#and i'm well aware of my own dad's failings and what hes said and done

[seithr]

i went to lunch with my dad today and with regards to pride month starting it came up in conversation

today's revelations

my mom knew i was "a homosexual" already based on a different time I brought it up in the past but I assumed was forgotten

so her blowing up on me a few weeks ago for coming out AGAIN was needless drama and exaggerration and screaming

—that has left me with a fear response to certain words and clothing and locations now.

My Dad: Yeah she'd called me about "I don't want MY child being a homosexual" not long after your trip to her gay friend's wedding which I thought was really hypocritical of her to say.

...before this trip I'd argued with her about her hidden partner, where she said, quote "don't i deserve to be happy? don't i deserve happiness with someone?"

huh.

anyways my dad is now inviting me to pride.

[rosietaeyongswife]

stars | yuta nakamoto

genre: fluff, bit of angst wc: synopsis: never let the lost girl become friends with older guys. never. especially if they're friends with yuta nakamoto. an: quick piece of rubbish. rant maybe, idk. lmao i had to write bcs felt like it. admire my yuta nakamoto. i love him.

how much does it take to someone to finaly be able to listen to you? just once. you've always been there for your closest people. did anyone had issues? you were there to help. of course you were, because why not. you're here for it. you did all your best. but where were they when you needed them? nowhere to be seen.

it's always like you were the one to call. one to rant to. whatever. you did your best. never talks about you, but always listen and help others. when you've tried, topic lasted for a minute. next thing was their issue. isn't it unfair? even your own family. you just want to be listened which was near to impossible.

until you met new friends. until you and yuta crushed. most beautiful human being ever to exist. being around yuta felt like you're not just alive but you're actually living. he had never expected anything from you.

"i care." yuta shurgged, while holding you close. "i don't care about all your friends, nor family. knowing enough is enough, y/n. if you want to talk, do it. i'm there for you."

suddenly all you could feel was knot in your stomach. view in front of you was glossy, and tears went down your cheeks. it's bare minimum, you had never recived.

"yuta, i'd like you to hold me. let's just chill together, and stay in a moment. i don't know how much should i be grateful for you. i love you so much."

"don't say obvious things." yuta chuckled, and you could only stare into his pretty eyes. "one day, i want you with me. i want us to go back to japan. i want to spend my best times with you. i want to show you what you deserve. i love you always. you're stars in my dark universe."

yuta was always proud of you. smallest thing you've done, never failed to make him smile. yuta nakamoto is well aware of you. of your feelings. people you've met made you empty inside, and he's willing to do whatever to make you feel as happy as ever.

"you're doing great sweetie." he shows you thumbs up. "i'm recording it."

"yuta, stop."

both of you were in his kitchen. one cigarette in yuta's left hand, phone in his other hand filming how you were baking cupcakes for both of you. it felt embarrassing to be watched. yuta is crazily in love with you.

"i won't, duh. you're all pretty doing it all for us. i made five cupcakes, and here you are doing another ten. you're amazing, darling."

"yuta-" you stopped because he was in your face with phone. "please, you're can't be for real."

"smile for camera. one day, i'll show our kids these videos, you hate." yuta turned his phone, so back camera can film both of you. yuta with cigarrete in between his lips, and you awkwardly smiling at him. "to my future kids. here's your sweetest mother. she's still a bit embarrassed, because she's all new to affection and being someone's number one, but don't worry. daddy's taking care of her."

"yuta, why are you talking about kids?" you chuckled. "it's like, future? like too much to be talked about."

"i can promise you, it's true."

"whatever. hello our future kids. we're doing cupcakes because yuta said it's amazing idea. as you can see, he isn't the best authority to follow. bad influence for kids." you rolled you eyes. "why don't you throw this off."

"i won't. your dad is fuckin amazing, kids."

"he is." both of you were laughing. "yuta nakamoto is the best person i have ever met. i can promise you, everyone loves him so will you. your parents are fuckin best."

yuta ended video, and was laughing. "i love that my y/n is finaly letting herself be. i love you, darling."

"love you, yuta. forever."

maybe there's finaly person who wants to listen to you :)

[shwoo]

Grumpus Headcanons (1/3)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

I finished my big list of headcanons about the Bugsnax characters and their pre-game relationships, and it turned out super long! So instead of using a readmore like normal people, I'm going to post it in three parts over three days.

These aren't, like, analytical headcanons; they're mostly just me making stuff up that I think is plausible. I meant to do this a year ago, and even already expanded a little in a fanfic on the headcanon about Chandlo being a small kid (here). But I got it done eventually! The idea is one headcanon for one character or relationship.

Character Headcanons (Eggabell Batternugget - Gramble Gigglefunny)

Eggabell Batternugget I think she actively studied Bugsnax with Floofty, as well as volunteering as a test subject, but I also think that has some backing in the game, so it's not the headcanon I'm talking about here. The headcanon is what she was studying: the nutritional value of Bugsnax. This is how she's able to be so confident that they're a perfectly balanced source of nutrition in her DLC interview. She also tried to figure out what exactly made them feel so good to eat. Being an endocrinologist, she guessed that it was some hormone, and made some progress in figuring out whether that was true, but then the earthquake happened.

Clumby Clumbernut She wasn't interested in joining the Snackolytes, and said no once Jamfoot was done talking about recruitment bonuses, though she knew he was telling her, not asking. But she was the last survivor of her expedition, and Jamfoot told her that she probably wouldn't last long all alone. Based on what she'd seen so far, Clumby agreed, so she joined up with the intention of going back on it once they were back on the mainland. But the Snakolytes were a lot bigger and more influential than she'd thought. They're also the reason she's continuing to do a job she hates.

Cromdo Face Hiding his singing is a habit left over from childhood, when he'd get in trouble if he did something fun when there was still work to be done. He also didn't have a lot of privacy, making it hard to find a time and place to sing that didn't annoy anyone. When he got married later, his singing also annoyed his husband. The idea that crime was the best shortcut to living comfortably was his own, though.

Filbo Fiddlepie I've made up my mind. He grew up with Lizbert; he's Grumpus American-Australian. His family moved to… I'm going to say Grumpus Sydney when his dad was a preteen, and his dad returned to New Grump City after finishing year twelve, then moved back to a smaller town when Filbo was a toddler. Filbo speaks American English to please his family, particularly his dad. Also he definitely did not get his pen licence in primary school. I've seen his handwriting in-game. I came up with a lot of extra stuff about Filbo's dad, for a story that's still in editing, but I'd sum up his attitude as "I love my cringe fail son".

Floofty Fizzlebean They've always been interested in biology and experimentation, but their parents impressed the importance of consent on them early. As a result, they've been experimenting on themself since before they were in their teens. They accidentally poisoned themself when they were sixteen. Snorpy found them, and they spent a week in the hospital. Also, their hair used to be a more vivid purple, for reasons unrelated to ageing.

Snorpy Fizzlebean First, psychotic Snorpy. That's an obvious one. But not all the stuff he believes is a delusion. I don't know enough about psychosis to go into detail, but he is aware of it, and so is Chandlo, and they have strategies. Less so for the conspiracy stuff, since Snorpy is unwilling to talk to Chandlo about that. And being on Snaktooth definitely made things worse. But, he really is being monitored by the "Grumpinati" (actually the Snakolytes), even if he's wrong about some of the details. They were involved in the artificial limbs project, as well as some other things that Snorpy noticed but blamed on the Grumpinati. They could disappear him, but he's off the mark about so much, and they think nobody would believe him anyway, so they don't bother.

Chandlo Funkbun If he didn't work out all the time, he'd be skinny as well as short. His body doesn't build muscle mass easily. He got beaten up a lot as a kid, because his school had a bullying problem, and he kept trying to intervene, while also being tiny. He started strength training as soon as he could, and got stronger pretty fast, but he stayed skinny until after puberty.

Gramble Gigglefunny He grew up in a very rural area, and concluded that if he wanted to find a family, he needed to be around more people. So he moved to New Grump City, and waited for a family to come to him. Instead, he learned the ways you can also be lonely in a big city. His preference for animals over people didn't help. Lizbert's expedition was his third attempt at finding a new family, as he thought he might get along better with the kind of people who'd go on this kind of expedition than with the people in his home town.

[milatherese]

Update (TW: suicide - call 988)

I'm back (and not really better than ever, in some ways).

Since mom got sick, I have been mostly emotionally numb. Because my family was sick, I ended up spending at least a month alone with the medical decision-making and managing legal documents all while balancing my job. I pushed my emotions aside to "get things done." And "get things done" I did.

I remember reading somewhere that it takes at least 21 days to form a habit…and I spent more than 21 days straight of blocking out my emotions.

I won't burden you with the details (plus, you can read the details on your own), but the gist of my emotional well-being since my mom passed has been non-existent.

At the end of the reception of mom's funeral, a friend told me "Let me know if you need anything." I don't' know what pushed me to tell him this, but I said "If you know of any places that offer a silent retreat, let me know. I think that's what I need." I was very much aware I had been numbing myself to take care of responsibilities. I was also very aware that I did not know how to address my emotions. I guess I figured that a silent retreat of some kind would help.

Within a week or two, a retreat was scheduled. (I found out he had enlisted the help of many friends to financially support me on this retreat – thank you, all.) Although it was only about 5 days, it was a very fruitful retreat. God was with me in every moment. And I'm pretty sure I saw mom watching over me as I slept. But I'll save the retreat details for another time.

I processed a lot of emotions (some of them seemingly conflicting – which I learned is acceptable and valid) but I knew it was not the end but rather just the beginning of tapping into my emotions.

Unfortunately, the legal (work) grieving period in the US is only a few days, so after my retreat, life continued as normal [as it could be]. I still went to work and I ended up accepting another job as a music teacher at the school. My summer was spent planning for the school year as well as visiting my mom's side of the family (primarily for historical documentation reasons, before the rest of them pass away or lose their memories) and meeting my now-LDR's boyfriend's family (!!).

Soon after my "vacations" ended, teacher training began. And as soon as teacher training ended, school began as well. And as soon as school began, there began an uptick in special Masses. And as soon as all these things kept piling up once again (and very quickly, I might add), I went to my "default" of dealing with stress: numbing.

I had gotten so good at numbing my emotions that I could no longer quantify how close I was getting to my tipping point. (70% = I need to seek professional help)

[skip the next 3 italicized paragraphs if you ignored the TW]

My boyfriend visited me in October for about 10 days and I ended up spontaneously attempting to commit suicide twice. Obviously, I failed, but the fact remains – I attempted. I had never done anything of the sort. The furthest I had gone was having suicidal thoughts, and those were mostly fleeting moments.

I tried retracing my thoughts for the first attempt to see what suddenly led me to go from what felt like zero to one hundred…During a 3-hour drive home, I had received a call from work about certain things missing – because I accidentally had them with me. It wasn't a big deal, but to me, it was because others would be affected by it. It was then that I had my "first" thought: "I will get fired at my dream job because I failed." I called my dad who was at home to see if he could bring it to work on my behalf, but his tone sounded angry (or sad – he has the same tone for when he is angry or sad, but I decided that he was probably angry at me). And then I had my "second" thought: "I failed my father." Nevertheless, I continued driving home. "Being 3 hours away wouldn't help me," I thought. Part of the way back home, we (my boyfriend and I) stopped by at a mutual friend's birthday party. Since I was so exhausted from the day, I didn't feel like socializing and was going to the party (more like a gathering, tbh) to accompany my boyfriend. I didn't last long socially because it turned out my social battery was actually at -10. In my negativity, I stormed off and waited for my boyfriend to join me so I could head home. I knew I had disappointed him then, but I didn't have the time to think about it. I turned onto an intersection and then proceeded to hear the blaring honk of an angry driver who I had apparently cut off (although I'm certain he was speeding because he was not there when I looked while turning). And then I immediately thought, "Wow, I disappointed my job, my family, my boyfriend, and now the general public. Might as well just end it all now." I saw a big rig and I slammed on the gas in the hopes of ending everything right then and there. But then a little voice told me "No, don't. Think of the collateral damage." Thankfully, the old car I was driving only accelerated by 5 MPH from me slamming on the gas. So, I pulled into a somewhat empty parking lot and parked, crying big silent tears. My boyfriend didn't say anything, but simply pulled me into one of his big hugs and let me cry into his shirt, snot and all. He knew what had just happened. Later that evening, he told me "Don't worry, I signed up for this."

So that was the first attempt. I came to the conclusion that I had simply spiraled from driving in silence for 3 hours straight as a melancholic. I thought that was my first and last attempt, but I was wrong. During the next five days, I made a plan to do better spiritually, including having gone to confession by the 5th day in the morning (because my busy schedule would not allow me to go to confession any other time unless I scheduled an appointment, which I did not want to do). At work, I received a lot of rejection ("No, we can't do this" or "We don't have the resources for it so we can't do it"). I didn't think it was really bothering me, until day five when I attempted to go to confession. I went to a church I had not been to in years, walked in to the church 5 minutes before the scheduled confession time, and bumped into the priest walking out. So, I asked him "Is there confession today?" He was a young priest. Instead of answering me with a simple yes or no, he went full-on rage mode (as in an ALL CAPS situation, but I won't do that here for the sake of readability). "No, it was announced several times at Mass that there is absolutely no confession today due to the funeral!" I was not at Mass and didn't even see a hearse, so I told him that I wasn't at Mass. Then he yelled, "If you just walked into the church, you see signs all over the confessional doors that say there's no confession today!" Sensing his unjust irritability, I told him (as kindly as I could) "Sorry, I haven't been here. But thank you!" (Frankly, if I was a lapsed Catholic and met him, I would have never returned back to the Church. He certainly would have driven me away. I would have cut him some slack if he was much older, but he was in his early thirties and definitely not Benjamin Button. Please pray for him and priests like him who are causing division in the flock.) I walked back to my car (not my actual car, again) and, feeling all the feelings of rejection overflowing within me, slammed on the gas and headed straight for a brick wall. And then I stopped, remembering the advice from the little voice only 5 days ago. I parked and cried big silent tears again. This time, I was alone. I immediately texted a friend about these two attempts and she recommended I call 988 if I ever detect these thoughts again. However, the problem was that I no idea I was going to have these thoughts. The moment of clarity came after the attempt, not before it. (I also just realized I failed to mention I had my first panic attack over the summer, and took it as my warning that things were not okay with me emotionally and that I needed help.)

After I had time to gather my thoughts (including recalling my thought pattern) and calm my emotions, I called my boyfriend and told him everything that had just happened. I drove straight to him (he was staying near the church where I attempted to attend confession) and he prepared breakfast for me. And he reminded me that he signed up for this.

I realized that my issue was not that I had gone zero to one hundred, but rather that I was unknowingly already at ninety-five. I had numbed myself to the point of not knowing that I was already at ninety-five.

About three weeks ago, I spoke to my boss-boss about those two incidents. We scheduled a regular full day off for myself each week and lessened a few of my responsibilities. I also set up a meeting with a potential spiritual director (who I met with yesterday, but again, another longer post for another time). I reached out to my seminarian friends for help in finding a Catholic therapist and, for the first time in FOREVER, I got a call back from one of their contacts. So that will also be scheduled soon.

I also purchased a self-love card deck. In my spiritual direction, I was told that I need to allow myself to be loved because God loves me and wants to love me because that's all He loves doing – loving me. I'm hoping this card deck will help me love myself and allow myself to be loved. So, I'll work on one question card each day. And I might post about it, in case it helps you, too.

[haleigh-sloth]

Adding onto my last ask- I've seen so many people want different endings for Touya. Some people don't want him to be with his family at the end (eventhough I'm 100% sure this will happen and I want him with his family.) Some people said that they rather Touya die than have him reconcile with his dad while some people want to see that. Then they claim he doesn't care for LOV while others say he cares more about the LOV than his own family.But I love Touya sm. I just want him to live and be happy.

Ahhhhh

I'm gonna answer this separately cuz there's a lot, yep. This is exactly what I meant in my response to your first ask, split ideas for his character and where he should go and what he wants etc.

Me personally, I don't hide the fact that I want him to go home to his family. I also am not quiet about the fact that I'm 100% sure that's where he's going.

I obviously have no taste for the death ending, and I don't think that'll happen at all.

The other endings though, well, while they're not terrible--they're not what I want and they're not what I think the story is pointing toward in the slightest.

Personal take under the cut since I don't wanna upset people who don't wanna read this.

Me personally--I seriously dislike the take that he cares more for the LOV than his family, and I seriously dislike and disagree with the take that he would totally be fine if he had opened up to them and accepted their support.

I'm not gonna get into the analysis of the LOV and their relationships with each other on this post since that could honestly be its own post by itself, but I'll say that in my opinion--saying that Touya would have just been content with the LOV's acceptance completely ignores what we know about Touya:

His spiral started because his father basically cut off the parent/child bond cold turkey and made no attempts at rekindling it in a different way outside of training

His spiral got worse because his mother didn't have a strong presence in his life the way she did for Shouto. The only attempt we saw her make for Touya were words thrown at Enji, and Rei asking a half-assed question about the reason Touya wants to be a hero, not acknowledging to Touya's face WHAT was hurting him so bad, even though she was fully aware.

His spiral continued getting worse because his siblings, who were getting neglected and becoming scared of their father as time went on, could not be an emotional support for Touya due to being young children and to the circumstances listed above.

He died during an emotional breakdown after his father failed to show up.

He woke up from a 3 year long coma and immediately wanted to go home to apologize for the last things he remembers saying to his mother, and his siblings.

He RAN HOME

He saw that things hadn't changed, and that he had essentially been replaced, and that his existence didn't matter (obviously this is not the case, he did matter, but Enji is a vile piece of shit)

After seeing that his family had buried him in their past, he declared Touya Todoroki officially dead and became Dabi, and set out for the next 7 years planning his own suicide, his own funeral.

So yeah...personally, nothing about that tells me that even IF the LOV had all sat down and shared each other’s deepest, darkest feelings and miseries with each other (which btw there’s nothing to suggest that ANY of them have done that), he would have felt seen or felt any kind of relief. His pain is so directly tied to his family and his ABSENCE from his own family. He has cried blood two times in this series, and both times were when he thought of his family.

So yeah when I see the metas about Touya needing to open up to the League so he can openly accept their emotional support (which btw I don’t see them give each other as much as everyone claims they do) in order to start his healing journey, I just have scroll on by and ignore because I could not possibly disagree more. I don’t think the League is the answer to his pain or his problems.

That being said I’ve said it before that I DO see some positive development where he doesn’t just ignore his affiliation with the LOV or write it off as a convenience. Like, I think once he’s fully saved from himself (via Shouto+Endeavor’s actions) he can start to act more like he cares, because that’ll be after he finally is seen by his own blood, after he’s finally gotten what he’s wanted.

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

How about some Joe/Campbell. They are out somewhere together and Campbell is having an outburst of some sort, and it’s up to Joe to calm him down.

Warning: negative comments, outburst in public

On with the fic!

--

When Joe arrived to pick Campbell up for a day trip into the city, he found that the younger man was smiling, but it was clearly faked.

He asked, but Campbell just brushed him off, saying that he was excited, there wasn't anything weird about his smile. He was excited to go about town with his boyfriend!

Joe didn't comment, but he had heard hesitation when Campbell said boyfriend, and that put a seed of worry in his head.

"-maybe we can even stop by, see Eddie! Oh, he thinks you're swell, Joe, just swell!" Campbell was still smiling that plastered smile as they walked along the streets, listing off fun things he wanted to do today.

It was obvious he was covering up something, and Joe had known him long enough at this point that this was the beginnings of an episode. Joe didn't say anything, because he knew better, he knew that though Campbell was loud and proud about being, as he put it, a loony, sometimes he didn't seem thrilled when others pointed out his mood changes.

But still, Joe was aware that something clearly had triggered this, especially with how Campbell's moods had been so high lately, so much joy and excitement. Something big happened, and it's bothering him enough that his meds aren't helping.

"Maybe we can try that one place that he suggested to us." Joe spoke up when Campbell stopped speaking for a second to glance at something in a window. Joe stepped closer, brushing his hand against Campbell's, but the younger man suddenly pulled away.

A look of pain crossed Campbell's face, and Joe stepped back. "I... I'm sorry, did you not want to-?"

Something snapped that look off his boyfriend's face, replacing it with distress and guilt. "I-I'm sorry, Joe, I didn't mean, I just..." He scratched at his head, ruffling up his hair as he groaned in annoyance. "Fuck, I'm sorry!"

"No, no, it's okay-!" Joe shook his head. "If you don't want to hold hands, we don't have to!"

"But I want to! I really, really want to!"

"Then what's wrong? Nothing's stopped you before..."

"I don't wanna let my folks see me being your boyfriend!"

There it was, that was the problem.

Joe didn't know much about Campbell's family, but what little he was told was that he seemed to be a disappointment to them. Anytime he tried anything, his father shot him down, reminded him that he failed at things he said he was going to do. There had been a quiet, private talk on the phone one night, when Campbell was feeling down.

The younger man had asked Joe if he was doing the right thing, being a DJ for a mental hospital. He asked if he really was making his own mother into a loony by being one himself, locked up in a place where he did feel a sense of joy and acceptance.

Joe had talked him through it, had done his best to cheer his boyfriend up, and it seemed to have worked. But still, here they were, on a public street, with Campbell just as distressed as he had been during that call.

Carefully, the shorter of the two held out a hand, motioning for Campbell to take it. When he did, Joe walked him out of sight, away from people who had stared at them, and down an alley. He stopped, looking at Campbell. "What did they say? What happened?"

Campbell's throat bobbed and he looked around, as if worried someone would spot them. "I... Dad called me, last night, wonderin' how my treatments were going. If I was gonna be done with them and come home. I told him I was doin' fine, that they were working, but not quite up to what the doctors really wanted."

He looked at his shoes, toying with the sleeves of his jumper. "I brought up you, by accident, had said that I was feeling really good, cause of DJ-ing, and my friends, and my boyfriend. Dad... Dad didn't take that news well."

"What did he say?"

"He said that I just keep disappointin' him and Mum." Campbell's smile was watery as he looked up at Joe, it was clearly pained. "Apparently, I really do deserve to be locked up at St. Jude's if I'm gonna be havin' feelings for a boy I really love."

Joe stepped closer, pulling Campbell into a hug, feeling him stiffen. Then he heard sniffing and finally crying.

"Shhh..." Joe held him close still. "You're not a disappointment, you're so much more than that, Camp. You're amazing, delightful, loud, talented, very pretty, absolutely loony..."

He heard a small laugh and Joe found himself smiling against the other's shoulder. "Good with music, clever, ridiculous, and best of all you're the guy I've fallen in love with."

He heard another laugh, then a sob and Campbell was squeezing him tightly, kissing the side of his head. "I'm sorry for crying."

"Don't be."

"I'm sorry for being upset."

"No harm done."

"I'm sorry for the episode."

"Camp, I don't mind, this is normal and that's fine. You calm me down when I'm troubled, I'll do the same for you. Just let it out, then we can go get lunch, yeah?"

Campbell nodded and hid his face into the side of Joe's neck, still crying, but mumbling under his breath lyrics to a song that Joe didn't quite know, but he still swayed to the music anyway.

--

Campbell's mood is based on my experiences with a friend in a similar boat to him, and on my own experiences.

[devinescribe]

You Being Sick

And won't take medicine/you're very snuggly

Arisu

- The first thought he has is 'Is (Y/N) dying?'

- He can't help it, it's just... it's him

- Once you tell him it's just the flu/a cold, he's so relieved.

- Will give you whatever you need. Water, food, hugs.

- Doesn't want to force you to drink the medicine, but also knows it's for the better

- He doesn't know how to make you drink it without making you do it against your will

- "(Y/N)... please drink your medicine."

"Over my dead body."

"I-if you don't drink it... n-no more cuddles till you do."

- It hurt his soul to say that, especially your pouting face

- But it works, because you drink it, no hesitation

- Doesn't even notice the mess, he's used to messy places.

- If you throw up, he hold your hair back, while rubbing a hand in circles.

Chishiya

- But he does help you clean up after.

- Does get sick after, but he doesn't mind

- Mostly because now you take care of him

- And cuddles. Many more cuddles

- Doesn't care that much, as you are both aware it's just like the flu or a cold. Nothing to bad

- Now, the second you don't want to take medicine? Hahahahahaha

- He will shove the medicine down your throat if it's the last thing he does

- "(Y/N), darling, I'm aware it doesn't taste good, but it'll make you feel better."

"How do you know? What if it just tastes bad because it's bad for us, huh? Would you drink spoiled milk? No? Then shut up."

- Uh oh

- Goes off on a rant about how he's knows what it does because he was studying medicine, so you need to listen to him because he knows better blah blah blah.

- You stopped listening when he said a fancy medicine term.

- Says he won't touch you till you drink your medicine. And now we have a pouty, sick (Y/N) and a cocky teasing bastard Chishiya.

- Eventually goes back on his rant, and to shut him up, you drink the medicine.

- Doesn't want to hold you while you're sick because he doesn't want to get sick

- Is aware that he has a stronger immune system, but still

- I have a feeling he hates mess and hates that there's tissues surrounding your miserable body.

- So, he's constantly cleaning up while you're sick.

- If you throw up, he just watches, making sure you don't die. He then proceeds to bring you water, and a trash can

Karube

- if he decides, "Eh, fuck it." He will lay atop the blankets while you're under them, and holds your hand but that's it-

- Doesn't get sick. He doesn't know how, but he doesn't get sick. He just assumes it's because he's used to being around sick people.

- He's so sweet

- Brings you snacks and medicine, as well as whatever else you may need.

- He's worried of course, but constantly reminds himself it's just a cold/the flu.

- Does he give a fuck you're sick? No, he's still going to hold you and cuddle you like the world is gonna end.

- Does he get sick? No, surprisingly. He has a strong immune system, so... he doesn't care.

- Holds your hair back if you throw up

- Has to think of someway for you to drink your medicine. His first aproach was the stern voice, or what I like to call the 'dad' voice.

- "(Y/N), medicine."

"No."

"You need to drink your medicine to feel better. Come on."

"I said no."

"You're a persistent little brat, aren't you?"

- Ahahahaha, you're in trouble later

- His next approach was hiding it in your drinks/food.

- So he buys you a gatorade, juice, whatever it may be and sneaks it in there.

- You haven't caught him. Yet.

Niragi

- Already caught whatever you have

- So you're both in bed miserable

- Curses his anti-socialness as it's the whole reason he's sick

- But, on the bright side, he can hold you and has no fear of getting sick because HE'S ALREADY FUCKING SUFFERING-

- Ties your hair back so he doesn't have to hold it back while you throw up.

- Has his own hair tied back completely. In a tiny ponytail or a tiny bun

- You tease him relentlessly in your state. He's cute in these moments, not hot. Just... cute.

- Out of everything he's seen and done, you puking your guts out in the bathroom is the one thing he gets grossed out by

- Like... if he hears you, he gags because it's just nasty

- He doesn't mind the mess, because he knows you will help him clean after.

- Since a fever can raise your body temperature, he ends up shirtless most of the time, and you've stopped caring at this point

- He just swallows the medicine down quickly, and shudders at the taste

- you don't drink the medicine? Oh no nono

"(Y/N) just drink the fucking medicine so our torture can be over. Just pretend it's a shot of alcohol or something."

"No. I swear I'll throw up if I drink it. And plus, alcohol is fun. Medicine is not."

"Right now is not the time to be a brat, just swallow it quickly and drink juice after."

- News flash: It works.

Chota

- Can't stand the fact that you're sick

- Hates seeing you rolled up in blankets and not being yourself

- But, has 70 blankets ready for you if you need them

- When you do the grabby hands towards him, he doesn't even think about getting sick he just crawls in with you

- The fact that you're extra warm is just heaven.

- Except when it gets to hot for you, because then you start taking blankets off of you two, and eventually you end up needing to be far from him for a bit

- Will hold your hair back if you throw up, but ties it back in a ponytail or something

- Just because he knows you don't like him seeing you in such a state.

- When you won't drink your medicine, he just thinks for a bit on how to get you to do so

- Begging doesn't work

"Please please please drink it?"

"No! It's nasty."

"Please, honey, you have to drink it to feel better."

"No way."

- Gives up, knowing eventually you'll drink it yourself because you don't want to deal with being sick anymore

- He gets sick like three days later

- Does he regret cuddling you?

- Not at all

Last Boss

- Doesn't know what to do

- On one hand, doesn't want to get sick, and he know that his immune system is shit

- On the other, you sound miserable

- So, he ends up trying to help you

- It fails, now you're both sick 😁

- Mess. Mess everywhere. But, he doesn't even notice it, he's used to messy rooms

- Gets sleep, because he's so tired.

- Loves the added warmth of you.

- Starts liking the peace and quiet, because he knows Niragi won't step foot in his room knowing both of you are sick

- He doesn't want to to take his medicine either, how the fuck is he supposed to make you take yours?

"I'm not drinking that."

"Neither am I."

"So we're both in agreement?"

"Yep."

"Good."

- Just makes sure you're ok if you're throwing up. Like... he's heard of people choking because they throw up, so he's just making sure you live

- He's already warm as is. Now, when he's sick, take his body heat and multiply it by 20.

- keeps the blinds and windows closed so you two can sleep

- Will wake up to your coughing fits, and for a second forgets it's you, forgets you're sick, and just goes , "Can you please keep it down?"

To which you respond

"I would if I could. Sorry that I'm dying over here."

- Apologizes, before pulling you close to him

[rainydayhogwartsimagines]

I normally don't send requests cause I think I'm bad at explaining what I want to ask. But I was wondering if you would do a fred x potter!reader where fred is older than her. And she is realizing that she has a crush on the older boy. Yeah you can take it anywhere.

oh I have plans for this one

set in a non voldy AU

You were Harry's little sister, one year younger than him. He and you were close for the most part but something about this year was different. This was the year you were going to Hogwarts. James of course was excited to see his little girl go off to his school that he made plenty of fond memories.

For the most part you were excited. Until people started associating you with things your brother had done. "Way to go Potter, couldn't stop your brother from sneaking into the woods again?" "we lost fourty house points because of your stupid brother!" was just the beginning of the things that you heard. The worst part? You shared the same house as him. Therefore when he lost points, they blamed you for being unable to stop him. It got worse though when he retaliated against Draco after a colorful insult was thrown at him. Slytherins decided the best way to retaliate was to go for you. So prank after prank, fight after fight you were tormented and teased.

You kept this from Harry though, no one really aware of the situation until one of the pranks backfired horribly. Pansy fucking Parkinson. She did this, shoving you into the lake when you were near it. The problem? Mermaids. Ginny saw this and ran over, ultimately saving your life. She told Mcgonagall what happened, Pansy getting in trouble while you were mostly traumatized from even walking near the lake. You walked in, wrapped in a blanket and soaked. Ginny walked in behind you. "I'll make us some tea okay? Try to relax." She said. Fred and George looked up as you shivered. "What happened?" Harry asked. "You did!" You snapped. "Me?" "You think just because your a quidditch star you can do things just to get away with it! Well I've been dealing with the consequences for months! People keep blaming me for what you've done and I'm sick of it!" You snapped. Fred frowned. "Who did this?" He asked. "Slytherin." Ginny said. "George." Fred called, the two walking out. "I didn't know." Harry muttered as you got up and went to your dorm. "She's upset Harry... She'll cool off." Hermione said.

Fred and George both took it upon themselves to prank all of Slytherin to get back at everything they did to you. Pansy Parkinson? Was pissed. She walked into the Great Hall, angrily walking over to you. "YOU!" She snapped. "Me?" You asked. "DON'T PLAY DUMB POTTER" she snapped. "What did I do!?" You asked. "YOU PUT A SMOKE BOMB IN THE COMMON ROOM!" she yelled. "I don't even know how to get to your common room!" You said. "Oh come now Parkinson, surely you know a Weasley prank when you see one!" Fred said standing up. "You sent your Lackeys to pick up your mess, typical Potter!" Draco snorted. "I didn't--" "She didn't send us. But let the record show that if you mess with her again, we will end you." George said, putting a protective hand on your shoulder as Fred put his hand on your other. "Mark my words Weasley, you're going down." Pansy hissed. "Looking forward to it you insufferable git." Fred said, tipping an invisible hat to you.

Fred and George managed to get the heat away from you, but now they seemed to want to spend a lot of time with you. Both of the boys realized they didn't know you as well as they should've so they started walking you to classes, sitting with you and Ginny at lunch, they seemed to take some sort of liking to you. You however chose to ignore them, figuring the only reason they spoke to you was because of Harry. However, one day George cracked a joke. It was a stupid one, the punchline being a pun about a skeleton, but you laughed. Fred almost found that little laugh of yours to be... Cute.

The first year was coming to a close, it being the last week of school. You were sitting on the couch one late night, looking at the fire in the fire place. Fred sat next to you and you didn't say anything. "So we've completed another year." Fred said. You nodded. "You start your second year. You'll have a lot more activities available to you, think you'll try out for Quidditch?" He asked. "Hell. No." You said. "I'm not even sure I want to come back here next year." You muttered. "What? Why?" Fred asked. "Everyone cares about who my brother is. No one knows anything about me, no one has tried to know." you muttered. "Me, Ginny and George have." he said. "Try not to fret on what other people say Y/n. You want an identity outside of 'Harry's sister'? Make one for yourself. If me and George cared about what other people said all the time we would not be the legends we are now." he said simply. "....That's... Why do you care?" You asked. "Because we don't want you to go." Ginny said walking in. "We actually like you." George said sitting next to you. "....Okay... I'll stay." you nodded. "Aye! she stays!" Fred said, playfully roughing up your hair and making you laugh.

The school year came to a close, you and Harry going home. Two weeks in to summer though, Lily announced that you and Harry would spend the summer at the Burrow. "wait wait wait. Harry AND me?" You asked. "Apparently Ginny, Fred and George all want to see you too." Lily nodded. "But what about you and dad? or uncle Padfoot, Moony and Wormtail?" you asked. "We will visit you two, we all have work though honey." Lily assured. "Promise?" you asked. "I promise you we will write, visit, do you want smoke signals too?" James asked making Lily roll her eyes.

So you spent the summer at the Burrow, having the time of your life with Fred and George, actually becoming very close with them. The second school year started and you actually seemed to enjoy it, spending a lot of your free time with Hagrid and the substitute teacher for Quirrell... Uncle Moony. This year, Hagrid was to take care of a dragon for Fred's brother. It was sick, Charlie being unable to cure it. He figured Hagrid would have better luck so he sent it to him. You helped Hagrid out all the time so Hagrid decided that you should give it a shot. Well something you did worked because the dragon was better in no time. Which prompted a LONG letter to Fred about his best friend and asking for information about you. "IS SHE HOPING TO HAVE A CAREER WORKING WITH MAGICAL CREATURES, PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF MERLIN SAY YES!" or "IS SHE SMART? WHAT AM I SAYING OF COURSE SHE'S SMART" were just a few of the many pages he sent.

"Okay, what did you do to get my brother to like you?" Fred asked, setting the thick envelope next to you as he sat down. "What?" you asked. "My brother Charlie messaged all of us questioning who you were and if you wanted to work with dragons." George explained. "Wait what do you mean, all of you?" you asked. "All of us." Ginny, Ron, Fred and George all said. "Seriously, what did you do?" George asked. "Well... Charlie sent Hagrid a sick dragon, he couldn't seem to cure it. I've been helping Hagrid so once Hagrid seemed to fail they asked me to at least try... Something I did worked because Blaze was shipped back this morning and he's okay." you explained. "Think you'll answer him?" George asked Fred. Fred looked at you and then the letter. "Do you want a career with magical creatures?" he asked. Harry rose a brow and noticed you ponder this before nodding. "Yeah. I think I do." you nodded.

So Fred answered the questions, sending a letter back to his brother. Two weeks later you were sitting in the Great Hall, talking to George when the doors opened and this wild looking homeless guy ran in. And he ran up to you. You jumped back before Fred choked on his drink. "CHARLIE!?" He and George gasped. "This is Charlie!? I thought he was homeless! or a crazy guy! or both!" you gaped. "Tell me I've got the right kid." He said. "Would you slow down Mister Weasley, we all need to have a long discussion about what's best for Y/n." Remus halted. "Right! Your office or Hagrid's?" Charlie asked. Remus looked at you and then Charlie. "Alright. Mine." Remus sighed before you three walked off. "What does your brother want with my sister?" Harry asked. "I have no idea." Ron answered. " I think I know." Ginny muttered.

Well that summer you ended up apart of a apprenticeship. Was Lily thrilled for you to be working close with dangerous creatures in a foreign country? no. But you seemed to be working towards a goal which she was proud of. So you spent your summer in Romania with Charlie and his many, many, many, MANY dragons. Due to the fact that the postal service in Romania was less than stellar though, no one had heard from you except James and Lily who was checking in with officials regularly.

By the beginning of the year, you still were missing by the first dinner. Until George noticed you walk out of the faculty door near the table. Fred locked onto you. You looked... Different. Your hair was longer, your eyes were brighter and you seemed.... more mature. You didn't have to do anything, you didn't have to say anything to voice the newfound maturity, it was in the way you stood and carried yourself. You were wearing this leather type armor, standing there with a small grin as Charlie emerged from the door behind you.

"What's Charlie doing here?" Ron asked. "No clue, this is the first I've seen Y/n with my own eyes since she left for Romania." Harry said. "We thought you wrote to her." Ginny said. "Tried, the mailing in Romania is bad. Something definitely happened over there though. Mum and Dad took off in a hurry that one week, it's why I was with you guys for those few weeks of summer." Harry explained. Fred rose a brow, noticing a mark on your neck... It was almost like Remus's scar. He wasn't sure if what he was seeing was actually a scar though, seeing as the armor seemed to cover most of your body.

Charlie leaned over, whispering in your ear and you nodded before whispering something back. Charlie seemed to resist laughing at something you said before you walked over and sat down. "Hey guys, how was your summer?" You asked. Harry blinked. "....Anything else to add to that?" He asked. "...Uh... Nice to see you bro?" you asked. "...How about 'hey, so I'm wearing armor the first day I'm at school' or something!" Harry huffed. "Actually I have to wear this on the job, metal armor gets too hot and the leather actually works really well for dragons who are teething." you explained. "You've spent too much time with Charlie." Ginny observed. "What was it like?" Harry asked. "I thought mum and dad would've told you, they were in Romania the last two weeks...?" You said confused. "Wait, back up, your parents left too?" George asked. You blinked. "Yeah, why?" you asked. "Dad left pretty damn quick to Romania a week ago, so did our brother Bill." George pointed out. "Oh... We had an... incident." you coughed.

"What incident?" Fred asked. The Great Hall doors seemed to answer your silent prayers as they opened. Two large groups stood there, one in some powder blue uniform, the other wearing a red uniform. You recognized a few of the students in red and as they entered the room it was clear a few of them recognized you. You ducked your head down, hiding a bit from the boys. "Would the Durmstrang students please sit with Gryffindor and the Beauxbatons sit with Ravenclaw" Mcgonagall instructed. "shit." you muttered. "Rider?" A boy called. "Rider's here!?" Another boy asked. "Who is Rider?" Ron asked. "Afternoon, Rider." a voice said, sitting next to you. Both Ron and Harry looked as if their eyes were about to pop out of their heads. "There's no way that he's talking to--" "Hey Krum, how's it going?" you greeted, seeming like you were trying to avoid the odd nickname the boys called you by. "I didn't think you'd return to Hogwarts when I met you, I'm surprised." He said. "What? wanted me in Durmstrang?" you snorted. "Yes." students from Durmstrang all replied in unison. Fred rose a brow. "Wanna introduce us to your famous friend here Rider?" Fred asked. "Oh. Viktor, my best friends Fred, George and Ginny. Down there is my brother and his friends Ron and Hermione." You said. They all waved but Krum pointed at Hermione. "You were at the World Quidditch game." he commented.

She looked at Harry confused on how he'd be able to recognize her face considering they never met each other. You noticed that look in Krum's eyes. He found her to be attractive. "Wanna explain why a famous quidditch player knows you?" George asked as Krum seemed veered off in a conversation with Hermione. "Met him in Russia." you said. "You were in Romania?" Fred said confused. "Oh we were trailing a Ukrainian Ironbelly that decided to go rogue and long story short... I rode a dragon." You said. "Merlin's Beard your summer sounds exciting." Neville said. "Oh it was life changing." You laughed. "So think you'll stick with the whole dragon thing?" Ginny asked. "Oh hell yeah!" you said, biting into an apple. "so why is Durmstrang and Beauxbaton here?" Hermione asked. "Oh, we figured you knew. The Triwizard tournament." A boy answered.

Fred and George perked up. "The what?" Fred and George asked in unison. "The-- " "Hogwarts is proud to announce that we are holding the Triwizard tournament. Students third year and older may participate, we encourage all of you to put your names in the cup. Only one submission and there will be an age line around the cup to ensure the younger students do not try anything." Dumbledore announced. "Wicked." Fred and George said in unison. "I've missed that." you chuckled. "Missed us did you?" George teased. "Of course. You've made school barrable." You said with a smile. Fred felt it again. The strange warm feeling. You turned back to Ginny and Fred just looked at you as you carried on a full blown conversation with her.

The week carried on with you being called out of certain classes. You would disappear with Hagrid and reemerge with soot on your face or just not come back entirely. You didn't say a word to anyone as to why, not even Fred and George. "Wanna explain why you've been disappearing?" George asked. "Oh, Hagrid just needs help with his lessons." you lied. Course, Fred knew there was some truth to what you were saying. It was like the apprenticeship didn't end in Romania and simply picked back up with Hagrid.

The boys never pressed you any further on it but certainly questioned why a few ministry workers were also pulling you out of class, asking you questions. On top of the oddities you were always wearing a scarf or ensuring your neck was covered. Cedric Diggory asked about this once and got a half assed answer about the Whomping Willow. The group knew better though. Something definitely happened in Romania, what is was not even Harry knew. You walked into the common room at almost two in the morning, unaware of Fred still being awake as you tip toed towards your dorm. "Hold it." He halted. You froze and looked over. "What were you doing out this late?" He asked. "Hagrid. Again. Claimed he spotted a unicorn and wanted me to try to find it." you lied. "Cut the crap Y/n, what were you doing?" He asked. You huffed and sat down. "Ministry meeting." you said. "And you were at a ministry meeting because...?" He asked. "Because we're trying to hunt someone." you muttered. "We? Why are you involved in ministry business?" Fred asked. "Do you know who Fenrir Greyback is?" you asked. "The guy who's trying to make a 'werewolf army'?" Fred asked.

You nodded, a far off look in your eyes. "We found him." You muttered. Fred blinked. "What do you mean, 'we' found him?" He asked. You took off your scarf, undoing your tie and revealing a scar on your neck. "It's why mum and dad took off. Harry doesn't know because we all know he'll get way too worried and then try to do something himself." You muttered. "What happened?" Fred asked. You stared into the flames of the fireplace. "We were in Belgium, chasing a dragon." you began. "It took us through the mountains and before we could turn back it triggered an avalanche. We got stuck in a cave for about two days, me and Charlie had to go deeper to find an exit. Well, when we got to the other exit of the cave we found him, he was hunched over and feeding on a rabbit. He seemed like he was going to attack Charlie but... He saw me and changed his mind I guess." you answered. You shook your head and let out a long sigh. "We got lucky that the other part of our group found us and chased him off but by then the damage was done. The ministry has been asking questions since." you muttered. "Does it hurt?" Fred asked. "Only when I think about how I got it." you answered. Fred said nothing else and you figured he was just processing what he heard.

Instead he wrapped his arms around you and just... Held you. "Fred what are--" "Let me just... hold you for a bit. I may not be able to keep you safe when your off in places like Romania but at least when you're here I can protect you." He said. You relaxed in his gasp and laid against him. "I wouldn't be so sure about that, I'm usually waltzing with danger by this point." you said making him chuckle.

The next morning you two were found asleep on the couch against each other. "Oi. Lovebirds, Dumbledore's got an announcement." George said. You leaned up, realizing that you fell asleep on Fred. And that your tie was off. And that Harry's eyes were locked onto the scar. "Shit." You muttered. Fred leaned up and you sighed. "Harry--" "Don't explain. I probably do not want to know." He said. "Who gave that to you?" Ron asked. Harry tried avoiding looking at it but at his second glance he realized what they were. "forget what I said earlier, when the fuck did you meet a werewolf!?" Harry asked. The group all looked at him. "Harry." You sighed. "It wasn't... Him was it?" He asked. You frowned. "How could you even ask that!? No it wasn't Him!" You snapped. "I'm just trying to get answers!" he said. "And I'm not giving them to you, let's go see what Dumbledore wants." you said, retying your tie before walking out.

Harry however just walked and pestered you. George looked over at Fred who was watching you with this almost... sad look. "What happened last night?" George asked. "She's been through a lot George." Fred muttered. "...You like her." George realized. "What?" Fred asked. Oh poor Fred. The moron was so dense he didn't even realize that was the case. "I don't... I mean I... What?" Fred asked. "You like her." George repeated. "I don't--" You sat down in the Great Hall, Fred sitting across from you and whispering now to George. "I don't." he said.

Still though, when Dumbledore was speaking he heard none of it. Instead he was so focused on you and that damn scar. "Now for the Champions." Dumbledore cleared his throat. Dumbledore cleared his throat. Pieces of parchment flew out from the cup. "Viktor Krum." Dumbledore called. You clapped for your friend, seeming nervous though for some reason. "Fleur Delacour." again, you clapped but your expression seemed very worried. "Please, please, please." you whispered. "Y/n Potter." Dumbledore called. The whole table looked at you with a shocked glance as you seemed relieved and you walked over with the rest of the champions. "She put her--" "Name in the--" "Cup." Harry finished Ron and Ginny's thought.

You went to some sort of meeting for the champions but when you got back all of the Weasleys and Harry were standing there. "What in the hell were you thinking!?" Harry asked. "Gee, I need a new death experience this year." You said sarcastically. "Y/n, he has a point. You've been through a lot this summer and now you want to go into a deadly competition?" Fred asked. Fred had made it clear to the rest of the group he had more answers than they did. "Look I will be a lot better off than the others, I already know what the first challenge is." You said. "Oh and what's that?" Harry asked.

There they stood in the Forbidden Forest behind various bushes to keep hidden from the keepers as they got a shocking answer to their question. Dragons. The answer as horrifying as it may have been was dragons. You stood there in your leather armor talking to Charlie who seemed to be laughing with you. It was clear that Romania made you two closer. You seemed to thrive in this environment. You loved this job and it was clear with the way you handled everything. "Wand at the ready!" a man said. "Let the kid try first Markus." Charlie halted.

A dragon thrashed in his cage, growling. You walked up to the cage, getting closer than most of the workers had been able to. The dragon clearly recognized you. "Zephyr... Calm. Remember what we practiced." You said softly. The dragon almost seemed conflicted as it grunted. It shifted but seemed to relax. "Have any weasels or rabbits?" You asked. They handed you a dead rabbit and you tossed it to the dragon as a reward. "I say, you will probably have the quickest time compared to the other two students." A ministry worker said. "I almost feel like I have a unfair advantage." you said. "You do. But everyone cheats in this thing." Charlie said. You nodded. "Hey. You've got this Y/n... Have you thought about what you're going to do with the reward money?" Charlie asked, sitting on a crate. You rolled your eyes, sitting next to him. Both of you had moved close enough that the group could hear you very well now. "I don't know if I'm going to even win." You said. "Okay, okay. But let's say that you do. What will you do with the money?" Charlie asked. You pondered. "Give it to Fred and George." you said.

Fred and George looked at each other, shocked by your answer. "Really? None of it for yourself?" Charlie asked. "Dad's family comes from money, on top of that, both of my parents work. I'm set for now. I don't need the money. Fred and George though? They have an underground business going on and I think they are going places. They just need the money for it." You said. "Can I ask you something?" He asked. You nodded. "What's going on with you and my brother?" Charlie asked. "Which brother are you talking about?" You avoided the question. Charlie gave you a "You know exactly who I'm talking about" look. You sighed with a nervous blush. "I don't know." you said. Harry looked over at the twins who were listening intently.

"Sometimes I think that he likes me too, other times I know that he's two years older than me and he probably sees me as a kid." you said. George looked over at Fred who was swallowing hard. Charlie shook his head. "I don't think he does. The letter he wrote me about you seemed pretty damn genuine." Charlie said. "What do you mean?" You asked. "I asked him to send me a character reference for the apprenticeship." Oh no. no no no. Fred was the only person who was asked for this outside of faculty members, he knew now they were talking about him. "Hold on a minute." Charlie said. He walked away, leaving you alone for a few minutes. George snuck over to Hermione, Ginny, Harry and Ron. "Aye. This is getting way too personal, you guys should go." George said. Hermione was already sneaking back, as was Ginny. Harry frowned and Fred just seemed to be... Frozen.

His feelings were only just now hitting the poor jackass. "Here." Charlie said, handing you a letter. You sat there, silently reading the letter. First off: Fred could write really well. It was a talent you had no idea he had. The other thing was that it definitely showed some degree of him liking you. Course he described you as "The best friend I didn't mean to gain but glad that I did" which made you slightly unsure if Charlie was right or not. "He is definitely in love with you." Charlie said. "He calls me his best friend Charlie." You halted. "My brother does not write like that unless there's a driving force behind his emotions. He. Loves. You." He said. Harry looked over at Fred and George sighed, looking down. Harry gave a questioning look to Fred but his face said it all. The defeat and acceptance on his face said it all.

The group left and went back to the common room. "Harry? Buddy? Say something." Ron said. "My sister." Is all Harry began with. Fred sighed, running a hand over his face. "You have a ton of girls around you. And you choose my SISTER!?" Harry gaped. Fred couldn't meet the boy's eyes. "Harry. Lay off." Ron said before both Fred and George looked over with a surprised look. "Y/n has proven to be more than capable of navigating things on her own. I don't think Fred even planned this much less knew of his own feelings." Ron said. "...Ron you've been hanging with Hermione way too much." George said. "Well at least I got a little smarter." He shrugged. Harry ran a hand over his face. "I need sleep. That's it. I need to sleep." he said walking away. Fred sat there on the couch in silence, Ron and George sitting in the chairs near him. "What are you going to do?" George asked. "Ignore it." Fred muttered. "What?" Ron and George asked. "Got anything better? Because I'm all ears here!" he asked. Panic was on the boy's face, his eyes wild. "Her uncles could kill me! Her brother, who is a very close friend of mine is pissed! What the hell am I supposed to do!?" Fred asked.

George sighed and leaned forward. "Ignore the outside opinions and go for it." George finally said. "Did you not just--" "I heard you. But when have other people ever influenced your decisions?" George asked. "You have. A lot." He muttered. "Because we're a team and a team makes decisions together." George said. Ron nodded. "I think he should go for it." Ron said. "Go for what?" you asked, walking in. The guys all froze and you blinked. "You guys okay? You seem tense." You said. "We're all good." George said. "Right... I'm going to bed I'm tired." you shrugged before leaving.

You stepped into the dorm, Ginny and Hermione looking over. "You guys are still up?" you asked. "Yeah. Y/n, sit down we've got somethings to tell you." Hermione said. You sat down, confused. "Is something wrong?" You asked. "We know about you liking Fred." Ginny said. Your heart dropped. "Uhm... what?" you asked, voice small. "We know." Hermione repeated. "Who knows?" You asked. "What?" Ginny asked. "Who all knows?" You asked. "...George, Ron, Harry--" "Fuck." you whined. "And Fred." Ginny added making your face drop. "What!?" You gaped. "Your brother decided to follow you out, we went with him figuring that you were going out to whatever challenge was happening. We were right to an extent but then Charlie and you started talking. Me and Hermione left, George tried to get Harry to at least go but then Charlie started talking and it was too late." Ginny said. You ran your hand over your face before getting up. "Where are you going?" "Out."

You ended up sneaking outside, sitting on the ground near the whomping willow. Filch never really walked over to the area so you felt in the clear. You were picking at the grass, looking over the hillside. You weren't exactly thrilled, having a crush on an older boy. If you could take back your feelings, by God you would. This was scary and tiring all at once. Harry was probably pissed, the girls probably were judging the hell out of you right now and Fred... God Fred probably thought you were ridiculous.

"Y/n?" A voice called. You looked over to see Sirius with a backpack. "Uncle Padfoot?" You said confused. You looked over at the moon. It wasn't full yet, so what was he-- You saw his backpack and instantly knew. "Brewing a Wolfsbane potion?" You asked. He sat down his bag with a nod, sitting next to you. "It's almost three in the morning, what are you still doing up?" He asked. "A lot on my mind." You muttered. "Is it the tournament? We got the letter you were in it." He asked. You shook your head. "Talk to me pup." He said. You hesitantly explained your situation and Sirius chuckled.

"James is going to hate this." He said. "I don't know what to do Padfoot. I feel like he's going to think I'm crazy-- I don't want to ruin our friendship but I think I just did!" You groaned into your hands. Sirius patted your back. "Y/n, you didn't ruin anything, if worst come to worse, play dumb." He teased. Your lack of laughter told him you were seriously conflicted. "Y/n... You may be young. But the possibility is not impossible, in fact it's very likely he feels the same." Sirius said. "How do you know that?" You asked. "Because when I visited you over the summer I also went to the Weasleys about three days after. I wanted Molly to know." He said. "When I showed up Fred was pestering me with so many questions. I let him know you were 'sick' and even then he was worried." Sirius said. "What if he doesn't feel the same Padfoot?" You asked. Sirius looked over at you. "What if he does?"

You ended up going back to the dorms. Breakfast that morning had a noticeable absence of you. You didn't show up for dinner either. Fred was now very much aware that you knew that he knew. Ginny hadn't seen you for the next few mornings, Hermione only saw you walking to classes but never in your dorm. In fact, if it weren't for the signs of you actually coming back to the dorms and Peeves confirming that he had seen you to the twins, everyone would've assumed you just left. Today though, there was no avoiding you. It was the day of the first challenge. Your mother, father and uncles were all waiting with you in the tent as the other champions were preparing. "You've got this Y/n." Sirius said. You nodded, putting on a pair of gloves. You wished Fred was here to calm your nerves but he wasn't. You were the one that drew the Horntail. That dragon did not like you, nor did it take to training like the others. This one was aggressive. Though, you knew exactly how to deal with that.

Harry hugged you. "You kick ass out there." He said. "Will do." you said. "Potter. You're up." You stepped out of the tent and James wrapped his arm around Lily who was clearly nervous for her daughter. You stepped out, the crowd roaring for you. You swallowed hard, seeing Fred sit up straight as he watched you. Fred mouthed "are you okay?" mouthed. "Kill. me." you mouthed back, earning a small smile. Then you heard it. The unsettling growl rang out and you drew your wand. Charlie stood in the tent, watching you. "Accio Ranger." you said sharply. "The hell is a ranger?" Peter asked James who was shrugging in response. A small tube flew to your hand and you stood guard. You side stepped near the golden egg and it lunged, you pressing a button on the side of the tube like object. A blade shot out of it earning a few gasps from the crowd.

"Come on Y/n... Do the thing." Charlie muttered. "There's more?" Remus asked. "Oh hell yes there's more. A ranger is used by dragon tamer's all the time." Charlie said. Harry turned back to you. The dragon roared in your face but you stood your ground, again pointing your wand at the sword. "Incendio." you said. Fire emitted from your wand, lighting the blade on fire. George gaped at the sight, you standing there waving the blade around. The dragon's eyes followed it as you crept over to the egg, grabbing it slowly. It geared up and you frowned. "Crap." You muttered. Flames shot out and you blocked it with your wand, pushing back with the blade and making the dragon retreat. "DOWN." You yelled. It seemed like you were scolding the creature. It roared in protest but you didn't budge. "STAY." you said. Again the creature grumbled but you began to walk back before the dragon decided to try to attack one last time. "LOOK OUT!" Fred yelled. You turned around quick enough to put out the fireball that shot towards you. You booked it back to the tent and Charlie high-fived you. "That's my girl! Kicking ass and taking names!" James said, lifting you into a hug. You laughed and Harry smiled.

There was the sound of the tent's curtain like entrance being shoved back before a rapid pair of footsteps and a hug for you. You pulled away to see Fred. "When that stupid thing shot that last fireball at you-- I-I thought--" "I'm okay Freddie, I promise." You said. He looked in your eyes and Lily blinked. James opened his mouth but Lily pulled him back. Fred didn't move and neither did you before he leaned down and kissed your forehead, hugging you again.

He walked you back to the common room, the Gryffindors cheering as you entered. "You did it, you crazy girl!" Dean laughed. You nodded, holding up the egg. "Oh oh! Open it!" Ginny said. You sat it on the table, twisting its top and opening the egg to hear a loud deafening screech. You closed it and everyone went silent. "What the bloody hell was that!?" Ron asked. "The egg!" You gaped. "Why the hell does the egg do that!?" George asked. A valid question that no one seemed to have the answer to.

You never sat down and addressed the forehead kiss with Fred but you definitely were closer. He was busy trying to crack the egg with you. "Miss Potter!" Mcgonagall called as you were sitting in the library with Fred and the egg. You walked over to her and she seemed excited. "have you found a partner for the ball yet?" she asked. "The... What?" you asked. Mcgonagall rose a brow. "The Yule ball. All Champions must participate in the opening dance miss Potter. I thought you were aware." She said. "I just battled a dragon and now I have to dance? This really is hell." You whined. "Might I suggest the boy who was with you all week this week?" Mcgonagall said. You turned around "I don't think--" And she was gone.

You sighed and sat back down. "What's got you beat? Do you need to fight another dragon?" Fred asked. "Apparently I need a date to the Yule." You sighed. "It's not enough that I'm risking my life for the damn cup but now I have to suffer at a dance." You muttered. Fred looked over, a small blush rising to his cheeks. "I could... Be your date." he muttered. You looked over. "What was that?" You asked. "I could uhm... Be your date... If you want." He said. You nodded slowly. "Yeah.. That uhm... That would be nice." you replied, cheeks warm and slowly turning red.

You excused yourself and went to the common room. Ginny and Hermione looked over as you walked in like you had seen something indescribable. "Y/n? Are you alright?" Ginny asked. "He asked me to the ball." you muttered. "who?" Hermione asked. "Fred." You said. Both girls gaped. "HE DID WHAT!?" They asked in unison. Fred walked in and George emerged from the dorms. "You good Y/n?" George asked. "Yep. I'm uhm... I'm great actually." You said, looking over at Fred. Fred couldn't help but smile and you smiled back. "We've got to talk dresses. Now!" Hermione said. "What?" You asked, halfway listening to her. "Oh and heels!" Ginny added. "Wait what-- OW! MY ARM IS ATTACHED TO MY BODY YOU GUYS!" You whined as the girls dragged you off. "What was that about?" George asked. "I asked Y/n the ball." Fred said. George blinked. "You fucking did it!" he exclaimed, clearly excited. "Yeah. Yeah I did-- Does the air feel thin to you?" Fred asked. George snorted. "That's just your nerves Freddie. Come on, I need help with the orders." George said. Fred nodded and went upstairs into the dorms.

As the week pushed on, dance courses were now mandatory. Fred noticed your less than enthusiastic response to having to learn this type of etiquette. "Sorry!" You sighed as you yet again stepped on Fred's foot. "Y/n, I already said it's okay." He said softly. "I know I just... I feel ridiculous. At least Harry wasn't born with Dad's two left feet. I unfortunately did." you muttered. "Well on the bright side you got your mother's good eye sight." He said. "That's true. And I got my dad's sense of humor." You nodded earning a smile from Fred. "Try to relax Y/n. It's just me." Fred said. "That's what makes me kind of nervous Fred." you said in a flat tone. He chuckled and pulled you slightly closer. "Come now, I don't bite Potter." He teased. Your face was red as you danced and Fred couldn't help but smile. "I don't think we ever talked about us." He said. Oh god. "I figured we were going to ignore it..." You muttered. "Look, Fred I don't want you to feel obligated to like me. Hell, I don't want you to feel like you have to be near me if you don't want to be. I think we have a good friendship and I don't want to fuck that up." you explained. "Gotten it off your chest yet?" He asked. "Yes." you nodded. "I like you Y/n. You're smart, you're funny, you've got a good head on your shoulders, you're beautiful and your badass." He began. "But." you said, awaiting something else. "There is no but. I like you. I don't want you to push yourself to be in something you might not be ready for." He said. "... You're not worried about the age difference?" You asked. "There's a three year difference. That's not exactly your uncle and his girlfriend." Fred said. You nodded in agreement. "Tonks is pretty young. Really sweet though-- how do you know about Tonks?" you asked. "She works as an Auror for the ministry." He said. 

“Ten points to Gryffindor for the wonderful dancing of Mister Weasley and Miss Potter!” Mcgonagall announced, making you aware of the class. You swallowed hard. “Can we take a walk?” You asked Fred. He nodded, walking out with the rest of the students as they were dismissed. You ended up talking more, walking around the grounds with Fred. By the end of it Fred’s hand was intertwined with yours and he was whispering in your ear at how happy he was to be with you. 

He dropped you off at the common room, smiling like a moron as he left and you were grinning ear to ear. “What’s with you?” “Yeah, you look like Dobby when he got socks from Harry.” Hermione said making you laugh. “I’m dating Fred.” you said. Tea shot out of Ginny’s mouth, extinguishing the small flame in the fire place. “He actually-- Wow! He seemed so unsure at first I..” She said. “I don’t know, I guess he decided to commit.” You said. “Have you written to your mum about a dress yet? Or are we going to Hogsmeade for one?” Hermione asked. You grimaced. “Oh come on Y/n--” “Uhm... Excuse me.” A voice said.

You turned to see Viktor Krum. “I was wondering if I could speak with Her...Mione? Is that right?” He asked. “You said it right.” You nodded. “Sure?” Hermione said, walking away with him. “Wonder what that’s about.” Ginny said. “He’s asking her to the Yule.” You said. “What?!” Ginny asked. “He asked me if she’d be interested before the first trial.” You said. “Also, you’re going to get a date soon.” you said, sitting on the couch. “What? Who?” Ginny asked. “You’ll see.” you said with a smile. “Y/nnn!” Ginny whined. “You will see!” you laughed. 

Well within the week Ginny was asked by Neville Longbottom. She was surprised but found friendship in the guy so she said yes. Your mother also sent you a dress. A very beautiful dress that nearly made the girls pass out from excitement. Tonight was the night though, Fred constantly readjusting his tie out of nervousness. Ginny came down the stairs with Neville. “She looks amazing Fred, really.” She told him. “She always does.” Fred said. “Oh you should see Hermione, she looks so pretty.” A girl with blonde hair said. Hermione soon came down, taking Viktor’s hand with a smile. And then it was you. You walked down the steps and Fred froze. 

Your hair was pulled back, you smiling as you saw Fred. “Merlin’s beard you’re beautiful.” He gaped. “Can you do me a favor?” You asked. He nodded. “Don’t. Let. Me. Fall.” You said. He nodded and you took his hand, standing with the rest of the champions. Fred was surprised when you started speaking Russian with Viktor. He seemed amused by whatever you were discussing, laughing on occasion. 

The doors eventually opened and you walked forward, your names being announced. The opening dance commenced and you were surprised to find yourself not tripping over air as you gracefully moved. Fred was so focused on you that you found yourself getting lost in his eyes. You smiled, as did he, telling you sweet little compliments. You were smiling, looking at your friends who were also dancing with their partners. Harry smiled, watching his little sister. Did he necessarily approve? No, but at least you were happy. 

As the evening continued, you and Fred were laughing and dancing. When that tired you out you were sitting in the hall with food, talking on the stairs. “So then he proceeded to ski out the door.” You laughed. “What did your mum do!?” Fred asked. “Didn’t let him back inside till about four in the morning because dad started singing ‘I will always love you’ and our neighbors were beginning to complain.” You laughed. Fred chuckled. “This is the most fun I’ve had outside of hanging out with George.” He said. “I’m having fun too.” you said with smile. He brushed hair out of your eyes, smiling at you. “I think I... Really want to kiss you.” He muttered. “I think I really want you to kiss me.” you muttered. He pressed a kiss to your lips. 

He and you ended up parting ways around midnight, you having this smile on your face. Around three in the morning though, you were awoken by someone. “Ginny?” You asked groggily. “Charlie wants to talk to you.” Ginny yawned. You walked downstairs to see Charlie, Percy, Mcgonagall and Bill all standing there. “Y/n, good you’re here.” Percy said. “Do the boys know you’re here or is it just me and Ginny?” You asked. “They don’t know, sit please.” Percy said. “Hold it Percy. She’s never met Bill before and I’ve heard an interesting update that I must talk about.” Charlie halted. Bill extended his hand and you shook it. “I have met him before. Not like this though.” You said. “What’s this about you dating my brother?” Bill asked, a small smirk. “Oh, uhm--” “Mister Weasley I must ask that we stay. on. task.” Mcgonagall said. “Minnie you’re no fun!” Charlie whined. “There are more pressing matters at hand.” She said. “Fine.” He huffed. 

“Percy, you tell her.” Bill said. “I suspect you remember Fenrir Greyback.” He said. “The bastard that almost killed me? Yeah, I remember.” You said flatly. “We believe he’s somewhere on campus.” Charlie said. “What? Why?” You asked. “We think he’s after you. You almost led to his arrest, you testified in court, you have a lot pointing against him. From now on Bill is going to be escorting you from classes, you will not be alone.” Percy explained. “What about the competition?” You asked. “We’re surprised you even want to be in it after what we’ve explained.” Mcgonagall said. “No offense to you, truly. But I did not learn to friggin waltz for nothing. I am going to be in this until it’s done.” you said. “That puts you even more at a risk Y/n.” Percy said. “I. Don’t. Care.” you said. “Miss Potter, they present--” “If he wants me, he can work his way to me. Until then I’ll accept Bill’s help but I am not stopping my own life because someone wants to take it.” you said. 

The group all stared but nodded in agreement. “I can respect that.” Bill said. “While I disagree with your methods, we can’t refuse them. So for now we’ll support you.” Percy said. “Now can we drop the sad stuff and gossip?” Charlie asked. “I think it’s best if Miss Potter went off to bed.” Mcgonagall said. “Uggghh.” Charlie whined as you shook your head and went back to the dorms. “I’ll let you know.” Bill said to Charlie. “Godsend. You. Are. A. Godsend.” 

No one in the group knew what happened. All they knew was that Bill was suddenly there. After a few days they got used to it. Today, you had three days to figure out the purpose of the egg. It sat on the Great Hall table, all of you staring at it. “Have you solved the next trial? I can’t figure it out..” Viktor asked, his arm around Hermione. Ron seemed to grit his teeth at the sight, keeping an angry silence over him.“No. Can’t seem to figure it out, all the fucking egg does is scream. Why would it make noise if it was just...” You paused. “What?” Fred asked. “It makes noise because it has another purpose.” You said. “I need to muffle the sound!” you said, snapping your fingers in realization. “I love it when she has good ideas.” Fred chuckled, George rolling his eyes. Bill smiled as you kissed Fred, walking to the bathroom. 

“You don’t need to follow Bill.” You sighed as you walked towards the baths. “You know the rules.” He said. “My god you ministry workers love your rules don’t you.” you sighed. You walked into the baths, Bill standing outside the door. “Oh now you draw the line.” you said with an eyeroll. “I assume you’re there to take a bath.” he said. “Nope. Puzzle solving.” You said. Bill blinked. “What?” “Well come and find out dude.” you laughed. You turned on the water, taking off your shoes. “What are you--” You put the egg on the edge of the tub, walking in. “You’re getting wet!” Bill said. “No! You don’t say!” You said sarcastically before putting the egg under the water. “Y/n I don’t think--” you went under, uniform and all. “Y/n!” Bill sighed, running a hand over his face. 

It wasn’t long before you popped back up. “I’ve got it! The next trial is at the black lake!” You said. “I’m also going to need something for breathing underwater.” you added. “Y/n, have you lost your mind?” Bill asked. “Have you met my father?” you asked. Bill went silent, opening his mouth before closing it. “... Fair point.” He nodded. You went back to the dorms, changing uniforms and walking back out. “Your hair is still wet--” “Do I look like I care?” you asked. “I’m beginning to see why Fred is dating you.” Bill sighed, following you to the library. “Have you told any of your friends? About... Him?” Bill asked. “Only Fred knows. If my brother found out he’d lose his shit.” you said. You walked into the library, Viktor looking up. “and?” He asked. You sat down, whispering to him. Bill sighed, looking around at the familiar place. He recalled a time where he would come here to avoid his dragon obsessed brother. A blonde girl walked past him in the powder blue uniform. 

He blinked a few times, clearing his throat as he looked at her. “Hey, Fleur!” you called. She turned around, Bill’s heart pounding in his chest. “Come here for a second.” you said. She walked over, you telling her. “why are you telling her?” Viktor asked. “we all deserve an equal playing ground Krum. At least this way we’re somewhat equal” you said. He sighed but nodded. “What did we lose?” Fleur asked. “That’s what I can’t figure out.” you admitted. “We’ll find out then I guess.” Krum shrugged. You looked over at Bill who looked like he was frozen. “Bill, you good?” You asked. “What? Oh I’m fine.” he coughed. You noticed his sights on Fleur and resisted a snort, shaking your head and turning back to the conversation. 

You never had a clear cut answer for what was “lost” or how to breathe underwater. Not until the say of the trial. You stood on the docks, Fred nowhere to be found. “George, where’s Fred?” you asked. “Yeah I want to meet my daughter’s boyfriend.” Lily said, making your cheeks flush. George furrowed his brow. “I thought he was with you?” He said. “No--” “Has anyone seen Hermione?” Viktor asked. You frowned, looking over at Fleur who was looking for your sister. Your heart dropped, Sirius walking over. “Found you some Gillyweed pup. You can breathe underwater-- are you alright?” Sirius asked. “I know what the trial is.” you breathed, George looking confused until he realized what you were saying. “Oh. My. God.” George gasped. “What’s going on?” James asked. 

“Champions at the ready.” Dumbledore announced. “Pup, take the Gillyweed. It’ll help you breathe underwater.” Sirius said. You nodded, downing it before standing with the contestants. “GO!” 

Your body collided with the water, gills growing on you as you swam. You swam through the lake, seeing the creatures around you with wide eyes. You had seen this before, but it was less fun when you were shoved in. That’s when you remembered. Oh shit. Mermaids. 

You swam deep into the water, cautious to avoid the wrath of the creatures before finding the students. Hermione, Fleur’s sister Gabrielle and Fred all tied. Viktor looked over, grabbing Hermione and exiting the water before you freed Fred. You looked around for Fleur but found nothing. Someone had to get Gabrielle. You swam over, a trident aimed at your throat. You used a charm to keep them back before grabbing both of them and swimming. 

Viktor came out of the water. “Oi, Rasputin.” Sirius called. “That’s not my name--” “Yeah, I don’t care, where is Y/n?” Sirius asked. “She was getting the Weasley boy last I saw.” He said. Bill frowned. “They put my brother in the water-- what the hell is this thing?” Bill asked. “Where have you been all morning?” George asked. “Talking to Minerva. Y/n was with the school as a whole so I was okay to not be with her.” Bill said. “You’ve been watching Y/n? Why?” George asked. “Uhm--” Fleur came back up empty handed and Lily looked at James. “We both know why this is taking a long time” She muttered. “She’s strong Lily, you know that.” Remus said. Fred came up, gasping for air and pulling Gabrielle up. “Where’s Y/n?” Fred asked. “She’s not down there with you?” George asked, pulling Gabrielle out and extending his hand to his brother. “I don’t--” Your head shot out of the water.

 “SWIM NOW!” you said, shoving Fred. Fred took George’s hand before he pulled him out of the water. George extended his hand to you and you reached for it before being pulled under by something. Sirius frowned. “James, you remember what’s down there.” Sirius said. Peter frowned and answered before James. “Mermaids.” he said. You shot back out, climbing out of the water yourself. “I HATE THIS BLOODY LAKE!” you said. Fred hugged you, brushing the hair out of your face. “Are you alright?” He asked. “I’m fine! I’m fine. Still hate mermaids as much as I did my first year but I’m fine” you breathed. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and Lily ran over. “Oh darling, you had me worried sick!” she breathed. “Mum I’m fine--” Sirius lifted you into a hug and you seemed to be lacking air. “Can’t. Breathe.” you gasped. “Oh shit-- sorry Pup!” He said letting go. “You saved my sister-- thank you!” Fleur said, hugging you. “There is a whole lot of hugging going around.” You chuckled, hugging Fleur back.

You all sat in the common room, James, Remus, Peter and Sirius asking a ton of questions to Fred. “so why my daughter?” “If you hurt her we will kill you.” “How well do you do in school?” “Guys would you chill out!?” You said. “We’re just curious.” James said. “Oh shut it dad, we all know you want to wring his neck.” you said with an eyeroll. Bill chuckled and you sighed. “So are you going to explain why Bill has been with us or are you keeping us in the dark along with everything else?” Harry asked. “It’s confidential.” you and Bill said in unison. “My god, I believe we have a future ministry worker on our hands.” Sirius said making James snort. You rolled your eyes. “I’m going to bed.” you said. “Get ready for next week and kick some ass!” James said. “Mister Potter, watch your mouth.” Mcgonagall said. “MINNIE!” Remus, James, Peter and Sirius all exclaimed as you left.  

As the week carried on you felt like you were being watched. More so than usual. You kept it to yourself, knowing damn well if you voiced your discomfort to Bill, he would be on high alert and NEVER leave you alone. Fred noticed your attention seemed to be elsewhere though and suspected something was wrong as you would be looking over your shoulder every few moments. You didn’t realize your suspicions were correct.

There you stood in the stadium, the maze entrance intimidating as you looked at it with wide eyes. Fred walked over. “Good luck Princess.” he said. You kissed him, him smiling. You turned back to the made with a small frown. “Nervous?” he asked. “No I just... I’ve got a bad feeling.” You said. “Are you sure you want to do this?” Fred asked. “I’ll be okay Freddie.” You said. “Alright. Kick some ass babe.” He said. You laughed and turned back to the maze. 

“On your marks!” 

You readied up. 

“Get set!” 

Your focus was on the maze and for a second you swore you saw someone walk through it. 

“GO!” 

You raced through the maze, the feeling of being watched amplifying as you moved. You swore there was someone following you. You heard a scream in the maze. “FLEUR!?” you called. Silence. Something was wrong. What it was, you didn’t know but something was wrong. “Viktor!? Can you hear me!?” You called. Silence. Shit. “Yes! I’m here!” He said. You moved around a corner. “Thank god” you breathed, “The maze moves.” he said. “What?” you asked before noticing a vine slither towards Viktor’s leg. You used a spell to block it. “We’ve got to move.” You said. “We can’t both win Y/n.” he said. “you can win, I don’t care we need to move.” you breathed. He shook his head. “I don’t need to win, you--” “We can argue when we see the cup right now we need to--” you saw a figure behind Krum and your heart dropped. 

Fenrir Greyback.

You backed up and he moved closer. “VIKTOR RUN!” you screamed. Both of you took off, running through the maze before you both accidentally separated. You saw the glint of light, running towards it before you were stopped. Fenrir had stepped in front of you, a malicious smirk falling across his face. Viktor came from the other area and froze. “Viktor run!” You said. “Stupify--” Fenrir dodged, giving you enough time to run and grab Viktor’s hand. “What do we do?” He asked. “When we reach for the cup, he will too.” You muttered. “We don’t have a choice.” He muttered. You swallowed hard and Viktor shook his head. “That cup is the only way back unless...” He turned around to see the ways closing. Viktor looked at you and then backed up. “Viktor what are you--” “Use the cup!” He said before getting grabbed by the vines. 

You swallowed hard, Fenrir lunged, tackling you and knocking over the cup. His hand raised, prepared to claw you as you yelled “ACCIO” and the cup hit your hands as his claws ripped your skin. Blood seeped through your shirt, him biting you as the location changed.  

 A bloodcurdling scream emitted from you as you hit the ground, Bill sprinting forward and knocking him back. Fred stood up, eyes wide as his girlfriend seemed to struggle for her own life. Percy emerged from a nearby tent, binding Fenrir. “You’re too late Weasley.” He spat. You coughed up blood, your parents, uncles, brother and boyfriend all running down to you. “Even if she survives she’ll be stuck with the same affliction as me.” He laughed. Remus had fear coursing through him as he looked at you and then Fenrir. “Just like her Uncle.” He added. “You Son of a--” you coughed again, head in Fred’s lap. “Stay with us princess.” Fred begged. “I-I’m sorry.” You whispered. “MEDIC!” James yelled. “I’m so sorry--” “shhh baby, you’re going to be fine” Lily hushed. “GOD DAMN IT WE NEED A MEDIC!” James yelled. Madame Pomfrey ran over with a stretcher, lifting you up. “Parents only.” She halted the group. “That’s my sister you--” “Harry, calm down we have to trust they know what they’re doing.” Sirius said. 

George, Ron, Ginny and Hermione all ran down, standing with them. “She’ll never make it.” Fenrir said as Bill carried him off. “They never do.” 

Thirteen hours. No one had heard anything for hours. Viktor sat with your friends, bringing them whatever they needed, water, food. Molly and Arthur both came in as well, praying that you would make it. Charlie sat in the hall with them outside of the medical wing, Fred pacing back and forth. “She will make it Fred.” George said. “What if she doesn’t?” Fred asked. “She will.” Remus said. “But what if she doesn’t!?” Fred asked again. “Y/n needs us. She needs you to have faith that she will make it Freddie.” Molly said. He put his face in his hands. “I can’t lose her mum-- I can’t” He whimpered. She hugged her son, the door opening. Everyone stood up.

 “She’s alright.” James said. Relief instantly washed over the group. “It’s a miracle. Honestly. She didn’t even take to lycanthropy.” Pomfrey said, walking out. Blood was on her apron, bad sign but considering the adults outside of Pomfrey said you were okay, they didn’t think much of it. “Come on in you guys.” James said. Fred was the first through the door, seeing you wincing. “Ow-- Mum bandages don’t get any tighter--” “I’m trying to make sure they won’t fall off!” She huffed. Fred came into your line of view, your face softening at the sight. Lily sighed, taking a step back to allow Fred to get to you. He kneeled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You looked at him, smiling softly. “Fred I wanted to tell you that I love you. So much. Even though it’s been a short while since we’ve started dating... I knew that when I woke up I had to tell you.” you said softly. He smiled. “I love you too Princess.” He said.

Sounds of sobbing came from your dad. “It-- IT’S JUST SO PURE LILY! I WANNA HATE HIM SO BAD!” He whined. “James calm down--” “THEY ARE JUST LIKE US!” He cried into his wife’s shoulder as she dragged him out of the room. Harry shook his head. “Harry I’m so sorry I never told you anything. I just--” “Y/n, it’s okay. I know I overreact. I get it from the moron standing in the hall.” He said. Sirius chuckled. “I’m glad that... you aren’t..” Remus halted. “I’m glad you’re okay.” He said.  “Moony... I want to say I’m so sorry for all of this. I know this had to have been hell for you to sit through.” You said. “It wasn’t easy. But it helped that you kept fighting.” He said. “And I’ve made a decision.” you said. “and what’s that pup?” Sirius asked. “I’m no longer studying dragons.” You said. “What? But you’re good at it!” Charlie whined. “Relax Charlie, I’ll still work next to you and your crazy beasts. I’m saying I’m not just specializing with dragons. I’m going to study werewolves.” You said. “WHAT!?” Everyone asked. 

“I want there to be a way for the afflicted to live an easier life. I know for a fact that I’m not the only victim, and I came out with the luckiest outcome.” you said. Remus blinked. “There’s no telling the exact numbers that came from that asshole but I want a way to help those with no choice. By studying to be a ‘beastmaster’ in school I can still pursue dragons and I can help werewolves.” you said. Sirius looked over at Remus who was both shocked and crying at your decision. “Not you too Moony.” Sirius chuckled. “She has such a good heart.” He said with a smile, wiping away the tears. “We brought you something dear. We didn’t get to give it to you at Christmas.” Molly said.

She stepped forward and handed you a small wrapped present. It was a Weasley sweater. “You’ll always have a place in our family.” She said. “Regardless of you dating Fred or not.” Arthur added.

It was a slow recovery but it ended up fine in the end as your third year came to a close. The Triwizard cup rested in a glass cabinet with quidditch trophies. Then Cornelius gave you the check for the prize money. “And we will make it out to--” “Fred or George Weasley.” You said. He looked up. “Excuse me?” Fudge asked. “Make it out to Fred or George Weasley.” you repeated. “Are you sure?” He asked. “Yep.” You nodded. After making a comment on being insane he did just as you asked.

Students wished you well over the summer all while saying goodbye to the Durmstrang and Beauxbaton students. Viktor said goodbye to Hermione, looking over at you. You walked over. “Viktor I just want to say-” “It was nothing Potter. I’m glad you’re okay.” He said. You both smiled, hugging each other goodbye. “kick some ass out there Krum.” you said. “Stay wild Rider.” He said, walking away. Fred walked over. “Think you’ll miss him?” He asked. “Yeah. But I’ve got you.” You said with a smile. He smiled and you gasped. “Wait! I need to talk to you and George!” you gasped. “Oookay?” Fred said confused before you took his hand, running off. 

You found George talking to Angelina. “George! I’ve gotta talk to you!” You said. You sat both of the boys down. “What’s this about?” George asked. You handed George the check. George said nothing, grabbing Fred’s arm as he read the check. “What?” Fred asked. “You’re actually giving us the money!?” George asked. “What!?” Fred asked, gaping at the sight. “Think of it as a business investment.” You said. “Darling this is enough to buy the business!” Fred said. “Oorrr to buy you guys a building after you graduate.” you suggested. “Or-- Oh my god you sneaky little minx!” George gaped. “We knew you wanted to give it to us we just figured maybe you’d give it to Krum or something.” Fred said. “Krum is a world renowned quidditch player. I think he he’s good on money you guys.” you laughed. 

Fred hugged you, as did George. “Y/n!” Charlie called. “Another apprenticeship?” George asked. “This time in Germany.” you said with a smile. “Have fun.” Fred said, kissing you. “I’m coming back next month on the sixth, mark your calendar.” you said with a smile. Fred nodded. “Y/n! Come on!!!” Charlie said. “Bye!” You said hugging the two boys one last time before running off with Charlie. George looked over at Fred who was watching you with a loving smile.

 “You better marry that girl one day Fred. We gotta lock her in somehow and make her a Weasley.” George laughed. “Oh trust me. One day I will.” Fred said. “God, think of all the things in the business we could buy with this.” George said. “Oh we need more Amortentia.” Fred said. “We can get the ingredients. Oh! we could sell liquid luck!” George said. “We can finally experiment with the Pigmy puffs!” George added, Fred walking with a smile. George started listing off all of the possibilities as they walked to the train station, ready to start their new futures. 

The future was so bright, and strangely, it was just beginning.

Taglist: @amhyeah @newtaholic-staygold @bbeauttyybbx @fleurho @yodeadxss @mariah-can-dream

[sweetestlamb]

You Can’t Just Leave Me

Summary: The Han family is a force to be reckoned with. 

Author’s Note: Writing this chapter made me smile, I hope reading it as the same affect on you all. Thank you to everyone who supports this story and leaves comments (or my silent readers). I appreciate you all and I am so thankful that you like this brainchild, I’ve just been winging it- never expecting to be on chapter 7 on something I initially planned on being a one shot. You all made it come this far, enjoy chapter 7!! Beautiful header by @ewolfwitchwisegirl text message created by Junjin fairy @prodmina

The apartment is eerily quiet following Su-ah's departure, he hadn't intentionally tried to eavesdrop but it was hard not to overhear their sniffles through the door. Then hours later the usually bubbly girl had exited the room with red rimmed eyes, he'd never seen her cry before in his many years of knowing her. He was awkward in the face of it, not used to comforting anyone besides Ju-Kyeong. 

Their conversation was clipped and it was clear that Sujin hadn't opened up about what happened. The Su-ah he knew would be making plans to sabotage her father, if she knew the full story.  She'd left with the final words, "Take care of her." He nodded without hesitation that was his intentions, he just needed to get her onboard with his plan to do that.

Taking a deep soothing breath he walks over to knock on the door.

"Sujin-ah, can we talk?" He asks, pressing his head against the door. Ready to plead if need be, she hadn't been answering him since being here. He never saw her come outside, but the food he brought would just disappear hours after he placed it. He waits patiently before reaching out his knuckles to knock again, but when the door suddenly opens he takes a quick step back surprised to see Sujin's face. It's clear she's been crying. He looks away, it's a bit unsettling to see her like this. Too raw.

"Let's talk in the living room." He suggests quietly, stepping back and walking towards the couch. Nerves easing minutely as he hears her soft footsteps behind him. He slides into one corner of the couch and watches as she sits on the opposite end. An awkward silence bellows around them as he stares at his hands and she stares at the ceiling. They have both never been the most talkative on a good day, but now it’s painful. 

He clears his throat stilling when he feels her eyes on him, waiting. He had this speech planned in his head for days but now that the moment is actually here, he's terrified. Too nervous to say the words he wants to, does he even have the right to apologize to her now? Does she even want his late apology or will she brush him off? He wouldn't blame her one bit, it had taken him too long and he still hasn't even forgiven himself, how could he expect her to forgive him? 

"Thank you."

He almost misses the quiet utterance because he's so lost in his own self deprecation. They are staring at each other now eyes locked, his own wide in bewilderment.

"What?" He responds caught off guard, he didn't expect Sujin to speak at all-much less for those to be her first words.

"You heard me. Thank you for letting me stay here and for not pressuring me to talk about it."  Sujin awkwardly squirms in her seat, glancing away from him before darting back and she gives him the courage to finally saw what he wanted- no needed to.

"I'm sorry." It's his turn to watch the shock form on her face but he presses on before she can question him. "I'm sorry I wasn't there, I knew what was happening but I didn't know how to help. I understand now that just being there would have been enough, you just needed a friend. I'm sorry I wasn't one."

A slight weight lifts off his shoulder and his heart, he's not free but he's one step closer. One step at a time.

"You didn't do anything wrong. We were just kids, what could you have done? It's okay, I never expected you to save me. How could you when you were dealing with your own pain?"

She's giving him an out, and logically she's right the pain of losing his mother crippled him for years. It was still weighing heavy on him to this day but he doesn't want an out, he wants to be accountable. He would rather her rage than her understanding.

"I know you didn't need a savior, but you needed a friend. Am I wrong? Were you okay dealing with everything on your own?" It's a low blow he's aware and the way her eyes narrow further confirm that his question isn't appreciated.

"Am I wrong?" He repeats and watches as the ice around her eyes melt away glacially, too many emotions flashing in her dark orbs- anger, sadness, disappointment, broken acceptance each emotion cutting at his heart.

Leaning forward he grabs at the folder on the table, he's already come this far might as well go all the way now.

"Here." He hands it to her, she raises an eyebrow taking the thick object. "Open it," he nods at the folder watching quietly as she breaks the seal and pulls out the documents, eyes scanning the papers before realization settles.

"Emancipation?" She whispers, now staring at him unblinking he can feel the heft of her undivided attention.

"Yes, we've been doing research and I think the best bet is for you to get emancipated." He winces at himself as she glares at the use of "we", he should have left that out with how distant they've been; she didn't even know that Seojun was the one providing the meals she seemed to love. She might stop eating them if she knew, she was so stubborn sometimes. 

She leaf's through the pages, carefully looking over the document and he sits silently awaiting her reaction.

"He would never allow this. You know that." It's said with certainty as if she's accepted her fate long ago, probably thought of this very option herself and then talked herself out of it.

"I'm going to ask her father to help, he's been supporting your father all these years. If he knew the truth..." He trails off letting her finish the rest and she barks out a humorless laugh, it sounds more like a sob.

"You want to tell your father? They have known each other for years, why would he believe me?"

"He's my dad. He'll believe me. We have to at least try." He pleads now desperate for her agreement. It wasn’t the right thing to say, he knows that instantly. 

Instantly she stands up, slamming the documents on the table the ice restoring around her eyes. "I was fine all those years you were wrong.  I'm not doing this, I don't need your dad's help." She spits the word "dad" like it's poison on her tongue, storming off to the room and slamming the door shut.

He sighs, defeated leaning back onto the couch. He sends a text to his father and Seojun. He failed. 

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Guilt eats at her following her outburst, she wasn't mad at Suho despite her harsh words. She can blame her anger on many things but she's self-aware enough to know that it's a defense mechanism; she was jealous. It was ugly and grotesque, but she cannot stop the way her blood boils when she sees others with parents that care. 

He's my father, he'll believe me.

That would never be her reality, Suho and his father had been able to reconcile and restart their broken relationship. That would never be her truth, her relationship with her father would never resemble something healthy and despite her efforts to repress her true feelings, it hurts. The little girl who desperately wanted to make her dad happy and proud still hadn't died.

She feels stupid, the biggest fool on the planet. How can she still be looking for love from someone who has never shown her anything but hatred? She’s the one with a problem here, she knows that. 

She shouldn't have lashed out especially after his apology, that must have taken true guts and she had thrown it all back in his face. She tries to make amends but every time they cross paths she freezes up and escapes to her borrowed room instead. It continues on for days with him still bringing food to her door and the combination of their kindness is too much for her. She doesn’t deserve it from either of them. 

Tugging on her jacket she leaves the apartment hastily with only a small note on her door. She needs some space to think without feeling suffocated.

Gone for a walk.

It's just her luck that it's raining outside, only a drizzle but it coats the world in a thick fog and it's hard to see. The biggest benefit is that nobody can see her, she just needs time alone to think. 

The idea of emancipation wasn't new to her, she had considered this option before but in the end she discarded it. Her father wasn't someone she would simply leave, he would drag her back kicking and screaming. He had instilled long ago that she was his, it was pointless to have dreams or aspirations, she just needed to follow his orders. That was her purpose. Being an obedient dog. 

Suho's plan also called for revealing her pitiful life, what if she went through this ordeal only to lose and not be given emancipation in the end? No. She couldn't make herself that vulnerable at least now she had her dignity, only two people knew about her secret. It might not be much to others, but her dignity was everything to her; it was all she had left.

Sighing loudly at the skies she mentally curses the weather, maybe it's poetic but all of her worst times have been bookmarked by the rain. It must be a metaphor for her life, damp and cold with no warmth in sight.

Stopping to sit on a bench she stares up at the gray skies before closing her eyes, accepting her fate. "Fine, rain on me. I probably deserve this." Cool raindrops roll down her cheeks imitating tears and she can feel the moisture seeping into her clothes and siphoning her heat.

"Unnie?" She jumps at the voice, sounding too close and she shifts away when she opens her eyes and is greeted by the large bespectacled eyes of Gowoon. The younger girl smiles sweetly, covering her with a pale blue umbrella with ice cream cones decorating it. It’s too innocent and too young the antithesis of everything in her life. 

"Unnie! What are you doing in the rain? You're getting wet!" Gowoon grabs her arm tugging her to her feet using her umbrella to shelter them both. She's shocked when she doesn't bristle at the unexpected and too familiar manhandling. She almost rolls her eyes, what was it with the Han family and finding her during rainstorms? 

"Come on, my house isn't far. I'll make you some soup so you don't catch a cold." The other girl doesn't wait for her reply before she starts pulling her down the sidewalk. She sputters but feels her feet following obediently.

"Oppa is working late, so he won't be there to bother us."

Her heart defiantly jumps at the mention of him, she hasn't seen him in a week. She has dozens of unsent messages to him, cowardice has rendered her fingers useless though. 

"That's good." She lies, "So it'll just be us two?" She's not quite ready to meet any other members of the Han family.

The other girl nods absently, easily easing them into a riveting conversation about a boy at school who won't leave her alone. She offers to beat him up if he keeps on bothering her to which Gowoon laughs gleefully before squealing, "You sound just like Seojun oppa!" She glares at the comparison watching entranced at the young girl's uncontrollable giggles. When was the last time she'd laughed so freely? She had no recollection.

Gowoon wasn't lying and within minutes she's staring at the apartment she's only seen once before. That feels like a lifetime ago.

She immediately regrets her inability to say no to persuasive girl later when they are greeted at the door.

"Gowoon, sweetie is that you?" A maternal voice calls out and she instantly recognizes it, stiffening in the doorway. Stepping back she starts thinking of excuses, but her tongue is too heavy in her mouth and she's too slow as the woman comes around the corner halting her escape. 

She blinks unhurried as the older woman gapes at her clearly not expecting to see anyone besides her daughter.

Gowoon breaks the silence, her voice nonchalant, "Hi mom! This is my unnie Sujin, she's the one who saved me the other day! Is it okay that I brought her here for dinner, I found her in the rain!" Gowoon makes it sound like she picked up a stray puppy outside, but she knows the other girl means no harm. 

Her skin prickles at the question, anxiety filling her stomach without her permission. She's waiting for rejection. For Gowoon’s mother to say that it is not okay and she would rather eat with her daughter without a stranger intruding. 

"Of course! I didn't realize it was the same Sujin." Gowoon looks confused by her mother's statement and she feels embarrassment swarming in her belly. Oh no. She has to stop her before she reveals too much, Gowoon knows nothing and she wants to keep it that way. 

"I didn't realize you knew Sujin too, isn't this Seojun's cru.."

"Classmate!" She suddenly interjects staring at the woman with pleading eyes, she's not ready for Gowoon to know about her brothers “feelings”. She's trying her best to forgot them too.

They both stare at her and she squirms under the scrutiny, before the older woman puts her out of her misery. "Yes, Seojun mentioned her before I didn't realize she was the same person that helped you. Thank you." She freezes as the woman embraces her hand, smiling at her warmly as she thanks her. She can only stare in response, nodding dumbly.

"Come on unnie! I'll get you some warm clothes, you'll catch a cold if you keep wearing those."

She lets herself be tugged into the younger girl’s room. Just like Gowoon the room is bright and vivacious, wall covered in posters and books littering her table. It looks completely normal and it makes her ache, her own room was militarily decorated with nothing out of place and no evidence of her personality. Since she was young her father would inspect it and punish her if anything was untoward. She had stopped trying to make the room look lived in after seeing poster after poster thrown down. 

"Here unnie. You can borrow this." Her eyes bulge at a familiar blue shirt with a puppy on the front. "I know it's so embarrassing but oppa got it for me, it's really warm though." In the end he'd gotten her to wear the ridiculous shirt, she reluctantly goes off to change into the top and leggings. They are the same baby blue hue, making the outfit look like a set. She's thankful the boy isn't here to see her.

"Well don't you look adorable?" Seojun's mom coos at her when she finally comes out of the bathroom, she desperately wants to disappear. The woman must notice her ruby cheeks because she turns with a smile calling out to her daughter, "Gowoon! Come help with dinner!"

Now changed too, into cactus pajamas the younger girl bounds out grabbing an apron and tying it behind her back.

"What are are we making?" She curiously peeks over her mom's shoulder. The air between the mother and daughter is comfortable, the two leaning into each other naturally as they discuss what to make for dinner. She observes with a heavy heart as Gowoon easily puts her head on her mom's shoulder and the woman strokes her cheek lovingly. Something inside her throbs in response.

"Do you want to help?"

Shaking her head to clear the longing she looks at their mom, who's looking back at her with soft eyes already holding out another apron.

She can't control herself her yearning is too large, she stands without hesitation walking to the woman, sucking in a breath when the apron is placed over her shoulders and then tightened snuggly.

"We're making wonton soup. Have you ever made dumplings before sweetie?"

She looks at Gowoon waiting for her reply but then realizes that both pair of eyes are on her and oh, she's talking to her. She called her sweetie. Swallowing thickly she shakes her head before replying, "No. I've never made them before." She waits to be berated or at least chastised for her lack of culinary skills, her father always said a woman's place was in the kitchen.

Nothing happens. The woman hums before smiling again, she's always smiling it's so pretty. She wishes she had the courage to say the words aloud. She doesn't.

"You can help Gowoon chop the vegetables for the filling. Then we can mix it with the ground pork and I'll show you how to make the dumplings." If the woman is disappointed at all at having to teach her she's doing an incredible job of concealing her frustrations.

She accepts the knife when Gowoon hands it to her, both of them working on a wooden cutting board. They've gotten into somewhat of a rhythm slicing the chives and carrots finely for the filling. She'd never chopped vegetables before but their mom had casually stood behind her shocking her so much she almost dropped the knife, but the older woman had easily caught the utensil before holding her hand and manually showing her how to tuck her fingers and mince the vegetables. She froze before imitating the woman, she was good at replicating acts.

"That looks great sweetie! You're a fast learner!" The woman praised her turning back to the broth and adding more seasoning liberally. She preened under the attention smiling shyly before Gowoon shouted out loudly, "What about me mom? How do mine look?" They both looked at the younger girl's unevenly chopped chives and carrots, next to Sujin's perfectly identical veggies all in an even row. The difference between the two is stark. 

"They look fine dear, they'll be hidden in the dumplings anyway." Her mother tries to soothe her ego, patting her shoulder before turning back to her soup dismissively and a burst of laughter explodes from her chest at the offended look on Gowoon's face, her cheeks are red and her mouth is turned down in an exaggerated frown. The younger girl looks positively livid that her mother is not similarly singing her praises and she starts to defiantly chop more vegetables, only to have them come out even worst; even more lopsided and haggard. 

She tries to tamper her laugh but when the younger girl starts whining, crying about how her veggies were “cousins not siblings” she loses it, clutching at the counter for balance. She feels the air bursting from her lungs as she clutches at her stomach, laughing harder when Gowoon glares at her pout on her lips. The older woman joins her rubbing her daughter's back as she cries about her dignity, and then Gowoon looks at them both laughing at her and a smile spreads on her face and soon they are all laughing in the kitchen, soup bubbling beside them as a delicious aroma permeates the room.

None of them hear the front door opening or a deep voice announcing its arrival.

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He's cold, tired and wet. Once again missing the forecast for rain, he really needed to start carrying an umbrella around all the time. What was up with the weather lately anyway? Why was it raining all the damn time?  He absently thinks of a certain someone and hopes she's somewhere warm out of the rain. They always seemed to meet when the sky was pouring and raging. 

It was hard not contacting her but he wanted to listen to her requests and respect her wishes no matter how hard it was for him, it was also getting pathetic being the only one fighting for this. She hadn't outright rejected him after his confession but her silence was an answer in itself and he wanted to respect that. He wasn't too manly to admit that he was hurt, and he was reeling from being pushed away so many times already.

So he followed his mother's advice, he'd given her something that he knew she needed and expected nothing in return.

All week he'd been waking up early to cook for the girl, reading recipes off his phone  fluffy cat headband on his head keeping his fringe out of his eyes. The easier recipes like soup and grilled meats had been simple enough to accomplish but when he ventured into more complicated bento boxes that's when frustrations had arose. They looked so easy but they were tedious and he wasn’t the most patient or detail oriented person. 

He struggled to recreate the detailed meals and almost gave up,  throwing his phone across the room.

That's how his mother had found him, fuming and tugging his hair on the kitchen table. Seconds away from bashing his head into the surface and screaming at the ceiling. 

"What are you doing up so early?" He jumped at her voice, looking around at the mess he'd made in the kitchen with wide guilty eyes.

"I-I can explain." He stuttered out but couldn't come up with a feasible answer once she looked at him expectantly, arms folded. The patented mom stare. 

She had calmly walked across the room picking up his discarded phone, peering at the screen before looking back at him.

"Is this for your friend?" She shook the phone at him knowingly and he pressed his lips tight together, nodding mutely while looking away.

"Okay let's see what you have so far." His mom walked over and assessed what he had already made, nodding with a proud smile. "You did good so far, let me show you how to make a hotdog into an octopus. I did this for you all the time when you were a kid."

He was grateful when she didn't ask him any questions and it became their morning ritual, until he no longer needed guidance and he was able to make the boxes on his own. The satisfaction he felt when Suho would return the containers, clean as a whistle not even a grain of rice remaining was incomparable. It wasn't much but at least she was eating, that was all he needed even if she didn't want to see him or know that he was the one making her meals.

He sighs at himself, he told himself not to think about her but that was proving easier said than done.

Shaking himself at the front door like a wet dog, he tugs his keys from the back pocket of his jeans slotting it on the doorknob and turning.

"I'm home!" He calls out instinctively announcing his arrival as he toes off his drenched boots, but then his eyebrow lifts as he hears peals of laughter coming from the kitchen. He chuckles without knowing the joke, instantly rejuvenated by his family's abundant joy. Slipping on his slippers after hesitating a second because he doesn't recognize the shoe at the front door. When did Gowoon get those and how the hell was his little sister affording Chanel sneakers?

Those thoughts are swarming in his mind when he stomps to the kitchen, all the air sucked from his lungs when he sees an unbelievable vision. His mother and sister are grasping at each other, lost in laughter completely unaware of his presence but the image that most shocks him is Sujin, holding her stomach as she spots something on the counter that sets her off into another bout of boisterous laughter.

He can't help it he starts to categorize her every move, the way her eyes are crinkled and a stray tear is leaking out the corner, the way her nose is scrunched up like a rabbit and the way her mouth is stretched wide, visible even behind the futile shield of her hand. All of his thoughts from earlier regarding not needing to see her dissipate, he wants to tattoo this image in his mind.

"Oh! You're here!" His mother suddenly turns to face him and that causes Sujin to freeze laughter fading off with a whine, regarding him with huge bright eyes. It's almost too much once he notices what she's wearing, he wasn't prepared to see her like this in his house. It's overwhelming in the best way.

"I'm home. I'll go change and come help." Both his mother and Gowoon nod easily no longer paying him any mind but he can feel eyes on him as he runs away, trying to regain his composure and his breath. He purposely avoids Sujin's eyes not ready to see if the walls are back up at his arrival.

When he comes back out the table is already set and they've all taken a seat, the only available chair is between his mom and Sujin, so he takes a calming breath before walking over with fake confidence. He’s used to faking it until he makes it. That could be the name of his biography. 

He answers his family's questions about work and school blowing on the soup before taking a bite of the slightly lopsided dumpling. What it's lacking in appearance it more than makes up for in flavor, he groans at the delicious flavor that dances on his taste buds looking up excitedly at his mom.

"These dumplings are delicious! Thank you for the meal!" He praises his mom, happily chewing at the soft delicacy in his mouth.

"Thank you Junnie, but I didn't make the dumplings. They worked on the filling together but Sujin-ah seasoned and filled the dumplings while I made the broth and your sister helped with the side dishes." His mother smiles proudly over at the two girls, Gowoon beaming with pride but Sujin, almost disappears into her soup her head so close to the steaming hot bowl.

They haven’t said anything to each other and he's nervous to be the one to break this stalemate but he also really wants to talk to her, has wanted to since he stepped through the door and saw her smiling face. Has wanted to since that night he stormed out and didn't look back. So finally he does, gathering all his bravery to finally look over at her.

"The dumplings are great." And when she doesn't look up or seemingly react at all, he tells himself he's fine and he expected that. She wasn't ready to talk to him yet, it was his own fault for hoping when she'd explicitly told him to stop doing that.

So he goes back to eating, more lethargic than before eyes locked on nothing but his food and his spoon. It was embarrassing. He knows his cheeks are pink and he hates it.

"Thank you. I just followed your mom's directions. It was nothing."

He pauses, peeking up at her and almost choking when she shoots him a small smile before filling her bowl with more rice.

His heart thumps in his chest. Fuck.

He doesn't hear anything else the rest of the meal, too lost in his thoughts and it's only familiarity that has him standing up when everyone is finished, collecting the plates and bringing them to the sink.

"It's almost time for Sunbae, don’t wear those high heels!!" Gowoon shouts, he cringes at the name of the new drama they've been obsessively watching, he'd only tuned in one time before flabbergasted by the exorbitant amount of times the female protagonist had fallen into the arms of various men but especially the male lead. She fell off a balcony into his arms that time, with neither of them needing to be admitted to the hospital somehow. His mother and Gowoon had both hushed him when he'd voiced that particular opinion and he had happily banished himself to his room.

"Oh no, I'm going to miss it because I'm washing the dishes." He replies deadpan as his sister rolls her eyes dramatically at him, "Whatever it's your loss. Let's go I want to see if she's going to choose the sweet bad boy or the cold cute guy!"

He scoffs at the cliché characterizations scrubbing harder at the plate.

"Come on unnie!" Sujin gasps as she's tugged to the living room too, glancing over he sees his little sister place her in the middle of the couch sandwiched between her and his mother. Sujin looks overwhelmed as Gowoon animatedly tries to catch her up on the series. He shakes his head, maybe the show wasn't that bad. He could watch a few minutes with them.

He strolls casually to the living room, easing onto the ground beside his mother's legs after all the dishes are clean and drying.

"What are you doing here? I thought you despised this "cringey" show?" He leans his head back, sighing when his mother eases her fingers into his hair scratching at his scalp and he sighs content in her lap.

"I do. But it's too early to sleep so I have no choice but to watch this crap."

"Mom! He said crap!"

"Watch your language."

His mother scolds him immediately and Gowoon sticks out her tongue at him vindicated because he got in trouble and immaturely he does it back, tugging off her sock much to her chagrin, dodging her when she tries to kick him.

Sujin looks back and forth between them both before discretely looking at their mother, she seems shocked when all the woman does is chuckle and say, "Children please. Do I need to remind you that we have a guest?" He looks away bashfully not wanting to look childish in front of Sujin, he hadn't thought about that. That makes them settle down and he finally looks at the TV, groaning loudly when low and behold the heroine is falling again, tripping over a candy wrapper on the ground.

"She falls a lot. She should probably wear protective gear." Sujin says breaking their new silence and he chuckles at her observation, happy that someone agrees with him, excitedly he turns to her "Right! Last time she fell off a balcony!" He shouts in disbelief and suddenly they're all arguing about the feasibility of someone surviving that. His mother shaking her head fondly at them, choosing to say out of it which makes Gowoon pout because she's outnumbered.

"Okay who would you choose Unnie, the tsundere type or the bad boy with a heart of gold?" Suddenly he's very invested in her answer, he tries not to react staring at the ceiling and breathing evenly but inside his heart is thundering ready to pound out of his chest.

A few seconds drag on and he wonders if she's not going to answer, he doesn't even know why he cares so much but curiously is gripping at him. He knows that this doesn't mean anything necessarily and he's not getting his hopes up but--

"The sweet guy. He just looks like a bad boy but he's sweet to her, he never says anything mean to her. That would be nice." She answers, trailing off at the end and he hears Gowoon instantly disagreeing saying the other guy is way better, but he can barely hear his sister over the thumping of his heart in his ears, he can't help the wide smile that spreads on his face. 

He turns to hide it in his mom's lap.

It doesn't leave his face the rest of the night.

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It's getting late, she knows that it's time for her to take her leave she's been imposing on them for too long but....she doesn't want to. She doesn't want to leave, they are so warm. She's never seen a family like this outside of television shows, how was it possible that this was their real life? How could they have a mother who was that loving? Everything they did was greeted with fond exasperation, where was the reprimanding or cold backhanded words that cut like a knife?

She'd even treated her kindly, calling her sweetie more than she said her name. And she got used to it similar to how she'd gotten used to Seojun calling her princess, she knew she should fight it but she didn't want to. She was ashamed to say she liked it. 

She tries to soak it up for as long as she can before she says reluctantly, "I should probably go. it's getting late." Then she watches in a daze as the woman races off before returning with containers stacked and tied in a bag.

Before she can argue or refuse their mom is already shaking her head, "You made this so it's only right that you take it home. I won't take no for an answer." At this point that should have been the Han family motto she thinks fondly. But she accepts the food, bowing in gratitude at the simple act of kindness.

"Unnie, can I have your number? I just realized I don't have it and we're so close!" Gowoon thrusts her phone out with two hands, giving her the biggest puppy eyes she's ever seen. Without a word she accepts the phone, punching in her number before handing it back. She hadn’t realized the girl considered them close, but she finds that she doesn’t mind it at all. 

"Thank you! I'll text you so you can have my number too." The younger girl dances in celebration before grabbing her in a hug, she awkwardly pats her on the back once before she's finally set free. They're all so naturally affectionate and she's not the least bit accustomed to it, used to harsh words and slaps instead of praises and hugs.

"Get home safely sweetie. Junnie! Where did you go? Come walk her home!" She rushes to say it's okay she doesn't need an escort home, she's fine walking by herself it truly wasn't that far it turned out. But Seojun comes out of his room, changed again with a coat on and a beanie. Walking over to them he thrusts a sweater at her, when she looks blankly he replies sounding defensive, "It's probably colder now. Put this on too." He pushes it at her again firmer and she grabs it, gasping when their fingers brush.

It's a thick dark green sweater with fleece lining the interior and it smells just like his earthy cologne, she wants to give it back. Instead she puts it on over her borrowed long sleeve shirt from Suho and feels like a child playing dress up when it reaches the bottom of her knees. She knows what he's thinking when he smirks at her, she wasn't short he was just a damn giant.

She takes off the slippers and slides back into her sneakers, thankful that they're dry now. She's distracted by Seojun's heat, he's so close to her putting on his own boots. So much so she nearly misses what his mother says, "Get home safely. Please come again soon, I need more maturity in this house." Seojun and Gowoon both shout affronted but all she can see is the genuine smile on her face, she finds herself nodding throat too thick for words. When she's pulled into another hug, this time she has to blink away tears arms still by her side. She’s vibrating from keeping her emotions contained. 

They are walking side by side, the sounds of the city filling the silence that would be present. Every once in a while their arms brush but he moves away after the third time and she feels cold, more so than when the wind blows.

They're getting closer to Suho's apartment and she's wrecking her brain to find something to say to him, knowing that the ball is in her court; it always has been. She's just terrified to swing her racket. What if she misses? Or trips and embarrasses herself? It was usually better to just do nothing then you wouldn't be disappointed.

With each step she loses more courage until they are standing in front of the building and she still hasn't said anything.

Coward.

They stand awkwardly looking at the building pointedly avoiding each other and she finally speaks, "Oh your sweater! Here you go." She says stupidly, not at all what she wanted to say but she starts to pull the sweater off to commit to her exclamation. However he steps back shaking his head at her.

"It's cold. Just wear it upstairs. I'll get it later from Suho, you won't have to see me again. Go up." He sounds deflated, nothing like the animated jokester she'd seen just minutes at his apartment. It aches that she's the one making him act this way.

Then he turns around after looking at her, all of the light drained from his eyes.

He takes three large steps, putting immeasurable space between them in no time and she knows that if she lets him walk away right now he might not come back and that's a gut wrenching thought that makes her chase after him.

Thoughtlessly, she grabs his arm halting his exit from her life.

"Wait!" She shouts, but at the first touch of her hand on his forearm he's already frozen, still in her arms. He doesn't turn around. She shoots him a silent mental thank you, even if it's not his intention it's much easier to say what's on her mind like this without him facing her and her feeling too open and vulnerable. 

"I know you're the one making me food." There was supposed to be a thank you somewhere in there but instead she ends up sounding accusatory, and he tenses instantly his arm tight in her grasp.

"I'll stop. I know you told me to leave you alone. I--just. There's no excuse. I'll stop."

His voice is strained and this is going all wrong already, she's ruining everything.

Letting go of his arm, she sidesteps and brazenly moves directly in front of him. She can't keep hiding from this. She needed to be vulnerable, that was the only way he could understand.

His eyes are wet.

She gasps at the sight, not expecting it and so jealous at his ability to just feel and be seen. She was always hiding from everything. 

"Don't."

He doesn't give her a chance to finish.

"Sujin. Let me go. I know already, I know it all. I can't like you, I shouldn't get my hopes up, I need to mind my business. I know it all!" He shouts, pain marring his face but she notices how he still tugs his arm free gently, still careful about harming her even while he’s breaking down. 

She doesn’t deserve this. 

This is all her fault she knows that to be an objective truth, but the way he throws her own words back at her makes her realize how cruel she'd been while trying to spare him. She hadn't spared anything, the pain in his eyes and voice makes that abundantly clear.

"Don't stop. Don't give up on me." She finishes, staring at him with her own wet eyes, tears prickling at them.

His shoulders sink as he stares at her, lost and hesitant. 

"I'm sorry. I’m sorry for saying those things to you.  I can't promise I won't push you away again. I'm...I'm fucked up Seojun-ah. I'm a fucking mess. But I want to stop, I don't want to push people away."

I don't want to push you away. But she’s still too much of a coward to say that out loud. 

"Sujin, what-what are you trying to say?" He looks at her with guarded eyes, not yet ready to believe the words coming out of her mouth.

"I want to be friends."

She watches him wrestle with her sentence, hurt being covered up by a façade and she's not obtuse, she knows that's not the answer he was hoping for. Knows he thinks she's friend zoning and clipping the wings of his feelings.

"That's all I can deal with right now. I have a lot to work on, I need to work on me." It may seem like a cop out, an excuse but it's the most honest she's ever been with herself, it's not that she doesn't like him she might- if the way her heart thumps when he’s around says anything- but more importantly she has realized that she doesn’t like herself.

"Right now." He repeats in awe, she blinks confused before realizing the implications of her words, she starts sputtering trying to backtrack but he's too quick beating her to the punch.

"I can do friends. For now." She blushes at the beaming smile on his face, his happiness over such a small acquiesce is too much. Why did he have to wear his heart so obviously on his sleeves?

They stand simply staring at each other. Locked in the moment.

She might need to remind her heart that they'd only agreed to be friends.

For now.

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I don't like onions.

She doesn't know what possesses her to text him first, or what compels her to send that particular message. She starts googling if there's a way to unsend messages, instead finding stories from others regaling their own embarrassing messages and finding solace that she isn't alone in this feeling. 

She jumps when her phone vibrates. Slowly turning it over like it's a ticking bomb.

Of course you'd be a picky eater. Onions are good for you.

She rolls her eyes at the message, he was such a nagger.

It's not good if I don't enjoy it.

Alright princess, noted. No more onions. Are you okay with chicken teriyaki tomorrow?

She recalls the delicious chicken teriyaki he'd made for her just days ago, it was succulent and juicy and she'd fought Suho over it, reminding him that this was her food and she replies quickly.

Yes! Do you have more kimchi?

I do. I'll pack some.

She stares at the phone, in disbelief at the how easy it is to talk to him again, like there was an empty spot in her life, a Seojun shaped gap that was now filled once more. She wasn't fixed, she had meant what she told him; she couldn't examine her feelings for him yet. But she needed him in her life, he was there when she needed someone and now no one else would do.

I missed you.

[consumedkings-archive]

WITCHING HOUR, a john seed/deputy fic. chapter twelve: the desire to devour

word count: ~10.3k rating: m warnings: naughty language, .000002 seconds of spiciness (but not really), john goes "we were vibing, right? we had the vibes? right?" for like the entire last half. also mentions of self-harm and elliot's previous trauma. notes: hi friends! i hope you enjoy this chapter! this is going to be the last sort of in-between chapter before we really get into it, and from here it's going to go faaaaast. i had a lot of fun writing it and feeling out these different dynamics. not to mention john being a gigantic fuckhead (but like what is new, lmao). special thank you as always to my wifey and beta reader @starcrier for your impeccable eyeballs, and also to @vasiktomis and @shallow-gravy for lending their eyes as well because i did fuss a bit with this chap. i would be lost without y'all. thank you everyone for your love and support, esp with comments! it really fills my heart so so much to hear back from you, and i am always in the market for friends so do not be afraid to reach out to me <3

She is twenty-five.

She’s twenty-five, and it's her first full day of work. Or, it was; now, she's sitting in the Spread Eagle listening to Pratt talk about everything that's happened while she's been gone, because he'd said, c'mon, let me take you out tonight. He grins a boyish, toothy grin at her—the same kind that's mimicked in the multiple school dance photos her mother covets—and tries to sound nonchalant when he asks how she liked being in the city.

It's hard not to think about how this is the first place she had ever met John Seed, then-Duncan, and how it feels like it's spoiled the whole place for her.

Elliot redirects her attention as best as she can to what it is Pratt is saying. He's fishing for information. They've always been each other's safety net, the person they can fall back on when all else fails. School dances. Picking partners in class. Graduation walking buddies. He'd driven her to the airport when she left for the Academy, even. But even though she knows he's trying to figure out if she's still a safety net, Elliot can't disguise the way thinking about Mason makes her feel—disgusting—so she brings the beer bottle to her mouth and takes a swallow.

The result is her face scrunching up. Pratt laughs.

“Geez, Elli, slow down,” he says, his smile crinkling at the corners of his eyes. “Bet money you're still a lightweight. When'd you start drinking beer, anyway?”

“I didn't,” she manages out around the taste, swallowing thickly. “I just won't let your money go to waste.”

He shrugs, as if to say, could, if you wanted, and swivels on the stool a little. He wants to press again—she can tell—but seems to have the good sense not to, instead busying his mouth with his own beer.

“Mama said Whitehorse let you right on,” Elliot says casually, trying to ignore the twinge of envy in her voice.

Pratt shrugs again. “He's known my dad a long time.”

“Known my mom too,” Elliot replies, dry.

“Yeah, well.” Pratt pauses, and sounds a little smug when he says, “Just because your mama likes me doesn’t mean I don’t know how she is to everyone else.”

“Likes you, does she?”

“Obviously,” the brunette replies confidently. “She still keeps all those photos of us. Remember senior year, she had all of her gal pals over when we were getting ready for prom—”

“Ugh.”

“—took us about 45 minutes before we were exactly where she wanted to take pictures—"

She rolls her eyes. Pratt grins, and then bumps his shoulder against hers. He says, “Aw, c’mon. Not so bad, is it? Having your mom like me?"

Elliot can feel the flush spreading under her cheeks. Not because she's embarrassed, or flustered, but because the beer sitting in her stomach feels rotten, and because Pratt's looking at her with the same kind of eyes he did before—always, always there's the before—and she doesn't know how to say I'm not her anymore, I'm not that girl, I'm different and changed and I don't know how to go back.

It doesn't matter. If Pratt can see it on her face, he doesn't let it show; just pats her shoulder and pretends he doesn't see the way she flinches from his hand swinging into her peripheral, pretends he doesn't notice the way she covers it up by swallowing another mouthful of beer she doesn't want to drink.

“Hudson’s really glad to have you back,” he says after a minute, when she doesn’t confirm nor deny that it’s not so bad knowing her mom thinks he’s a fine enough person. “Been talking about it nonstop.”

A smile creeps its way onto her face. “I’m glad to be back. With her, especially.”

“Yeah, you two always been thick, huh?”

She nods, swallows more beer, and Pratt rolls his eyes and snags the bottle out of her hand.

“Don’t keep drinking if you don’t like it,” he tells her, and then finishes it off himself, setting the empty bottle on the countertop with a grimace. “Can’t have people telling Whitehorse I bullied the probie into drinking.”

“‘Probie’,” she scoffs. “I could kick your ass.”

“Bullshit!”

“Could’ve done it before, Pratt.”

“Now that is lies and slander.”

Elliot only grins at him, the only time since coming back sans Joey getting her from the airport that it’s been a genuine thing; lopsided and a little sloppy but a grin nonetheless. Pratt finishes his own beer now, coughing a little into his fist before he blurts out, “I’m glad, too.”

She blinks. “Huh?”

“That you’re back,” Pratt clarifies. “Y’know—nice to have my friend back. Didn’t like sendin’ you off to the big city, anyway.”

He doesn’t know. He can’t know, because her mother won’t talk about it and Joey would never divulge what it was that had brought about her speedy return—but even though he doesn’t know about the way she has to swallow back a flinch every time he waves his hand in her peripheral, or the way the smell of beer on a man’s breath makes her stomach clench with anxiety, or how her hands are so fucking cold all the time because her heart hammers in her chest, the way he says that (Didn’t like sendin’ you off to the big city, anyway) feels a little like vindication.

“S’okay,” she murmurs, nudging his shoulder with hers. “Came back in one piece, didn’t I?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The scent of roses wafted over her in waves. The sound of bathwater murmuring against the sides of the porcelain tub rippled each time she moved, each time she used the grip of her hands against the lip of the sides to sink herself under; her knuckles went cold with the ferocious grip, but when she went under she was submerged in quiet once more. Blissful, serene, quiet; just what she wanted.

Elliot pulled herself out of the water. Downstairs, she could hear her mother’s voice, spiking frantic even through the floors and the two closed doors that kept her separated.

“...years, Mr. Seed, I have lost years of my life agonizing over what she did to herself...”

She dipped below the water, closing her eyes. No sound; no shrill noise; just the heavy, bloated static that existed underneath the surface of the bath. Only her and the baby.

It occurred to her, absently, that she needed to start picking out names for the baby. Now that they had a guess at what the gender was, they’d have to decide about a name; not only a first, but a middle, too—the last name—

“...find it quite intriguing, actually, that the second she comes back to me after being involved with your kind that she’s got all this—this—”

Oh, don’t say it, Elliot thought tiredly, closing her eyes.

“—tear, just wretched wear and tear, Mr. Seed, don’t you? Don’t you find that intriguing?”

John was sitting down there, enduring a thorough verbal lashing, and she hadn’t even asked him to. She’d said, I don’t care if she thinks it was me, and he’d guided her upstairs and cupped her face and kissed her, long and open-mouthed, and swept his thumb over her cheek. Now, Elliot could hear the sound of his voice—calmer, empathetic, like just knowing that her mother was hysterical was giving him some kind of control over himself—but that he was speaking in a normal tone meant that his words didn’t come through quite so clearly.

She heard the sound of her mother saying, “I suppose you’re going to tell me why you’re not bothered in the least?” just before she dipped under the water again.

What was she going to name the baby? Did she even have an idea of what kinds of names she liked? Exhaustion pulled at the edges of her attention; she thought, I’m too tired to come up with a baby name, and gripped the edges of the bathtub harder. More fierce, more firm; grip and pull, maybe spill the entire bathtub over, tilt the clawed feet until it hit the tiled floor and the porcelain broke and the rose-scent water flooded the bathroom, her room, the hallway.

Then they’d have to leave. Then they couldn’t stay, surely, in a house flooded with rose water.

Fingers brushed over hers where they’d gone white at the edges of the tub. She pulled herself out of the water to find John sitting there, knelt at the side of the tub—not unlike the way he’d sat back at her mother’s house in Hope County, when she’d drank too much in the bathtub and said that he could mark her.

Because that’s what it had been. As much as she had wanted it, as much as she had enjoyed it, no matter what John said—he had been marking her as his. Like that Oscar Wilde poem.

The same sin binds us.

Elliot brushed the water from her eyes and settled her head back against the tub, regarding him. He looked less bothered than she thought he would, having sat through her mother’s grilling and interrogation—though he did look like he wanted to say something, like maybe it was sitting, burning into ash in his mouth, the way she could see the flex of his jaw and the way his free hand clenched and loosened.

Ignoring the nagging feeling that he wanted to ask her what she’d been doing under the water, and the even more bothersome knowledge that she had, at some point, become painfully aware of his body language, Elliot said, “We have to think of a name.”

John blinked at her. Less than an hour ago, he’d been saying Of course I’d come for you, I love you, with or without the baby I love you, and she’d been sobbing into his arms and clinging to him.

He said, “And a middle name.”

“I’m trying not to think about it.”

A smile finally ticked the corner of his mouth, his fingers uncurling hers from the edge of the tub. Reluctantly, she let him.

“Your mother’s upset.” He paused. “She still wants you to play nice for her Christmas party, but she’s upset.”

“I know,” she replied sullenly. The despair of her shame, which had at once both overwhelmed her and hollowed her out, had dissipated in the wake of her indignation. What would she know, that vicious thing inside of her said, replaying the way her mother’s expression had crumpled. What would she know of our suffering? What would she know of our pain? ‘Wretched wear and tear’, like we haven’t been torn up for ages, like she didn’t throw us to the wolves and scoff in disgust when we came back bloodied and battered.

She wanted to be angry, really angry, but like most things that had to do with her mother, Elliot found herself more exhausted than anything. Scarlet had always found it impossible to comprehend the scars she’d given herself, had always claimed to feel disconnected to the ways Elliot had searched out meaning and comfort.

Absently, Elliot wet her lips and let her gaze flicker up to where John had perched himself beside the tub. He looked mighty pleased with himself, having finally gotten his words out. I love you, he’d said, palm flat against her window, I love you, with or without the baby.

And John, I want a home with you.

And John, Marriage is hard work, but I know you’re just the woman for the job.

And John, No way baby, I’m fucking it for you.

Blood rushed through her head, thunderous. John was saying something to her, but the words felt distant, and far away, and everything felt like it was underwater when she moved—not just the parts of her submerged in the bath, but all of it, the air too-thick and dragging on her skin and pulling her down slow as molasses. She blinked a few times as she disentangled their hands and reached for the towel, but John pulled it off of the hook first.

She watched him. She watched his mouth move, and his brows pull and furrow together at the center of his forehead, and the way his breath rose and fell in his chest, pushing and pulling the Sloth scar scratched across his sternum. Just like me, dream John had said, gripping her blood-covered hands, you’re just like me.

His voice, muffled and bogged down by the blood rushing through her ears, quirked up at the end. Elliot’s eyes darted back to his, and she asked, “Sorry, what?”

“The water’s cold,” he replied, waving the towel a bit. “Aren’t you getting out?”

“Yeah,” Elliot murmured. She felt hollow. Her fingers itched. She wanted—

John caught her hand as she stepped out of the bathtub, steadying her while her free hand gathered the towel up against her front. Goosebumps prickled across her skin, the lukewarm temperature of the bath still lingering; his fingers interlaced with hers, and she used it to steady herself.

He was close. They were close. A part of her resented it—that she let him be so close to her, that she let him kiss her and fuck her but mostly that she let him hold her when she cried, miserably, that she wanted to go home. Because after everything, after all of it, Hope County still felt—

She closed her eyes. Of course it still felt like home. Joey was there; now she knew Pratt was, too.

And among all of that, if she waded through the weeds spreading in her mind, if she hacked and cut them away, there was John.

“What are you thinking about?” John murmured, his cologne washing over her, their noses brushing. Her eyes fluttered open and she let out a little breath, that wanton little creature in her head chanting it over and over. There’s John, there’s always been John, nobody will love us with this much red in our ledger. No one but him.

“You,” she managed. Her head felt swimmy, the words coming out of her mouth sounding like a stranger’s—thick with want. John’s eyes flickered up to hers, having fixed on her mouth.

“If you want something, Ell,” he rumbled, the pressure of his fingertips against the back of her neck guiding her forward just a little but not all the way, “you only—”

Elliot leaned forward and kissed him, her hand lifting so that she could curl her fingers into his hair, the towel slipping to the floor. His body had tensed, like he wasn’t expecting it—like he was waiting for something else—and she thought about the way he’d kissed her with Kian’s blood in her mouth, the way he’d been just rampant with desire, the way the way the way—

Her teeth caught his lower lip, a little sharper than she’d intended, and his hand gripping her wrist tightened and he moaned, and she felt that same little thrill as before surge through her. It’s my magic, too, the itch in her fingers subsiding when she dug her nails in and pulled his hair a little, parting her lips against his; John leaned into her, crowding her up against the counter in front of the mirror, the hand at the nape of her neck threading into damp hair.

“Ell,” he said against her mouth, his voice rougher than before and hands planted on the counter on either side of her, “what are you doing?”

She murmured, “Stop talking,” and kissed him again, fingers clumsily working through the buttons on his shirt—her voice came out even but everything else about her felt wobbly, unsteady, craving craving craving the way it felt to have him begging her. Anything, to feel in control. Anything, to feel whole. Dig, and dig, and when you hit the bottom you keep digging some more, right?

What do we do with grief, right?

Burn and erase the image of her mother’s disgust and horror at seeing a part of her she might actually like, scrape it from her mind, dig her trenches deep deep deep and hunker down where she could feel safe, where she could feel strong; soon she would be home and—

And John’s teeth snagged her lower lip in retribution, sparking violent and red-hot behind her eyes with pleasure lighting her neurons on fire.

“Off,” she ground out against his mouth, pushing helplessly at the shirt she’d only halfway unbuttoned. The brunette grinned; his hands resumed her work, and she instead devoted her attention to the belt at his waist, yanking at it as John’s face dropped to her neck, hot breath fanning across her skin teeth dragging against her pulse point to pull a moan out of her.

There was a split second between John discarding his shirt on the floor and gripping her hips to lift her onto the countertop, his mouth seeking hers out again as she wound her arms around his neck. She had never been completely naked and felt not vulnerable at all, felt more in control—but she did, now, when she grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled and he moaned her name, a little frantic, Ell, Ell, hellcat, he said into their kiss, let me let me, greedy and wanting as he glided fingers up along the inside of her thigh.

He tensed, like he was going to drop to his knees, and she kept her hand in his hair and said, “Don’t.”

“Hm,” is what he replied, “pulling on my hair, ordering me to take my clothes off—”

“I’m about to tell you to shut up again.”

“—but won’t let me eat you out?” John grinned against her mouth, the scent of his cologne—expensive, stupid shit, but it never failed to feel like it was overwhelming her senses—washing over her. “What is it, baby? Want me to say please?”

Yes, something wicked inside of her said, John’s eyes lifting from her mouth to hers, narrowing playfully. Yes, I’d like that, I’d like to hear you say it like that.

“I know you,” he purred. He dug his nails into her hips, a sound—the wanting kind—trying to crawl its way up her throat. “Know exactly what you want from me. Yeah? So, Ell, won’t you please—”

There was a sharp knock at the door, a pause, and then: “Elliot?”

A near-silent laugh billowed out of John, stifled into her neck when her mother’s voice came through the door. Elliot’s eyes fluttered; her fingers, knotted in John’s hair, loosened and smoothed down the back of his neck, the intoxicating tension relaxing just a little. Heat had coiled in the hollow of her chest, spreading warm fingers at the same leisurely pace that John’s hand drifted up to her hip, his mouth finding the hollow of her jaw.

“I can’t believe her,” she muttered. “Yes?”

“Miss West is here, with her brother.” Scarlet’s voice was tight. “Returning your vehicle.”

Fuck. Elliot sighed, her eyes closing for a second while she tried to gather her thoughts. It was difficult to focus with John’s breath on her neck and his hands on her skin and that fucking cologne—and boy, did she not want to dwell on the fact that he’d shown up with barely anything but somehow also remembered to pack his stupid fucking cologne. But there was a different, special kind of warmth that spread through her when she realized that Sylvia was coming to check on her.

“Hair’s wet,” she called after a moment, “I’ll be down in a minute.”

“Fine.” There was another pause, and then her mother’s voice, scathing even through the door: “Ensure you are put together, Elliot.”

John murmured against her neck, “So no hickeys, then?” and she swatted his shoulder, rolling her eyes and sliding off of the counter. He seemed reluctant to let her disembark, thumb sweeping the slope of her hip before he dropped down—just far enough to plant a kiss on the gentle slope of her tummy. It was—sentimental, unseating her with incredible ease.

And then he ruined it by saying, “Your mommy won’t let me fuck her filthy, but I hear the second trimester throws a woman’s hormones through the roof, so we’ll see how long that lasts,” to her bump as he grabbed the towel from the floor to offer to her.

She snatched it from his hands, wrapping it around herself. “Don’t say that shit to the baby. You think I won’t end your life?”

“I wouldn’t mind,” he offered, head cocked to the side. “Leaving the hickeys, anyway, I mean. Well, and the second part too. About sex. Not the murderous part. Actually, you know I find it—”

Choosing to ignore the latter statement, Elliot narrowed her eyes. “You’d risk Via’s opinion of you dropping so severely?”

“You know what they say.” John spread his hands, almost in a gesture of helplessness; though she knew he was far from it. “Old habits die hard.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“She’s killing all of my angels!”

Faith’s voice was sharp, piercing; Isolde’s fingers fluttered over the bridge of her nose to fend off an impending headache, pen held poised above the notepad where she’d been writing down her thoughts but had paused in time for the girl’s interjection. She couldn’t stand a messy page—ink smears, jarred letters. Unacceptable.

Two hours ago, she’d had Jacob drive her out to where the service was strongest. A flood of emails and texts from her family had been waiting to overload her phone. Her dad, things are looking poorly, where are you?, her sister, I’ve been trying to reach you for days.

“Jacob,” the blonde plunged on, interrupting her train of thought, “you have to do something. They’re being—gutted like fish!”

“You should have locked them down,” Jacob told her. “And you’re not the only one losing things.”

“I put—” Faith cut herself off, clearly taking a moment to compose herself before she pitched her voice low and said, “I put just as much work into them as you do into yours.”

The red head’s voice bloomed with annoyance when he said, “Oh, did you?”

“No fighting, please,” Joseph called from where he sat next to her. His voice was even, elbows rested on his legs and fingers interlaced in thought. “I know this is stressful. But you must keep your faith in God.”

“Santi told me that—whoever she is has been leaving their corpses all around!” Faith’s voice pitched high with distress, now, sweeping around Jacob to come to where they had sat, big doe eyes wide. “We have to do something. Please, Father—I don’t want our people to wonder if they’re going to be next.”

Joseph paused, looking pensive for a moment; Isolde thought he might have been trying to figure out how he wanted to phrase something, but before he could speak, Isolde looked at Jacob and said, “You were going to hunt her down anyway, weren’t you?”

The eldest Seed’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t you start with me too, Sol.”

“Get some fresh air,” she replied curtly, “go for a drive, clear your head. Eliminate a problem. You’ve been wearing a hole in the floors anyway; put that energy into being productive.”

“P—” Jacob’s voice spiked, incredulous. “Excuse me?”

He was agitated. She could tell—Pratt, and the phone call with the deputy in Georgia, and the Hunter on some kind of one-man rampage. But more importantly, Isolde thought, Jacob was agitated because there had not been a single conversation between him and Joseph since their argument.

Well, not even an argument. Just a lashing. A public one.

Isolde scooted her chair back from the table that had been set up at the front of the chapel, setting her pen down and stepping away. Her hand landed on the crook of Jacob’s elbow as she passed, and though he made a noise that implied disdain, he followed—not without shrugging her hand off by the time they got to the front doors of the chapel, leaving the other two to talk in low, murmured voices.

“You have got to stop letting this get to you,” she hissed.

“Nothing is ‘getting’—”

“Listen to me,” Isolde interjected. “I’ve been keeping as close an eye on the news as I have been on you. Things are—” She paused, mouth twisting around the words. “There is no room for you lot to be bloody fighting with each other. Do you understand me? This has moved far past needing to prepare PR and build a legal defense.”

Jacob’s eyes narrowed. He looked suspicious. “So why are you still here then, Sol?” he asked.

The words burned insult in her chest. Why are you still here, stinging fresh and hot, because it was a fair question. It was the most fair question. Unlike any of these people, she had a family outside that she still loved. Her sister, and her parents. She should have told John and all of the Seeds to go fuck themselves, to enjoy the end of the world, while she went to be with her family.

But she wasn’t. She was here. Doing—this. Finding fresh new ways for Joseph to connect with his people to keep their morale high, keeping the infighting at bay to make sure they looked like a united front to everyone, second doomsday cult included.

“My parents will take care of Avery. You know they’re close with—government,” she replied after a minute, shaking off the unease. “And I told John that I would.”

He snorted. “John says jump, you ask how high?”

“No,” she bit out, “I say jump and you kiss the fucking ground I’m standing on because I cobbled together what the fuck is left of your congregation.” Before Jacob could say anything, Isolde added, “My hands are full, Jake. Do not add to my pile.”

Dark brows furrowed, his mouth thinning in disdain. He clearly wanted to say something. But true to his nature, Jacob straightened back and settled himself before he said, “Fine.”

“Fine?”

“Fine,” he reiterated with his eyes narrowed. “I’m going to the Veteran’s Center.”

“That doesn’t sound like where we heard about the killings happening last,” Isolde protested, eyes narrowing.

“But she was there,” he replied. “Or someone was. Someone was there enough to steal my files.”

“Your—” Isolde snapped her mouth shut, sucking her teeth as she glanced back at Joseph and Faith; haloed in the dim lighting of the chapel, she could see them looking back at Jacob and herself expectantly. She wondered how much they could hear, from there.

Turning her attention back to Jacob and pitching her voice down in volume, Isolde hissed, “I don’t think prioritizing files is the best move right now.”

“Thank you,” Jacob idled, “for your input.”

“Fuck you.”

“Have fun,” he added, opening the door and letting in a waft of biting, cold air, before gesturing to the Book of Joseph on the table that she’d had her nose stuck in. All the better to make Joseph’s sermons hit home harder, after all. “You know—with your light reading.”

Isolde narrowed her eyes, watching him trudge down the steps for just a second before she said, “Jacob—”

“Yes, Isolde?”

Her mouth pressed into a thin line. “Don’t get shot.”

For a moment, he looked almost surprised at her words—but it was only a moment before he said, “Don’t worry, I’m taking Vidal. He makes a suitable meatshield.”

“God, he’s a talker.”

A tiny ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of Jacob’s lips, before he said, “John and the deputy should be making their way here any day now.”

Isolde grimaced. “I was there for the phone call.”

“Are you going to leave?” Jacob pressed, expression stiffening again. “When he does?”

She paused, clearing her throat and shifting on her feet. I should, were the words that wanted to come out of her mouth. I should go. I only came down here because John wasn’t here. I should go, and get back to my life, and maybe get to my family and try to stay out of the crossfire and—

After a heartbeat, she said, “I don’t know.”

Jacob shrugged, as if to say, see? Told you, though to what he could be referring to, she had no idea; she only knew that she didn’t like the way he swung around and sauntered out of the chapel, leaving her alone in the tepid warmth with Joseph and Faith’s eyes on her in favor of the blistering cold outside. Snow had continued to dump throughout the day and night, and had only just let up recently; the members of Eden’s Gate—those who had survived the Family’s relentless assaults, and those that had been pulled from the bunkers—had been tirelessly shoving pathways, only to have their work tidily undone each night.

Fingers brushed the palm of her hand. Isolde startled; she glanced back just as fingers interlaced with hers to be met with sweet, bright eyes and Faith’s adoring attention planted on her.

“It means so much to me,” Faith murmured, “that you would help. Not just me, but all of us.”

Soli watched the blonde for a moment, trying to gauge. The physical closeness was not something she was accustomed to; carefully, she disentangled their fingers, skin prickling with unease. When she glanced up, Joseph’s eyes were on them, on Faith’s fingers falling from her hand but skimming the inside of her palm in a lingering touch of affection.

He was always doing that. Watching. Watching, and waiting, and pinning each movement and gesture and thought and word out perfectly like the wings of a butterfly, just the color he liked and just the shape.

“Don’t thank me,” Isolde replied, mustering a smile and brushing the hair from her face.

“It’s my job.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Hey, Miss Honey, John!”

Wyatt’s cheerful voice broke through the late-afternoon chill; the sun setting early, people’s breath coming out in puffs of smoke. It all felt oddly normal, given the circumstances of the morning and the way she’d forgotten to call Sylvia once she got home, and that her friend had fished up a reason to come by the house and make sure she hadn’t—

Well.

Still, if there was any remnant of the morning in Sylvia’s heart, it didn’t show in her face, and it certainly didn’t show in Wyatt’s. Instead, both blondes beamed at her, radiant, the second she came out with fuzzy, fresh-from-the-blow-dryer hair and swaddled up to her chin in thick fabrics to fend off the cold.

And, truthfully, to hide the bump. John had reminded her of it, and even though the moment had been a...good one, it had also reminded her she hadn’t expressed this truth to Sylvia or Wyatt. As John closed the door behind her and jogged down the steps,

“Howdy,” Ell greeted, albeit a bit awkwardly thanks to her stuck-somewhere-nowhere-sort-of-accent. “You didn’t have to drive it back all the way out here, you know.”

“Sure we did.” Wyatt chirped. “Wouldn’t be very neighborly of us if we let it sit and the battery died out, now would it?”

“No,” John demurred after a moment even as Elliot’s cheeks went warm, “I suppose not.”

“You all recovered from this morning?” Via asked cheerfully, purposefully avoiding the actual question. Elliot shifted on her feet. John’s hand skimmed the small of her back, and even through the layers of fabric, it felt warm; she wondered if this was what it would have been like for them, had their life been normal. Had John been truthful with her from the get-go. Now, with everything laid out between them—the lies unearthed and only the brutal, unapologetic knowledge that they wanted each other, in one way or another—it felt like they might have been normal. Sometime, somewhere, someplace else.

It was still hard to swallow, all of it. The lies and the now-truths and the knowledge that she did, in fact, want.

“Oh, yeah,” Ell replied faintly. “Took a bath and...” She tried for a smile. “Decompressed.”

“That what smells so good?”

“Y’all get that tired from dress shoppin’?” Wyatt tsked, having pulled his coat out of the jeep and started to pull it on. He grinned at her and skillfully dodged a side-swipe from Sylvia; he had a good foot of height on her—and Elliot—so it wasn’t difficult. The siblings fussed for only a moment before Sylvia managed to fetch the Jeep’s keys from Wyatt’s coat pocket and held them out to Elliot, puffing.

She was in the middle of saying, “Your keys, madame,” when John’s head tilted and he muttered, “Now what is this?”, drawing her attention to the end of the drive. A police cruiser made its way slowly down the drive, carefully pulling up behind the Jeep.

Not beside it. Not further up toward the garage, not on the other side of the four of them chatting. Behind it. Blocked in.

Sheriff Pritchard stepped out, shuffling a little as he adjusted the black, fur-trimmed jacket on his shoulders and closed the driver side door. He’d come alone, which made Elliot certain he wasn’t here to arrest her—and what a ludicrous thought, that he might have considered it a possibility, because the mere mental image of Pritchard grabbing her arm and keeping his eyes in his head made a hysterical kind of laugh want to bubble out of her.

Not me, not me and not my baby, that thing inside of her said, lifting its hackles and baring its teeth when Pritchard began to saunter over. Not my baby.

“Afternoon, you two. And Wests,” Pritchard greeted as he drew closer. He’d earned himself a curious murmur from Sylvia. “Havin’ a little shindig out here, Miss Honeysett?” Elliot opened her mouth to respond, but he lifted his hands quickly in defense. “‘M sorry, forgot myself. Mrs. Seed.”

It caught her off-guard, sucked the air right out of her lungs. It was one thing to hear her mother say John is Elliot’s husband, to hear her say John is my son-in-law, but it was another entirely to hear herself referred to as Mrs. Seed. It had never, ever been that she was John’s wife, except out of his own mouth, but now—

John seemed eager to engage with Pritchard, because he said, “Something that you needed, sheriff?”

“Yes, actually. Believe it or not, I ain’t in the business of drivin’ out to the rich part of town just for shits and giggles,” Pritchard replied coolly. “Your mama home, Elli?”

“Probably resting,” Sylvia offered, smiling politely. “We just finished dress shoppin’ for her Christmas Party not but an hour ago.”

“Yeah,” Pritchard rumbled, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. “Heard about your little trip to the boutique today.”

John asked irritably, “Do you need to smoke that right now?”

Elliot swallowed thickly. Her lashes fluttered, eyes desperate to close; the warmth that had flooded her face now felt like it verged on feverish, threatening to make her head swim again. This was bad. This was bad-bad, chop her hair off and run run run again bad, the kind of bad that made a girl change her name and burn her birth certificate and make sure that nobody would ever be able to find her again.

“I don’t,” she began, “think mama’s feeling up to visitors right now.”

Pritchard eyed her, taking a puff of his cigarette while completely glazing over John’s pointed question. “Imagine not. You know, you been a hot topic of conversation lately, Mrs. Seed. Gotten loads of questions about you. Lady from out of town, Federal Marshals. I don’t like folks sniffin’ around my town, you know, especially not the fuckin’ Feds, but it’s gotta make me wonder.” The smoke curled out from his nose, the smoke of a lazy, self-righteous dragon wafting around her.

“Sheriff,” John continued tightly, clearing his throat, “you’re going to need to put that out.”

“We’re outside, Mr. Seed. You ain’t ever seen someone smoke a cigarette outside?”

“Do you make a habit of smoking around pregnant women?” John snapped viciously, and oh, she thought, oh, I didn’t even think of that, because her brain was too busy kicking into overdrive and parse out the absolute confirmation that Federal Marshals were asking after her and strange women, too. Oh, I didn’t even think about the baby.

And then Sylvia said, eyes wide as saucers as she laughed, flustered, “Oh, John, that’s very kind of you, but I’m not—” and her eyes landed on Elliot, and she blinked rapidly.

Wyatt was looking at her, too. Big, big eyes, surely having not only learned that she and John were married but that she was also pregnant in the span of only a few minutes. At least, Elliot didn’t think Sylvia would have divulged that information, and if the shock he was clearly trying to cover up in his expression was any indication, that gut feeling was right.

No, she thought, no, this is not what I wanted. This is not what I wanted at all. It wasn’t his to tell, it wasn’t his to tell, it was mine, my choice, mine alone.

Her gaze snapped to Pritchard. She said, “It’s time for you to leave.”

Pritchard lifted his eyebrows. “That so? Well, good for me I ain’t here to talk to you, missy.”

“Get. Off. My. Property,” she bit out through her teeth. “Scarlet isn’t taking visitors, and I’ll cut the decay out of my own teeth before she makes anything close to the time of day for you.”

Now, his eyes narrowed and the cigarette sat between his fingers, still burning amber at the end. “Excuse me?”

“And tell the fucking Feds whatever you want,” she snapped, fingers curled tightly around the keys until the metal edges dug into the nooks and crannies of her hand. “But whatever you do, get the fuck out of my driveway, sheriff.”

Something flickered in the corner of her vision. John started, “Ell,” and his hand went to her shoulder, but she jerked back from him before he could make much more than a brush of contact.

“Don’t,” Elliot snapped at him, her voice wobbling and the tears—shameful tears—welling up and burning, “touch me.”

“Alright, okay,” Sylvia murmured, “Elliot and I are gonna go inside, and John can—”

“Ain’t here to talk to Mr. Seed,” Pritchard drawled venomously.

“If you’re asking questions about Elliot,” Sylvia replied calmly, taking Elliot’s hand with a firm squeeze, “I can imagine there is no better person to ask than her husband, don’t you think so, Sheriff?”

Pritchard’s eyes were squinted into poisonous little slits, and he took a long drag of his cigarette.

“Mrs. Honeysett won’t be any type of cooperative if you get her up now,” Wyatt chimed in, eyes flickering nervously to Elliot—perhaps both because of the news and because of her outburst. But she didn’t have time to think much about it, because Sylvia was tugging her out of the cluster of folks, ginger and reassuring even as her brother plunged on, “I mean, sheriff, come on—you know how women can be when they’re gotten up too early, let alone they’ve been shoppin’ all day—”

And Pritchard said, “You want I should put my cigarette out now, Mr. Seed?” as Sylvia opened the door,

and John replied with a slick, charismatic kind of venom, “No reason to anymore, smoke to your heart’s content,”

and the door clicked shut behind her and Boomer scampered out from where he’d been snoozing under the dining table.

She had to leave.

She had to go.

She had to get out.

Federal Marshals and strange women asking after her, and now her only two friends in the whole fucking world—

(well, not entirely true, since we still have Pratt, isn’t that right? Isn’t that right, Elli?)

—had just seen her almost go fucking bananas on an officer of the law, had watched her demand he get the fuck out of her driveway for wanting to ask her mother about her, had seen her.

“Hey,” Sylvia said, “you’re alright.”

I’m not, she thought, dropping the keys into the crystal bowl by the door, smearing red against the glass. Her hand stung. She reached with the good, unmarked hand for Boomer absently. His cold, wet nose brushed against it, and he whined, feet tapping against the wood as he bumped her for her attention. I won’t go. I won’t fucking go. I won’t pay the price for what they did to me, what they made me into.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out abruptly, her voice coming out tight. “Sorry that I didn’t—um, tell you. About the—”

“It’s okay,” Sylvia told her quickly, “it’s alright, Elli, it’s not a big deal. You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

Elli, she said, without knowing what the nickname meant. Elli, Sylvia said, it’s alright, and Joey, right now we need to leave, Elli, and Pratt, geez, Elli, slow down, an affectionate nickname saved only for folks who considered her their friend. Sans Pritchard. Fuck Pritchard.

“Lots of people wait to tell,” Via continued, one hand coming to rest on her shoulder and jarring her out of her thoughts, which were quickly and rapidly devolving back into the urge to march outside and ensure Pritchard was obeying her command. Out out out, something vicious inside of her demanded, we want him out we want him gone.

Elliot said, “Yeah, you’re right,” but she felt far away—not lost, not gone from herself, but thinking. She could pack fast. She could pack fast, and John had brought barely anything, and they could leave right now, her mother none the wiser. They could leave now and be gone and Cameron Burke would have to—

But are we sure it’s Burke? Are we sure it’s Burke and not someone else, come to haul your ass to a fucking psych ward, for what you did in Hope County?

For what you did?

No. She wasn’t sure. She could only hope it was one singular Federal Marshall on her tail, and not an actual piece of the government body. That was all.

But whoever it was that was asking after her—strangers, government officials—it didn’t matter. That old mantra had kicked in again; something has to be done, the same kind of calm before the storm that she’d felt when Joey had been killed, something has to be done.

Something has to be done and I’m going to have to be the one to fucking do it.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Pritchard dropped the cigarette into the snow and stamped it out with his bootheel, his eyes fixed on John. Sylvia had rushed Elliot inside, but he didn’t think that had been purely necessary—only in the instance they had wanted to keep Pritchard out of a blood bath. Elliot hadn’t been checking out, trying to keep herself together; she had been angry, and he’d had half a mind to let her say and do exactly as she pleased to the man now standing in front of him in the cold.

“She always been that volatile, Mr. Seed?” the sheriff asked.

“Not undeservingly,” John replied tartly, his eyes narrowed. “Did you have specific questions, sheriff, or did you just come by to terrorize my pregnant wife with your theoretical judgment of her soul?”

“More your speed?” Pritchard replied, lifting a brow.

“Pardon?”

“Heard about you Seed boys,” he continued coolly, “and your...” He gestured with a calloused hand vaguely, looking for the right word.

John smiled, with teeth. “Before I grow old, if you don’t mind, sheriff.”

“Proclivities,” Pritchard elaborated, “for religion.”

Fucking Burke, he thought, with no absence of venom; fucking Burke can’t resist the urge to try and fuck up my life when he’d be better off trying to find a place to hunker down for the end of the world.

“We’re red-blooded Americans,” John idled coolly, “freedom of religion goes hand in hand with that.”

“Mr. Pritchard, you wanna get that car started?” Wyatt cut in abruptly, glancing around like he thought maybe the rest of the patrol might be rolling in any minute. “It doesn’t sound like you’ve got any questions for Mr. Seed.”

“That’s sheriff to you, boy,” he snapped. And then, after a heartbeat, he fished his keys out of his pocket and said, “I s’pose I got all the information I needed, after all.”

“Mmhm.”

John had turned back to the house, spotting Elliot and Sylvia through the front window, when Pritchard announced, “You make sure Scarlet gives me a call when she’s recovered from your wife’s antics, Mr. Seed.”

His gaze returned to the sheriff, narrowed. “Certainly, Sheriff Pritchard.”

“But if I don’t hear from you, no worries,” the man continued, opening his car door, “I’ll make another special trip out here.”

“Goody.”

John flashed another grin when Pritchard’s eyes flickered over him. Wyatt said, “Have a safe drive,” and Pritchard slammed his door shut, his cruiser’s engine roaring to life before he began to slowly back out and make a u-turn to head down the long driveway again. There was a moment of silence, stretching between himself and Wyatt that he didn’t feel particularly inclined to break—after all, Wyatt had been taking liberties with Elliot that he shouldn’t have been—before the blonde finally broke the silence.

“Congrats,” Wyatt said after a minute. “About—uh, the baby, I mean. I didn’t know!”

Ah, he thought, feeling a strange little surge of pride at the way the man across from him shifted on his feet with discomfort, and that’s why Elliot’s mad I brought it up. Her friends didn’t know.

Well, it was better this way, after all. He wouldn’t have taken it back even if he’d gotten the chance, knowing what he did now.

“Thank you,” he replied amiably. “It’s certainly a blessing.”

Wyatt’s mouth twisted for a moment, looking like there was something he wanted to say specifically and didn’t know how to say it without foregoing social niceties, but the sound of the front door opening caught both of their attentions.

“Wyatt, you gonna stand out here like a lemming all afternoon or what?” Via called. “Get the car warmed up, you caveman.” She took a few steps down the front stairs and looked at John. “You’re wanted inside, Mr. Seed.”

A very polite way of telling him that Elliot, perhaps, was in the mood to throttle him with her bare hands. Though he didn’t really see the harm in spilling the news—perhaps with Via, sure, but Wyatt? The cowboy? Like that was ever going to be anything.

“Thanks for your help,” John said, clapping Wyatt on the shoulder before he made his way to the front steps. Via hadn’t moved. In fact, her normally polite expression was eerily cool—whatever amicable, feigned interest she had manicured for him in the past seemed to have evaporated in the wake of Elliot’s own fury.

As he neared, he said, “Something else you needed, Miss West?”

Via’s eyes narrowed. She looked at Wyatt, now inside the car, and then back to John. “You must think I’m mighty dumb, don’t you?”

John lifted an eyebrow inquisitively. “If you think I instigated that little outburst on purpose—”

“What I think,” Via replied, “is that you know exactly what she’s capable of handling. Just because you didn’t do it on purpose doesn’t mean you weren’t thinking of letting her physically assault a police officer.”

His easy-going expression flattened. Sylvia, and her seeing, the same kind of uncanny people-reading skills that Joseph had, too. Seeing his delight at knowing that Elliot would have taken on a man a foot taller than her, pregnant, if it meant keeping him away from the baby, if it meant keeping herself out of the grip of a greater power that wanted her in a psychiatric evaluation.

“I want to like you,” Via continued, taking the steps until she reached the bottom, “and I thought maybe you were here to make a real effort. But it seems like you’re the same person you were before, John Duncan.”

The name sent a jolt of red-hot anger flushing down his spine, filling him up suddenly with a sort of molten rage that only the reminder of his adoptive parents could have inspired in him. When Via went to move past him, he snatched her elbow, holding her in place.

“And where,” he ground out, “did you hear that name, Miss West?”

“It’s called a web browser, John,” Via replied coolly. “You ever heard of Google? Imagine how many John Seeds there are in Hope County, Montana. I don’t need to tell you that the articles regarding you and your brothers, though a bit old, are unflattering. And all I want you to know—” She paused, arm still in his grip. “—is that we’re aware of each other, and that I don’t want anything happening to Elliot.”

“Neither do I,” John replied tightly, “and I especially don’t want someone digging trenches where there’s not a war zone.”

Via regarded him with an even gaze for a moment, glancing back at the car where her brother sat, before she murmured idly, “Kindly take your hand off of my arm, John.”

“Ellliot’s already aware of the any of the information in those articles,” he continued lowly, “just so you know.”

“My point, John,” Via replied casually, “is that I know, and I can—and will—deal with it as I see fit. Now, you gonna take your fuckin’ hand off of my arm, or are we going to have a problem?”

He watched her for a moment—just long enough to consider the dopamine rush of killing her, grabbing a fistful of her hair and slamming her face into the top of the porch, doing something, anything to ensure that Sylvia West was not capable of messing up anything that he was doing—and then he planted a big smile on his face and dropped his hand from her arm.

“Careful,” he said, louder now so that Wyatt would hear, “it’s icy.”

The blonde didn’t respond. Instead, she brushed her hand absently where his had been, as though to brush herself free of his touch, and picked her way across the driveway and to the truck idling just on the other side of the jeep.

Well, that would be one less problem to deal with, in the end.

John made his way inside, closing the front door quietly behind himself and taking a moment to gauge. Just to see what was going on. The house itself was quiet, and Boomer’s little footfalls were nowhere to be heard, and Scarlet wasn’t sipping her vodka in the living room—so.

So.

So.

Taking a breath, he started up the stairs, turning into the hall to find Elliot’s bedroom door halfway ajar. He paused in the doorway; she was rifling through drawers, pulling sweaters and long-sleeved shirts and jeans and sweats out and dropping them into a duffel bag, furious little exhales occasionally coming out of her.

“I was told I was being summoned,” John said, Elliot’s attention razor-sharp and snapping to him immediately.

“Pack your shit,” she said briskly, “we’re leaving.”

He blinked. Taking a step inside, he glanced at Boomer—perched protectively between himself and Elliot—and said, “I thought we were waiting until after the Christmas party?”

“You’re not fucking deaf, John, you heard Pritchard,” she snapped. “The Feds have been asking about me. The only reason they don’t know exactly where to look—whoever it is—is because Pritchard’s a fucking asshole and likes to be as obstinate as possible.”

“And if we sprint out of here,” he replied, “you’re just going to draw their attention.”

“It’s what Pritchard wants.” Elliot zipped the duffel bag shut and then brushed past him into the bathroom, gathering up her toothbrush and toothpaste and the sleeping pills. “For me to be gone. He’ll piss off if I go. And there’s no way he’s going to put up a big fight to cozy up to the government.”

“Elliot.” John watched her furiously gathering things up, and then when she came by again he caught her with his hands. “Ell, just slow down—”

“Stop,” she bit out, “stop telling me what to fucking do, John, and—I told you not to touch me.”

He lifted his hands from her, but not far enough that she could duck past. “Are you that mad about Sylvia and Wyatt knowing you’re pregnant?” When she didn’t answer, and instead hauled the bag over from the other side of the bed to be close to her so that she could dump the collections from the bathroom into it, he sighed. “I didn’t know you hadn’t told them, but I don’t understand what all of the secrecy is about. The baby isn’t—”

“I felt normal!” Elliot replied sharply, her voice pitching a little higher now, and John heard the wet wobble in it too—the way the timbre of her voice thickened and rounded out with the threat of oncoming tears, her cheeks flushed with anger and maybe shame and pain, too. “Okay? I felt—I f-fucking felt normal, for once, and it was enough that Sylvia knew you and I had been—that we’re married, which I don’t even want to dig into right now, but it was another to be like—yes, the father of my fucking child, who I’m actually married to even though I didn’t want it, is here and oh, by the way? He’s part of a cult. Yeah, a fucking doomsday cult. I’m carrying the child of a doomsday cultist.”

“How was I supposed to know?” he demanded. “How was I supposed to know that you didn’t want Sylvia and her brother knowing you were pregnant? You never said. And what does it matter?” And then, feeling the petulance well up inside of him: “I know it probably felt nice, to have Wyatt giving you attention—”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she asked, incredulous. “You’re really pulling that now? So, what—you dumped the news because you wanted to make sure my friend found me as off-limited as possible?”

John crossed his arms over his chest. “I know this may come as a shock to you,” he said, feeling the tension peeling apart behind his eyelids, “I really didn’t want Pritchard smoking near my baby.”

“My baby.” Elliot jammed her finger into his chest, just above his heart, her words vicious. “It’s our baby, or it’s my baby, but there isn’t a single fucking universe where the only person this baby is beholden to is you.”

“He’s,” John corrected, tartly. “He’s our baby. And at the end of the day, whether you like it or not—”

“Have you ever,” she cut in over him, biting the words out between her teeth, “done anything for me that wasn’t for you too?”

Watching her, the words sat sticky in his chest. His instinct was to say, of course I have, but that wasn’t true. Of course it wasn’t. And he wasn’t going to pretend like it was, either—because he wasn’t ashamed that everything he had done had been for them, that if Elliot wasn’t his then there would be no point in it, that it was a zero sum game where he either had her or he had nothing.

He said, evenly, “No.”

Elliot looked unseated by his honesty. She swept her fingers across her forehead tiredly and turned back to her bag. “Then do me a favor and pack your shit so we can go.”

John sighed. “Don’t you think—”

“John,” she bit out, “I am making an executive decision.”

“Alright, Ell.”

“And—”

John had turned to the door to go gather what few of his belongings he’d had when Elliot cut herself off, drawing his eyes over his shoulder to her again. She looked unwell—stressed, feverish, her hands buried into the duffel bag maybe to hide the shaking and her face flushed and her brows furrowed together.

“Thank you,” she managed out after a minute, “for being honest. For once.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Pratt brushed the snow from his hair, teeth chattering as he waded through knee-deep snow out towards the water. It had been three days, and Helmi had told him to meet her out there—how she was going to get past the compound’s security, Pratt didn’t know, but he also thought it probably was best not to dwell on the things that Helmi would do (and could do) to get where she needed to be.

Which is why he found himself less and less surprised to find her standing at the edge of the water, in the middle of the night, swathed up to her jaw in dark, heavy fabrics. The only part of her that wasn’t covered were her hands; the closer he got, he could see she was turning a smooth, dark rock over and over in her hands, passing it between them as she watched him come nearer.

“You remembered,” was how she greeted him, most of her face cast in shadow thanks to the high position of the moon behind her. Pratt shivered and jammed his hands into his coat pockets.

“Yeah, well, kinda hard to forget,” he replied. “Considering it’s been looming over me for the last few days.”

“Poor thing,” Helmi agreed, not sounding sympathetic at all. “Did you call her?”

Pratt paused, clearing his throat. There was something that didn’t quite sit right with him, knowing that he had called Elliot not out of a cry for her help—not really, anyway—but because this other cult wanted her. This cult, which had tore its way through Hope County splitting and gutting its residents, wanted her. And Helmi didn’t seem keen on telling him why.

“I did. They just got word that she and John are on the road now,” he said after a moment. “What, uh—do you want her for, anyway?”

Helmi quirked a brow at him, the corner of her mouth tilting upwards. “Shouldn’t you have asked that before making the phone call, if it was going to bother you?”

A little lick of shame and embarrassment crawled red-hot into his cheeks, and he scoffed, turning his face away. “Well, you said you wanted her alive. Can’t say the same for the Seeds.”

“She’s carrying John’s child,” Helmi pointed out. “You think they’d kill her still?”

Pratt grimaced. It was still hard to stomach—the idea that Elliot was with John. Or had been, at one point. It didn’t sound like things were going great, and he could only imagine why. Still—

Still, he thought there was a lesser of the two evils, and Helmi sounded like it. Maybe not the others, but Helmi.

“They don’t have a problem killing babies,” Pratt replied after a minute. “What are you going to do, once she gets here? They won’t let her leave, and they definitely won’t let you in.”

Now, the blonde grinned—pearly teeth in the dark of the night, surprisingly satisfied with herself. “Big one’s pissed at me, isn’t he?”

“Yeah. Well, you know, Faith too. You've been killing her angels.”

She shrugged. “I’ve got a plan. You know exactly as much as you need to know right now. Are you eating?”

The question came so quickly that Pratt didn’t have time to register the oddness of it, replying on automatic the same way he had been with Arden’s consistent, gentle pestering: “Yeah, I mean—don’t have much of an appetite, but...”

His voice trailed off and he glanced back at the woman. Her head was cocked and her eyes were fixed on him expectantly. “What?”

“Eat,” she told him. “Take advantage of as much as you can. And most of all, listen. Any information you can get will be helpful.”

Pratt’s throat felt a little tight. He kept thinking about the way Jacob had grabbed his shoulder, laughing when he’d insulted the woman doing the heavy lifting for Joseph—grinning like a fucking wolf, like he was going to be dinner, next.

He managed out, “He’ll kill me. If he suspects. He’ll take—everything, from me.”

Helmi planted a hand on his shoulder. The gesture made him want to flinch, but he bit back the urge, and he thought maybe she’d seen but didn’t say.

“He already took everything from you,” she replied lightly, “and do you know what that means?”

The dark of her gaze was intense, piercing even in the late night; it made it hard to look away. Voices echoed back in the compound, and briefly, he thought maybe they’d noticed his absence—but he only shook his head.

“It means you have nothing to lose,” Helmi murmured, “and everything to take back from him.” Her hand moved from his shoulder to the back of his neck, the pad of her thumb sweeping up to his pulsepoint pensively. “See? Your heart is beating, and hard. Your blood knows it’s what you want, even if you don’t yet.”

Swallowing thickly, he nodded his head once. Nothing to lose, and everything to take back. Could he? Could he get things back? Is that what Helmi had done? What Elliot had done?

“And don’t fuck it up,” she added, dropping her hand from his neck and zipping her coat up. Leaving so soon. She grinned. “Or I’ll gut you myself. And I guarantee, it won’t be an Återfödelse.”

A nervous, almost hysterical little laugh bubbled up out of him. Helmi shot him a look and then brushed past him, heading back into where the brush became the thickest, calling over her shoulder, “See you in a few days, Staci Pratt.”

A few days. A few days, Elliot would be back, and John Seed would be back, and Helmi would be seeing him. Seeing them. Maybe it would be better to make a break with Elliot, once she got in—but what if she didn’t want to? What if she was one of them?

Pratt let out a puff of hot breath, digging the heel of his palm into his eyesocket while the pain bloomed just there, turning and beginning to trudge back to the compound before anyone noticed his absence. Each scrape and puff of snow fell in line with his heartbeat, the mantra on and off again.

Nothing to lose.

Everything to take back.

[that-wizard-oki]

Hello! I've been aware of your blog for years, and made a Tumblr blog very recently. I want to say that your posts are extremely well thought out, and give the storyline of Wizard101 a lot of much needed depth. I think if Wiz had the gameplay and story structure of Pirate101, it would benefit highly especially for worlds like Azteca and Khrysalis. Currently I'm rewriting Wiz and your posts are a huge inspiration. Finally. what are your thoughts on Arc 3? Imo it had potential but failed.

Hey there! Thank you so much for all your kind words, I’m glad you enjoy my thoughts and theories about the game-  and I’m flattered to hear they inspire you to create your own fan work :D 

Personally, I wouldn’t say that Arc 3 failed in any sense. I think the idea of a children's/family game to tackle the theme of a broken family\divorce is pretty smart- it gives the opportunity to adults who play this game with their kids to find a way to perhaps talk about their own experience with the same themes in their real lives (if it applies to them). Likewise, i also like that the story focuses on that the CHILDREN are the one who have to clean up the PARENTS mess, more or less. Often times the children in families who have a parent/parents that are either split, should split, or are abusive to one another, are the ones who get caught in the cross fire- this is SO evident with Mellori and Bat in Empyrea.

Following that, I think it was also super clever to have Mellori (and the wizard) initially ALSO be fighting against Spider’s children. Another common occurrence in families that experience abuse between their parents/ect, is that one or both of the parents will try to divide their children onto sides- furthering the divide and conflict in the family itself. THIS was exactly what was happening in arc 3- we weren’t technically fighting Raven and Spider, but their children were fighting each other in their names.

One of the most beautiful things to come out of this game was the fact that Mellori and Bat WERE able to see through that, and instead focused on the real threat at hand- their parents. In fact, it is their COMBINED power that allows the wizard to defeat the result of Raven and Spider- the Aethyr Titan. This reflects so well into reality, where when the children of broken families try their damned to support one another, instead of letting their parents continue to control and divide them, it leads to the kids being able to break the domino effect that comes with that kind of family dynamic. They are able to become individuals- instead of being some mini version or “part” of their parents (which is also clever on KI’s part to make Mellori and Bat/Rat/Scorpion LITERAL extensions of Raven/Spider, which makes it seem like they are just kind of mindless bots doing whatever their entrusted parent tells them). 

One part i particularly like as well is that towards the end of Empyrea, Mellori talk about how she’s going to go home to her mom- and it’s not Raven, it’s Baba Yaga. I absolutely love this idea that, yea, Mellori (and any kid for that matter) SHOULD be able to choose who their mom/dad/parent is if their birth parent(s) don't provide for you the way a parent should. I think that is a SUPER important lesson for Kids AND parents to hear. You choose your own family if that’s what it comes down to, and there is NO shame in that. 

That being said, i do have my issues with some things too- this might seem small, but I never liked how when we’re in the Husk, and Raven and Spider are talking to one another about who’s “really” at fault, and eventually Raven goes “oh what have i done?” and Spider just goes “.... Yea were were BOTH really bad huh?” Like.... listen, sure, Raven probably shouldn’t have locked Cob away for eternity and stole his chaos heart in order to reform the spiral, BUT imma be real with y’all... Spider also did shit to aggravate Raven- specifically, he messed with her kids into a fucking war. I mean this half sarcastically, but tbh, if you mess with a mother’s kids... that's fucking on you man, you know the grave your digging for yourself on that one lmao.

But more seriously- i feel like they REALLY tried to make Raven out to be “worse” than Spider, and having Spider just beguile her with his words at the end in a way were she ended up being like “oh nooo IM the really bad one, oh no oh noo :((” JUST for him to be like “no its ok babe :) we’re BOTH equally as bad, stay here with me and we can be bad and alone together :)”

Actually now that i write that out, it is a little.. weird that Spider kinda got what he wanted- to be with Raven, when imo, they really should have STAYED split. I don’t come from a divorced family, but I’ve many friends who do, and I’ve gathered that more often than not... divorce can be a good thing, as it is likely to stop/lessen the conflict within families. I think that yea, they both did bad things to one another, and need to stay apart, not spend the rest of eternity together.

That’s probably my biggest qualm with the entirety of Arc 3, beyond the various obvious one, which is that Morganthe played like, absolutely no part in it lmao. I’ve talked endlessly about it, so i won’t repeat myself too much lol. 

Just to briefly reiterate- i think that Morganthe, the one who re-discovered shadow magic, was groomed by the Shadow Magi, and very blatantly infused with something akin to the conversion tables we see in Khrysalis, I think she would have been an invaluable source of information and help for the Wizard. Not only does she probably know the most about Shadow Magic outside of Spider, but it’s insanely alluded to that she was under his control- perhaps even had contact or conversation with him somehow in her time as Shadow queen.

The biggest frustration of her lack of presence though, comes from the way Khrysalis built up this INSANELY interesting Foil between the Wizard and her. The way that they both weirdly fit the prophecy, the way their lead into The Hive was so eerily mirrored, the fact that we were both called the Children of Light and Shadow by Spider, and not to even mention how the shared feelings of loneliness and fear of failure as students of Ambrose... like I could go on about these two and how amazing it would have been for them both to work together in arc 3, but also help heal and grow as The Children of Light and Shadow... but that’s not what we got unfortunately. 

Anywho, i don’t wanna ramble on about that too much because i touched on it in another ask post and you can look at that if ya want in my tag, but yea! Those are my general thoughts on Arc 3. Again, i love this arc, i think it truly has some of the most nuanced writing and characters thus far in the game. 

Besides, i always think they could easily write in Morganthe’s return for a redemption with the wizard, especially now with the Wizard seemingly trying to fight their own shadows.

Hope that satisfied your question though, and good luck with your writings :D

[diverse-writing]

Pt. 1-Hi! I'm a Black woman writing a Fanfiction for an anime series called Food Wars and I'm creating a sister and brother who are half-Lakota (Itazipcola Band) and half-Black American. They're going to a Japanese Culinary High School, the same school their great-uncle (Kiowa) went to when America was in Japan, post-WWII for a few years as his father was in the army. It's a very competitive school with diverse characters and cooking styles/types. They both want to travel and see a new country.

(continued) They live in Sioux Falls, SD after moving from the Cheyenne River Rez years ago. The family owns a Catering company with Native, African, and American Southern food (Mom is from VA) that does Showcasings, Chef Demos, and feeding the people within both communities while mentoring the youth. Annie (Older sis) wants to be a Pastry Chef as Andrew (little bro) does mostly savory, especially BBQ. Annie was on a kid's baking show as Andrew won kid's BBQ competitions. Both siblings want to help their communities by spreading awareness about poverty, suicide, and other stuff. They are active in their Native heritage. I did research in Natives in Japan, and I found that it's a bit mixed. Some people don't know about Natives, or that they do but only through the news and old western films. There's this one guy who went to a tribe to learn about the culture and he went back to Japan to teach his students about how the Natives truly lived. There's a Native jewelry store in Tokyo So some Japanese do know about Natives, I want to write a few small scenes where the Japanese students ask questions that are stereotypical about Natives and Black people, but they learn from the siblings. Annie begins to have a crush on a boy who is mixed indigenous (Ainu/Saami), but isn't connected to those cultures, because of his Ainu dad dying and Saami mom leaving him. He was adopted by a rich Japanese/Danish family. I want him to learn more about his heritage after falling for Annie and begins to heal from his past through learning about the Saami. Before he didn't want to do anything with them due to his mom. Andrew falls for a Japanese girl who does Medicine Cuisine. He's a expert in Nutrition and tries to help his people's health issues. They have a cute relationship. I thought of these characters just like any other person. I'm Black and I don't like seeing stereotypes. Annie and Andrew love music due to their dad formerly being in a band with only one album. They're both crafty with the Arts due to their grandparents on both sides teaching them. Annie is more outgoing, goofy, and blunt than Andrew but she enjoys the simple stuff in life and loves fashion (Vintage 60s/70s and Punk) Andrew is more quiet and shy, but not antisocial. He just likes doing his own thing while teasing his sis on her shortness and crush. He likes comfy, Punk clothing. I was just wondering what is offensive and not. I want to show their food and aspects of culture, like Powwows (I've been watching videos on Lakota Powwows) and I've been wondering if there's a coming of age ceremony. I don't want to show it just mention it. Is this where people get their Lakota name? I don't want to do religious ceremonies since that's sacred and also I'm not really religious, but what if I want to allude about it? Sorry that this was way too long!

Okay, this is a huge question but I’ll do my best to answer it with the GIANT caveat that I’m not indigenous and am only answering to the best of my knowledge. If any indigenous followers--particularly those with experience in Japan/with Japanese culture, though of course all are welcome--have thoughts or feelings, as always feel free to add more information and/or correct me!

A few observations that jump out, based on your description of your narrative framework:

Their food. Okay, while I know absolutely nothing about the food cultures you describe, I’m a huge fan of connecting with your culture through your food (and your stomach!) so I love this framing. That being said, to my knowledge African American food is fairly distinct from African food, with the former more likely to be in their cultural background given your description (obviously, in this situation you’re the expert on Black culture so feel free to totally ignore me here). 

Andrew’s food interests. Related to the previous bullet point, based on my understanding Medicine Cuisine and Nutrition would be super interesting focuses for him given his cultural background. It’d be super cool to seem him integrate his various cooking specialties and heritages into nourishing food to support his people. 

Knowledge about Native Americans in Japan. I do think it’s likely accurate that unless someone in Japan has personally done research, the average Japanese citizen probably knows very little about indigenous Native Americans in the same way the average American knows very little about Japanese indigenous ethnic groups. 

Relatedly, I think it makes sense for their Japanese classmates to ask stereotypical questions, but you should steer clear of just plain offensive questions. As you likely know, answering stereotypical questions about your identity and heritage is exhausting and should be treated as such within the narrative. Your characters are in school to educate themselves, not to educate their classmates, so while the latter may occur sometimes I don’t think it should be their focus. So while the intent of the questioning scene may partially be to help answer readers’ questions about Annie and Andrew’s heritage (and Black and Lakota culture to an extent), remember that the ultimate goal of representation is not to educate others but to help people within those demographics see themselves on the page. And more likely than not, Black and Lakota readers won’t want to see characters representing themselves having to answer the same repetitive questions they face down all the time.

I know you only mentioned him in passing, but I have a lot more thoughts specifically about Annie’s mixed Ainu/Saami crush. I don’t want to tell you *not* to write him but I do think there are several pitfalls you need to carefully avoid moving forward.

His Saami mother. There’s a big stereotype around POC abandoning their children, being absent or flighty parents, or otherwise just failing to properly nuture their children. While I’m unaware of any specific stereotype regarding indigenous  parents, I would tentatively say that doesn’t mean those stereotypes don’t exist, so tread carefully. That being said, I do know there’s a stereotype about indigenous people being alcoholics, so you should absolutely avoid characterizing his mother as such because as an outsider, you don’t have the power to subvert that stereotype. 

His relationship with his heritage. I would also be very cautious while writing his arc of reconnecting to his heritage. While reconnecting is unfortunately a very real (and very under represented) process for indigenous people, it’s an extremely difficult and personal process that I don’t think outsiders are qualified to write in-depth about. Though I don’t think you should necessarily gloss over his reconnecting process, I do think it should perhaps be a side character arc, rather than his defining character arc. For example, he might mention to Annie that her passion for her heritage has inspired him to research his own family, or else maybe he’s pictured buying a book on the Saami language. (The current discussion around Rick Riordan’s portrayal of Piper’s imperfect reconnection to her Cherokee heritage makes some really good points, so I’d check that out if you’re familiar with his books. I’d be happy to link you if you’re curious.)

His adopted family. I have to admit--as the daughter of a transracial adoptee in a family full of transracial adoptees, this framing makes me very wary. While I know transracial adoption parents likely have only the best intentions, the adopted child themselves often end up hugely disconnected from their birth cultures. It’s often an extremely stressful and traumatic event, especially in cases where the adopted parents don’t learn about their child’s birth culture themselves and/or only teach the child their own cultures (in this case, Japanese and Dutch). Honestly, with all due respect, I have yet to see any fictional narratives that properly address the trauma of transracial adoptions and given everything else going on in your writing, I’m not sure how well you would be able to write about it. More in the next bullet point.

His extremely mixed heritage. While I don’t want to come across as rude, I do have to ask: what’s your intention behind making a single side character with four different cultural backgrounds, especially backgrounds that you the author don’t share? The reality is that, no matter how much research you may do, these four cultures--Ainu, Saami, Japanese, and Dutch--are very rarely found in combination, and I think you’d be hard pressed to find any #ownvoices accounts from similar scenarios that you could hypothetically draw on to write more accurately. As a result, you’d know very little about how these different cultures meld together, and you’d have almost nothing to go on to write about his mixed multicultural background and the tensions that come with it. While I understand you may be attached to his parental setup and his backstory, I would highly advise simplification to avoid straying into territory you neither understand or are qualified to write about. Given your focus on his reconnecting, I would probably recommend keeping his Ainu father alive and cutting his adopted family. That way, you cut the number of unknown cultures in half and you can truly dedicate yourself to writing his Ainu heritage and his reconnecting process well.

With regards to your actual question about Lakota religious ceremonies, as a non-indigenous person I’m definitely not qualified to answer specifics about Lakota coming of age and naming ceremonies. That being said, I know this: Native American ceremonies, rituals, traditions, and lore are often closely guarded and not shared with outsiders. And I don’t just mean outsiders don’t share in the ceremonies themselves--outsiders often can’t even learn about the ceremonies because the knowledge itself is guarded. (This information is secondhand from my Blackfoot professor last year. If I’m wrong or if any indigenous followers have more accurate information, as always I’m open to critiques and suggestions!) As you continue researching this, I’d definitely be mindful of the source; if it comes from an official Lakota or indigenous source, it’s likely okay to share or discuss, but if all you can find about Lakota religious ceremonies is from, like, someone’s blog or Facebook post or something, then that information likely wasn’t approved to share and you shouldn’t write it into your story. Given that this seems to only be a character detail mentioned briefly, you may be able to simply mention the characters’ Lakota names in passing without referencing the ceremony itself.

Sorry for the long response, and I hope at least some of this information helps!

(Also, if you read this post, this is a good example of a really well researched and thought out ISO Sensitivity Reader question. Obviously, I’ve provided what information I can and this individual seems to have done lots of research, but the execution comes down to... well, the actual execution.)

[jinxthequeergirl]

Out there (pt.1)

Crowley x reader (Tangled au)

Summary: our story begings with a house, an archangel, a thief and a girl

Warning: none

Ok so I lied I have like two more hours till tomorrow so why not

Also extreamily sorry for lying about doing requests something came up and I'm exhausted

~~~~~~

This is a story about two very different being from two very different world's.

But before we can even begin this story we need to go back.

Back to when the earth was still fairly new. And a beautiful young lady walked through the market. She was no one important. Just a simple young lady who lived in the village. Her name is unknown yet Her role in this story is more important than you would think.

And while in the same market a strong handsome angle walked amongst the people of this new village admiring everything in his way. His name is also unknown.

But though there roles in this story are important. It's not about them.

It's about what came of them. They fell in love in that market. And for many months hid this love from the world. The only issue was that they couldn't do much hiding after the woman have birth to a beautiful little girl.

Now you may think it's a wonderful thing an angel and a human in love and having a child together. And yes it is a wonderful thing but also a forbidden one.

This child born from both human and Angel was known as a Nephilim. And as far as heaven was consented they where a big no no.

The Angel knew this but despite knowing this acted as a proud father and showed his new daughter to the world.

Catching the eyes of a few humans who were power Hungry and a few angels who where appalled that one of their own had created such a being.

Humans came for the child attempting to steal Her for her abilities they knew she would possess. Angels came from heaven to kill the child.

They even created a special dagger to do so. But both parents had done an excellent job of keeping her safe.

Until of course as they slept in the next room there daughter sound asleep in the next room someone lurked from with in.

This was the archangel Gabriel armed with the Nephilim dagger.

But instead he stopped considering the child's ability himself.  He dropped the dagger losing it for centuries now.

He stole the baby with ease and hid her from both humans and angels.

Though this may sound like it was in her best interest. It wasn't.

Gabriel taught her how to use Her ability to heal at an early age. And yes he was an angel and needed no sort of healing he found that when she used her abilities on him they made him stronger.

He became greedy and built a sturdy home far from anyone on earth to keep her  hidden.

Angels lost sight of the child after the home was put together and humans Now were unaware of her.

It is also important to know that this child was you.

And you are where our story really begins.

You hosted yourself up on some overgrown vines that grew on the stone wall's surrounded your house. Your house was two stories tall yet the wall that surrounded it almost doubled it's night.

"Shit!" our foot slipped on one of the stones but you continued to climb.

You finally reached the top and pulled yourself up smiling Out at the forest.

You cupped your hands around your mouth and let out a joyous scream.

For the amount of times you had climbed up this wall to look out into the forest while Gabriel was away it never got old.

"Y/n!!?"

You turned around to face the house. "Y/n! Where are you my Angel?"

As soon as you reached the top you were forced to come back down. You grabbed hold of one of the vines and slid down it running inside to meet your father. "Hi dad!" he grinned when he saw you and opened his arms and you quickly ran into them to hug him.

"Where were you?"

"Oh you know just out in the garden…"

He smiled and pulled away from the hug and wondered to the sitting room.

You took a deep breath and smiled. "Well anyways uh dad there's something I need to -"

"Ugh you wouldn't believe what I had to go through today!" you stopped and took a seat in your chair ready to listen to him rant about some Angel who stopped Armageddon and failed to burn when he punished him.

"Wow I'm sorry to hear that but dad it's really important-"

"Y/n dear I'm feeling a little drab would you mind recharging me? I promise as soon as your done I'm all ears."

"Sure!"  You quickly scooted closer and took, his hands and started humming to help you focus on what you wanted to heal. Slowly a bright yellow glow appeared from your palms, it slowly moved up his arms through his veins.

He sighed feeling much more rejuvenated and smiled at you as you folded your hands in your lap. "Thank you sweetie. Now what did you want to talk to me about?"

"Well I'm sure you know what's coming up!"

"I'm very much aware yes."

"Well I was kinda sorta hoping...and I don't see why you would say no…"

"Y/n the mumbling what is it with humans and the mumbling? It's not hard to not do it just speak clearly."

"Right sorry well I was hoping that maybe You could take me out? We could go shopping and get lunch?..."

He furrowed his brows at you and stood up. "You want to go out there? Absolutely not."

You looked at him in shock. "Please! I know if you are there with me I'll be just fine!" Gabriel rolled his eyes and began to walk away. "Dad please you have to understand! I can't keep living my life through books! I need to experience it myself!"

"Y/n you know why your here!"

You stood up and followed behind him.  "Yes but-"

"You wouldn't last a day out there! Listen to your father it's a...a scary world out there!"

"Well maybe-"

"One way or another something will go wrong I swear! So you will stay here with me!"

You continued to follow him through the house attempting to reason with him.

"Please! Just one day! That all-"

"ENOUGH WITH LEAVING ALREADY I SAID NO!" Your breath got caught in your throat as he turned and snapped at you. "Great...now I'm the bad guy…"

You gulped and looked down. "No don't say that...your just trying to keep me safe."

Gabriel sighed and made his way too you and lifting your face to look at him.

"You know I love you."

You chuckled lightly and hugged him. "I love you more."

"I love you most." he kissed the top of your head and pulled away. "I have a but more work to do but I'll be home shortly.be good."

"Always." you smiled and said your goodbyes before he left you alone. You walked up to your room sitting in the bay window seat looking out at the wall.

Meanwhile a demon was on the run from two other demons. The one running is our second half of this story. His name, is Crowley and he's currently running from the other two demons who are called Hastur and Ligur two dukes of hell.  He's running because he has stolen something very valuable to hell.

And he's stolen it because a book told him so. A book his dear friend Aziraphale (an angel) owned told him too.

He dumped the Bentley just outside of Soho hoping to throw them off his trail. He however was in certain how he managed to be running through a forest past tadfield.

He glanced behind him checking that they weren't there and without realizing ran head first into a stone wall.  "What the heaven!?" He sat up looking at it.

"Crowley!? You can't fool us that easily!"

His eyes widened at the voice from with in the woods. He snapped his fingers and a door appeared allowing him to step through.

As soon as he was sure the door was gone He turned to face the house. He sighed and quickly stepped inside. "Hallo?...anyone home?"

He stepped further into the house looking around. He sighed again when no one answered. He started pulling his phone out to call aziraphale but something hit him in the back of the head knocking him out.

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Tagging:

@writer-of-camelot

@gothglamonenightstand

@steampowerednightvaler

@thatcutewerewolf

@dadzawas-eyebags

[acklest]

Why is your husband the most Iconic and sweetest person ever?! We(I'm confidently assuming that I'm not the only one) need to know more about him.

Oh, you may regret this. 

(If you’re squeamish about blood, you might wanna proceed with caution. I promise I’m not trying to be dramatic. There’s blood in this.)

He is iconic, at least to me. And he’s probably really only “sweet” to me. Also to the cat, but he denies this. To everyone else, he’s just a quiet sort of guy with a permanently “done” look on his face.

What he planned to do from childhood was join the US Navy, because his Dad had been in the Navy. He wanted to be a technician on a submarine.

As soon as he graduated high school, he went to talk to a recruiter, and got sent to take the ASVAB. His scores on that were great and he was willing to enlist for a long hitch. The recruiter was like “it’s not even my birthday.”

But he failed the hearing part of his physical, so his status was “disqualified recommending waiver.” He didn’t know that his hearing had degenerated from type 2 (moderate) to type 3 (severe). The eval was to see if he could hear all the comms with his headset cranked up to max without hearing aids (which he hated wearing anyway). When he missed some of the cues, he was fully disqualified. 

Then he had to figure out what his second choice for the rest of his life would be. Nothing really jumped out at him. He’d never really thought about it. But his family couldn’t pay for college, so he would need a job.

His best friend got him on as a cashier working the graveyard shift at a 24-hour gas station/mini-mart. During breaks, he looked over the course catalog from the local community college. He thought maybe he could do one of those non-degree cert programs, like becoming a welder or a mechanic.

A week before, a dude who had sued that chain of gas stations for damages from a personal injury found out that he wasn’t getting a settlement. He was across the street from the one where my husband worked. I guess lawsuit dude got enraged all over again, thought “I’ll show them”, and loaded the .22 he had in his jacket before heading over. 

My husband was behind the counter, where the liquor was, thinking he was dealing with just another drunk customer at 4-fucking-AM. When he turned to ask if he needed anything else, lawsuit dude shot him in the side of the face from about six feet away. The bullet wound its way through his jawbone and he instinctively reached up to his mouth because he felt loose bits of his teeth on his tongue. (Sort of a dark in-joke, when one of us asks the other about a day that had obviously not gone well. “Bad. Not gargling-my-own-teeth bad, but not great.”)

He would’ve spun around by then to take cover behind the counter, but the sound of the gunshot stunned him because he heard it perfectly. He was born deaf/hearing-impaired, so he’d always heard things a certain way, through a certain amount of… I don’t know, static, interference, fog? But this he heard perfectly and it stunned him. 

(“If their headsets went up that high, I could’ve joined the Navy.”) 

So he didn’t turn in time to miss the second bullet, which hit him in the chest from the same range. As he turned, the third one hit him in the side of his stomach. The fourth one hit him in the thigh, nicking his femoral artery. Then his best friend showed up to tag in for his shift, heard the loud noise, ran in to help like a moron. So the last thing my husband heard before he blacked out was his best friend screaming at the guy to stop, and then a few more gunshots after that. 

If a Jeep full of hard partiers hadn’t pulled up to get gas and ran next door to call 911, he’d be dead right now. Of course, lawsuit dude was hell and gone by then.

He woke up in the hospital ten days later, heavily drugged. He tried to talk but they had done something to stabilize his jaw so he couldn’t speak. He was in and out for a couple of days after that. 

A day or so later, the thoracic surgeon sat down and told him that he’d died a couple of times, and that they tried to get the bullet out of his chest, but it had ended up less than 4cm away from his heart, so it was too high risk. They would have to leave it in. He apologized for how wide the scar was from when they opened his chest, because they had to work so quickly.  When they brought him in, he was covered in blood, all over. His hair had matted together from lying in it until the EMT people got there. One of them told him later, “We saw the booze behind the counter and assumed a bullet had hit a couple of bottles of red wine.”

Not so much. 

His best friend had died in the ambulance on the way. 

There was two years of recovery, facial reconstruction for his jaw, lots of dental work, physical therapy, follow-up procedures, and so on. There was a court trial that dragged on and on. 

It hurt when he breathed in, it hurt if he laughed. It all hurt. He’s a big dude, 5'10, shaped kinda like Wolverine (comic Wolverine, not Huge Yakman Wolverine). His health had always been good. He said he felt like he was being punished for not appreciating it enough while he had it. Up til all that, he’d been a devout Catholic, but that burned away real quick. He says that the 18 year old working at the mini-mart was a different person than the one who got wheeled out of the hospital a couple of months later. He didn’t know that guy.

He spent the next ten years on what I call a Chuck Norris tasting tour, where he was likely suicidal but not aware of it. He survived two terrible motorcycle accidents, a spectacularly failed marriage, he was thrown off a horse and hit the ground with a thud about 30 feet below, and then a drunk driver plowed into the back end of his car at top speed and he ended up ass over tea kettle in a ditch.

A few months after that, he started having terrible chest pains. He thought it was just pain from the impact with the steering wheel, which broke a couple of ribs. But when it kept going even after his ribs had healed, he went back to the hospital. The impact had shook stuff around and now the bullet was moving closer to his heart. Moving very very slowly, but yeah. So they had to open him up again to get it out.

(“Would you like to keep it?”

“…What?”

“Some people like to keep the bullet.”

“Uh. No. Thank you. I think a decade’s enough.”)

Fast forward to ‘98. I was a year or so off of a devastating event/blue screen of death thing of my own. I had a baby that I had never planned to have because I wussed out of the adoption process (I’m not saying I regret that, I’m just saying). I was on a little death-seeking tour of my own, when some mutual friends pushed us together. I do not know why. Maybe because we were the same amount of “over it.”? Maybe to take us both out of the dating pool at the same time, thereby making it safer for everyone? “You know someone who’s a walking disaster? Me too!”

The wheels almost fell off the wagon a couple of times. He told me he loved me and I didn’t talk to him for a couple of months. He sent me an instant message that said, “I am not playing Peter Gabriel outside your goddamn window. Get the fuck over this.” The age gap (22 years) made him pull away a bit there for awhile, but we didn’t need any Peter Gabriel for that shit either.

Nothing really surprises him or catches him off guard. This sort of weird Midwestern Zen thing that I don’t really understand because I’m kind of the opposite. Our communication is weird because neither one of us talks about anything that’s really bugging us, but we kind of talk around it.

I asked him to marry me a few years after we’d moved in, and he said “I don’t know, the last one didn’t go too well.” (A charming understatement.) I was cool with that. I was like… 83% cool with that. Almost a year later, while we were watching a movie, he turned to me and said, “Yeah.“ 

A YEAR later. 

“Yeah?” Like I would fucking know what he was talking about.

“I’ll marry you." 

"About time. Would you say that you were trying to decide the entire year or was it more of an on-and-off thing?”

“Oh, fuck off." 

Anyway – courthouse, Vegas, etc.

What I need you to know about him, more than anything, are these three things: 

1) When one of my family members (an uncle I didn’t know well) showed up to threaten the two of us, he quietly took that man by the arm and walked him out to the parking lot. I was watching from our doorway. I thought I was about to see him rip the guy’s head off and go bowling.

I didn’t see him make an angry face. I didn’t hear him raise his voice. It was a quiet conversation, and then that man backed away, got in his car, and left. That was 15 years ago, and I haven’t seen him or heard from him since, though I got a letter from my biological mother the week after, asking what kind of psychopath I was living with.

Still no fucking clue what he said, though.

2) His idea of asking me to move in with him back in ‘98 was to start replacing the furniture in my apartment with new furniture, but leaving that new furniture at his apartment. "Got you a new desk." 

"I have a desk.”

“Your desk isn’t gonna go with the chair.”

“What chair?”

“The chair I bought you last week.”

“You bought me a chair last week?”

“Yeah, come over and look at it.”

As near as I can tell, his plan was to slowly replace all of my furniture but keep it at his apartment and to slowly move me in a box of things at a time until I was like “Wow, all my stuff’s over there.”

3) When little kids ask him about the inch-wide scar from his collarbone all the way to his navel, with a narrower scar on top of that one from the second surgery, he tells them that he was shaving with a straight razor and suddenly sneezed really hard.

[fantasyizlife]

Ok so I'm always extreeeeeemely shy asking about prompts and stuff, but honest to God I'm having the worst day in a while and I really need an escape and a distraction of some kind. T_T So yeah, given that I always project my issues on my idols' lives (lol), I'll ask you for a Charles Leclerc angst fic in which he's having a very bad panic attack and another driver, Max or Lewis maybe, calms him down. Hope you'll like the prompt, if you don't please don't feel forced to write it. Hugs

Flight or fight

Come on Charles you got this! 

It's a new race in Spa!

It won't be like Germany its a few drops of rain! 

Fuck fuck FUCK, keep your shit together!

The fat droplets of rain confirmed the weather would be clear in a matter of minutes. The circuit would be dry well before qualifying due to the pleasant warm sun shining on Leclerc's face. But the negative energy now running rampant in Charles veins wouldn't shut up. He was suited up and trying to not pace the back of the garage but was failing at that even more so. 

"I can't let everyone down again! Come on Charles!" He whispers to himself as his breathing gets away from him. He can feel his heart pounding in his temples now. 

Charles closes his eyes and wipes his face, it's only 68 degrees today, he shouldn't be this damp. FUCK! Why does it feel like everyone is staring at him? Charles pulls on the neck of his collar as far as the fabric will go. It's not enough and the panic starts to rise in his throat. It's going to choke him to death! 

He glances around the garage and sees everyone scurrying around at normal pace. Noone is looking at him but he's well aware that every camera in a hundred miles can be pointed on him every second he stands here. Charles pinches his nose hard before opening his eyes. His tingling fingers are wet with tears. 

Fight or flight are what drivers like him are trained for. Charles has always been a fighter but this here was something of lately he couldn't control. In a split second Charles pushed the bile down and used the surge of energy to get his feet moving before he passed out, disappointing everyone again. He has to dig deeper for the flight aspect of his training.

He makes it clear across the back of Mercedes garage and uses sheer willpower to find the best way to hide himself from what was sure to become the Charles Leclerc shit show! The loss of peripheral vision left him blinded to Lewis Hamilton who now frightened him with an unexpected grip on his right arm. Charles tried to break his hold, tried to focus on Hamilton's lips as he spoke to him. Why the fuck did he sound so far away?

Lewis patted Charles on the back and pulled him close letting him rest his body weight against him. It was only then that Leclerc felt his knees weakening. Lewis practically carried him to a soft surface and let him go. Charles pulled his knees up to his chest and his hid his face as Lewis closed and locked the door. 

His body was trembling and tears fell without warning. This was it, the end of the legacy before he ever got it started. He couldn't hold it in anymore, even if he wanted to. Mattia insisted he see the teams psychologist and he had worked hard to hide his issues, passing the tests with just enough to satisfy Ferrari. The long summer break hadn't done him any good either. 

"I'm so sorry dad, please forgive me." Leclerc said as the soft surface dipped under the added weight of Hamilton.

"Hey Charles, sit up and take some deeper breaths." Lewis said soft slipping a box of tissue under his knees. Charles shook his head up and down and grabbed a fist full pressing the tissue tightly to his drowning vision. His chest so full of pressure he couldn't catch his breath. This was bad! The worst he ever felt since the passing of his father, before that breakdown was Jules. The very thought made him nauseous. If he could vomit surely he would welcome it, now he was dry heaving. 

"Here mate swirl it around and spit it out, you got this." Lewis encouraged handing him his Mercedes bottle. Charles didn't fight it, he took the help. A few swishes and the heaving stopped. Lewis dabbed a wet cloth to the back of his neck and let it rest against his forehead. 

Charles tried to keep his eyes open as the situation came into focus. He just lost his shit in front of F1s chosen one! He shook his head in denial but there was no denying it. He needed to thank him and get over to Binotto! 

"Hamilton, thanks man..I need to uh go talk to the team." He tried to stand up and his body wouldn't allow it. He was now physically and mentally weak. Lewis unwrapped a pine nut and raisin bar before handing it to him.

"Look prince of Ferrari, take a minute. We have plenty before quali, promise or I wouldn't be here." 

Charles took notice in the way Lewis genuinely smiled at him. He was relaxed and seemed to be offering him help so he simply nodded and took a bite. His mouth too dry to swallow just yet so he took his time chewing it. After a few bites and moments of silence Lewis spoke to him.

"You need to think about what you want before you throw in the towel and tell your team about this."

Charles raised his tired eyes to Lewis's and gave him his full attention. 

"Its not lost to me mate. Your out here with heavier weight on your shoulders than any of us, I knew it way before Ferrari signed you."

"I just can't seem to escape my own shadow Ham...I want to be good enough..I want to make everyone proud of me."

"You see that's the problem, you want this for everyone but yourself Leclerc. I see you constantly compared to Jules, I see you always honoring him. Nothing wrong with any of that except when you forget that it's you who got you here, your hero to zero attitude only adds to that stress of you thinking your letting your own father down....kid, your breaking my heart and everyone else's by breaking yours. Your father will forever be proud of you. No amount of wins or losses will ever change that Charles."

Lewis stood and got him another cool cloth. Charles looked at the floor thankful he had all his vision back.

"Your team, the fans...they have plenty to love about you before you ever win your first race. It's why your "the  prince of Ferrari" 

Lewis smiled using air quotes to put the silliness on the phrase Charles has seen many times in front of his name. It felt great to be smiling at all this, he had been searching for the light in his darkness so long he had given up, so he thought. 

"You deserve to be in that seat because of your good looks and even greater driving ability! Charles you have to trust in yourself to be that man. Believe in yourself to beat me, uh but could you wait until next year maybe?"

Charles chuckled as the sky over his head busted open and shined for him once again. He closed his eyes and tried to see if the dark clouds of comparison were still looming and to his relief they weren't. His smile got so big it hurt.

"You think you might be ready to give me a hell of a run today? I know I'm ready to race against F1s next champ!" 

Lewis held out his arm and Charles gripped his hand as he pulled him into a hug that had such a powerful meaning behind it. 

"Thank you Ham, I won't forget this. Ever." 

"I'm counting on it, just remember it when your team gives you that plan C shit. Be the man with your own plan, fuck them!" 

A big thank you to @iammany for allowing me to try my best at my first one shot that shows every human goes through these crippling situations. I seriously want to just hug our Charles right now!

[punkscowardschampions]

Ava & James

Ava: I've told all my family James: oh Ava: Maybe don't oh that hard Ava: thinking you've changed your mind and that's going to be very difficult to do a 180 on tbh James: I'm actually thinking about Bella's dad's reaction Ava: As far as I'm aware, my dad doesn't have a shotgun Ava: or an excellent moustache Ava: definitely not James: Mine does, on both counts, but the mentality simply isn't there James: war of words is as far as things have so far escalated Ava: That's a good visual Ava: what about your mum? James: she's very busy lining up every single woman she's aware of between the ages of 20 to 30 within a mile radius or so Ava: Very Mr Darcy Ava: I'll gatecrash James: I look forward to the dramatic dance scene during which we only touch palms & exchange looks Ava: I bet Lizzie Bennet didn't 😳 Ava: shame my sister isn't around to push over so your parents are forced to take us in whilst she languishes James: 😂 James: I'll happily push my sister over or let her fall through an iced over pond to further our romantic narrative Ava: 💘 Ava: I know it's less about me but I can swoon nonetheless James: if you're 😳 then you'll have my full attention regardless Ava: Promise? James: yes Ava: even if the single ladies have really good period costumes? James: well, I hadn't considered that Ava: 😏 Ava: rude James: before I decide, what are you going to be wearing when you gatecrash? Ava: Obviously something unexpectedly knockout Ava: am the protagonist, need I remind you James: okay, what I'm hearing is anything you already own or could pick out from anywhere given a few moments Ava: You're adorable Ava: how did it go really then? James: does that mean I'll get to see you before there's a seasons changing montage? because I really want to Ava: Providing you don't need to exile yourself, of course James: I'm sure there's now several people in both our lives who would like me to, but I won't Ava: They were as receptive as I expected but I've made it clear I won't be stopping seeing you, hopefully put to bed the concerns I can James: in my case, the only concern is outward appearances so there's very little I can do even if I particularly cared to James: & Teddy isn't concerned so much as shocked & appalled Ava: Of course Ava: at least I'm an addendum re. the main issue of the whole divorce, in that case? Ava: yeah, do you think I should make a point of talking to him or give him space? James: will you? as far as he's concerned I haven't made a good decision within his living memory, but you two are friends, or were Ava: I'll try, definitely Ava: if I can make him see it's as much my decision as yours, it might help, in the end Ava: and I can handle another person having their say James: thank you James: I meant what I said, I'm more than willing to discuss this with your parents, at any point James: I can handle that Ava: Thank you Ava: I think it might help Ava: but I also think I'm gonna give them a cool-off period or it won't be at all helpful and that won't be at all your fault James: understood James: I'm currently having to employ a similar situation with Jay's playdates because her friend's mothers cannot possibly keep their nose out of my business or their mouths shut about where hers is and every other single detail they believe to be fact Ava: Oh lord Ava: I wouldn't have envied you having to socialize by-proxy with the self-professed yummy mummies before but now Ava: I can only imagine Ava: Poor Jay Ava: I can't offer a human child for playdates but Frank is always down Ava: and my lips are, naturally, sealed James: I was hoping to take them away for a few days but it's as though my dad has decided that in lieu of my failings in other areas I need to suddenly become the hardest worker in the history of this company Ava: Of course Ava: Hmm James: because obviously what my children require most in their mother's absence is to also see me less Ava: Well, yeah, that's not potentially traumatizing Ava: thank God for School being right 'round the corner Ava: and Matty still being portable James: I've been bringing them both to the office & the bulging vein in his temple is honestly such a strong contender for the book cover Ava: 😏 That's how you do it Ava: risk his health and wellbeing so you get the time off for yours James: King's didn't teach me everything I know, I've got a few tricks Ava: When are you giving me that tour? James: When can I see you? Ava: When is your dad not working you to death? Ava: I can make it work James: [A pause while he figures that out] James: he's out of the office all day on [a date in the foreseeable to make this office hookup a thing] Ava: No offense but if your brother shows up again you need to send him on a really long coffee run James: as you said, school is right around the corner, meaning my parents priorities have shifted back to making sure he'll go Ava: In that case Ava: 😈 James: 😇 for saying yes Ava: I have ulterior motives, I promise you James: oh really? Ava: really Ava: it's very unfair I've yet to see you in your work clothes James: [sends her a pic because nobody can stop him] Ava: um hello 😍 Ava: you're really going to be away from me looking so good Ava: unfair James: I'm sorry James: I really, really am Ava: Me too Ava: I've not seen you enough to warrant how badly I want to right now James: [a casual essay about how much he misses her and wants her and everything he wishes they could do, in a saucy way but also just in cute ways like] Ava: James James: Ava Ava: I really love you, you know James: I love you too James: what I most wish is that we could go away for a while Ava: That would be Ava: so good Ava: maybe we could in like the Christmas hols, when everything has calmed down Ava: hopefully James: it would be indescribable Ava: I have no doubt you would do your best Ava: and it'd be impressive James: the subject matter lends itself to nothing but my best Ava: I'm honoured🙇 James: so am I, especially by that visual Ava: Gutted I'm out rn and can't immediately fulfill that wish for a visual like you did Ava: when I get back though James: [sends her an even better visual] James: until then, there you are Ava: oh, well, you aren't distracting at all 😖 Ava: definitely gonna get you back when you're so hard at work James: 😈 James: I so badly hope you do Ava: I intend to Ava: every day of the week Ava: but especially when I get to come see you James: you know, the things I intend to do to you on this desk drastically shifts the audience we're going to be able to pitch this book to Ava: You'll have to restrain your imagination in the write-up so the audience can use theirs to fill in the blanks Ava: because there's no way we're leaving your office 'til we've done everything you've thought of James: finally some overtime I'm not upset about Ava: It's all about balance, right? 😇 James: & I'm aware that you've got very good balance Ava: Will that help me be the best good luck charm on your best I can be? 🤔 Ava: intriguing 😋 James: absolutely, but if you need any more help, I'll help you Ava: You're very helpful, baby James: I try to be Ava: I've never met anyone like you James: I don't think I'll ever meet anyone else that comes close to you either James: I certainly haven't before Ava: Good Ava: I don't need to think about competiting so soon James: you don't need to think about it, full stop Ava: not 'til the dance, anyway James: even then, I'll only have eyes for you, that's the cliche Ava: Of course Ava: doesn't mean I'm not gonna do everything within my power to ensure it's worth your 👀s while James: I don't want to dance with anyone else, Ava James: I don't want to do any of this with anyone else Ava: I know Ava: you know I feel the same too James: you know I couldn't have done this without you though Ava: You did it all though, all the hard conversations and hard decisions James: a lot of those decisions were made for me, so there's limited credit due, & a lack of conversation with her just cements that Ava: Yeah but the ball is in her court on that one Ava: you're if not ready at least willing whenever she is James: of course, because that's not a decision, to not act, not any more Ava: yeah, and that's going to be a good thing Ava: even if it is not good all the time James: I'll be interested to see if she gets in contact before school starts because that's unlikely to be a good thing Ava: Yes, I wonder if this is just a summer holiday or Ava: makes you wonder what she's even doing that could keep her so 'busy' James: whoever cleans the pool, probably, not that she'd ever admit to such a cliche Ava: 😬 Ava: definitely not getting paid enough James: 😂 Ava: I'm just glad that right now you don't have to deal with her on the day to day, even if it's only a momentary reprieve, it'll never be that bad again James: me too, I can't & won't pretend that I didn't know how bad it had become but actually getting a break from it makes me wonder how either of us dealt with that for as long as we have Ava: I bet Ava: she must've been as sick of it, even though she was the one not letting go and doing the fucked up shit, that has to be exhausting to live like that Ava: full level hell beast all the time, like 😈 Ava: sorry, I'm not fully sure where the line is re. her Ava: but I've been hearing great things from Nancy and Buster today so, that's in my head James: it's okay, you're not wrong James: & neither are they Ava: Okay Ava: if it's ever weird or like, not up for discussion though, just say the word Ava: or several, as you're especially loquacious James: there's a fantastic word Ava: as far as safewords go Ava: I can think of a few situations where it might be hard to get out but isn't that half the fun James: I'll make a note of it, because yes, that's definitely a large percentage of the thrill Ava: I wish you were here Ava: I only am to get away from my parents for a bit James: where are you? Ava: My friend's house Ava: Her sister is called Stasia, think she was your year-ish? James: I remember her, whether she would me, favourably or otherwise, I can't possibly comment James: I'll take you home when you want to go Ava: Really? Ava: well, I'll go at whatever time means I get some extra with you James: okay, I'll take that as my cue to leave now, not only because any reason to get out of here is welcomed though Ava: Please do Ava: talking about you so much has only made my need to be with you even greater James: I can absolutely relate & admit to having had the same urge all day Ava: Oh good Ava: we're on the same page James: that said, a necessary note in the margin would be that in actual fact I've felt that way much longer, because whatever I'm talking about, I'm thinking about you Ava: Sometimes I think I think about you too much Ava: but then I remember I'm the protagonist in this romance so it's not just acceptable but necessary James: you can do whatever you like, darling, it's your story Ava: In that case Ava: read on James: voraciously Ava: 🤤🤤 James James: I'm just making sure we're still on the same page Ava: You're gonna have trouble keeping me on the page Ava: and making me go home James: & the driver's eyes on the road, we may need more than the Twilight soundtrack on this occasion Ava: Pride & Prejudice 2005? Ava: gotcha, honey James: 😂 James: yes, exactly Ava: 😊 Ava: I love you so much James: I miss you so much James: if I could take you home with me, I very happily would Ava: I know Ava: one day James: after the move to the other side of the river, because we both know there is a line Ava: It's pretty exciting, isn't it? James: I'm glad to hear you think so because I was going to ask you if you'd like to come house hunting with me Ava: I'd love to! James: [a possible date soonish] ? Ava: That should be good for me Ava: I'll let you know if otherwise Ava: it'll be nice to look at some actual decent places, let's face it, I doubt my student digs will be all that inspiring, like 😏 James: barely room for whatever hazing pranks they have in store, I'm sure Ava: I'm still not convinced that particular visual doesn't just come from a certain type of movie, babe James: you'll have to let me know 😏 Ava: I'll make it good for you James: my faith in you remains unwavering Ava: 🙇 James: have you reconsidered your stance on spoilers? Ava: That does depend James: oh? Ava: have you dumped fake girl? James: she was very slow to accept her fate, but yes Ava: I can't blame her Ava: I wouldn't wanna lose you either Ava: [picture, assumedly in her friend's room or somewhere not just in front of them like oh hey] James: Ava Ava: Make traffic move faster please James: I'll do the quickest rewrite possible & see you at your friend's door Ava: I'll be waiting so patiently James: & I'll be waiting impatiently James: 😇 & 😈 Ava: I think you deserve to be 😈 right now Ava: been a long day, yeah? James: yes, though it feels longer now, stretching out with the queued traffic Ava: 🥺 Ava: we'll just have to see it as motivation to not waste a single second James: it's a promise, in or out of traffic Ava: I'm so lucky James: if you think you are, then I need a better word to describe my own fortune right now Ava: I'm just really happy Ava: in spite of anything else, everything else, right now James: good, me too Ava: 🥰 Ava: you deserve that even more James: you deserve more than I can possibly give you, however patiently you wait Ava: nuuh James: yes you do Ava: 😣 Ava: no Ava: and I want you James: I want you, I'm well aware that it doesn't mean I deserve to have you Ava: How could you possibly not James: because James: the reasons I lack words to describe you aren't even close to the reasons I lack them to describe myself Ava: but I can't describe you either Ava: not just because I'm no writer James: but you do, all the time, in both words & actions I can vividly see myself the way you think of me Ava: I'm glad Ava: keep looking, okay Ava: we'll work on the believing bit James: okay James: if you'd like to get in the car, we can start immediately