards I warned him not to go near the Giant’s Seat due to the missing people. He somehow went there anyway and I saved him. He wanted to thank me so I had dinner at his house. I guess you can say it’s strictly business.”

“Business….?”

You nod. “Then I took Rose’s case and Leon came and-“

Graves waits for you to finish but you have frozen in your seat so he says, "And?”

“He came to save me,” you murmur, “That’s the first thing he did. He raced over to save me.”

He observes as a smile blooms on your face and you sigh. As you think about Leon, your smile widens.

"I know that look as well," Graves utters, brows raising a further time as he grabs a napkin and dabs at the corner of his mouth. "Well, it's about time you got yourself a boyfriend. And I'm damn relieved it's not that pal of yours, Jace. It's great that it's the Champion, I don't need to vet him."

"What do you mean?"

"I have a right to know and meet the boy you're dating. Your dad will be so worried-"

You and Graves blink at each other, before he sighs.

"You know, when you were unconscious, they said you called out for your parents a lot," he mutters, "I have a photo of them. I think you should have it.”

Placing his burger down, Graves wipes his greasy hands clean with a wet wipe before he pulls out his wallet from the pocket of his jacket and brings out a glossy print.

You take it off him after you settle your own burger down and wipe your hands. It’s a small photo of your mother and father sitting on a picnic mat with a baby bouncing on their laps. It’s you, and beside them are their pokemon: Ghastly and Sableye. You also spot a young Graves with a blonde-haired young woman to their left.

“Is that Ellen?” you ask, “your girlfriend?”

Graves raises a brow, surprised. “How’d you know?”

“I remember her.”

“I’m surprised you do.”

“I remember mum and dad mentioning her a few times. What happened to her?”

“She passed away."

“…I wasn’t aware. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“Do you mind if I ask what happened?”

“Car crash. It was a while ago, I've dealt with it.”

You wonder if this is Graves’ attempt to bond with you and your table grows quiet as Graves chews silently before he swallows down the rest of his burger.

“I don’t like to think about it,” he says when he’s finished, “…If she went to heaven or hell or not. I like to just think that she’s…well…that’s it. It’s over. You’re gone. There’s nothing. It’s…a simulation or something. I don’t like to think about what’s on the other side. I don’t want to think about returning to this earth. This is hell, I believe. This is punishment.”

Aware that you’re discussing with Graves about mortality and this is the most he’s spoken to you about the great beyond, you sit up properly in your seat for a change.

“There are accounts from those who experience NDE’s-“

“What’s that?”

“'Near Death Experience'.”

“Oh.”

“Anyway, these accounts insinuate the existence of a heaven and hell. There are some who saw a light or experienced overwhelming peace, and then there are those who describe descending into an unending darkness and hearing the most inhumane noises known to man. And lastly, some saw nothing but darkness and a hoofed creature.”

“Good grief,” Graves chokes out, and he looks uncomfortable so you decide to stop.

“Try not to see it that way,” you add in an attempt to lighten the gloomy atmosphere, “life is too short. Make the most of it while you can.”

Graves wipes at his forehead with a clean napkin before he nods briefly. “Listen, kid, I’m sorry if you ever felt like I wasn’t there for you or if I didn’t do enough. I think about that night and I...I miss your father a lot. I miss your family. And I know you’re still mourning for them,” he says, “I know.”

"I-"

Rotom flies from your pocket and zooms into the air, grinning widely. "I'm baaaaaack! ZZzzzignal!!! Bzz bzz bzz! Zrttt! Oh my dayzzz, you've received five mezzagezzz and three mizzzzed callzzzz from Le-Le-Le-Leon!"

"Uh...Is your phone okay?"

"Yeah, he's just excited."

You grab Rotom and he allows you to check what Leon has sent you: he tells you he dropped by the hospital but you had left. He's been trying to reach you and he called Sonia but she doesn't know where you are either. You quickly type a reply, apologising for not being able to reply on time and that Graves had picked you up.

"Graves, can we go?" you ask, when you finish replying and Rotom moves to hover near your shoulder with a huge grin on his face.

Your godfather grunts under his breath. "Fine, let me finish the fries first..."

After dinner, it’s getting late and although you're desperate to go home, Graves asks if you want to stay over. Graves has a house in Wyndon and he does have a room for you should you ever decide to stay with him but you decline because you’re used to staying with Magnolia and Sonia. Regardless, he tells you the room is available for you should you ever need it.

He drives you to Wedgehurst, navigating his car over the bumpy road of Route 2 and he drops you off at the doorstep of the quaint house, parking the car beside the lawn; the front door subsequently opens upon your arrival and Magnolia comes hobbling out followed by Sonia, Poltea and Cutie.

You all share an embrace as Graves exits the car to open the boot to grab your possessions.

“Thank you, Inspector Graves,” Magnolia says as Graves waddles up with your bag slung over his shoulder.

“It’s nothing,” he says; he’s so tall he towers over your entire group.

“Would you like to stay for tea?”

“We already ate,” Graves says with a guffaw.

Everyone heads inside; Magnolia and Graves bring their conversation to the conservatory whilst Sonia helps you with your bag and you head upstairs together.

“You seem to be getting along better,” she comments as you climb the steps with the pokemon clinging to your shoulders.

“He’s trying his best,” you reply as Cutiefly nuzzles your cheek affectionately.

“Leon popped by earlier,” Sonia says, “He said he wasn't able to reach you and was dying to know if you were back home or not. When I said you weren’t, he left with Charizard. He looked really sad.”

"Yeah, I've had terrible signal problems all day," you reply, and Sonia raises a brow.

“I knew there was something going on between you,” she replies, before she flashes you a wide grin. “Don’t leave him hanging.”

“I already messaged him, Sonnie, don’t worry.”

Once you’re in your shared bedroom, Sonia plops down on her bed with a sigh and your shadow contorts in bizarre fashion; this can only mean one thing, and Gengar promptly emerges. He seems happier to be back home than in the hospital.

“Hey Gengar,” you say, whilst he swims around in the air, carefree. You rummage through your bag to find Mimikyu and Runerigus’ capsule and proceed to let them out.

Runerigus is the newest addition to your team and although you’re a little anxious to release him, Tanner has informed you he is a ‘chill guy’, which is a little odd to describe a pokemon but you take Tanner’s words to heart as the stone pokemon emerges before you.

You were under the impression that he would be quite a large and intimidating pokemon but he is in fact, shorter than Gengar who looms over it. From what you know about Runerigus, they're solitary pokemon who can live for many years and their bodies consist of the grey slabs pieced together by cursed shadow matter. Your team is growing bigger but nevertheless your pokemon gather round and Sonia leaps from the bed to stand behind you, peering over your shoulders.

“Oh, a Runerigus…Where’d you get him from?” she asks as Runerigus looks around his surroundings cautiously.

“From a painting made out of human skin, hair and blood,” you reply, and she shudders violently, “I heard he’s nice.”

“Okay….”

You focus on the pokemon and say, “Welcome,” as Runerigus exchanges glances between all of you, “I hope you like it here.”

Looking right and left with its single purple eye, it clasps its large hands together and nods. It appears to be trying to communicate as it continues shifting its gaze up and down until it spots Leon’s poster on your wall and appears stunned, glancing at his image. It shuffles over, its rocky body dragging against the floorboards and emitting sounds identical to a fork scraping on a plate; Sonia clamps her hands over her ears from the deafening noise.

It stops in front of Leon’s poster and turns to you, pointing at it eagerly.

“Ohh, I get it. You need something to haunt,” you say, and it nods fiercely. “Go ahead.”

It flaps its arms up and down energetically before it inspects Leon’s print from head to toe, then it proceeds to spring up and off the ground and dives for the poster; you and Sonia stare with widened eyes; instead of crashing into the wall, it dissolves inside and the poster ripples.

Leon’s eye, which was once a beautiful golden hue, converts to a brutal shade of violet.

“Are you sure about this?” Sonia asks, cocking her head and crossing her arms with her finger under her chin.

You nod as Runerigus looks around before his eye creases with content. “Yep. He looks right at home. I'm fine with that.”

“As long as he doesn’t peep on us whilst we’re changing, I’m fine too.” Sonia adds.

Runerigus rolls his single eye.

As the evening progresses, Runerigus returns to his capsule after hanging around in Leon's poster for a while, Graves bids farewell after he's chatted with the professor and returns home, Magnolia goes to sleep and Sonia asks if you want to go with her to attend some exclusive makeup event with Nessa that’s taking place in Hotel Ionia. You politely decline because you want to spend some time with your Pokemon.

Therefore, you are alone and left to your own devices and you haven't received any response from Leon yet and you don't know where he is or what he's up to. However, instead of waiting around like a lovesick Lillipup, you opt to be productive and since you’re no longer going to take on any cases for the time being, you make some edits to your homepage, outlining that you will go on a much needed hiatus.

You also begin packing away some of your tools, namely the Khira dagger and your talismans which you tuck away into a safety box that you keep under the bed.

With Graves’ photo, you place it inside the box where it joins a small stash of old, salvaged photographs.

One photograph depicts your parents on their wedding day and the other is the last photo you took together as a family: a trip to Dendemille Town with a rented RV. You rub your thumb gently over their smiling faces.

Another photograph contains yourself and Jace. Not only did you have a questionable hairstyle and fashion sense but you appear jaded with a timid smile whilst Jace is grinning and shaking your hand, marking the beginning of a long-lasting friendship. Considering how long you have been friends, it’s then you realise Jace isn’t exactly the best candidate to take over should anything happen to you and you will need to find someone else….but that’s a thought for another day, you suppose.

Next, you grab your old journal where you had detailed Ezra’s teachings and all the symbols and exorcism prayers he taught you. You flip through the notes you made on pronunciation, translations and all your trials and errors and your mistakes.

As you continue packing, you pull out your radio and dad's journal from your bag which you will continue to keep with you for now.

Although you're not going to take on any cases, you head to the Pokemon research lab with the pokemon to conduct some research on Mimikyu and her speech capabilities.

The walk doesn’t take long and recalling that people actively call you the Witch of Wedgehurst behind your back, it is uncomfortable to make eye contact with anyone along the way and you pull the hood over your head, stuffing your hands into the pockets of your garment and keep your head down.

Once you arrive, you unlock the door, head inside and meander to your work space.

As usual, your desk is rather dusty and your whiteboard is still in the same place where you had left it a while ago; the pictures of the missing gym challengers and the map of the Wild Area are still fastened over the surface.

Although you hesitate for a split second as you scrutinise their smiling faces, you quietly remove them and tidy the photos away in one of your drawers before you grab an eraser and scrub away your notes, bullet points and other various scribbles. Once the board is cleared, you use a black marker pen and on the newly cleaned space, write some letters of the alphabet on the whiteboard as large as you can and set up three chairs for the pokemon for your experiment.

Releasing them, Gengar and Mimikyu sit down whilst Runerigus hops up on the seat and his head almost hits one of the low-hanging lights which makes you grimace. Nevertheless, he clamps his hands together patiently and since he’s been under your care, he has been a rather docile pokemon despite living in a human skin slash hair portrait.

You glance at your pokemon one by one and smile. “Hi everyone, thanks for joining me today. We're not going to work on any cases for the time being so now that I have some downtime, I’d like to test your ability to speak. I’m aware Mimi can say a lot already, but I’d appreciate if everyone can join in.”

Everyone nods and you grab one of Magnolia’s wooden canes from the side, using it to tap the first letter which represents A.

“This is the letter ‘A’,” you pronounce it loud and clearly for them, “Mimi, I’d like you to go first. Repeat after me.”

“A,” says Mimi, with virtually no problem whatsoever.

“Good job,” you reply and Mimikyu giggles, wiggling two tendrils happily in the air.

Now it’s Gengar’s turn.

He struggles, clenching his teeth viciously before he grunts out, “Geng-ah.”

“Not bad. but try saying ‘ah’ first.”

”Ah-geng,” says Gengar, and Mimikyu lets out a snort of laughter.

“Runerigus?”

Everyone turns to the grudge pokemon next and Runerigus has been silent the entire time; however, you're amazed when he emits a rather high-pitched, grating shriek from somewhere.

“Screeeee……!!!”

You, Gengar and Mimikyu uncontrollably wince until he stops.

"Scree?"

“Interesting," you murmur under your breath, "And this is the letter ‘B’…Runerigus, do you want to have a go?"

“Screeeee……screeeee-eee-ee!!!” Runerigus shrieks wildly as he flaps his hands up and down. As though aware he is unable to properly pronounce, Runerigus blinks for a fraction for a second and tries again, “SCREEEEE!!!”

“Mi mi!!! Mi mi mi mimikyuu!” Mimikyu jumps up and down in her seat and rants heavily in response to Runerigus’ screeching, pointing her claws at him accusingly.

“Calm down, it’s not his fault,” you say, as tensions run high.

Poor thing, beads of sweat begin dotting the stone slab and so unfortunately, you agree he should stop.

It’s Gengar’s turn now, and he says, “Beng-ar.”

You take down notes in your journal, scribbling down how Runerigus has zero speech capabilities and Gengar can only say his species name with mild alterations despite possessing human teeth and a human tongue.

Mimikyu on the other hand, can pronounce the letters perfectly and proceeds to recite much of the alphabet with very little trouble. She tells you she learned some words when she watched TV whilst pretending to be some kid's toy. She smugly dances and happily twirls in her seat whilst Runerigus and Gengar are totally defeated and throws their limp gazes to the floor.

“Guys, it’s okay,” you try to cheer them up but they look at you sadly.

The pokemon are dejected despite your reassurance and a twang of guilt hits you in the gut until a gentle knock on the door captures your attention. Looking away from your unhappy pokemon, the door to the research lab squeaks open and a purple-haired young man enters the establishment with Charizard trailing after him.

You freeze on the spot and the atmosphere in the lab becomes intense in nanoseconds. Your heart jumps in your throat upon his arrival and he glances at his surroundings before his gaze lands on you as you stand limply by the whiteboard and once his golden eyes meets yours, you struggle with your breath as your cheeks grow warm, your gut clinching uncomfortably.

It's Leon.

He's here.

He's finally here.

You swallow down the growing lump in your throat as he carefully strides over with his hands behind his back.

He's in a new shirt. The muscles in his arms seem to bulge more than ever. His hair looks longer, more tame. Did he always smile at you like that? Did he always look at you like that? You are noticing these little things about him all of a sudden though you're unsure why.

“H-hi Leon,” you stutter out whilst you tuck a loose lock of hair behind your ear that falls in front of your eyes, “What are you doing here?”

It’s happening. It’s happening all over again. The blushing, the stammering, the racing heart, the butterfrees dancing in the stomach. It shouldn't be happening, but it is.

And then you remember the almost-kiss.

As you fret on the spot, Leon says, “I-I came by the house but no-one came to the door so I...I thought I’d find you here.”

He's stammering too, his voice laced with nervousness.

It's not just you.

Leon anxiously steps closer, his light footsteps echoing audibly over the lab's pristine floor; he stops a short distance from you and shoots a quick glance at your pokemon in their little chairs in front of the whiteboard with all letters of the alphabet and chuckles, “What’s this? Pokemon School?”

“Um…Sort of. Mimi can speak human language so I wanted to test the others too...”

“That sounds interesting, how’s it going so far?”

“…S’okay,” is your timid reply as you clutch the cane to your chest with both hands and shift your gaze to the side.

He smiles warmly at you and as you dare to look up, your eyes meet for a second and simultaneously, you both look away. Whilst you hastily cast your glance to one of the bookshelves on the second floor, Leon throws his glimpse to a random potted plant in the corner.

Clearing his throat loudly, he stands with his hands gingerly placed behind his back. In fact, he’s been holding his hands behind his back the entire time. He appears to be puffing his chest out a little.

“I went to the hospital; I wanted to visit you but you weren’t there."

You nod. Your gazes meet but this time, you do your best not to look away and neither does he. “Yeah…I got discharged and Rotom couldn't get any signal until just there. Sorry.”

His expression lights up when he realises you do not look away and you witness him falter slightly on the spot under your piercing stare and he lets out a nervous-sounding laugh. "Ah, it's okay, there's no need to apologise. I took too long and couldn't find the time to go and see you. I should be the one apologising."

You shake your head.

There is another quiet moment between you two albeit not an uncomfortable one as you stand near one another, staring; Leon’s voice seems to have gone into hiding as you smile at him and his smile widens too before he murmurs, “I, uh…I wanted to give these to you."

He reveals his hands, slowly lifting them out and presenting a large bouquet of beautiful, multi-coloured flowers from behind his back.

Your eyes widen thoroughly; you were not expecting this at all.

Gengar gawks whilst Mimikyu blinks. Charizard wheezes and chortles and Runerigus flings glances between you and the Champion.

“Um, I….I hope you like them," he stutters, coughing into his fist briefly.

Leon has brought you flowers.

Choosing to lurk behind the plethora of florets, he does not see you gently reaching for the bouquet, and your fingers brush together accidentally; he stiffens all over as you wrap your hands firmly around the light pink cellophane wrapper before you gently lift it out of Leon’s grasp. He watches as your eyes sparkle with delight, the corner of your lips curling into a fond smile as you carefully run a finger over the petal of a delicate looking lilac flower.

“They’re beautiful,” you murmur softly, “Thank you, Leon.”

His confidence fully restored by your words, Leon grins widely and he takes a small step forwards; however, he's also quick to change his mind, clearing his throat once more and returning to his previous spot. With freed hands, he removes his cap and cradles it gingerly in front of his chest, his messy hair sticking in all sorts of directions.

“I’m sorry, I would do this better if I knew how.”

"Do what?”

“Courting you."

You blink wide-eyed as your gazes lock together once again before you decide to bring the bouquet closer to you, covering as much of your face as you can behind the flowers.

“I didn’t know what you liked so I asked the florist for help,” he admits as he hides his lower face behind his cap, cheeks growing red.

You’re both hiding behind whatever you can get your hands on.

And he’s blushing again, which you think is cute but so are you; your face is also heating up uncontrollably.

“T-thank you, that’s very thoughtful,” you reply with a shaky but excited lilt embedded into your voice, “do you want to stay? I can make some tea….”

Leon’s expression dampens at once.

“………I can’t,” he almost groans aloud, “I have a busy night ahead.”

“Oh, well…maybe another time then.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“S-sure.”

“No problem.”

"Perhaps...you'd like to go camping with me again?"

"I'd love to."

"Great!"

"Just let me know when you're free."

"O-of course."

Once again, a sea of silence blankets the two of you until Charizard taps Leon on the shoulder and snorts loudly, his snout emitting short puffs of air. He jerks his head towards the door, growling.

“Right, I’d best be off now…I’ll see you,” Leon mutters, and you nod.

“Bye, Leon.”

“Goodbye.”

Leon returns his cap over his head, adjusting it properly; he stares intently at you and an immense bloom of joy swells within your chest as you clutch the flowers to yourself. Swept up by the longing depth of his gaze, you hide your face behind the flowers once again. Your cheeks are so hot, even the petals feel warm. He’s only forced to stop looking at you when Charizard taps him on his shoulder once more, indicating that they need to return to their duties.

"Goodnight," he says, with a widening grin.

"Goodnight."

Reluctantly, Leon turns away. As he makes his way to the exit, he will occasionally turn round and smile at you and Charizard will wave and you wave back; the flame pokemon waddles after his trainer and you watch as they both leave the lab, but not before Leon subjects you to one last look over his shoulder.

You’re finally able to breathe normally when the door closes behind them and Gengar and Mimikyu titter loudly in their seats whilst Runerigus slams his rocky tail against the floor with glee.

“Class dismissed,” you utter, and the pokemon are free to do as they please as you glance down at the bouquet in your hands.

Smiling, you lean down and take a quick whiff.

They smell heavenly.

...

[mysweetestcreature]

Tomorrow Never Knows (President!Harry) Chapter 7: Two Princes

(Banner by the wonderful noblewomankat!)

***

Masterlist

***

Monday, November 10, 2008

Y/n doesn’t know what it is, but the dreams about the bench atop the flowery hill continue to evade her dreams night after night. Every morning she wakes up, a new detail having just been discovered and needing to be added to the initial sketch that she had started two months ago. Although, there was a period of about two or three weeks where she hadn’t dreamt of the scene at all. She might have even forgotten about it all together had it not been one of the first pages in her book. 

She stands at her locker, grazing her fingers over the indents of the heavier lines as though they were the actual real-life thing. 

“That’s a nice drawing.” 

A smile arises at the scratchy notes of his vocal cords. 

“Why, thank you,” she chirps before closing the sketchbook and placing with precision on the second shelf. (She’ll be sure to work on it again later.) “Good morning!” 

Harry raises his hand over his mouth to stifle a yawn. “Morning,” he barely rasps out. Slowly, he works his combination into the lock. As soon as it opens up, he tosses a bike helmet onto the locker floor. 

“Did you bike all the way here?” Y/n gapes in surprise.

“It’s not that far. Mum’s away on business and Gem’s staying over at her boyfriend’s until she gets back.” After Gemma had dropped Anne off at John F. Kennedy Airport last night, she had texted Harry saying that she would be staying at Michal’s house for the rest of the week (they’re very serious, as his sister puts it). It’s not like he minds it all that much though, he quite likes having the house to himself as long as it doesn’t last more than a week. 

***

Maybe he’d been a complete and utter arse in his past life, it’s the only explanation as to why he hasn’t been able to maintain appropriate stress levels for more than a few days. He really can’t help but wonder what he did to piss off the people upstairs because as soon as he had finally cleared the air between him and Y/n, this just had to happen. 

Harry doesn’t like –– no, no, more like he hates –– Jasper Daniels with every ounce of his being, in fact.

And Harry doesn’t hate anyone! He’s always been pretty accepting of others, even when they’ve been jerks to him at times, but there’s just something about him that makes him want to take a football and aim it directly at the guy’s gut. What really gets his blood pressure going is how everyone, and really, he just means Y/n, thinks he’s the coolest person in the entire world. Sure, Jasper writes poetry and reads it to the elderly down at the senior center twice a week, and maybe he does play the violin like a professional out of the philharmonic orchestra. Other than that, there’s really nothing that special about him.

“He’s super hot, if you ask me,” Cici says, eyes as hazy as a dream while she admires the back of his head. “Like he’s totally got that Abercrombie model vibe going on.”

“I don’t know, that beanie makes him look dumb. Don’t you think it’s weird how he never takes it off?” Harry presses, glaring down as he shreds the remains of his chicken fingers, collecting them in a large pile on a nearby napkin. Even at lunch, where all he wants is to sit down and enjoy a meal, he can’t escape.

Cici looks at him knowingly, an almost evil smirk forming across her lips as she turns to her best friend. Maxxie kicks her under the table, desperately shaking his head as to tell her to stop, but she pushes forward anyway. “What do you think, Y/n? You know him better than I do.” 

“Hm?” she hums, brows rising high before she can tear herself away from her sketchbook. “Jasper?” she asks when she looks up, Cici nods. “He’s really nice! When I went with him to his mom’s birthday, he–”

“Wait, what?” Harry drops the last bit of chicken. “Like-like as his date?” Who brings someone they’ve just met to a parent’s birthday party!? He’s known her for about three months now, and he has yet to introduce her to Anne and Gemma! 

“I wouldn’t go that far,” she giggles, stealing a fry from Harry’s tray. “His mom knew I was making her cake, so she told Jasper to bring me along.” She takes a bite out of the fry, face contorting in displeasure as she clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth. 

Harry slides her a packet of ketchup. “Here,” he mutters under his breath. 

“Thank you!” she cheers happily, squeezing the entire thing onto the rest of his fries. “His parents are really nice! His mom is Filipino, so the food was so good! Have you guys ever had pancit? There’s a Fil-Am restaurant just off Main Street, we should totally check it out!” 

“We should!” Cici agrees. “And maybe we should invite Jasper, just so we know what to get.” 

Maxxie bites harshly on his bottom lip, daring to look at Harry, who he’s afraid might explode with any further provocation. “You know,” he starts, “I was actually hoping we could get ice cream!”

“It’s like forty degrees outside,” Cici deadpans.

“And is ice cream in forty-degree weather a crime or something?” Maxxie chuckles nervously. “Or what about sushi! If we leave right after bell, we can order in time to get the lunch special prices! Seven dollars for two different rolls? I mean, how do you beat that?” 

***

“What are you doing?” Maxxie asks her as soon as he arrives at her table in the library. After being dismissed from Drawing, he had shouted a rushed goodbye to Y/n before running through Abbott Hall (even getting a demerit from Mrs. Murphy because he had slammed into her cart, causing all of her hydrogen chloride to spill onto the floor).

Cici doesn’t even look up from her homework. “Geometry,” she answers evenly.  

He sighs, dropping his messenger bag by the foot of the table. He falls into the chair across from her, crossing his arms and pouting at her like an upset child who has just been refused dessert. “I meant, what the hell was that at lunch? I thought you liked Harry?”

“I do,” Cici says, but sighs immediately afterwards. She places her pencil gently down into the crease of her notebook. It’s not like she called him after midnight just to chat. Of course, she had every intent of helping the guy out. Their talk was so inspiring (she should really get an award for world’s best motivational speaker) that he went all the way to Y/n’s house not even twelve hours later. “But you didn’t see her after he kissed Zoey.”

“And you didn’t see him when she wouldn’t talk to him. I’ve never seen someone so miserable in his life,” he counters. 

“Look...” She leans back in her seat and pulls on her ponytail and runs her fingers through all the knots. “I want them together as much as you do, but until then, let him suffer just a little bit. No one makes my best friend cry and not have to pay some consequence for it. 

Maxxie blows raspberries into the air. “Hasn’t he agonized enough, though? He texted me like an hour ago and I could practically feel the tears in his text.”

“That’s–”

“Heartbreaking?”

“I was going to say ‘dramatic,” Cici snorts, returning her attention back to her assignment. 

Rolling his eyes, Maxxie gets up. “Well you’re–”

“A stellar friend?”

“I was going to say, ‘slightly sadistic.’”

***

“I definitely would recommend the chicken adobo and lumpiang shanghai for first-timers,” Jasper says over Y/n’s shoulder as they all look at the food selections. Instead of choosing what he wants, however, Harry can’t help the scowl on his face as he looks at the two of them. Although, he’ll admit that everything behind the glass screen looks absolutely mouthwatering, or maybe it’s just that he hadn’t eaten much of his lunch earlier. 

“Oh! Do they have pancit?” Y/n asks excitedly. 

Jasper signals towards the woman behind the counter. “Ate, may pancit pa ba kayo?” (“Do you guys have any pancit left?”)

“Wait lang! Tingnan ko sa kusina.” (“Just wait! I’ll check in the kitchen.”)

Harry squeezes between Y/n and Cici, earning him a whack in the arm from the latter when she stumbles into Maxxie’s side. “So, you’re bilingual?” he muses. 

“Tri, actually,” Jasper shrugs as though he isn’t impressing everyone around him. “My grandma was a high school German teacher, so I’m pretty good at conversational talk.” 

The smile that lands itself on Harry’s mouth couldn’t be any more strained, the muscles in his cheeks slowly starting to ache. “That’s...that’s great!” he exclaims through gritted teeth. Of course, how could he expect anything less? Turning to Maxxie, his expression falters. “Isn’t that just great?”

The blonde boy nods all too cautiously. “Yeah,” he draws out, switching places with Cici. He leans in just enough to whisper in his ear. “Are you sure you don’t want to leave? My mom’s just at the Shop Rite right around the corner.” 

Harry can sense the panic in his tone, just as Maxxie can feel how the air that surrounds him might just be a little too stuffy for the five of them. However, he chooses to brush off the suggestion. There’s no way he’s leaving, only to give rise to an opportunity for Jasper to make a move in his absence. “Is that chocolate?” he asks, pointing to a dark, almost black dish with lumps of unknown floating at the top. 

The woman behind the counter laughs loudly, bending over backwards and clapping her hands repeatedly. “Tsokolate daw!” (“Chocolate!”) she blurts out with a giggle, wiping a tear from along her lash line. “This is dinuguan. It’s like a pork blood stew. Very delicious!”

“Oh, that’s um...” Harry turns his head to the side, both Y/n and Jasper’s eyes trained on him. It’s like the next words to come out of his mouth are being anticipated by the masses, and one wrong move may lead to the ultimate humiliation in front of her.

“Hey, man,” Jasper starts, “it’s okay if you’re not up for it. Some Filipino food can be a little daunting for first-timers.”  His hand lands itself around Y/n’s shoulders when he squeezes in the already tight space that lingers between them. “This one saw the lechon at my mom’s party and almost fainted. She wouldn’t even go near it!”

“Excuse me!” she gasps. “But that was a whole pig on the dining table!” She cups her face, shaking her head as she relives the vivid memory over again. 

None of this amuses Harry. Not one bit. The more he thinks about how close these two have become in just a short amount of time –– probably even less than when he and Y/n had first met –– feels like his insides are being wrung like a wet towel. “You know what, give me the blood stew.”

***

Thursday, November 13, 2008

During Algebra, Harry can’t stop himself from glancing her way every couple of minutes. There’s nothing in particular that he wants –– besides for Jasper Daniels to disappear off the face of the earth –– that is going to have to wait, unfortunately. She just has this thing about her, like the way she crinkles her nose when she’s in full-mode concentration, to the way she bites on her tongue when Mr. Daughtry calls on another student when she’s had the answer solved in a fraction of the time, that constantly reels him in. He doesn’t think he’s ever met someone both adorable and attractive bundled into one body. 

“Do I have something on my face?” she cocks a brow up. She’s tried to ignore the feeling of his eyes boring into her skull, but she lost the battle with herself that had restrained the desire to gaze back into the emeralds he has for eyes. 

“No,” he’s quick to answer back, quietly though (he doesn’t want Mr. Daughtry to have him go up to the board). “It’s just...” 

Y/n quirks her head. “Just?”

“It’s nothing,” he gulps, tugging lightly on the knot of his tie. He faces the front of the room and jots down the newest equation on the board, his jaw muscles tense under his skin. 

The silence that suddenly arises on his end makes her weary of his thoughts. She gives him one last narrowed look before deciding it would be wiser to let it go. Sometimes letting it go can save an overly curious mind, even one as active as hers. Just this morning, Jeremy had berated her for being too nosey when he had dragged a large box in from the garage. “Don’t you have to be in school or something? Sheesh! Can’t a guy live peacefully without his daughter hounding him? What is this? ‘Ask Dad a million questions’ day?” And all she had asked was if he wanted some help (her dad isn’t much of a lifter).

Pretending to be completely taken with solving for ‘x,’ Harry finally breathes out a softly spoken answer, one barely above a faint murmur. “You’re just really pretty, is all.” 

Y/n’s pencil scrapes across the entire page just as she’s about to put a dash across the stem of her seven. 

“What did you just say?” Had her ears heard that right? There’s no way she could have mistaken it! Does he really think that? She can practically feel a fire spread across her cheeks and internalize all the way to her erratic heartbeat. 

“Fifty! I said the answer might really be fifty.”  

Disappointment settles on her features. “Oh.” 

***

Things might have taken a turn for the worse for her today. First and foremost, she thinks she might have to get her hearing checked. Second, she received a text from her dad during cheer practice saying that he wouldn’t be able to pick her up on time because Mason’s parent-teacher conference is running behind schedule, and that she should get a ride home with Cici. Well, she wishes she could’ve read his message before Cici had driven off with her brother. She could always wait for her mom to come fetch her, but Olivia’s office doesn’t close until seven today since so many of her patients are coming in with broken brackets (the few weeks after Halloween are always the busiest, apparently).

Y/n sighs, looking down at the time on her phone screen, 5:09 PM, great. 

She stands just outside the main entrance, carefully thinking through what she should do now. The school grounds are completely abandoned. With the cold weather comes darker skies earlier in the day, and there’s no way she’ll be able to walk home by herself now that the sun is barely visible above the horizon. 

Maybe she will just wait for her mom. The library is open until eight, after all.  

“What are you still doing here?” 

She nearly jumps out of her skin. “Where the heck did you come from?” she screeches, hand flying over her heart. 

“Sorry,” Harry apologizes. “I just got out of the locker room. Coach kept me and a few others to talk strats for the championships next week.” 

“My mom can’t pick me up till after seven, so I was just going to head to the library,” she replies sadly. 

Harry looks back towards the building, a crease forming above the bridge of his nose. “It’s a bit late for you to be here by yourself,” he notices. 

“There are probably still people insi–”

“I can bring you home.” 

Her lips purse together at his suggestion. A strong gust of wind hits her behind her, her hair blowing around the perimeters of her face. “Is your sister back home?” she wonders while she attempts tame the loose strands. 

“Well, no,” he says, a slight hint of embarrassment dripping off the last syllable. “But my bike can hold us both. C’mere.” Taking her hand in his, he leads her towards the bike rack, where his bike stands alone. “See, you can sit right here!” He points to the long top tube just in front of the seat. 

“Is it safe?” she can’t hide the apprehension of her tone. Her other hand slides over the cool metal, and her fingers curl around the tube as though to test its durability. 

“Completely. And besides...” He takes the helmet tucked under his arm, then places it gently on top of her head. “I would never let anything happen to you.” He sheepishly grins when he realizes how cute she looks. 

She touches the top of her head, unable to keep her lips from turning upwards. A soft giggle escapes her as she buckles the chin strap tightly. Harry’s smile only grows wider, and he eagerly swings a leg over the other side and kicks the stand up. 

“Take a seat then, milady,” he says with a wink. 

Thank god she hadn’t needed to bring so many things in her bag home. She fixes the skirt of her cheer uniform before sliding her bottom over the side of the tube. When she’s finally able to settle on a comfortable position (her choices are limited) she looks to her side. What she hadn’t expected was for his face to be so close hers, the tips of their noses brushing against each other. His eyes stare into her briefly, before shifting a few inches lower, lips parting on their own accord. 

Y/n quickly turns her head the other way and swallows. “So, are we leaving now or what?” 

His arms envelop either side of her as they grasp tightly on the handlebars. If her cheeks hadn’t already been slightly flushed from the cold air, she’s sure they would be a forbidden shade of pink from the way the inside of her chest refuses to calm itself. 

***

As they stroll along Main Street, she soon realizes that maybe –– and just maybe –– she really likes being this close to him, especially when she can feel the puffs of each of his warm breaths on her cheek and on the back of her neck. The tingles reach all the way down to her toes, and she has to remind herself that she can’t fidget too much, or else they might topple over. 

“Do you want to stop by Hidden Grounds?” he asks her, slowing down at the store’s front. “I could go for a rose chai.”

“I love Hidden Grounds!” she exclaims, ardently nodding. “But it’s my turn to pay, okay?” 

Harry chuckles, shrugging his shoulders as he cuts across the sidewalk and parks next to the building. She hops off and waits patiently as he fishes his chain from inside his backpack. “Just a sec,” he mumbles, eyes brightening when the back of his hand grazes over it. 

“No problem,” she muses. After he secures his bike to the railings, he turns to her, dimples set in as he signals to the front. 

They’re shocked to see the coffee house being as packed as it is. Almost all of the tables are occupied, and by students from Ashwood, nonetheless! Y/n tenses when she sees Zoey sitting in the far corner with her minions. The redhead spots them, her face contorting as she whispers to the girl on her left. “Hey, Harry!” she yells over the combination of loud voices and music. “Want to join us?” But Harry rolls his eyes, choosing to ignore her. And he thought he had managed to shake her off him. He and Y/n try their best to swerve around the crowds of people to get to the register. Hopefully, they’ll be able to be in and out for a to-go order in less than ten minutes. 

As a chair loudly screeches across the floor, Harry swiftly pulls Y/n against him before a particularly rambunctious individual (Mark Jeffries from the wrestling team) can back into them. “Watch it, man,” Harry chides, still holding her close. Both her hands fall just below his bent elbows, her cheek pressed up against his chest. Her eyes are wide when Mark stands up, towering over both of them like a skyscraper. Yet, Harry is completely unfazed. “You nearly knocked her over.”

Mark glowers at him, but leaves it be when he sees the manager come up behind them. “Sorry,” he mutters to her, then signs to his friends to follow him out the door. 

Y/n touches Harry’s shoulder. “Let’s go order?” She looks up at him with a soft expression. The harshness in his eyes immediately dissolves and he nods. She turns in his hold, her hands landing atop of his that are on her hips, so not to lose him in the tight spaces. Harry doesn’t bother to hide his elation as they move in sync to the front counter.  

***

It’s a quarter before six when they finally make it to her house. Y/n invites him inside to drink their beverages before the tea fully cools down, and he’s more than happy to accept her offer. The ride from the coffee house to her home had been uneventful, but it still managed to make Harry’s heart skip a beat whenever she’d turn to look at him when she had something to say. He thinks he’ll offer to take her home more often. 

They find Mason in the living room, Mulan playing on the TV. He’s just at the part where all of China bows down to the heroine. “Mason...” Y/n sings, putting her finger up to her lips when she briefly glances at Harry from over her shoulder. “I have a surprise for you!” 

When the little boy cranes his head back to his sister, he’s instantly filled with glee when he sees his new best friend right beside her. “Harry!” He jumps up and runs to him with lightning speed into Harry’s ready arms. “You’re here again?” he gasps when Harry picks him up.

“Of course!” Harry says firmly. “I told your sister that you and I still had to watch Lilo & Stitch together.” He reaches into the takeaway bag in Y/n’s hand and pulls out a smaller bag. “And I even got you a movie snack.” Mason bounces excitedly when he peeks inside. “Brownies!” he cheers. “Thanks, Harry!”

Just as they take a seat on the island stools, Jeremy frantically rushes in. His face full of surprise when he sees his daughter home so soon (he had been upstairs and thought someone might have broken into the house).

“How’d you get here so fast?” he questions.

“Harry gave me a ride,” she answers, taking a sip from her cup. “Yes! It’s still hot!” 

Jeremy looks to the boy next to her. “You drive?” 

“No, sir,” Harry shakes his head. He seats Mason in the chair on the other side of him “I do have a bike, though.” 

“A bike...” the older man repeats. He walks around the island to stand closer to Harry. “What kind of bike?”

Harry licks along his top lip as he places his cup down. “Um...” he thinks. “Just a regular bike, I guess.”

“Describe it.” 

“It’s silver!” Y/n offers after she swallows another mouthful of chai.

“Yeah,” Harry agrees. “I’ve had it for like a year now. I think it’s a cyclocross, maybe a hybrid.”

“What else?”

“Well, I put this Packers sticker on the–”

Jeremy slams his hand down on the table, causing both teens to jump in their seats (Mason is too taken with his brownie to notice). “Did you just say Packers?” He closes his eyes, and a curled fist rises solemnly to his lips. When what sounds like a sniffle erupts from him, Harry and Y/n look at each. 

“Dad?” Y/n asks, almost pleading. “Are you okay?” 

Her father nods his head, suddenly turning to face away from them. “Harry,” he croaks. “Would you...” 

Another sniffle sounds from him. Mason looks at his sister, confusion written all over his face. “What’s wrong with Daddy?” But she honestly can’t say she knows what’s going on. Meanwhile, Harry isn’t sure if he should leave. Was it something he said?

“Would you...” he starts up again. “Would you like to stay for dinner?” 

Harry’s jaw drops. 

“Uh...” But he’s completely out of words at the moment, mostly because he truly thought he was about to get thrown out. It’s no question, he’s getting a little fed up with the prepped meals that Anne had left him, and the look on both Y/n’s and Mason’s faces only encourages him further. 

With his pause, it’s quiet enough to hear the television in the next room. “Would you like to stay forever?”

“Yeah,” he smiles, “I’d love to.” 

***

[let-it-raines]

Second in Command (Epilogue - Part Seven)

Summary: Life as the “spare to the heir” isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be when you’re the supposed screw-up of the family, but people don’t know what really happens behind closed doors.

Rating: Mature

A/N: You guys are totally going to be annoyed with me for how I left it on a cliffhanger when I totally didn’t have to except to show some character growth and how things change...which I guess is exactly the reason I ended it that way :D

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr Chapters: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14| 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20

Epilogue Parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 

Tag list: @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @kmomof4 @wellhellotragic @ekr032-blog-blog @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615@a-faekindagirl @mayquita @captainsjedi @captswanis4vr @kristi555 @teamhook @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @branlovesouat @dreadpirateemma @alys07 @andiirivera

“Can I come in, son?”

“Yeah, of course,” Killian answers automatically, the shock of his father just showing up at his door stunning him for only a moment. It’s not like he never visits. He usually just calls or texts first. “I didn’t know you were coming over, dad. Why didn’t you call?”

“Oh, I was visiting the kids and thought I’d drop by since I knew that the two of you had returned home.” His dad steps inside, squeezing his shoulder before leaning down to pet Indy. “Hello, darling,” he then greets Emma, kissing her cheek before wrapping her up in a hug. “How are you feeling today?”

“Good, good,” Emma insists, her eyes still blown wide as if she’s actually been shocked. He knows she’s still a bit rattled from the flight and her nausea. The same thing had happened when they went out sailing the morning of their anniversary, before the disaster of the rest of that day, and even though he had been wary of it, Emma insisted she was fine. She never said she wasn’t, but the green of her face told him otherwise. “How are you?”

“Kicking pretty high for my age.”

“You are not old,” she laughs, tugging on Indy’s leash. “Do you mind if I take Indy for a quick walk? Let her run around a bit. She’s been told she’s going outside, and I’m afraid she’ll freak out if she doesn’t get to go.”

“Of course, dear. I’ll chat with Killian, and the second you two come back inside, I want to hear all about how you’ve been since you left us to go holiday in the warm sunshine. I swear it’s rained for the past week.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Emma takes a step over toward him, leaning up and kissing his cheek, whispering that she’ll be right back before taking a step outside with Indy and leaving him with his dad.

“Do you want something to drink? Eat?”

“I’m fine.” His father begins walking to the living room, settling down into the recliner he prefers when visiting all while Killian sits down on the couch next to him, only a side table between them. “So how was your holiday?”

He almost chokes on his own saliva thinking of all of the things he absolutely cannot tell his father about their holiday as well as wondering if he should bring up the privacy issue just yet. He doesn’t know, is never truly sure about these types of things. He could have a nice, normal conversation with his father or it could turn into another tense, stressful one. He’s had enough of those for a lifetime, but he also knows that he doesn’t have all of the time in the world to fix this. He’s got fewer than four months, really.

“It was wonderful,” he finally answers, his lips ticking up on one side. It really was wonderful to get away with Emma and only have each other for awhile despite the disaster that was their anniversary. It got better, though. It wasn’t completely bad. They had the sailing trip and the takeout meal that was better than anything else they’d eaten if only for how comfortable they both felt. He felt his son move for the first time, which was bloody brilliant and most definitely his new favorite thing. “It’s a gorgeous island. Emma mentioned something about asking you to make our beaches like that.”

Brennan barks out a laugh, the wrinkles on his face all gathering together while his gray hair shakes the slightest bit. If Killian was a betting man, he’d guess his dad is getting his hair cut in the next two or three days, keeping up with his lifelong schedule of haircuts. “If only I could. That would be bloody wonderful. But I like the way she thinks.”

“She’s definitely a brilliant dreamer.” He trails off toward the end of his sentence, looking down at his hand and twisting his ring around his finger, his constant physical reminder of his lifelong commitment to Emma, as if he really needs one. “Can I talk to you about something, dad?”

“Of course.”

“I know, well, I know that things were different when I was a kid, that technology wasn’t as advanced, that I was a bit of a surprise child and that you were on the older side when I was born.”

“Well, why don’t you just call me elderly then, Killian? And you have absolutely no proof that you were a surprise child.”

His dad laughs when he speaks, but Killian isn’t finding a lot of humor in it, knowing that he’s likely going to upset Brennan with his words.

“What I mean is, I know you weren’t really, truly involved in my life. And I’m not blaming you or trying to make you feel…upset, but I need a very particular kind of advice that really only you and mum or Liam and Abigail can give. And I’m honestly not even sure you can give it.”

“What’s wrong, Killian?”

He takes a moment to collect himself, hundreds of words on the tip of his tongue but none of them feeling quite right. But he has to say something, so he might as well speak the truth.

“How the hell am I supposed to be a father in a world where I can’t protect the privacy of my wife and my child? There were, um, photographers who rented out a house and used scopes to take pictures of us on the beach. And Emma and I got into a pretty nasty argument about it. She’s worried…I’m worried about Andrew’s privacy. We want him to live a life as normal as possible. We don’t want photographers following him to school or to the park, and I just – I don’t know how to fix it.”

He’s been clenching his fist all while he talks, the tenseness in his hand almost painful while hot tears form in his eyes, every fault and every insecurity he’s had long before the fight with Emma coming back and assaulting his senses, making everything a dark, cloudy blur.

Brennan looks calm, secure, the blue of his eyes not changing while his eyelids rapidly blink, his brows furrowing and the lines on his face increasing. Has he said too much? Shown too much emotion? Asked for the impossible?

“The fact that you have very obviously beaten yourself up about this proves that you are a better dad than I ever have been.”

“That’s not what I meant, dad. I didn’t – ”

“I know, Killian. I’m not taking offense to anything. I was a poor excuse for a father for the majority of your life. I was focused on Liam, on my job, on the protocol and the way that my father raised Albert and me. All I knew was that fathers were not supposed to be close to their children, and as much as that hurt me as a child, I stupidly believed it. The fact that you have forgiven me is something I still can’t believe.”

He leans over and places his hand on Brennan’s knee, patting him before leaning back and wiping at his eyes. “I did it for me, but with the way you’ve worked to change, you deserve it.”

“Thank you, my boy.” His father smiles, settling back into his chair and crossing his hands together in his lap. “But this is not about me. This is about you and your family. So you don’t want Andrew in the public eye? At all? Is that what you’re saying?”

“I mean, we haven’t discussed it in serious length, but yes. I’m sure that Emma will be okay with releasing the occasional photo or having him join us when we go overseas so we don’t have to be apart from him, but I think we’re going to have to take a step back in traditions. And when he gets older, I think we may need to move somewhere much more private.”

The front door opens then, the alarm beep sounding at the same time that he hears the click of nails and the squeak of sneakers as well as Emma’s voice. He straightens up, fixing his hunched back and sitting against the couch in as much of a relaxed position as he can.

“Go find, Killian, girl, yeah,” Emma coos, her voice getting louder the closer she gets to the living room. And then she’s in view, Indy running in first and jumping up on the couch before getting down once she spots Brennan, less familiar people always more exciting than him. Emma walks toward him, sitting down in the seat Indy just vacated and reaching around him to tangle her fingers in his hair, stroking the strands. “What’s wrong? Your shoulders are tensed.”

How the hell does she always know?

“Killian and I,” his father answers for him, seemingly understanding that Killian wasn’t sure what to say, “were simply talking about how you two seem to be suffering from some privacy issues and are worried about your child’s future, that you want Andrew to lead a more private life than normal.”

“Oh,” Emma gulps, her hand stilling in his hair before beginning again, “well, yeah. I know that we all grew up differently and that my childhood isn’t really an option, but that’s what I want, what we want. We want him to be able to be a kid, you know? I don’t want him to be used to cameras everywhere he goes. I don’t know how we’d fix that, but that’s definitely my top priority right now. And forever probably.”

His hand finds Emma’s knee, thumb running back and forth over the material of her leggings while she speaks. He’s here with her, for her, consistently, and he hopes that she knows this.

“Why don’t you two give me some time to think things over? I’ll meet with security. We’ll work out some plans and ideas. You two should probably talk to Liam and Abigail. It’s not, well, it won’t be exactly the same. You have more freedom than them, and they’re not quite as private as the two of you. But they do have experience in all of this.” “Thank you, Brennan,” Emma sighs, leaning back into the couch and scratching at his neck, his eyes fluttering closed for a quick moment.

“Of course, but at the end of the day, above everything else, we’re a family. How you two feel is far more important than any sort of duty and tradition we have, even if I do ask that we stick to the important ones.”

“Actually, I have something else that I want to talk about.”

His head snaps to her, eyes searching for what she has to say, but she’s not looking at him, her gaze trained on the wag of Indy’s tail while her fingers tap over his on her leg, the hand in his hair having stilled.

“What do you want to talk about, love?”

She looks at him then, the smallest of smiles on her face that comforts him the slightest bit, before directing her gaze to Brennan. “I don’t want to walk out of the hospital all made up hours after giving birth. Kudos to Abigail. She is a badass woman for that, but that’s not what I want. Andy doesn’t need to be exposed to so many people as a newborn. I don’t need to be all dressed up when I’ve just given birth. I don’t care about tradition when it comes to this. This is what I’m doing, and I really feel like it’s the first step in taking a stand about him not being some kind of public property.”

He didn’t know she felt that way about any of that, nearly every word she said news to him, but he gets it, supports it. If that’s what Emma wants for this, that’s what they’ll do. He’s never quite understood that tradition anyways, and he likes the idea of a more private celebration with just them and their families while Emma heals and they adjust to the terrifying process of being parents for the first time.

“I’m not sure we can do that, dear.”

“What?” His head snaps over to his dad, trying to process the words. “You literally just said that how we feel is more important than any duty we have.”

“But that we need to stick to the important traditions, yes. New family members are an important tradition.”

“Brennan,” Emma grits, her voice strained as she tries to keep it friendly, “I respect our family and all of the traditions we have, but I am not some kind of human machine who’s only here to produce babies. Yes, of course this is a big deal, but it’s a big deal for us as a personal family, not as some part of the institution. You can still put the sign up, make any and all announcements you want. Hell, I’ll release a picture if we have to, but all I’m asking is that we’re allowed to leave and travel home in peace.”

“I agree, dad. I mean, really. Of all of the things we break and bend, of all of the things we change, surely you can let this one thing go? It’s not hundreds of years ago where people are faking pregnancies and paternities to keep the line intact, which was ridiculous then. I think letting family be family is the most important thing, don’t you?”

“Aye, it’s just…you’ll have to forgive me.” Brennan runs his hand over his face, visibly warring something within himself, the lines on his face stressing. “You were right earlier when you said things are different now. These are not things that I really went through with you, not as prevalent as you. Emma, dear, I’m sorry. I don’t…I shouldn’t have ever considered making you do something you’re not comfortable with. I love you dearly, and you and Killian know what’s best here, not me.”

“I don’t want to disappoint you,” Emma says, getting up from the couch and sitting down on the edge of the coffee table so that she can squeeze Brennan’s hand. “You are so brilliant, and you uphold this family so well. I know that I’m different, that it was difficult to accept me, but change can be good, you know?”

“I know.”

Brennan stays for a little while longer, hashing out a few more details with them before accepting a cup of tea and some food, finally listening to them talk about their holiday all the while scratching behind Indy’s ears, her eyes closed in bliss the entire time. It’s peaceful, relaxing, and he feels his shoulders loosen the longer the conversation goes on, Emma’s laughter and joyful voice sounding throughout the room. In the back of his mind, though, he keeps replaying the conversation, thinking of everything he said, everything they all said, and he’s amazed it all went as smoothly as it did, surprised that his father acquiesced to their private exit from the hospital so easily. He had no idea that Emma wanted that, and he wonders how long she’s been toying with the idea, how many late nights she’s spent worrying about bringing it up. He knows she didn’t just think of it now, that it wasn’t spur of the moment, and he tries to remind himself to ask her about it later, to make sure that there’s nothing else she’s hoarding inside.

She goes through enough, has gone through enough over the years, and she shouldn’t feel like she has to hold things back from him.

But he saves his thoughts for later, letting his dad leave and letting Emma take a nap, her eyes falling shut without her even laying down on the couch. He wakes her before she can get into too deep of a sleep, though, knowing that it’ll hurt her back, and helps her go upstairs to their room, ignoring the curses she’s muttering under her breath about him waking her up. While she sleeps, he goes downstairs to his office, answering emails and clearing out his inbox that he left alone while they were in Spain.

Summer is normally a slow time for them, June and July full of engagements while August is usually taken off to spend in Balmoral. Emma’s due in September, though, a few days after his birthday, and she’s not working after August begins. He is, though, doing his regular work and making a few short trips, making sure never to never travel more than three hours away in case he needs to be home.

But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have things to do now, organizing his files and reviewing the financials for Kidding a Goal until Indy comes walking into his office, her nails clicking against the wood until she’s staring up at him with her mouth wide open, tongue practically falling out of her mouth. He checks his watch and sees that it’s far past seven. He’s surprised she didn’t come and get him two hours ago.

“You ready to eat, my girl?”

That gets her tail wagging before she takes off, running toward the kitchen at such a pace that she’s probably there before he even gets up from his chair. Sure enough, she’s already waiting next to her bowl like the most well-behaved dog in the world, which is not something he expected when he and Emma decided to get a dog last year. But she’s done well, their training working most of the time, but Indy does have the tendency to lick his face when he’s sleeping. He’s not a fan of that.

But she’s his best bud and a constant companion on his runs, so it all evens out.

After feeding her, he hears footsteps coming down the stairs, Emma wandering into the kitchen with sleep-rumpled hair and pillow streaks on her face, her pajama top falling off of one shoulder. She immediately heads toward the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water and some yogurt before settling down on a barstool.

“How’d you sleep?”

She grunts in response, opening her yogurt and eating a large spoonful. “I hate being pregnant sometimes.”

“So not well then?”

“Nope. I felt like my guts were all being squeezed out, but do you know who’s not moving now that I’m awake and out of bed?”

“Andy.”

“Yep.”

She keeps eating her yogurt, quickly finishing it up before getting another carton. He should probably fix something for dinner so she doesn’t consume the entire yogurt supply in their fridge.

“Hey, sweetheart?”

“Yeah?” she mumbles, pulling her spoon out of her mouth and looking up at him, her hair deflating the slightest bit from when she came down.

“You want to tell me what that was earlier? With my dad. When did you decide you didn’t want to do the public announcement?”

“Oh, um, I first thought about it a few weeks ago, but it was really driven home after last week. Why? You have an issue with it?”

“No,” he laughs, leaning down across from her and propping his elbows on the counter. “I think it’s bloody brilliant, that you are brilliant. I like that you want to do things your way…our way. It’s very sexy.” “Oh boy, if you’re looking to get laid right now that is not happening.”

“Well damn. Now I have no reason to compliment you.”

“Shut up,” she groans, tossing her spoon over into the sink, the metal clanking. “But seriously, you’re okay with all that, right?”

“Of course. I want you to do what makes you comfortable. I’m not the one giving birth.”

“Damn right. I think I’m going to give your dad a heart attack though.”

“Aye, definitely. I know he’s trying and he’s being accommodating, but I could practically see the fear of breaking traditions rolling off of him in anxiety-filled waves. But he’s seventy-three. Some things just aren’t going to change.”

“So basically we hit the jackpot today?”

“Yep.” He walks over to the fridge, opening it up and seeing what they have left over from before they left. “What do you want for dinner?”

-/-

“Bloody buggering hell,” he curses, bringing his thumb to his mouth and soothing where he just jammed his finger on the wood.

Building a crib should not be this difficult, but it apparently is. He’s been following the instructions exactly, making sure that each piece is doubly secure, and he’s not sure how it’s taking this long. He should be finished, this crib should be made, and he should be able to move onto the shelves or Emma’s glider that she was insistent on them getting.

He’s spent more time in this room in the past month than he has in any other room in the house, June somehow running away with itself all while he’s been hidden away within these four walls. It took a month and a half for he and Emma to decide on a simple light gray, one that he’s pretty sure is also in their bedroom, but honestly, once they both agreed on the color (likely because they have agreed on it once before), he wasn’t going to say anything else. He did pick out the gray-ish blue that’s on the wall with the shelves (or at least where they’ll go once he gets to them), so he’s pretty proud of it.

Neither he or Emma are much one for designing, though they have gotten a bit more into it since the remodel of the apartment, but he’s pretty proud of how Andy’s room is shaping up, even if the lad will stay in the bassinet in their room for awhile. It’s a simple room, clean lines and clean colors. All of the furniture are different shades of white and warm browns, woods really, with natural accents. Abigail gifted them a large wooden giraffe along with some leaf and animal prints, so those are sitting in the corner waiting to be placed after all of this furniture is built.

His favorite part, though, is definitely going to be the little sitting area by the shelves and the changing table. He’s not under any impression that this is going to be a calm room, a place to relax, but he figures there have to be times when he’s rocking Andy back to sleep in that very spot, the shelves filled with colorful children’s books that’ll become routine reading one day as well as being filled with several stuffed animals and photo frames that he can’t wait to update with pictures. Of course, the cabinets below will be filled with the essentials, the things no one likes to talk about like diapers and nipple cream (that was something Emma did not want to know about, and he honestly doesn’t blame her), but they’re definitely still in the dreamy, picture perfect nursery phase where the messiness of a child isn’t quite a factor.

Really to him, as much as he knows this is real, as much as he sees the physical proof, feels the physical proof (which holy shit is it incredible to be able to feel his son move), it’s still difficult for him to comprehend that in two months he and Emma will have a child. It’s something they’ve talked about for years, something they were planning on, but it’s difficult to put into words just how much love he has for his son.

And his wife.

She’s a rockstar in every sense of the word, and if he doesn’t mention it enough, Emma sure as hell will. He loves her fiercely, and that love is another thing that he can’t quite put into words. He honestly doesn’t understand men who moan and groan about their wives constantly. If anything, he finds it disgusting. Yes, you’re going to have disagreements with your significant other. That’s natural when you decide to spend your life with someone who has their own wants, needs, and opinions, but at the end of the day, his wife is his best friend. If there’s anyone he wants to spend time with, it’s her. No question.

If the answer to who your best friend isn’t your spouse or the person you’re marrying, he doesn’t understand why the hell you’d bother getting married. His mates are great, but they’re not Emma.

Maybe he is a bit of the cheeseball that Emma always claims him to be, but he likes it that way.

He’s definitely going to embarrass his kids. All of the time. He can’t wait. He’s got a few years, but he can’t wait.

“You know we can hire someone to do this, right?” Emma asks, a bit of laughter in her tone that makes him roll his eyes. His best friend, most definitely. The teasing is just a small part of that.

“Aye, but I’ve started it, and I intend on finishing it.” “Okay, but the crib doesn’t need to fall apart while there’s a baby inside of it, and the glider doesn’t need to fall apart while I’m sitting on it. That’s, like, a double disaster, and I know you lived by yourself for a long time, but I’m pretty sure you’re not capable of that anymore.”

“Oh, really? Because I was just going to make them as unsafe as possible so that I could live by myself again. I miss being able to stretch out in the bed.”

“You’re so funny,” she teases from the other side of the nursery where she’s putting away the washed clothes in the closet, organizing them by size. He swears they have enough clothes to last Andy for the first two years of his life, and that’s not counting the piles of things he knows David and Mary Margaret have at their house. “I think I may have bought him too much stuff. I don’t even think I own this many things.”

“You don’t mess your clothes up multiple times a day.”

“Good point.”

“I tend to make those.”

“Eh. Debatable.”

“Not at all debatable.” He turns back to the crib, looking at the instructions to see if he can remember where he left off before Emma distracted him. “Shit, this is impossible.”

“I can call my dad, babe. It won’t be a problem. He’s a bit handier than you.”

“Please, I am plenty handy.”

“Okay, well being handy with me is not the same as being handy when it comes to building things.”

“If we call your dad, he’s going to take over. I want to do some of this myself.”

“I will tell Dad just to help. Come on, babe, you love spending time with my dad.”

“Only now that he doesn’t give me the scary speeches anymore.”

“Yeah, I bet those were a lot of fun.”

“I mean, it’s been a solid half a decade since I’ve gotten one, but he still shakes me to my core.”

He hears Emma laugh, snort really, before she makes her way over to him, slowly settling down on the floor next to him and waving her hand until he gives her the instructions. She looks over them while looking at the crib, her eyes continuously darting between the two.

“You put part G in backwards. That’s why nothing after that is fitting.”

“Bloody hell,” he curses, reaching over and taking the instructions from her hand and checking to see if she really did just solve his problem, “how did you see that when I’ve been staring at it for the past hour?”

“Fresh eyes, my love. Fresh eyes.” She leans forward and kisses his cheek before falling back against the wall. “And that’s exactly why calling my dad and asking him to come over in the morning will be a great idea. I bet Mom will want to come too, and she does a mean job with a power drill.”

So Emma calls her parents who agree to come over in the morning. On top of moving, they’ve also begun to change around the hours of the pub, opening it earlier and letting Will close it out at night. And it’s because of this that they show up at eight in the morning, he and Emma both still asleep when their doorbell rings. Emma groans when she hears it, burying her face into his chest and making it impossible for him to get up without disturbing her. He can feel Andy summersaulting around in her belly, and he smiles to himself knowing that she’s going to have get up. She can’t sleep when he’s moving around like that.

He can’t sleep when Emma’s basically running marathons in bed, but that’s not something he’s going to voice out loud. He can get up and sleep in a guest room if he needs to. Emma can’t get up and walk away from the person who’s running marathons in her stomach.

There’s two human feet inside of her. That’s pretty weird if he thinks about it too much.

Okay, so really weird.

Slowly but surely he gets out of bed, letting Emma flip over into his spot, and heads downstairs to open the front door. David and Mary Margaret have a key, but they never use it, always waiting for either he or Emma to open the door for them, which he appreciates after one too many times having them walk in on he and Emma.

“Hi,” he greets, opening the door and ushering them inside. “Emma’s still asleep, but I’m sure she’ll wake up soon. Do you guys want some breakfast?”

“We ate at home, sweetie,” Mary Margaret greets, giving him a quick hug before David does the same. “So Emma said you guys were having some issues in the nursery.”

“I believe that it was more like Killian not being able to put together a crib in under three weeks.”

“So funny, Dave,” he bites, rolling his eyes and locking the door. “I did eventually figure it out. I just think this mid-July heat is obviously getting to me. Or maybe nerves. I’m not too sure.”

“Well, let’s go help then. We’ve got to be at the pub at two, but I think we should be able to get things done.”

After he fixes himself some coffee, not nearly as wide awake as David and Mary Margaret, they head upstairs and begin working in the nursery, assembling the shelves and drilling them into the walls in half the time that it would have taken he and Emma had they done this by themselves. So maybe help isn’t all bad. Before Emma even wakes up, they have the shelves installed and pictures securely nailed on the wall. There are books already being stacked, stuffed animals and knick knacks being placed, and all of the fun nipple creams and breast pumps being placed in the cabinet.

They’re working on the glider when Emma finally wanders in, her hair falling out of its band so that half of it spills down her back while the other half is piled on top of her head, and she’s got her glasses on, something she only does when her eyes feel too puffy to put her contacts in.

“Hey, sweetheart,” David greets, finishing tightening the screw he’s working on before getting up to embrace Emma. “How are you feeling?”

“Rough today. I think the little dude’s a giant or something because he crushes my lungs and my bladder at the same time. So I can’t breathe, and I have to pee. So, yeah, it’s fun.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thanks, dad. It looks fantastic in here. You guys have done so much. I feel like we’re not going to have anything to do in the next two months if we finish all of this.”

“That’s kind of the point, love.”

“Yeah,” she yawns, covering her mouth, “I know. Mom, do you want to come and rest with me in my room? My back hurts today, and I just can’t sit on the floor in here with you guys.” “Of course, hon,” Mary Margaret answers, walking away from the closet and stepping over to Emma before she rubs up and down her back. “Are you sure you don’t want Killian to join you? David and I would be fine to work on our own.”

“No, it’s fine. I bug him all day, and I’m kind of thinking that you can paint my toes for me or we can watch movies or something. It’s been awhile since we’ve done that.”

“Text me if you need me, love,” he tells Emma, his eyes tracing over her in a bit of concern. It’s difficult watching her be uncomfortable or miserable on some days when he literally can’t do anything about it.

“Yeah, babe, I will.”

Emma and Mary Margaret walk out of the room, their voices fading away as they walk into their bedroom one room over, and he’s left with just David who promptly gets back to work finishing building the chair. Music plays in the background, an eighties’ playlist he thinks, and it doesn’t take longer before the chair is completely together and he’s sitting in it testing it out. It’s comfortable, probably one of the best seats they have in the house, and he can definitely understand why Emma insisted on this one after shopping around a bit.

“How does someone so small have so much stuff?”

“My child is twenty-eight years old, we don’t even live in her childhood home anymore, and I swear things of hers still pop up all of the time.”

“That’s likely because Emma leaves everything all over the place.”

He folds his hands behind his head, closing his eyes and rocking back and forth while Cherry Bomb plays in the background, which is definitely not a nursery appropriate song. Or maybe it is. Who needs Mozart when you can have The Runaways?

“So is Emma like that every day?”

“Like what?” he asks, popping an eye open to look at David who’s sitting against the shelves, which can’t be good for his back. God, how old is he getting if his first concern is for someone else’s back?

“Exhausted.”

“No, not every day. She’s usually got a hell of a lot of energy, even if there’s always a nap. I think she had a restless night. She’ll tell me like it is, though. If she’s having a bad day, she’ll let us know.” “What about you?”

“Well, I don’t have a baby crushing my lungs and my bladder.”

“True,” David laughs, running his hands through his short hair. Killian swears it’s gotten more gray in the past year, the blonde nearly disappearing. David is only fifty-two, so he’s not exactly older. Hell, if it weren’t for the wrinkles on his forehead and the gray hairs outnumbering the blonde, he’d look much younger. “But I remember being a dad for the first time. It’s terrifying, so you’re allowed to be scared.”

“I am. It’s…” He reaches up and scratches behind his ear, his hair getting long enough that he knows he needs to get a haircut soon. “Emma and I try to make sure that we keep up our normal routines, that we have our normal conversations without talking too much about the baby, but it’s kind of hard, you know? It’s like we’ll be talking about going out to eat and two minutes later we’re making a list of middle names or speculating if he’s going to look more like me or Emma.”

“I know. But it’s an exciting time, Killian. There will never be anything like it, and if you want to talk about the fact that you’re having a kid, you should. You and Emma have been together for so long, and I really don’t think your relationship is going to struggle if you’re not sitting around making references no one else understands for hours on end.”

“Oi,” he protests, resisting the urge to pick up the toy elephant next to him and throw it at David, “that is your daughter you’re mocking, and she can still kick your ass.”

“Trust me, I know. Who do you think raised her to be like that?”

“Mary Margaret.”

“You’re walking a thin line.”

He winks at David, his lips ticking up on the right into a smirk. “I know. You and Mary Margaret did such a good job, still do such a good job, and even with all of the times you’ve messed up – ”

“ – which is a lot more often than even Emma has probably told you.”

“I just…you’re a good dad, Dave. To Emma, to me. I hope I can do half as good as a job.”

“You’ll be great, Killian.” David smiles at him, something genuine, and Killian’s reminded of how much David really has impacted his life in all of the best ways. “I promise. And as much as I love you, I do love my little girl more, and she’s going to be amazing. She’s always…she’s never been too open to a lot of people, but the people she loves, she loves so fiercely, you know? And she’s already doing so well at being a mom. She’ll call me at nights, and I can just hear the happiness and excitement in her voice. At the end of the day, that’s all you want, you know? For your kid to be healthy and happy.”

“Yeah, I know.” He smiles to himself, thinking of how happy he is. “Also, how dare you imply that you love your own daughter more than me. I thought I meant more to you than that. I thought we had something special, man.”

“I can still give you hell. I’d watch yourself.”

He and David finish up in the nursery for the next few hours until David and Mary Margaret have to go to work, leaving after the three of them eat lunch down in the kitchen, Emma staying upstairs for a nap. When the Nolans are gone and he’s finished eating, he heads upstairs, bypassing the nursery and walking into their bedroom where Emma is sitting up on the bed watching TV.

“Your toes look nice,” he compliments, grabbing onto her big toe and moving it back and forth. “Do you feel any better?”

“Yeah,” she sighs, twisting onto her back and scooting up the bed, “it’s just one of those days, you know? I’m not usually this miserable.”

“I know, but it’s okay to have bad days, love.”

“Come here,” she tells him, crooking her fingers and motioning toward him before she turns on her side and wraps her arms around her pillow. He does as she asks, kicking off his sneakers and crawling up into the bed, the mattress moving against his weight until he’s pressed up behind her, his knee stuck between her thighs and his arm wrapped around her waist while the other rests above her head. This is how she’s been comfortable lately, and he can’t say he minds. “Did you guys get a lot done?”

“Aye, it’s almost all finished.” He moves her hair off of her neck, placing a kiss there before resting his chin on her shoulder. “It just needs your finishing touches, I think.”

“And we have to unpack all of the boxes that are in the guest room and put them away in the closet.” “That too, but we’ve got time, Emma.” She hums, and he can feel the vibrations as well as Andy moving around under his touch, the movements following how he taps his fingers. “Has he been active today?”

“Not since I woke up, but he always responds to your voice.” “Yeah, he recognizes me?”

“Of course, you talk so damn much. How could he not?”

He turns his head and presses a kiss against her jaw, biting a bit just to tease her. “You are not a very nice woman, my love.”

“Oh please, I’m, like, the seventh nicest person you know.”

“Seventh?”

“I figured it was conceited to put me at number one.”

“Possibly.” He moves his hand against her stomach again, snaking his fingers up under her pajama top so that he can feel the warmth of her skin. “So he really does get more active when I talk?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty weird to think about, but it’s true. He likes when you talk. I think it’s because you’re a much better story teller than me.” “I mean, obviously.”

“And that he’s probably just glad to hear someone else besides me. Imagine being stuck with someone for nine months. Good God.”

“Well, I’m stuck with you for forever. Good God.”

She groans and curses him under his breath before she scoots over and turns in his arms, slowly but surely moving to face him. “Don’t be an asshole. Also, so I was talking to mom today, and she wants to be called Mimi. I think Dad wants to be called Papa, which I like as long as that’s not what you want. I know that’s what some kids call their dads.”

“Aye, it’s what Lizzie calls Liam, which is weird since Alex doesn’t do that. But I’m okay with dad or daddy, so David can be called Papa.”

“Yeah, I kind of like it. Mimi and Papa. And then your parents are Gammy and Grandpa, right? That’s what Alex and Lizzie call them.”

“Aye, but I know Mom didn’t want to be Gammy. It’s just what happened. She says it makes her feel old.”

“Your mom is not old.”

“I know, but considering your parents are barely fifty while my parents are in their sixties and seventies, it doesn’t help.”

“I’ll tell my parents to get older then.”

He smiles at her before closing his eyes and settling into his pillow, letting his head sink down into the softness. It’s calming in here, the lights turned off and curtains closed while the ceiling fan hums a steady rhythm above them. He could fall asleep like this even if he’s not the biggest fan of naps, always somehow ending up groggy when he wakes up, and it doesn’t help with the way that Emma is playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, her fingers scratching into his scalp.

“Are you working tomorrow?”

He pops an eye open, looking at Emma and smiling when her nail hits a particularly sensitive spot on his neck. “Aye, I’ve got the Investiture ceremony at ten. Why?”

“Just wondering. I was thinking we could go somewhere. Just us. Maybe take Indy to Berkshire and let her run around, spend some time outside.” “We can do it in the afternoon, if you want. I think the weather is supposed to be nice.”

“Yeah,” she sighs, leaning forward and sliding her lips over his for a brief moment, “I think that would be nice.”

The next day after he’s finished with the ceremony, he hurries home, changing out of his suit and into shorts and a t-shirt, slipping a baseball cap onto his head and grabbing something to eat for lunch while Emma does the same, her hair falling out of the back of her hat in a long ponytail. They’ve got all day, but the afternoon’s weather is pleasant enough that he’d like to go now so they can stop by a café for dinner, even if that’s the absolute last thing that Thomas will want them to do.

They want their privacy, but they should be able to go out to dinner.

So he and Emma load up into his car, letting Indy sit in the backseat with the window rolled down so she can feel the mid-July breeze blow through her fur. It doesn’t take long to get to Windsor, pulling into their parking garage less than thirty minutes later, and instead of going inside like they’d usually do, he hooks Indy up to her leash while Emma grabs some water bottles and they head to the private gardens, avoiding the visitors wandering around on tours.

As much as he prefers the spring, mild July days are near the top of his list of favorite things. Everything is brighter, more pleasant. The grass is actually greener, the flowers contrasting against their background to create a landscape of whites and shades of purple, while everything is covered in a clear blue sky, only a few white clouds scattered throughout. New life blooms, and he gets to be the one to appreciate it, to revel in it. England can be so dreary sometimes, the weather somehow reflecting the moods of most people on their morning commute to work, so he appreciates when it’s not. He’s always loved the outdoors, and if there’s any complaint he has about his home, it’s the small private garden that they have to themselves. He’d like something larger, more space to run around, and sometime in the future, he and Emma plan to spend more time in Bucklebury so that they have the privacy.

That’s what they’ve decided on since returning from Spain last month. There’s been more lengthy, draining discussions with his parents and their security team than he’s ever wanted, and as much as he feels like they haven’t really accomplished anything, he knows it’s a slow process. Of course, there are drawbacks to every positive. They’re still going to have to spend most of their time at Kensington. It’s closer to their work, to their families. Hell, Emma’s parents just bought a house so that they could have the ability to spend time with their grandchild, and now they’re going to move away from them. It’s less than an hour drive, but it’s not nearly as close as they currently are.

But everyone understands, and they don’t plan on moving any time soon, not until Andy’s a bit older. They want to be near all of their loved ones when he’s younger, and they’ve spent so much time working on their home, making it exactly how they want. It’d be difficult to leave full time, so it’ll be nice to have the option of both.

It’ll be even nicer to give Andy the most normal life that they can possibly give him.

Emma whistles next to him, her fingers between her lips, while Indy runs back to them from where they let her loose. She was about five seconds away from jumping into a pond full of fish, and as much as they’d usually let her swim, they don’t need to have a wet dog with them for the rest of the day. So she runs back to them as quickly as she can, her legs leaping in the air with her black and white fur bouncing the slightest bit. He’s convinced that she shouldn’t be able to be that quick, but she’s still just a young dog, less than a year old, and though her legs will get longer, he doesn’t think she’ll ever be full of this much energy again.

If she is, he and Emma are definitely in over their heads.

With the dog.

He’s going to choose to not think of what it’ll be like with a toddler than can run and a dog that he can run after.

After she calms from her almost pond dive, Indy walks along in front of the two of them, occasionally wandering off the stone path to sniff around in the plants, nearly tearing up several flowers until they call her back to keep walking. They stay wandering for a little over two hours, not caring where exactly they’re going or if they’re circling back around in the same spots. Indy and Emma get tired around the same time, so they settle down onto a stone bench with a patio cover that’s next to another small pond.

In the distance, he can see the Chapel where they were married, the steeple rising up above the other buildings and stone walls, and he smiles to himself thinking of that day. In the grand scheme of things, he knows that when it comes to he and Emma, as important as it was, they had so many smaller, inconsequential days that he holds just as fondly in his heart.

But that was a pretty damn good day.

He stretches his arm out over the back of the bench, wrapping it around Emma’s shoulder and tangling his fingers into the ends of her ponytail while she leans her head on his shoulder, the bill of her hat hitting him in the chin for a brief moment. He’s glad she suggested them getting away from London for a little bit, for suggesting that they change up the routine and spend a day enjoying summer, especially since they’re missing out on Scotland with the rest of the family.

A month in the same place as everyone is likely a bit long, anyways. He loves his family, but that’s a lot for anyone.

“I love you, you know?” Emma asks out of nowhere, her gaze never falling away from the rippling of the water in front of them, a fish leaping up out of the water while the lily pads float around.

He squeezes her shoulder, rubbing up and down her arm and kissing her head even if she can’t feel it through the hat. “I know. I love you too.”

[smallflorets]

Baby Loss Awareness Week.

In December 2016, I was pregnant. I haven't written those words down before, in that order, in that tone. A few friends know, family knows and of course, my partner.

I have, in a sense, spoken about it before, I have been writing poetry since I was sixteen, and when bad things have happened to me, I found the best way of coping is to put pen to paper. Which is how my small, yet meaningful, poem “Room Vid” came about, which I’ll pop in later on, once this story is told and read by the people who need it most.

Written above, I’ve said I write when bad things happen to me. Being pregnant itself is not a bad thing. It is a wonderful thing, especially for women who have suffered with eating disorders and never imagine it happening, for women whose family has a history of blood problems, a family with a history of miscarriages and stillbirths and women who are only children because they see themselves as a miracle and worry that it will never happen to them. It was to me, however, a bad thing because of the timing. I was in my third year of university doing a Performing Arts course. At this point, I was only with Elliot, my wonderful wonderful boyfriend, for just over half a year. I was still very much struggling with my bulimia, and all these things combined led to a knowledge that I wasn’t ready. I lived in London, my parents lived in Somerset and the biggest worry on top of all the other things, was that I wouldn't be able to carry on living this life of amazement in the Big Smoke and would have to stay in Somerset, forever. (In hindsight, now I am actually back in Somerset that thought doesn’t haunt me so much.)

It is a strange thing that we women have, but we know. I never thought I would just know. I remember seeing so many tv shows where one clip would be a women throwing up, and then… she just knew she was pregnant. I thought it was odd, until that was me.

It was a Monday, I was working in my favourite pub, and I felt nauseous. I hadn’t eaten anything I shouldnt have, I wasn’t hungover, I didn’t feel unwell, I just felt like I needed to throw up. So off I ran. And that was when I knew.

I was on the pill at the time, and due to either partying too much, or to still having lapses in my bulimia, it didn’t work. Fun fact! No contraception is 100% full proof despite my ignorance. All it takes is one blip.

When Tuesday came, I spent the day wracking my brain. I had to take a test. THE test. I was on campus in Kensington High Street and working in the Video Room for a university project. The only place I could find in the whole street was a Wilko’s. They still traumatise me now to be honest. I bought a few things, which I think we all do when we need that test. Like the cashier is going to think “I wonder why she needs toothpaste, a sandwich AND a pregnancy test.” They probably aren't going to judge you. I think i spent a good half an hour walking around to the point I definitely looked suspicious. I packed up the toothpaste, the sandwich and the stick of judgement and then I had another worry. I couldn't take it at uni, because I didn’t want anyone I know seeing me, and sods law is that would happen, and I couldn’t wait the hour journey until I got home. So you know what I did? I took a pregnancy test in McDonalds.

I couldn't look straight away, that was the scariest bit. So despite me not wanting to be judged, I got back on to campus, a five minute walk, went to the toilet and checked. And there, the faintest two lines I have ever seen confirmed it. I have never cried so much in my life. I couldn’t go home though- I had a deadline. I spent seven hours in a stuffy computer room editing a video. The thoughts would come and go, I would be in the depths of my work and then I would start thinking of all the things I could do. How I would tell Elliot. How I would tell my mum. How I would tell my best friend. Who I would tell first.

Night fell on Richmond Uni and I went home, crying on the tube, constantly checking my bag to see if the test had changed, but it never did.

The next day was the same, another set of hours in a stuffy room wanting to know what to do, but not wanting anyone to help me. Eventually - I finished.

I met my boyfriend for coffee that night - decaf, I wasn’t sure what I would do but I felt better in myself knowing I wasn't going to damage it yet - and we sat in almost silence. He knew there was a problem but he’s a patient man. I kept trying to say, but I was always held back. If I said it, it was true, and I didn’t want it to be true just yet. I was quiet for a long time, the coffee, the tube, the walk. I somehow mustered the confidence to tell him. On a bench, outside my house. I cried and I cried and I could have flooded the whole of Putney with my tears. But he comforted me, he joked with me, he made me smile. He made me tea and food. We sat and we talked about what to do and I couldn’t get the thought out of my head. Baby brain is real you guys, I said things to my friend like “due date” when I meant something completely different.

I ran a bath to comfort myself, and that’s when it all changed. I was bleeding. So much. It was more than a period. I only knew for less than two days that I was pregnant and I had hardly begun to get my head around it when it was disappearing underneath me. I went to sleep that night thinking that it will be okay - it’s normal.

We had decided to go to a clinic to check everything anyway. We went from clinic to hospital to A&E. The clinic didn’t deal with bleeding. Only certain pregnancies.

Test after test confirmed it - I was pregnant and I had lost a baby. They wouldn’t tell me how far along I was. I worked out that I was around two months.

I left the hospital in bits. I didn’t even want a child. I had never wanted a child. Yet I had the chance to have one, and it disappeared in seconds. My hormones were all over the place. I took a week off work, I postponed my exams. I went to Winter Wonderland with my boyfriend. I needed that. My mum came up the next day when I had to go back to the hospital for final checks. I can’t thank her enough for that.

It was this experience that made me know I wanted a child. I am glad I know that now, I’m a little older and a little wiser and a little more careful. It took from Monday until Friday from the moment I knew, to the moment it went.

I appreciate having babies in my life now. I love myself a little bit more now. I love my body a little more now for being able to create life, even if it couldn’t quite sustain it. I love my boyfriend more every day, and I love my family and his family too for everything they have done since.

Room Vid

Is it like losing an arm?

If you pulled me apart,

tore me into stardust

or crumpled leaves

would you find the missing pieces?

Could you put it all back together

without leaving cracks

for parts of my soul to seep out?

When you only hold something  

for seconds

like a whisper

is it real?

Is it there?

[dmitri-smerdyakov]

The Beginning of an Uncertain Future (Part 1) - a Newt/Tina fic

This was prompted by an anon who asked, “I want angst. Please. Maybe Tina leaving her family because of the war.”

This is going to be multi-chaptered to fit into more readable instalments 😊

So I kinda started to feel some inspiration for writing something to do with the war after I watched “Dunkirk” with my little sister, and I’ve been thinking about both Tina’s feelings if she’s sent off and the entire family’s too.

It was impossible to really fit it in exactly with any of my other Scamander-Children stories, but I did want to use the children I’d already created – for that reason, we’re saying that the story is sort of an AU/alternate pathway to what happened after “Lay Your Body Down”… This means that only Phoenix, Linnet and Leo are born. It could have happened in the following fics/in the place of “A Glimpse of Sunlight” but it didn’t…I don’t know if that makes sense. Either way, I hope you enjoy.

Phoenix – 22nd June 1931 – 8-9 Linnet – 13th January 1933 - 7 Leo – 3rd March 1935 - 5

Set in 1940.

The letter arrived at breakfast on the Monday; the children were blissfully unaware of what it meant, of course, but their parents knew better upon seeing the official Ministry seal on the back of the envelope.

Newt watched silently as Tina opened the letter, her fingers trembling just the smallest amount, and he felt his heart sink into his stomach. He knew already what the letter would contain: Theseus had received one just a month beforehand, as had many others on the Investigative Team – knowing what was to come still didn’t make it any easier.

He continued to study her face as she read the letter, not saying a word; just a minute later, she raised her eyes to meet his across the table – and he knew. There was nothing to say – nothing that really could be said – and they were both all too aware of that.

It was Phoenix who was the first to look up and tilt his head, seemingly confused by the sudden silence. “Mum? Dad? Everything alright?”

“We’re fine,” Tina said quietly, folding the letter and tucking it into the pocket of her jacket. “Everything is absolutely fine, Phoenix – go back to breakfast.”

Their eldest son looked unconvinced as he reluctantly cast his eyes back down to his food; Linnet frowned and chewed her cereal thoughtfully as she looked between their mother and father, whilst Leo merely continued to attempt to make shapes with the leftover crusts of his toast. The children would need to be informed, of course, but not now – not at breakfast with the entire day ahead.

Newt held back a sigh and reached for his tea; the day was coming, he had known, he’d been expecting it…but it still didn’t hurt any less.

News of another bombing in central London reached Dorset by the time Tina arrived home; Leo, being the youngest, was none the wiser regarding the war – but his older siblings had caught on by now, even if their understanding of wars were childish and uninformed.

“The paper said it was Germans,” Phoenix said softly before dinner; Linnet pretended she was interested in her book, trying to block it out. “They’ve been bombing the Muggles… Do you think they’ll bomb us?”

“No,” Newt disagreed quickly, not wanting any of the children to feel frightened. “I shouldn’t think so; London is a big city, Phoenix, with a great many people – we live in the middle of the country. I don’t think they’ll bother bombing the country.”

“What about the other people?” Linnet asked, curiosity getting the better of her now. “Grindywall? Will he try to bomb us?”

Their father swallowed. “Grindelwald. No, I don’t think he’ll try to bomb us.”

Dinner was a rather sombre affair, though none of the children knew why; they were intelligent enough to pick up on the fact that their parents were sharing oddly furtive and morose looks, but it was unclear as to what those looks meant. Even Leo seemed to realize that things were frostier than usual, and he soon took to pushing mashed up bits of potato around his plate so that he could avoid looking at the rest of the family.

After dinner had been eaten and the washing up done, it was time for the usual ritual of helping to get the creatures settled for the night; it was only once the children had raced out of the shed to eagerly attend to some of the various creatures that Newt gently slipped his hand into Tina’s and cleared his throat.

“We need to talk about the letter.”

“Yeah…I guess we do.”

He took a deep breath before speaking again. “When are you to be…to be…”

“This Friday morning,” Tina told him softly.

“But that’s so…so soon.”

“I’m needed, Newt,” She stated, avoiding looking him in the eye; instead, she found herself gazing out over the numerous enclosures and habitats, at the children giggling in the distance as they petted some mooncalves. “They need people to fight and win the war.”

Her husband hesitated beside her, clearly uncertain as to whether he should voice his thoughts to her. “Tina, love, it’s not that I don’t think you should be fighting, it’s just that…the children.”

“If the Ministry needs me to fight-”

“Our children need their mother,” Newt stated, sounding pained. “I know that it’s your job and your duty, and I don’t begrudge you of that – but the children need you, Tina.”

Tina gnawed on her bottom lip, seemingly considering this proclamation. “I know the children need me. I don’t want to leave them,” She admitted. “You know that I don’t want to leave them, but…but I can’t stand by while other people – innocent people – are dying.”

He inhaled sharply, closing his eyes as her words sank in. “No, I know. I didn’t expect anything less of you, really.”

“I’ll be fine, Newt,” She tried to assure him half-heartedly. “I’m not about to break.”

“No,” He agreed, and he forced himself to smile weakly at her. “I know. You’re the strongest person I’ve met, you know, even if you don’t see it… I can’t help but worry though-”

“Worrying means you suffer twice,” Tina quipped before squeezing his hand and becoming serious once more. “Newt…while I’m gone, the kids are going to need you to be here for them; they’re going to catch on about the wars sooner rather than later, and they’ll need you to help them. And…” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “If something happens to me, then I need you to protect them.”

Newt couldn’t help but stare at her, wide-eyed by this sentiment. “Tina, don’t talk like that…”

“It’s true,” She countered. “There’s a chance it will, Newt, and we need to talk about it just in case it does. What I’m asking is that if something does happen to me and I don’t come home…promise me that you’ll take care of the children.”

His heart ached at the thought, at the very possibility that she would not return home – that she would be lost while fighting, never to return to the children, never to return to him. “Tina…”

“Promise me, Newt,” Tina repeated, voice harsh but also close to breaking – it was clear that she was only barely holding herself together.

“Of course,” He agreed, though it sounded hollow to his own ears. “I promise.”

She exhaled and closed her eyes, leaning in to lay her head on his shoulder; her hand was still holding onto his, and it was obvious that neither of them particularly wanted to let go. “Thank you,” He heard her whisper, clearly relieved.

The children continued to play in the distance with loud giggles as they ran about; for now they were blissfully unaware of what was to come, and that was how it should have been.

The night before Tina was due to leave was a rather miserable and unhappy one in the Scamander household; all of the children refused to sleep, and both Linnet and Leo especially shed more than a few tears at the prospect of waking up to find their mother gone.

“I d-d-don’t want you to go, Mummy!” Linnet sobbed, clinging to her mother’s arm desperately. “Please don’t g-go!”

Leo, meanwhile, had started to pull at Tina’s trousers as he wailed. “D-Don’t want M-Mummy to g-go!”

“I’ll be back soon,” Tina attempted to soothe them, managing to extract her arm from her daughter’s grip. “I promise, I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Phoenix s-said…” Linnet sniffled and gave a small hiccup. “He said people d-die in war!”

Leo’s bottom lip wobbled again. “No! No, Mummy, no!”

“It’s going to be fine,” Tina assured them hurriedly, and she knelt before them so that she could look them in the eye. “I’m not going until tomorrow morning – I’ll still be here when you go to sleep – and I promise that I’ll come in and say goodbye to you in the morning.”

“A-And…” Her daughter rubbed at her eyes with her pyjama sleeve. “You’ll write to us, Mummy?”

She nodded and forced herself to smile. “Of course, I will.”

“Every day?”

“Well…not every day,” Tina mused, tucking some hair behind Linnet’s ear affectionately. “But I promise I’ll write as often as I can.”

Leo threw his arms around her and buried his face into the crook of her neck. “Gonna miss you, Mummy.”

“I know you will,” She admitted, and her smile faded away as she wrapped an arm around each of them. “I’ll miss you all too.”

She made sure that Linnet and Leo were both settled into their beds, pressing kisses to their foreheads and tucking them underneath their duvets, before deciding to attempt to speak to Phoenix; the oldest child had vanished after dinner, remaining remarkably silent, and she knew that it would be best to have a talk with him. She took a moment to listen as she stood on the landing, and then made her way to Phoenix’s room down the hall; she could hear voices inside, and she had a strong feeling that Newt was in there with him.

True to her suspicions, her husband was sat on the bed with their eldest son and looking somewhat at a loss; both of them looked up at her as she entered the room, and it alarmed her just a bit to see that Phoenix’s eyes were rimmed red.

“I think perhaps you two should have a chat,” Newt decided suddenly, standing up from the bed. “I’m going to settle everyone in the case for the night.”

“Alright,” Phoenix mumbled, looking down at his bed sheets miserably.

The door shut behind the Magizoologist as he left, and Tina found herself staring at her son as she wondered over what to say – over what she could say. “Phoenix…”

“I don’t want you to fight,” He choked out suddenly, and his eyes were filling with tears. “I know that’s stupid and I’m…I’m being a baby, but I don’t want you to go to war.”

“It’s not stupid,” Tina murmured, sitting down next to him and shaking her head. “Being honest, I don’t really want to go either.”

“Then why are you going?” Phoenix retorted, furiously scrubbing at his face to get rid of the tears. “Just tell the Ministry you don’t want to go!”

She started to gnaw on her lip, heart sinking down into the bottom pit of her stomach. “It’s not as simple as that, Phoenix, it’s… I’m going because I know it’s hopefully going to protect you: your father and I don’t want you – any of you – growing up in a world where it’s not safe. Do you understand?”

He sniffled. “Yeah, I do. It’s just…” His face crumpled suddenly, tears streaming down his cheeks without warning. “I’m scared.”

Her eldest son had never been one for crying: even as a baby, he had usually slept through the night and not woken his parents. His sister and brother were more open to expressing their emotions like this, but Phoenix didn’t – perhaps because he knew, as the oldest, it was his responsibility to look after his younger siblings and set an example. To see him in this way – so upset and clearly distraught – was more than enough to prompt Tina to move closer and wrap her arms around him.

“Oh, Phoenix… I know,” She murmured to him; he put up no fights, instead leaning readily into her embrace. “I’m scared too.”

“But you’re an Auror,” He stated miserably. “Aurors don’t get scared… Do they?”

“Of course they do,” Tina answered, smoothing down the dark hair on his forehead and trying to remember not to lose her composure in front of him – it wouldn’t help matters at all. “Aurors get more scared than you know…and I’m scared right now.”

There was a lot she was terrified of: she knew that she would see horrific things while on active duty, that she would most likely see her comrades and friends die in front of her. She was frightened of Grindelwald – everyone was, there was no denying it – and of what a Muggle-madman was doing to millions of people across Europe, people like her and the children who were Jewish or otherwise ‘undesirable’; there was the fear of dying, of being killed in combat if she took one wrong step, and the fear of being captured and tortured by Grindelwald’s followers.

Most of all, though, she was scared that she would never see her husband and their children again – and, really, nothing terrified her more than that thought.

She had saved her tears for the bathroom, allowing herself to take a moment to cry in the privacy of the hot water. It would probably be the last shower she took for a while, come to think of it, and she should have been attempting to enjoy it for as long as she was able – but she couldn’t help it because it was all too much.

Fighting was the right thing to do, Tina reminded herself, for it would help to save so many innocent lives and contribute to putting an end to this war – but that didn’t mean she was happy to leave the children or Newt, by any means. She loved her family with all her heart, of course, and she didn’t want to leave them – but the longer this war wore on, the more danger they would all be in. The children deserved better than to grow up in a world governed by hatred and violence, and she was willing to fight to make sure that such a thing never happened.

It didn’t ease the pain at all, though: there was no telling how long she would be gone – or, even, if she would return.

By the time she had gathered her thoughts, the water had started to run cold; she turned it off before stepping out and wrapping a towel around herself. As she dressed, she tried not to think about how distressed the children had looked that evening at the prospect of never seeing her again, and she tried to rid it from her mind – thinking that way would not help at all.

It's going to be fine, Tina forced herself to think as she eyed herself in the mirror over the sink, and she splashed some cold water on her face to hide the fact that she had been crying just moments before. Of course I’ll see them again – I’m not about to go down easy, for one.

No, she decided, because she would fight – not only for what was right but also because she wanted to come home and see her family again. She would come home for the children, she’d come home for Newt, and she’d make sure of it.

Her husband was still awake when she entered the bedroom and closed the door behind her, clearly waiting for her to join him. She slipped underneath the covers wordlessly before wrapping herself around him in the dark; almost immediately he did the same, his arms strong and firm as they pulled her towards him.

“Do you remember the day that we first met?” Newt asked quietly, almost to himself as he held her. “It was outside of a bank; that Second Salem woman was preaching on the steps, and I bumped straight into you…you were eating a hot-dog, and you looked rather annoyed with me.” A brief ghost of a smile flitted across his face, only present a mere second before fading again. “The Niffler got loose and I chased after him: he caused more than enough trouble, of course, and you arrested me.”

“Well,” Tina said, the corners of her mouth twitching. “You did break the law.”

He gave a small, hollow chuckle at this. “Yes, I did. Things escalated rather quickly, didn’t they? One minute you were pushing me against a wall, and then the next we were trying to find several of my creatures…”

“And then you were leaving,” She murmured, resting her head on his shoulder and laying a hand over his chest.

“Yes, but I came back,” He reminded her softly. “I promised I would come back and I did…I even brought you my book, just like you asked.”

Tina smiled fondly, though there was obvious pain behind it. “Yeah, you did.”

Newt paused, clearly thinking and reminiscing to himself before speaking again. “I wanted to kiss you the moment I saw you again, Tina; I saw you waiting on the docks for me and…and I know this sounds rather silly, but I thought that you looked so beautiful, more so than I remembered – I wanted nothing more than to just kiss you. It would have been highly improper, of course, and I wasn’t sure if you would feel the same way…you could have had your pick of any man, really.”

“I can assure you I couldn’t have,” She told him sincerely. “To be honest, you were the first one who showed any interest in me and not Queenie… And I wouldn’t have wanted ‘any’ man – it’s only ever been you.” When he didn’t reply to this, she continued firmly. “I love you because you’re you, Newt, and I mean that.”

He was silent for a moment, digesting her words carefully and dwelling on them. “On our wedding night, I…I felt like the luckiest man alive to be with you, to be married to you. I know that you felt rather self-conscious that night, but to me you were – are – perfect; a part of me felt that I didn’t deserve you, really, that you could do so much better but…but I will forever be glad that you chose me.”

Tina had to swallow the lump in her throat at his words, forcing herself not to cry in front of him – she had to remain strong, she reminded herself, and crying would not help matters at all. “Newt…”

“That first time we made love,” He continued, lost in another memory of a much simpler time. “I wanted to make sure you knew how much I love you: I wanted to cherish you, not just for that night but for all of our nights together. I know that it sounds terribly trite, but it’s the truth…you’ve always been the most beautiful and wonderful woman in the world to me, and that won’t ever change.” He took a deep breath, closing his eyes; his hold on her tightened ever so slightly, bringing her closer to him. “You’re everything to me, Tina, quite literally: you’re my wife, the one person who I’m content to spend the rest of my life with…and you’ve given me children too. Three absolutely wonderful children who mean the world to me, just as much as you do. For that I’m so thankful.”

She had grown quiet and still beside him, her eyes glazed over as she stared at the hand she had pressed against his chest. “You’re everything to me too,” He heard her murmur. “You’re the first thing I see when I wake up every morning – you’re the only person I’d want to wake up beside every morning…it’s going to be hard, not to wake up like that anymore.” When he didn’t say anything, she continued on, voice trembling slightly. “I’m going to miss waking up next to you…I’m going to miss this, curling up at night together, miss how warm and safe you make me feel. I’ll miss being down in the case, being with our creatures and watching you look after them…and the children.” Her voice nearly broke at this. “I’m going to miss them so much it hurts, Newt…but I know that you’ll look after them while I’m gone. I know that if anything happens to me then they’ll have you, and…and that makes it somewhat easier.”

For a moment neither of them said anything else, merely cuddled together underneath the covers – and then Tina felt her husband’s body shaking against her own, heard him sniff. Before she knew it, he was crying beside her, unable to restrain it any longer; alarmed, she sat up slightly and took his face into her hands. “Newt…”

“I’m so sorry,” He choked out, and for a second she thought that he might try to pull away – but then he was pressing closely into her, holding her tightly as if she might disappear before his eyes. “I’ve been trying to remain strong for you, Tina, I have…but I don’t think I can anymore.”

“It’s okay,” She soothed weakly, though the lump in her throat had returned. “You don’t need to pretend around me – I’m here.”

His breath hitched. “I know. It’s just that I’m…I’m terrified, Tina; even though I’ve tried to tell myself that you’ll come home, I can’t help but think about what will happen if you don’t. I know that there’s no use in thinking like that at all, it won’t change anything, but I can’t help it – it’s constantly on my mind. I...I’m so scared that you won’t go back to us, that our children won’t have their mother; I can’t imagine doing it without you, Tina, I can’t…a-and I can’t imagine myself growing old without you either. Whenever I’ve imagined myself growing old, it’s always been with you and only you.”

“Oh, Newt…” Without warning, Tina could feel her own tears slowly start to fall too. “I know; I worry about that too, every day… I worry that I won’t get to see them go to school,” She admitted. “That I won’t…won’t see them grow up. I keep thinking about it, Newt: what if they have to grow up without a mother – without me? I know that you’re more than capable of raising our children – more so than I am sometimes – but I want to be here…I want to see them grow up.”

The thought of their children – three bright, beautiful children who she had helped bring into this world and raise – being without her made something in her chest twist painfully. If she were to be killed in action, then there was no doubt that they would be devastated and heartbroken – she was their mother, after all, and they needed her just as much as they needed Newt.

With this painfully present on her mind, she found herself burying her face into her husband’s side and allowing herself to cry; Newt’s shoulders shook under her arms as he failed to contain his sobs, hands reaching out for her. They sat together in the darkness, holding each other tightly – the last night that they would for an undermined length of time, and quite possibly the last time they might ever be able to.

For a few minutes, they merely wept together in the dark, the weight of what had been both spoken and unspoken hanging around them. The knowledge of their separation coupled with their shared fears seemed to unite them in this moment, for what would perhaps be their last moment, and neither of them wanted to let go – for letting go would mean moving on to uncertainty, to a future that neither of them could be sure of.

It was Tina who composed herself first, drying her eyes on her pyjama sleeve but not letting go of her husband even so; she could feel that Newt was no longer crying against her, though his quiet sniffles seemed to echo in the room. The very idea of leaving him – especially after so long spent together in every way it were possible to be together – seemed wrong and unthinkable to her. Of course, the idea of sitting by and not doing anything during the war whilst so many innocent lives were lost was also unthinkable – she had to do the right thing, even if it meant leaving her family.

“I have to do this,” She found herself murmuring, half to herself as she reached for his hand. “I have to.”

He inhaled deeply, allowing her fingers to thread with his own. “I know you do. I wouldn’t expect anything less.” She could feel his warm breath ghosting her face as he shifted, leaning his head inwards so that their foreheads were touching. “I just…I love you. I love you so much…”

“I love you too,” Tina sighed, closing her eyes; his body was so solid and alive next to her, a familiar comfort that she would have to leave behind, and in that moment she wanted nothing more than to feel it for as long as she was able. “Newt… Will you make love to me? Please.”

Beside her, Newt’s breath hitched and his hand tightened around her own. “Oh… Yes,” He agreed quietly. “Of course.”

Her free hand slowly reached to cup his face as she opened her eyes, looking at him tearfully in the dark; her thumb gently brushed against his lower lip, and it was obvious that she was steeling herself, forcing herself to remain strong. After a brief few seconds wherein they merely held each other’s gazes, Tina leaned in and tenderly pressed her lips to Newt’s. Beside her, his body seemed to relax a tad and she felt his mouth tenderly reciprocating; she could taste the salt from his tears on his lips, could feel his misery as though it were her own, and she wanted to forget – they both wanted to forget.

Their love-making was gentle and slow that night, neither of them in a rush of any kind – neither of them wanted it to end, for the end of it meant the beginning of an uncertain future. Newt was sure to press soft kisses to her body tenderly, taking his time to worship every scar and every blemish on her skin – everything that made her his Tina; there were many things he couldn’t bring himself to say, for saying them made the entire situation far too real. He was certain that there were things she was thinking but refraining from saying for the same reasons, and he didn’t push her to tell him – actions spoke louder than words really.

They finished together, in each other’s arms, and for a few minutes neither of them could bring themselves to move – separating would mean getting ready to sleep, and waking up would mean her leaving shortly after. Tina could feel his tears against her shoulder again, unable to hold them in, and she merely held him closer to herself – as though holding on would help.

When they finally separated, redressing in their bedclothes and settling underneath the sheets for what could very well be the last time, she pressed herself against his side and reached to take his hand in hers. Newt’s hand squeezed around her own, and he had to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat.

“I’ll come back,” He heard her promise quietly, voice wavering only slightly. “I’ll come back to you, and to our children.”

There was no certainty behind this, but he knew what she meant – that she would try, that she would fight her hardest to return to them – and that was enough. His voice was hoarse as he responded. “I know you will. Don’t forget, Tina, please.”

“I won’t.”

They fell asleep slowly, pressed together and whispering reaffirmations of love as the uncertainty of what was to come loomed in the dark silence of the room ominously.

I was originally going to write full-blown smut for this chapter, but I’ve been super busy lately so I decided to leave it implied for this fic – I will write up a smutty-outtake story for anyone who wants it, of course!

The children will definitely be more prominent and focused on in the next chapter, not to worry!

There’s a second part, so hopefully I can get that done soon – comments and reviews feed my muse, just so you know :D

[gyrlversion]

Aged just nine, Lauren lost both parents to contaminated HIV blood

When nine-year-old Lauren Palmer was summoned to a family meeting her first thought was that she might be getting another pet.

Or could it be about the washing-up rota that she and her two brothers were always being threatened with? The truth, however, was horrifying.

‘Mum told us that she was very poorly with something called HIV and that she wouldn’t get better,’ recalls Lauren, now 35. 

‘She said my dad had it, too. I’d never heard of it, but instinctively knew that this was awful news and burst into tears. Mum was also crying and put her arm around me.’

Within weeks, in August 1993, both of Lauren’s parents were dead – eight days apart. Her brothers, from her mother’s first marriage, went to live with their father. Lauren, now an orphan, moved in with relatives who she says resented her presence.

This Dickensian series of tragic events would be no less heartbreaking for Lauren had her parents been drug addicts.

But in fact she came from a respectable family and home was a pristine semi-detached property in the small village where her father Stephen had been an engineer, before becoming too ill to work.

He had haemophilia, the bleeding disorder, and was among those given contaminated blood products in what has been described as ‘the worst treatment disaster in the history of the NHS’.

Both Lauren Palmer’s parents died weeks apart after contracting HIV and hepatitis C from infected blood her father Stephen was given to treat haemophilia

Stephen contracted HIV and hepatitis C within the first two years of Lauren’s life, and in turn infected her mother Barbara. So great was the stigma attached to HIV and Aids at the time that Lauren and her brothers had been kept completely in the dark.

‘We knew my dad was extremely poorly as his body began shutting down during his final years,’ says Lauren, in her first interview since presenting her testimony at the Infected Blood Public Inquiry.

‘He would have blackouts and get very angry about his situation, and lash out at mum. Recent research into HIV shows it can cause a form of dementia in the brain. I was largely kept away from him, and it deprived us of a close relationship. Dad was losing control.’

Lauren is fighting for an acceptance of liability from the Government because it allowed contaminated blood products to be imported from America in the 1980s. 

Shockingly, imports continued even when doctors in the US warned that its citizens with haemophilia were dying after being given factor VIII concentrate, a clotting agent created from mixing together cells from thousands of donors. Stephen was given this on NHS prescription and administered it to himself at home.

Ravaged by Aids and barely mobile, he also suffered from bronchopneumonia, pancreatitis, jaundice and even paranoid psychosis. Stephen became so ill his own parents insisted that he move in with them to be cared for properly.

Lauren’s memories of her mother are happier.

Due to the stigma attached to HIV and Aids at the time Lauren and her brothers had been kept in the dark after their parent’s illness. Pictured is Lauren Palmer (aged around 18 months) and her mother, Barbara 

‘I had a porcelain doll collection and mum would take me to fairs so I could buy new ones,’ she said. ‘Some of my fondest memories are of us drawing and painting together, then snuggling up to watch my favourite Disney film, Lady and the Tramp.’

Two years before her death, however, Barbara developed a drink problem. From studying her mother’s medical records, Lauren knows this was a direct reaction to her fatal diagnosis which came at around that time.

‘Everyone was aware that HIV was a death sentence, so I can only imagine how terrified she felt,’ said Lauren. ‘She used alcohol as a way of coping. As a child, seeing the mum I adored in that drunken state was horrible and I still struggle with those memories.’

There may also have been resentment on her mother’s part. Lauren’s father’s medical records show that he had initially ignored advice to use contraception because he ‘didn’t think the risk of infecting my mother was worth wearing condoms for’. 

While her mother struggled to hold things together at home, Lauren looks back fondly on time outdoors with her brothers, four and eight years her senior, riding bikes and playing. 

Shortly after her mother broke the awful news to them, relatives moved in to help and Barbara was admitted to the Oxford Haemophilia Centre.

Stephen was being treated in the same hospital but the couple, now estranged, were kept apart and Lauren never saw her father.

This is the only picture Lauren Palmer has of her father. This article in the local newspaper was published because she was born on Christmas Day and show her with both her parents 

She vividly recalls sitting on her mother’s hospital bed, aware that she was very sick but having no idea that, aged 40, she was so close to death.

On August 19, as Lauren and her brothers were having breakfast with their relatives, a call came from the hospital to say that they should come quickly. As they were about to leave, the phone rang again. It was too late, their mother had already died.

Lauren recalls little of what happened in the immediate aftermath and believes blocking it out was her way of coping with the trauma.

She has since been told that she was offered the chance to attend her mother’s funeral and, in her grief-stricken state, declined.

She also vaguely remembers being informed that her father had died, aged 35, eight days before her mother. Lauren and her brothers were tested for HIV and, mercifully, found to be clear.

Shortly before her mother’s death there was a dispute about where Lauren would live. Her father’s family wanted to take her, while her mother was insisting she should stay with relatives on her side. Social services ensured her mother’s wishes were fulfilled.

‘Mum’s relatives didn’t live locally, and the hardest part was moving away from the area and being separated from my brothers,’ said Lauren, closing her eyes in a vain effort to block out this memory.

‘It wasn’t an option for me to go to their dad, but he’s a lovely man and I think if he could have financially supported me, he probably would have given me a home.’

It is nothing short of scandalous that the state, responsible for prescribing the contaminated medicine that caused the death of both her parents, did not step in and provide support to let Lauren stay with her siblings.

Lauren Palmer as a baby with her late mother Barbara who, along with her husband Stephen died from HIV in 1993 after he was given contaminated blood products for his severe haemophilia

Instead she had to make do with visiting them three times a year during school holidays. Although they never discussed their mother these were the only times she actually felt happy during an otherwise bleak childhood.

‘Where they lived was very rural and I loved the fact they had chickens roaming around the garden and dogs,’ said Lauren.

‘My cocker spaniel, Lady, was given away to a farmer after I moved in with mum’s relatives because there wasn’t room in the tiny cottage. Leaving my brothers always felt like another bereavement and it would take weeks for me to recover.’

As she told the inquiry, she was made to feel like a burden to the new parents she lived with. The marriage broke down soon after she moved in – leaving the mother struggling both financially and emotionally.

She explained that the daughter in the family, perhaps not surprisingly, resented her and she found herself living in a ‘cold’ environment.

She said: ‘I remember being told before my first day at my new school that I couldn’t breathe a word about how my parents had died – apparently even the headteacher was hesitant about giving me a place – because otherwise we would all have been ostracised. Back then, people were spray-painting obscenities on the houses of people with HIV, which I guess is not surprising given the terrifying ad campaigns, featuring tombstones, combined with the general belief that those who had this disease were all druggies and prostitutes, who some felt deserved it.

A letter written by David Rendel MP to Barbara Palmer who later died along with her husband Stephen from HIV in 1993

‘Thankfully, I loved school and escaped into my work, which meant I got good GCSEs.’

Lauren recalls visits from social workers who would try to talk to her about what she had been through, but believes they stopped coming because she struggled to open up: ‘I was quiet and withdrawn, mainly because I didn’t want to be any trouble to anyone. I didn’t feel comfortable talking to strangers.’

She spent much of the second half of her childhood, when at home, in her room, only coming downstairs for meals eaten in silence. Aged 17, Lauren moved in with a friend’s family.

Her relatives, she said, subsequently returned any birthday and Christmas cards she sent them, unopened, and she has not seen any of them since.

‘If outside agencies had stayed in touch and offered appropriate support, things could have turned out very differently,’ she said.

While this sounds like yet another thing Lauren could justifiably be resentful about, she doesn’t do bitter. For this, she feels indebted to her mother, whose favourite poem, Thinking, by 19th century poet Walter D Wintle, includes the line: ‘For out in the world you find success begins with a fellow’s will. It’s all in the state of mind.’

Having spent her late teens and early 20s working in retail, she went on to work on cruise ships for four years, a job that allowed her to travel the world.

She’s had boyfriends but, having being independent from such a young age, doesn’t feel the need that so many do for a life partner.

She also closed her mind to thoughts of having children when a doctor told her, shortly before her mother died, that she carried the haemophilia gene, meaning there is a 50 per cent chance any son she had would be born with the condition.

Lauren Palmer outside Fleetwood House after giving evidence to the Infected Blood Inquiry earlier this month 

In her late 20s Lauren settled in Bristol and landed a job working for cosmetics company Mac. While doing her pre-interview research she came across the company’s charity, the Mac AIDS Fund, supporting people living with the disease, and told bosses that this was a subject very close to her heart.

She said: ‘Having told no one, other than my very closest friends, how my parents had died – it wasn’t even recorded on their death certificates – it was a huge relief finally being able to open up. After 20 years, I realised I had no reason to feel ashamed. They made me the charity’s ambassador in the South West.’

But it wasn’t until 2017 – while watching the Panorama documentary, Contaminated Blood: The Search for Truth – that Lauren discovered her parents were among 2,000 people who had died, or became seriously ill, as a result of infected blood.

She contacted Jason Evans who founded Factor 8 – The Independent Haemophilia Group and whose father, also a haemophiliac, died in 1993 after being infected with AIDS and hepatitis C.

So passionate was Lauren about helping to secure justice for those affected by the scandal that she gave up her job at Mac, taking on a less demanding role elsewhere, to support the charity’s campaign for a third public inquiry. This began on April 30 and will run for six months. Victims branded both previous inquiries whitewashes.

The latest inquiry’s findings could be used to support litigation in the High Court, where claims for adequate compensation for those affected have been paused, awaiting chairman Sir Brian Langstaff’s report.

However Lauren doesn’t expect any cash that may be awarded stretching to compensate relatives like her.

She is still close to her brothers, who support her campaigning but, for personal and professional reasons, don’t want to be involved. ‘The devastation caused by this didn’t stop with my parents’ deaths, it affects our family to this day,’ she said. ‘We were innocent victims, pushed to the sidelines of society and left to pick up the pieces.

‘I’m not hopeful that we, the children, will get compensation. We have been very much neglected in all of this and haven’t received any support, certainly not financially.

‘We will probably have to make do with getting the truth, on behalf of all of our relatives who died in shame. That should not have happened, because they were all innocent in this.’

Surely it’s now time someone stepped in and gave this brave young woman the helping hand so shamefully withheld three decades ago?

The post Aged just nine, Lauren lost both parents to contaminated HIV blood appeared first on Gyrlversion.

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[dropitlikeits-pots]

Childhood Memories

Yesterday I felt so anxious and depressed that I just had to clean. The depression is part of the exhausted feeling. When I am overtired, I get into a depressive state. Even when I was little this was the case. And cleaning used to help me manage that feeling. The problem now is that my body suffers if I clean. I react to chemicals very badly and become tired easily but yesterday I pushed through. I cleaned for over five hours. I scrubbed my desk and drawers and baskets and walls until my hands were red and wrinkled and my wrists were popping out of place. Then I put a splint on my worst wrist and cleaned out the fridge and freezer. I pushed through so much that by 6pm I couldn’t walk. I was crawling on my knees and elbows and whimpering in pain. I hadn’t eaten since Monday afternoon. Mum was upset when she saw me but not nearly as upset as I was. See, when I scrubbed the underside of my desk, I realised that I hadn’t been under there since 2003. In 2003 I was bullied quite severely by my whole grade at school. I told no one until the school year was almost over. It left me raw and over emotional so it was easy for either of my parents or my brother to upset me at home. When I got upset, I would drag the pillows and blankets off my bed and lay down under my desk and doodle. I drew little pictures about what I wished my world looked liked. Seeing them yesterday, I realised something that broke me. These doodles were my biggest dreams at that point in my life. The biggest thing that Little Amy could ever dream up was the idea of having friends. I cried. I sobbed so much. Because the thing is, I’m here 14 years later, and I am lonely. I am so lonely. I am less lonely now than I was in December last year, just before we got my puppy. She became part of our family to keep me company. And she does a good job. Unfortunately, she is not human. She cannot hug me or talk to me, or help me when I need a hand. She is faithful and loves me and is a lovely companion. But she doesn’t stop me feeling lonely. Seeing all those “big dream” doodles yesterday brought all those feelings back. And all the words that were said to me. How even now, I struggle to keep myself from believing what was said to me. Those feelings are still with me today and I have had a hard time being human. I am grateful for the friends that I do have, I acknowledge that they are few in number. I can think truthfully of four friends. Only one of whom lives in Australia. And even she is going on exchange later this year which will put all my beautiful sources of love and light and guidance on the other side of the world. While one of my friends is coming home to visit her family in September, I do not expect to see her much. She is hoping to bring her boyfriend here and I know she would prefer to spend her time adventuring with him than at home me. And then she will be gone and I will again be on my own. This isn’t to make my existing friends feel bad, I appreciate them chatting with me more than I can express. What it is supposed to do is tell people how isolating chronic illness is. I am not the only one who feels this way, I know that. But it’s astounding how many friends fall out of your life when you’re sick. People still make promises to you and eventually you just stop believing that they’ll turn up at all. So to sit under my desk and feel those same feelings I did when I doodled those pictures, it was a lot. I had nightmares all last night, along with blood sugar crashes and a few vomiting incidents. Today I am too tired. I am deeply sad. I am angry with the world and with myself. The only thing I can think of to smile about right now is that my puppy is chasing her own tail and growling at it.

I hope to have some good news to share with you soon. I don’t like feeling like this.

[desperatesouls-desperategoa-blog]

so, something’s been really getting on my nerves lately.

it shouldn’t be a huge deal, but it is, & i’m sick of it.

people i haven’t seen or heard from in almost four years seem to have an issue with me & with my physical appearance, so i have decided to write a letter. 

dear people i knew, currently know, and those i have yet to meet.

i may or may not know you yet, and that’s okay. if you fall under the ‘people i knew’ category, you were probably around when i was struggling massively with my perception of myself. if you fall under the category of people i currently know, you’ve probably seen me go through a lot of those struggles, because i carry them with me to this day. and for people who are yet to be a part of my life, i hope you read this once you know me and understand where i’m coming from.

i tend to be pretty open about the things i’ve struggled with, because i don’t see the point in being anything but upfront with the people in my life. if you are one of the few people i have been around at any point in my life & don’t know the extent of this, i’ll give you a brief overview: i suffer from manic episodic depression, along with social and general anxiety that can be crippling in nature. i was also, for about four years, anorexic, with a tendency towards bulimia on the rare occasions that i did eat. i have managed to recover from my eating disorders, but still struggle with body dysmorphia on a massive scale every single day of my life.

i’d like to point out that while i may currently be in the recovery stage of all, if not most, of these mental health conditions, there are still things i find triggering or difficult, and there will always be reminders and thoughts that i can’t completely escape from that make me question my self worth or my value in society. the main issue i’m dealing with at the moment is the constant reminder of my body dysmorphia, and that’s the main reason i’m writing this. 

when my depression first became apparent, i was dealing with a lot of shit. i was bullied on almost a daily basis, regarding my skin colour (yes, white people can also experience racism), my figure & my appearance in general, and was being belittled and slut shamed despite never coming anywhere near close to the dictionary definition of the word ‘slut’. that’s what first brought on my body dysmorphia. being told every day of your life for four and a half years by multiple people that you are a ‘fat, ugly whore’ leaves its mark on you. they’re just words, right? wrong. 

at that point in my life, at a UK size 12 (which at that point was not considered ‘plus size’, might i add), i would look in the mirror and see fat everywhere. i resorted to self harm in the attempt to ‘cut it off’. having also been diagnosed with tendencies that on a larger scale would have also meant i suffered with OCD, i could tell you on any given day exactly how many times a blade had hit my skin. on average, i don’t think there was a point for approximately six to eight months where i was cutting myself less than a hundred times a day. 

when i realised that literally cutting myself open wasn’t making me any skinnier, i started restricting my diet. i had an account at the school canteen that my mum gave me money for, and i would use it to buy food for my friends so that she wouldn’t find out that i wasn’t eating. i’d come home and say i didn’t want dinner, because i’d eaten a lot at school today. my sister was at school with me & was none the wiser; she’d ask me to spot her and buy her things not realising that none of the food she ever saw me with was actually mine. i felt guilty about all the lying for a long time, but i’d gotten so used to it that it stopped feeling like it mattered.

the weight finally started dropping off, and everyone but me could see it. i’d hear remarks from people on the odd occasion i asked for a bite of their food like ‘wow, you’re actually eating something for once!’ or, from those who still thought i was too big, ‘are you sure?’. whenever i heard the latter my heart broke a little more, and i’d retreat into a bathroom stall until the bell rang again. i’d look in the mirror and see the same fat slut, and looking back at pictures now i can’t for the life of me understand how i couldn’t see it. i was so ill that it got to a point where my mum almost tricked me into being hospitalised because she legitimately believed i was going to die, and i hated her for it for months after she finally admitted it to me. 

when my sister graduated, we moved to a new country, and i was so relieved to be able to start over. at that point i was in recovery and had started being able to stomach eating two meals a day again, even though they were small. to this day, i still can’t handle eating breakfast for the fear that i’ll be bloated for a full day. 

once we’d moved, i started putting the weight that i’d lost back on. i’ll point out that at this point, i’d gone from a UK size twelve to a UK size 6. because i had recovered, and because i needed a fresh start, i stopped calorie counting and i stopped worrying about exercising altogether. by the time i graduated from high school two years later, i was the largest i’d ever been, at a UK size 16/18 depending on where i bought my clothes. but i was happier. i was free of all the drama that had ensued at my last school, and it didn’t matter anymore that i wasn’t the skinniest out of all my friends. i hated how i looked, don’t get me wrong - body dysmorphia doesn’t just go away. but i was happier for a while. i still had issues with my depression and anxiety; i still hated myself; but i had friends who actually gave a shit about me and wanted to support me. 

before i got that fresh start; when i was still stuck in the middle of all the shit being thrown at me, i was terrified of what would happen when i finally left for uni. i was terrified that with no one there to make sure i was eating, that one day my parents would get a call in the middle of the night saying that someone had found me dead in my room due to malnourishment or a suicide attempt. but after we moved i realised, ‘i can do this. i can be responsible and make sure i feed myself and that i don’t go back to the dark place’. 

when i first got to uni, the thoughts came rushing back in that i wasn’t small enough, therefore i wasn’t good enough, therefore i didn’t deserve to be loved or respected. my best friend at this point was tiny and drop dead gorgeous, and any guy i ever had a chance with would drop me as soon as they saw her. needless to say, other things happened and we are no longer friends. but being friends with her brought those things back to the forefront of my mind, where i’d fought so hard to keep them away from for two years. i’d stand in front of the mirror thinking, ‘what the fuck is wrong with you?’, ‘why aren’t you smaller?’ ‘how do you expect anyone to love you looking like that?’. but i persevered. i fought with myself every day and forced myself to make sure i ate. i hated myself for it, but i did it. and despite what i was eating, the weight started to fall off me again. you know that shit about the ‘freshman fifteen’ that everyone’s always talking about? it exists. but it exists as either a loss or a gain, and that’s the part that people forget about.

in late november (literally thanksgiving weekend for any americans reading this), two months after i left for uni, i had a random urge to go on my ask.fm for the first time in almost two years. i logged in, and saw a message from an anonymous source from the year before, informing me that someone i had considered my best friend for six and a half years at this point, had been bitching me out after i’d moved saying how fat i was and how disgusting i looked. bear in mind she’d been with me when i was crying in the bathroom every time i’d stayed over at her house and her mum had practically forcefed me a three course dinner and i’d run off to get rid of it. i was horrified. i sat there thinking, ‘have i really let myself get that bad? just by not thinking about it and ignoring the voices in my head telling me i’m too fat to care about?’. as you’ve probably gathered by now, we don’t speak anymore either. so as a random side-story moral: if someone can’t be fucked to be straight with you to your face, they are toxic and are not worth your time. you do not have to put up with their bullshit and you deserve to have better people in your life.

by the time i flew home after my first year away at uni, and after a year of not going anywhere near a scale, i weighed myself. and i’d lost 20 kilograms. not pounds, kilograms. and let’s be real, i was fucking over the moon about that shit. i hadn’t starved myself, or forced myself to throw up every time i ate. i’d lost weight the healthy way for the first time in my life, and i was so proud of myself for that. in terms of clothing sizes, i had gone from a UK 18 to a 14 just by eating twice a day and walking to and from uni every day. there were clothes in my closet in my old room that hadn’t fit me in years, and i could suddenly get into them again. i was fucking ecstatic. 

so, that’s the general (but not exactly brief) background on my struggles with food and my own perception of how i look. let’s flash forward to where i’m at now.

i’m about to finish my second year of university, and i’ve gone from a UK 14 down to a 10/12 depending on brand/store size discrepancies. i have not starved myself, or binge/purged, in almost three years now. i have not been near a scale since my first day home last summer. i didn’t need to lose any more weight, but i’m happy i did. because that’s what body dysmorphia does to you. it makes you feel like losing more is always better, and that an end goal is never quite enough weight lost. it’s a struggle - fighting those voices in my head when i drink too much and get a little bloated in a tight dress - but i’m here, and i’m healthy, and i’m alive. 

over the past two years, i’ve cut a lot of people out of my life that were around during the darkest four and a half years of it. i didn’t want the constant reminder of all of the people i was never good enough for. i did, however, keep one or two people around that have supported me through all of it. you know who you are, whether you ever read this or not, and i love you so much for always being such a solid support system. one of those people was an ex, but i don’t regret still having him in my life for a second. he is one of the best people i know and i wouldn’t trade him for anything. 

over the past few months, a few people we both used to know have contacted him and brought up my name - and not in a positive way. they have taken advantage of the fact that i no longer speak to them, and bitched me out to him. they have called me fat, ugly, and a few other things that aren’t worth mentioning. they are the reason i’m writing this letter now. my message to all those who were involved is as follows:

i have not thought about you, or your existence, since i left the school we attended together. you do not come to mind at any point other than the times when i hear you have been stupid enough to come to people i love and that love me back, to insult me and discuss my physical appearance. i hope that you are happy, because i wouldn’t wish my experiences on even my worst enemy, but i do not think of you. so for you to sit there and still bitch, almost four years later, about how i look and what i weigh, is completely ridiculous to me. i will not apologise if my weight offends you, because it is none of your business. i should not have ever had to feel like my weight defines me, and you made me feel that way over and over again. i should not have to prove myself to you through progress pictures, or through messages, or through fucking letters that you will never read. but because of you, i flinch a little bit every time someone brings up my weight. people saying that i look great and i’ve lost a lot of weight makes me physically uncomfortable, because half of me is so ecstatic that they’ve noticed, while the other half of me hates that that’s all people see of me. i will not thank you for the trauma or the pain that you have forced onto me, and i will not apologise for being fat, skinny, or any other shape. there is more to me than my exterior, and the fact that, after all this time, you can’t see past that, says more about you than it will ever say about me. i did not ask for your opinion, nor do i care about it. 

love, me.

ps. for anyone that struggles with any of the issues brought up throughout this letter, please do not hesitate to reach out if you need to talk. i am always here, and you are so much more than a number on a scale, or a voice in your head, or the scars on your skin. you can get through this, because you are stronger than any and everyone who has ever tried to tear you down. you matter, your voice matters, and what you stand for matters. don’t let anybody ever tell you different.