#Cut & Paste

[tiffanydaleo]

Tethered

Check out one of my newest paintings, Tethered!

11/14” Mixed media collage on paper Instagram Facebook Pinterest Tumblr YouTube Link

[lts-pretty-stabby]

I miss my chemical romance so much I genuinely feel nauseous and on the verge of tears

[bet-on-me-13]

Unknown, the Wandering Hero

So! We all know the typical Vivisection AU, right? Danny is revealed to his parents and they take it in all the wrong ways. They capture him, Vivisect him, and eventually he manages to escape with the help of his friends.

But what about his Rouges?

Sure, we all like to think of some of the more friendly ones like Ember, or Sydney, or Johnny 13 and Kitty, but he has WAY more Evil Rouges than good ones.

Without Danny there to reign them in, the Rouges spread out across the world to fulfill their obsessions, unhampered by the Heroes and Villains of the world that have no means to fight them.

And Danny? He feels responsible. He was the one to open the Gate, he was the Sacrifice, the one to let them through. And when the going got tough he just up and left? No, that won't do.

His Obsession is Protection for a reason, and nothing has changed. All he needs to do is expand his area of focus a little.

Danny, after healing up, starts wandering the world in search of the Ghosts who have escaped into the Mortal Realm. He battles all of his old foes, as well as many new ones who he hadn't met before.

His travels take him far and wide.

He defeats Skulker in Metropolis, as he is trying to hunt down the Super Family for their pelts. They are the last of their race after all, so he is inclined to try and hunt them. Honestly dealing with Skulker was easy, dealing with the Rich Asshole who was funding him was a nightmare.

He chases down Spectra in Gotham as she tries to feed on the misery of an entire City. (Thanks to @impyssadobsessions for the idea, this Prompt specifically). She is actually a very tough fight, especially powered by both the Misery of an Entire City as well as his Own Misery, but he manages.

He defeats Technus is Central City, as he tries to Raid Star Labs for their advanced Tech. It actually took a while to beat him after he amped himself with all that Power, and he did need help from the Local Hero to deal with him. He's just thankful Technus is one of the more "Harmless" ones.

After every Victory, he sends them back to the Realms using the Banishing Spell that Sam taught him a while back (the only bit of magic he ever really managed to master).

He knows they'll eventually find their way back out, but it's all he can do anymore. It's his eternal Punishment for unleashing them out into the World in the first place. He was the Catalyst for this Situation, now he was tasked with Fixing it, no matter how long it took.

...

The Justice League is caught in a tricky situation a the moment.

In the past few months, they have been encountering more and more of these Extra Dimensional Beings known as Realms Ghosts across the World.

Justice League Dark has had some success in battling them, but even they are getting tired of having to deal with every single incident alone.

They did get approached by a Government Agency known as the Ghostly Investigation Ward that seemed to want to help, but it didn't take long to realize that their main Aim was to Genocide the entire Race. The JLA had quickly cut ties after realizing that, and took what little Tech and Information they had been able to gather.

Still, it wasn't easy to deal with these Entities.

Thankfully, they have had some outside help. An Unknown Being has been routinely showing up whenever a Realms Ghost appears and defeating them, before using a (as described by Constantine) "Rudimentary Banishing Spell held together by willpower and luck" to send them back to their home Dimension. There's honestly no way it should be functional, but he did make it work either way.

They don't know much about this Unknown, aside from the fact that he seems to be the only one able to consistently damage the Realms Ghosts. His Powerset leads them to belive he may be from the same Dimension, or at least drawing his power from the same Source, but as he actively avoids the League and takes every opportunity to not talk to them, they know they aren't getting any answers any time soon.

Over the past few months, they had affectionately started referring to him as Unknown, creative they know, because they could never get his Real Name. Sure, some of the Realms Ghosts seemed to recognize him, but they always called him stuff like "Whelp" and "Punk" and "Usurper", which were not very good names to use when referring to him. Although the last one was a bit concerning.

They had only managed to trade a few quick words with Unknown in the past few months, but it was enough to get the Gist of it. He was just doing his job, sending the Realms Ghosts back where they belonged. There was apparently a Tear in Reality letting them through, but he seemed hesitant to reveal what he knew about it.

After a few months of sparse interactions, they eventually managed to convince him to at least take an Emergency Communicator. Just in case. They even let him take it apart to look for any Tracking Devices, which earned them a small bit of trust. They took whatever wins they could.

Fortunately, it seemed he never did need it. In fact he was getting more and more efficient with every battle, defeating his foes in half the time it would have taken before.

Unfortunately, it didn't last forever. One day, the Communicator went off, a distorted voice quickly saying, "Need backup, some of them decide to Team Up" before cutting out.

They quickly rushed to his location, finding an active battlefield with no less that a dozen Ghosts battling Unknown. And he seemed to be on the ropes.

With their arrival, the combined force of the Justice League and Unknown eventually managed to defeat the Group of Ghosts. Justice League Dark volunteered to work on the Banishing Spells while the others cleaned up the damage from the Battle.

One of them approached Unknown to make sure he was ok, and froze.

During the battle, Unknown's Mask had been Torn off, and they could finally see the face of the Hero they had been working with for the past few months.

And he was a Child.

[inklore]

— luca (the bear) x f!reader. luca has a thing about fucking you in the kitchen. contents: p in v, cunnilingus, dirty talk, fingering | wc: 783+

It is almost a problem how much Luca enjoys fucking you against the counter in your shared kitchen. 

A problem when you have a knife in your hand trying to cut the veggies for your dinner, his chest pressing against your back as he comes and stands behind you. His palm running down your arm, to your wrist, slotting over your hand—a fake show of him teaching you a lesson you already know. 

How to cut right so you don’t slip and get your finger. The perfect positioning, glide, and control of the knife that only a seasoned chef would know how to do. 

“You’re a faster learner.” He’ll say teasingly in your ear. His smile against your neck as his face leans into your space, the tip of his nose running along the quickening pulse in your neck. 

You want to roll your eyes and tell him that you’re not learning much of anything right now that you don’t already know—that he isn’t distracting from as you feel his cock hardening against your ass. 

His other hand travels up the side of your thigh, making you shiver, a slow destination to the bottom of your worn sleep shorts. His fingers pushing past the fabric, pressing against your clothed clit. 

“Luca,” it’s a warning, a moan. Your head turning to look at him, stopping by his cheek when he pushes it forward with his nose. 

“Pay attention to what you’re doing, baby.” His fingers run along your slit. Wetness quickly gathers between your legs and slicks the fabric of your underwear, giving his fingers a better slide and push against your clothed pussy. “Don’t want you to cut yourself.” His teeth nip at your jaw. 

And you try to focus. Try to glide the knife through the vegetables, try not to push back against him, and run your ass against his dick, but fail. His low groan against your ear makes your eyes flutter. 

A string of moans pulled from your heaving chest when his fingers pull at your underwear enough to allow his fingers to move inside and press flush against your throbbing clit. 

“Careful.” His accent is deeper when he’s amped up like this. When he’s teasing you. When he’s making you feel so good and craving to feel just as good for himself. “I don’t think you’re paying attention.” 

“I-ahh, Luca.” 

���Baby.” He says mockingly. 

You know it’s him that’s stopping you from cutting yourself. His hand doing all the guiding, both with the knife and your body, as his fingers press into you and fuck you until your legs are shaking and you can’t keep your eyes open. 

The knife in your hands limp and forgotten, the vegetables pushed to the floor as Luca presses a palm to the middle of your back to bend you over. Pulling your shorts down and wasting no time to push inside of you. Both of you moaning in relief. You can feel his cock throbbing against your fluttering walls. 

The pace of his hips snapping hard against your ass makes your body jolt against the counter. Making anything around you not already on the floor find its way there. 

Safety forgotten. The only thing that matters is how good his cock feels inside of you, how pretty you sound in the one place of the house he’s an expert in. The one person he’s an expert at pulling incoherent moans and pleads from. 

His hand wraps around the base of your throat to pull you back against his chest, his fingers gripping your jaw when he turns your head towards his mouth so he can press a needy wet kiss on it. 

“Whose is it, baby? Who’s pretty lil’pussy is it?” He asks breathless against your mouth, panting as he stares into your eyes. His own blown out. The heat in them makes your belly burn. 

“Yours, only yours.” You whine into his mouth. Taste the sauce you made him try earlier; that is surely burning on the stove by now. 

When you’re about to come, he pulls out and turns you around, drops to his knees, his hand gripping the back of your calf as he puts your leg over his shoulder. Spreading your legs and putting his mouth on your pussy. Lips wrapping around your clit until your fingers are gripped in his hair and your hips are canting up against his face. Fucking yourself against his tongue and mouth until you’re coming, screaming his name. 

“Best fuckin’ meal I’ve ever had,” he says against your thigh. Placing a wet kiss against your thigh before he’s standing up, pulling your leg over his hip, and slipping back inside of you.  

[hannieehaee]

hi good morning! (or afternoon or evening)

how about a svt scenario thing where you’re an idol (and dating them) and you get injured by a crazy saesang that’s obsessed with your s/o?

basically, y/n is an idol in a popular group and at a fansign event, a saesang rushes towards her and attacks her, injuring her with smth (there’s blood) and vroom hospital etc etc. how would svt react?

idk this has been my brain-worm for the past few days

thank you 😊 ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

a sasaeng attacking their idol!reader gf

content: mentions of stalking, mentions of being attacked, mentions of injuries, mentions of hospitalization, reader is an idol, a lil angsty, etc.

wc: 1559

a/n: thank u so much for ur request! sorry for the delay hehe (these scenarios are assuming ur relationship is public knowledge btw <3)

masterlist

seungcheol -

no one had ever seen him this angry. even his members kept away from him upon noticing his furious demeanor after getting a call from your manager informing him that you had been taken to the hospital to tend to some bruises and scratches you had undergone after one of his stalker fans had quite literally jumped at you from across the table, having made themselves pass as your fan. would not comment on it publicly, simply choosing to cut his promotions short and taking a quick break to tend to you. the only thing to alleviate his anger would be your presence and knowing that you were now safe. would demand both pledis and your own company enforce better security, incredibly frustrated that you even got a single scratch on you due to their negligence.

jeonghan -

not being one to hide his emotions from fans, he would express frustration at it, mentioning it on live when consistently questioned about it. would state his disappointment, but would make it clear this was directed at fans who knew their actions were morally wrong. he would probably not do much about it other than make sure your security amped up, not wanting to get in the way of your own idol career or draw more attention to this, but having your security as top priority. would put extra focus in babying you and tending to you at any and every moment he was off work.

joshua -

he'd be very emotionally affected by it. you'd be able to tell by his quieted down demeanor after the incident that he felt put off by any public appearance, thinking that anyone around him could be a crazed fan who wanted to inflict pain on his loved ones. would continue schedules as normal, but his personality would remain tame for a while, while he recovered emotionally from the guilt he felt at indirectly putting you in danger. he'd feel extremely apologetic towards you, even if you told him you were fine and did not blame him for any of it.

jun -

his lighthearted demeanor would shift immediately. he would take a hiatus, taking you with him to china so he could have you to himself for a month or so. would not care about any repercussions to his idol career, considering your safety the top priority. would become serious for a while, only bringing back his loving and playful personality when interacting with you or any of his other loved ones. would never speak about this publicly once he came back from break, simply acting as if nothing happened. he would've had to demand both your company and pledis amp up any and all security for you the moment you came back from your own hiatus.

soonyoung -

the usually lighthearted and silly boy would turn stoic for a while. he'd never express his frustrations outwardly, but would now feel a constant sense of disappointment at both himself and at any crazed fan who would ever dare even think of putting their hands on you. would be super apologetic to you, begging you to not end it because of this incident. the only thing that would calm him down would be your reassurance that it'd take far more than one obsessed fan to drive you away from him. would dedicate all his free time to you and take on a more protective attitude towards you.

wonwoo -

would probably go on a short hiatus. you were one of the most important people in his life. he had kept the relationship secret as much as he could, but after dispatch outed you two as a couple, you had begun to receive more threats than usual. now not only from your own stalker fans but from his too. would be absolutely devastated he was the cause of your pain. he could never leave you out of his sight again, feeling an innate need to protect you. would stay gone and just be with you for a few months before returning to his idol duties, never speaking publicly about what happened.

jihoon -

pure disgust and annoyance. the same way he calls out sasaengs on live for pestering him with calls, he would bring this up too. saying that he's tried to ignore it but that some things go too far. would feel bad if any other carats felt uncomfortable by his scolding, but would feel so incredibly frustrated the love of his life was put in danger due to someone liking him way too much for safety. scared you might feel like this is too much to deal with, but would respect if you decided the relationship was just not worth the pain. would thank you immensely the moment you told him he's worth all hurdles, that you simply needed better security.

seokmin -

it was rare to see seokmin angry, and he had never been this angry. fans would be able to tell after the incident that his demeanor had shifted completely. would take him about a week or so to go back to his bubbly self while in public, having gotten the scare of his life when he got a call from your manager claiming that an obsessed dk fan had launched at you at a fansign, makeshift weapon in hand as they managed to mangle some of the skin of your arm before being swiftly taken away by security. he wouldn't go on hiatus, but he'd spend every passing minute with you as he apologized and reassured you no one would ever hurt a hair off your head ever again.

mingyu -

would also go on a quick hiatus. he hates calling out crazed fans, knowing it only incites them to do deranged things like this even more, being aware that they'll do anything to get a reaction out of him. so he wouldn't give them one. he would simply step back from idol duties for a while, joining you in your own hiatus as you emotionally (and physically) recovered from the attack. would try and give you an out, telling you that if dating him put you in danger then maybe you should reconsider your options, he would always love you but he would understand. would feel instant relief the moment you cursed him out, telling him a few injuries were not enough to drive you away. he'd swear to never let you out of his sight again.

minghao -

another member who would be extremely angry. would do his best to stand by you and show his support towards you even if it meant putting your relationship even more into the public eye. you would be his one and only priority. he would bring it up at some point in an interview or statement, airing out his frustrations at sasaengs who thought of him as anything more than an idol. would put a brake on fan-idol interactions even more now, now even toning down most of his fanservice to avoid fans getting the wrong idea that he'd ever look their way when he had you.

seungkwan -

just absolutely terrified. he'd never felt more fear in his life than the moment his manager informed him of the news that you were in the hospital due to one of his stalker fans attacking you. would feel incredibly guilty and beg you for forgiveness as he visited you at the hospital. the only relief he felt at the situation would be your insistence in telling him you were fine and that this would not break your relationship. he'd become overly attached and protective of you, demanding his own company to provide security for you, claiming that this was a personal issue and that he would not rest unless you were as protected as possible.

vernon -

would be brooding and cold for a while. he would've dealt with the situation behind the scenes, not wanting anyone to see his reaction, knowing that acknowledging the situation publicly would only cause more crazed fans to try and do the same. he'd back away from the public for a while, only participating in any mandatory schedules and even then he would keep himself hidden in the back as much as possible. would feel a little guilty for technically punishing all fans when it was only a few who acted like this, but would need some time to recover from having put the love of his life in danger.

chan -

this was brand new territory for him, so he would feel absolutely taken by surprise. he never would have imagined someone to try and come after the love of his life, much less under the claim that it was for his own good. no words could describe the guilt he felt at seeing you at the hospital, scratches in your face showing the damage the fan was able to inflict before security pulled them away. would curse at your security team, claiming this couldve been way worse, and that they risked your life. would also apologize for his part in it, knowing that if he was out of the picture this never wouldve happened. would take a short break from idol activities to spend a week with you holed up at a safe location, spending the entire time showing you how much he cared for you and how he would protect you from now on.

[kcrossvine-art]

Hiiii friendssss! What the FUCK is up. What the fuck is up. What the Fuck is up. On todays cute little cookin excursion we are going to be deep frying things and using a wok. If you dont feel comfortable deep frying, and dont have a wok, im sure theres other ways to do it silly :DDD

I believe in you.

From LotR online we're gonna be making Fried Beetroot Sticks!! 

(As always you can find the cooking instructions and full ingredient list under the break-)

MY NAMES CROSS NOW LETS COOK LIKE ANIMALS

SO, “what goes into Fried Beetroot Sticks?” YOU MIGHT ASKSlices of sweet little beated root dipped into a batter with, watch out, special flavors too.

2 Beetroots

Corn flour

Salt 

Red Chilli Powder

Garlic Paste

Baking Soda

Water

Peanut oil

And we'll also be making some horseradish sour cream dip to go along with it;

Sour cream

Prepared horseradish

1 Green onion 

Few splashes of lemon juice

Salt to taste

Ground pepper to taste

"Cooked, tender beetroot sticks are dredged in a light batter and fried to give a crispy exterior and a soft, sweet interior. Served with a bracing horseradish sour cream, this snack is both filling and delicious."- LotRO Tooltip

AND, “what does Fried Beetroot Sticks taste like?” YOU MIGHT ASKThis is like homemade fair-food and it sounds like a contradiction but its not

But maybe its just because its fried food? American brained, sorry.

Retains the inherit sweetness to beetroot

And similar to pickled beetroot the sweetness contrasts the spicey of the batter

(which i encourage you to amp up if youd like more spice)

The horseradish sourcream dip is to die for

Measure with your heart for that one, and save some green onion to top it with when you serve

This would pair very well with a lime italian soda or with shaved ice cones

Im always very anxious about deep-frying things, or working with oils at high temperatures, but i didnt run into any complications with this dish. Just make sure to keep best practices and safety precaution in mind, especially with a wok as it can tilt!

. If you dont have corn flour, you can substitute all-purpose flour . If you dont have peanut oil, look up oils with the same smokepoint to decide what else to use

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

The recipe stuck out to me, as i was assembling a list of foodstuffs from tolkiens work, for being such a "regular" named food. Also its worth 19 silver 69 copper in the LotR MMO and im immature.

I think the dip has the most room for improvement and tinkering. I've never made horseradish sourcream before, so more practiced tastebuds could perfect a simple thing like this. In the future id also like to try adding red pepper flakes along with the the powder and garlic paste, to give more visual variety and spice. I think cumin in the batter would be a nice midtone flavor too.

I give this recipe a solid 8/10 (with 1 being food that makes one physically sick and 10 being food that gives one a lust for life again.) for its relative simplicity and modularity with things you could add.

🐁 ORIGINAL RESIPPY TEXT BELOW 🐁

Beetroot Sticks Ingredients:

2 Beetroots

130 grams corn flour

1 tbsp salt 

1 tsp Red Chilli Powder

1 tsp Garlic Paste

1/4 tsp Baking Soda

178 grams Water

432 grams peanut oil

Horseradish Sour Cream Ingredients:

225 grams Sour cream

200 grams Prepared horseradish

1 whole green onion (green and white parts VERY finely chopped)

1 tspn lemon juice

Salt to taste

ground pepper to taste

Beetroot Method:

Peel all beetroots and cut them length-wise into  rectangles.

Combine flour, salt, chilli powder, garlic paste, baking soda, and water in a bowl.

Mix well into a smooth batter.

Heat peanut oil to medium in a wok and dip beet roots into batter. Deep fry until golden brown in color.

Stack beetroots on paper-towel lined plates to cool and dry as you go.

Serve with horseradish sour cream!

Dip Method:

Mix all ingredients

Cover and let stand at room temperature for 1 hour for the flavors to blend.

[sundrop-writes]

King For A Day

Poly!Golden Trio x Fem!Reader

Fem!Reader x Harry Potter x Ron Weasley x Hermione Granger

You want a martyr? I’ll be one.

Summary:

You have always had a special relationship with Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and the one and only Harry Potter.

When you set out to help them find and destroy Lord Voldemort's Horcruxes, it seems that your intimate knowledge of them is the one thing keeping them together - until the unique dynamic shifts, thanks to one of those pesky pieces of dark magic.

Angry voices carry, and it turns out - moans of pleasure do too.

Poly!Golden Trio x Fem!Reader (Fem!Reader x Harry Potter x Ron Weasley x Hermione Granger). FWB to Poly Lovers. Smut (with a slight bit of Angst). Set during Deathly Hallows.

Word Count: 22,400

Harry Potter Masterlist | AO3 Link

Full list of warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: This fic is about the formation of a polyamarous relationship, and before that, the reader has individual friends with benefits relationships with each of the Golden Trio without them knowing about each other; there is dom/sub dynamics in this fic, but no explicit BDSM play - Hermione is a switch (bratty sub and controlling but soft dom), Ron is a rough, mean dom, Harry is a whiny, needy sub, and the reader is a switch - she is submissive with Ron and Hermione, but dominant towards Harry. While the reader is the one who connects all the characters here, there is definitely threads of Harry x Ron and Hermione x Ron and also Hermione x Harry going on here. (So there is wlw action and mlm action in this fic.)

Emotional angst - general emotional angst due to the circumstances (the Golden Trio + reader being pressured to save the world, the war going on, emotional and physical isolation during the Horcrux Hunt); mentions of food insecurity as was canon during the Horcrux Hunt; mentions of becoming thin from lack of food being available; mentions of hunting and killing for food; mentions of emotional disturbances due to the presence of the Horcrux Locket - everyone is affected, including the reader; the reader experiences severe depression and intrusive thoughts about self-harm while wearing The Locket (this is something that is a very small part of the story, about a paragraph); the reader is mentioned to be in Gryffindor but because this is a Horcrux Hunting fic that fact is easy to ignore and you can imagine the reader to be in whatever house you want; mentions of Ron and the reader being childhood friends/growing up together before Hogwarts (it is mentioned that they had their first kiss together when they were young); mentions of past Harry/Cho (as a very fleeting fling, as it was in the canon).

For the actual smut: unprotected sex all around? but hey they're wizards so we could just say that Hermione did some anti-pregnancy spells when they were done (but there's definitely no condoms involved); the reader masturbates/touches herself (very brief); the reader gets caught masturbating by Harry but they both pretend that he didn't see anything (or maybe he didn't); mentions of Harry, Ron, and Hermione masturbating (mentioned in passing); Ron being possessive over the reader, partially due to the Locket's emotional influence; slightly dubious consent - it's very clear in the narration that the reader enjoys everything that is happening, but Ron does not explicitly ask for consent, and while Harry watches on, he worries for her well being due to the roughness of the acts; Ron is very rough with the reader because the Locket amps up his anger and he takes out on her (through rough sex, not through overly harsh painplay or sexual torture); hair pulling (Ron pulls the reader's hair); rough kissing; biting/marking (Ron bites the reader so hard that he draws blood); Ron slaps the reader across the face (only once) but it adds sexual arousal for her; some manhandling (nothing that implies Ron is superhumanly strong or implies that the reader is dainty thin).

Vaginal fingering (Ron does this to the reader); undertones of humiliation kink (Ron teases Harry for not knowing 'how to fuck' and because he can supposedly fuck the reader better); literally one spank (from Ron to the reader); size kink (Ron Weasley has a big cock and everyone is admiring it); unprotected penis in vagina sex (between Ron and the reader) - very rough sex; Harry watches while Ron fucks the reader; Ron calls the reader 'cockwarmer' and 'good girl'; Hermione walks in on Ron fucking the reader (while Harry watches) and questions the consent of the situation (only for a moment) before she decides to join in; Hermione gropes the reader and fingers her; there is unprotected penis in vagina sex between Ron and Hermione and also between Harry and the reader; unintentional edging due to being passed from partner to partner (toward the reader); Ron is generally degrading/condescending toward all the other characters (he's kind of an asshole but it's hot and he is sweet afterwards); creampie kink (no breeding kink); overstimulation; multiple orgasms; mentions of anal sex (does not happen during the fic); Hermione eats the reader out, Harry sucks Ron off (mentions of 'choking' on a cock but there is no severe breathplay), cumplay.

Sex flashbacks - the reader cockwarms Harry (in a flashback); the reader riding Harry while being dominant with him; the reader uses Harry's Gryffindor tie like a leash; the reader 'teaching' Harry how to increase his stamina (really, it's just code for edging him/torturing him); the reader calls Harry 'darling'; in a separate flashback - Hermione and the reader have sex in the bathroom at the Burrow; so - semi-public sex; the reader eats Hermione's pussy; the reader fingers Hermione; Hermione presses on the reader's neck but does not choke her; Hermione calls the reader 'good girl'. I think that is FINALLY it.

A/N: The title of this fic comes from a song of the same title by Pierce The Veil. I think it's a song that so perfectly encapsulates the storyline around the Locket - how Ron makes himself into a martyr, how it feels like they are living with ghosts in the walls when they wear it. Anyway - I am so excited about this fic.

When the idea was presented to me: Ron being pissed off because of the Locket's influence, and feeling particularly jealous of Harry, it just felt so genius. Ron has always been one of my favourite HP characters, if not my singular favourite. When I first start reading and watching the series, I fell in love with Ron so quickly. I deeply related to him - his insecurities, his fears (how he doesn't try to act brave when he's scared), his stubbornness, his feelings of inadequacy.

This fic perfectly encapsulates my love for Ron, and with something I couldn't resist the urge to do (the whole 'childhood friends' thing) - my deep urge to be Ron Weasley's special girl has bubbled to the surface harder than ever before. But with maturity comes the urge to also want to be Harry Potter's special girl and Hermione Granger's special girl all at the same time and have them share me like a KitKat bar. So everyone please thank Orgy Anon for giving me this idea, and please enjoy the fic!!

Also, I didn't think I was ever gonna write more rough, demanding (kind of asshole) Ron smut after Caffeine Cold - but it's something that weirdly works for his character. It's something I actually really love writing with him, turns out lmao.

...

When you woke up that morning, there was a persistent, annoying ache between your legs. Even the bitter November chill that had seeped into the tent couldn’t dampen it. 

It was a strange and tedious thing. You were months into a perilous, life-threatening mission that would ultimately change the fate of the world, and yet, all you could seem to think about was the fact that you hadn’t been able to orgasm in weeks. You could blame it on the mental strain that the journey was causing on you and your companions - between the lack of food and the presence of a certain dark object weighing on you all, irritability among your small group was skyrocketing. And you were desperate for a distraction. 

But you had always been someone who was more inclined toward the physical - someone whose sexual needs stuck out as more important to you. It’s why you had three different partners regularly ‘servicing’ you for quite some time now. But you hadn’t been with any of them since the start of your travels, and it felt like far too long. It felt like forever. 

You reached down and palmed your cunt through your cotton sleep pants, hissing quietly through your nose at even the slightest bit of relief. You listened to Ron’s heavy snores and Hermione’s quiet breaths, knowing that Harry was out of the tent on his watch. If you could be quick about it, you could cum. You clamped the other hand over your mouth, ready to silence your own moans as you moved your own touch past your waistband. You let out a sharp whine into your own palm as your fingers found your clit through your cotton underwear. 

It had been so long. 

And just by that fact alone, your pussy was aching, wet, and needy. You began to rub circles on yourself through your underwear, feeling your cunt clenching around nothing, so damn needy to be filled up, and- 

“Y/N?” Harry’s voice whispered your name frantically through the dark. 

The sound instantly startled you, causing your lungs to seize up and your heart to race all at once. You stopped moving your hand upon instinct, feeling terribly caught. 

It was lucky that he hadn’t lit his wand, clearly not wanting to wake up Ron or Hermione, or you most definitely would have been caught outright, even though your hand was under the blanket - your actions still would have been blatant to the eye. 

“Are you alright? I thought - I thought I heard a noise.” Harry whispered when you didn’t respond. 

You quickly cleared your throat, taking your hand away from your mouth and slowly moving your other hand out of your pants as you found the glinting lenses of Harry’s glasses looking at you in the dark. 

“I’m fine.” You croaked quietly. “I - I was just stretching. This cot is terrible on my back, you know.” 

You hoped that you could pass off any sexual sounds that had escaped you as sounds of pain, soreness from poor sleeping conditions. 

Harry nodded. 

“Right.” He said quietly. “Well - it’s your watch.” He announced as he sat down on his own cot and began taking off his boots. 

You didn’t say anything further, but simply got up. 

You changed out of your pyjama pants and into a thicker pair of cargo pants, wanting to shield yourself against the cold. As you undressed, you were completely uncaring to shield yourself from Harry’s eyes in the dark. He was likely too tired to keep his eyes open, and it was dark enough that he wouldn’t see too much of you anyway. And if he did look, you didn’t care too much anyway. 

He watched you completely unabashed, squinting hard through the darkness, utterly focused on the shape of your ass moving around as you looked for thicker socks and gathered a notebook to write in to pass the time. 

He only wished that he could see more than the silhouette of your ass covered by white cotton panties as you moved in the shadows, pulling your pants up, and then left the tent. He went to sleep with his cock hard, thinking about pressing himself up against those cotton knickers, dirtying the fabric with his cum - thinking about hearing you whine like that again. 

…

You didn’t think that tracking down and destroying all of Voldemort’s Horcruxes was going to be easy by any means. 

But you didn’t think that it was going to be this tedious and boring. You knew that there were a great many wizards out there who yearned for your head on a platter. People who would have captured you in a moment and tortured you until your dying breath just for a chance to hear you give up information on Harry Potter’s whereabouts. But it was difficult to feel the urgency of the life threatening situation you were in when you were living in such seclusion. 

It was difficult to feel anything other than the crushing weight of loneliness and depression, living like this. 

For nearly three months now, you, Hermione, Ron, and Harry had been living in a tent, picking up and travelling from place to place with the effort to be as isolated as possible so that no one would be able to find you. But this meant that no one you loved could know where you were either. 

No owls, no contact with anyone else in the outside world - you went from day to day, not knowing if they were safe or not, waiting to hear their names on the obituaries, or the missing persons listings on the radio. 

All of you had been living off scraps of food because you couldn’t even go to the shops for fear of being seen. You had been living off the canned food Hermione had squirrelled away before the trip, and you had been reduced to stealing - nicking eggs from chicken coops in hopes that the owners wouldn’t notice. Luckily, some things from your childhood had come back around, and you had been able to snare some rabbits for food, as much as Hermione cried and tried to pretend she didn’t hate killing something so cute and innocent in order to eat it. 

So far, the only real progress the four of you had made in terms of truly defeating Voldemort? You had gotten a hold of the real Locket of Slytherin. But you had no clue how to destroy it. 

This left you stuck with the incredibly dark piece of magic. The four of you took turns wearing the Locket - even though it hadn’t taken Hermione long to observe that the object had some kind of dangerous emotional aura due to the dark magic that tainted it. But you were unable to simply leave it laying around somewhere in case it got misplaced, which would have been intensely foolish. 

You had to keep it close in the more likely case that the group had to run off in a hurry if you were confronted. It was too precious of an object to lose - perfect leverage to bargain with if one of you did happen to get captured, and ultimately critical to your overall mission. 

Unfortunately, the isolation and general bickering between you and your companions left you aching for a distraction. Although you were surviving day to day and trying to balance the fate of Muggle and Wizard kind in your hands, food and safety and progressing the mission were your greatest concerns. 

But there was a certain loneliness that crept in. 

Living in the tent like this - physically, it was the closest you had ever been with your three best friends for such a period of time. Although the three of you had lived in the Gryffindor Tower during your six years at Hogwarts, and you had shared a dormitory with Hermione, it had never been like this before. 

The three of you had never shared such close quarters day in and day out for so long without some kind of break for other things - meal times, classes, Quidditch practice, time spent with other friends. It was a large tent, but it was an intensely cramped space for four people to be packed into, especially with the Locket and the depressing atmosphere and the emotional pressure of the mission causing tempers to flare up. 

It was a Herculean test of your friendship, that was for certain. 

Each of you were coping in your own ways. 

Harry was pouting. 

It was something that he did best, in your experience. He was a chronic pouter, as you had discovered over the years of knowing him. Whenever a bad mood overtook him (which was, unfortunately too often due to the unfortunate circumstances that haunted his life), he could mull around and pout for days, sit in sullen silences without talking to anybody with a grand stubbornness. 

He would do it until the loneliness truly broke him, or until someone broke the barrier of stubbornness and talked to him first. (The ladder was more likely to happen when you were around. You hated to see him pouting and you usually always approached him first.) 

Usually his pouting came with locking himself in a room, a purposeful isolation from others when he needed them most. Like when he had locked himself in his bedroom at Grimmauld Place for nearly the entirety of winter break when he believed that Voldemort was corrupting his mind with the evil dreams.

This time around, he had taken to sitting in corners by himself, as far away as he could get from the three of you in the cramped space. He ate his small meals alone without talking to anyone, speaking as few words as possible and only grunting out small responses when asked questions like ‘are you going to sleep now?’ or ‘are you going to take watch next?’. 

He had also taken to pulling out the Marauders’ Map often. He studied it with astute eyes as though it was going to tell him something important. But you guessed that he was simply watching over your friends at Hogwarts like some godly protective force. Even though he couldn’t intervene if anything bad happened to them, he felt like the weight of the world was already on his shoulders, so he guessed that he should be watching over people like a god in the sky too. 

Hermione, of course, was reading. 

Whenever there was trouble, Hermione Granger had her hands on a book. 

She found comfort in knowledge, comfort in pouring over books looking for the answers to her problems. Naturally, this was no different. 

When she had packed for the journey, she had brought along every possible book she could find about dark magic and the subject of immortality. Any reading material she could possibly get her hands on that might mention Horcruxes, how to find them, and more importantly - how to destroy them. 

And thus far, even though all her reading had come up empty, she still took a pile of books in her arms every night and read through them, often sacrificing sleep in the name of staying up to continue her search for answers. Some of those books she had read over two or three times before that she was rereading again now, developing a kind of madness over searching them cover to cover, looking for something. 

It was clear to you that she felt an intense pressure - most of it, she was putting on herself. She thought that her brilliant mind, her stubborn ability to continue on despite nothing turning up would be the thing that finally solved the issue. She thought that it had to be her. She had helped Harry so many times before, so of course - it had to be her. 

You were someone who coped by comforting others. 

This is where the loneliness became even worse, because the more you tried to fuss over Harry, Ron, and Hermione, the more they pushed you away. The more you chased them down in small ways - putting blankets over them, trying to provide small comforting touches, trying to have small conversations just to satiate your own loneliness, even yearning for a short cuddle, the more they shrugged you off and the more each small rejection stung right to your core. 

Even though you were yearning for some affection, you knew consciously that they weren’t there to simply fulfil your needs. You knew that they weren’t actually ‘yours’ in that sense, not in a way that would demand them giving you attention just on the basis of your loneliness. As much as you had dreamed of it being that way, it simply wasn’t true. 

But you found yourself aching more and more after each rejection, knowing how incredibly stubborn the three of them were. Maybe they were yearning for the affection too, but they were too stubborn to show it on the surface. But maybe, they truly didn’t need it. They were hardened stones, and you were a delicate flower. Even though it hurt you, it was why the four of you had always worked so well. 

You had always softened their edges. Every single major argument that had gone on between them, any bickering between Ron and Harry, or Harry and Hermione, or Ron and Hermione, or god forbid, a blow-up between all three of them - it was something you had been able to reign in and calm down. You had always gotten them to calm down and ignore their worst impulses, and simply talk it out. At the end of the day, you always got them to apologise to each other. 

And of course - there was the sex. 

As far as you knew, no single person in the group knew that you were ‘involved’ with the others in that special, intimate way. They all thought that they were the only one. They all thought that you only had platonic, completely friendly relationships with the others. Even though you made no effort to hide it. You would still flirt with them, compliment them, cuddle them out in the open, hold hands. 

But it was something that had never been discussed, and at certain points, they had emphasised hiding the sexual aspects of your relationship and jumped apart from kissing you or groping you when one of your other dear friends came into the room. So you never pushed to open that can of worms and start a big argument over it because things were good. There was a balance to it, a silent status quo. 

It’s not like you set out to be some scamming harlet. Most definitely not. 

Each of your individual relationships with them mattered to you so much. You loved them in such special and unique ways. But they were all so stubborn, and they acted like kissing and sex was some grand secret that needed to be locked away from the world and could never be discussed with anyone else. So as long as you kept those secrets, they never knew about each other. It turned into threads of private time, special bonds that you built with each individual person. 

And now, living so closely with all of them, it left you feeling so intensely stuck. 

You had three of the greatest people so close to you, and if you asked one of them to fuck you in the name of sexual relief, then the other two would be offended. It would be incredibly difficult to sneak off for a secret romp like you used to, because you were supposed to stay close and keep an eye on each other for safety. 

So this left you with your own hand. You knew that when you touched yourself, you weren’t quiet, and you weren’t quick. You had tried a few times so far during the trip, and it had only left you more wanting when you had failed to cum for fear of being caught. It left you needier than ever when you had been interrupted by someone else’s presence - someone waking up or walking into the tent, and stopped because you didn’t want them to catch you. 

There had even been times when you had woken up in the middle of the night to the sound of Harry or Ron wanking, grunting roughly in the darkness, and it burned up your insides so badly that you practically wanted to beg them for cock. But you didn’t want to embarrass them by outing their ‘secret’ relationship with you to the other two, so all you could do was lay there and let the flames of your arousal burn you up. 

You had no clue how Hermione had gone so long without touching herself. You guessed that she was either doing so off in the woods during her ‘reading time’, when she thought that she wouldn’t be disturbed, or she was too afraid of possibly being caught in order to even try. She was a lustful person, you knew that from experience. But oftentimes, her rule oriented mind won-out and kept her from doing truly mannerless things (like letting you touch her under a desk during class, much to your disappointment). 

The more time you spent in such close proximity to them, the more you craved their touches. You knew that you were going to break soon. And you were going to do something truly mannerless. 

In the meantime - you sat in the cold, early morning darkness, keeping an eye out for danger that likely wouldn’t come because it didn’t know where to find you. And as you kept watch, you tried your best not to think about the hot ache between your legs. 

… 

You had managed to spend most of the day distracted from your… cravings. 

You spent the morning on watch, watching the sun kiss the sky orange and break beams of light through the trees. It was nice to go from ice cold, your fingers numb in the darkness to feeling the warmth wake up around you. It made you feel alive. 

When you were supposed to switch off with Ron, you continued to sit with him for a while. You smiled at his sleepy state - his hair messy and his eyes barely open as he forced himself to be up and about. When he yawned wide, he truly reassembled a lion with a wild red mane. 

You actually managed to hook him into a pleasant conversation about some of your childhood memories. He pointed out that one of the trees nearby looked primed for a treehouse. You smiled and reminded him of the treehouse that the Burrow used to have before Fred and George blew it up. This easily spiralled into a long conversation about nights that the two of you had spent camping in that treehouse looking at the stars, and a time where the two of you had technically had your first kiss when you were ten years old. 

This left Ron with a smile on his face, which made you happy. You left with a kiss on the cheek while Hermione hollered your name through the tent flap, needing your for something else. She wanted your help to translate something from one of the books - something written in a different language that she didn’t know that you just happened to be very well versed in. After you spent some time helping her with this, she gave you a small smile and a nod and then rushed off to look up something in another book, seemingly pursuing a lead - which pleased you. 

And then it was time to help Harry prepare the evening meal. It wasn’t much; just some canned soup and a few pieces of bread. But Harry came out of his pouting long enough to make a joke about how you were a ‘five-star chef’ and when you giggled brightly at this, he gave you a genuine smile back. 

It was officially upgraded from a good day to a fantastic one when you actually managed to gather everyone at the table for dinner. Harry wasn’t off pouting in the corner, Hermione wasn’t sitting in her bed or off outside propped against a tree with a book in hand. Though she did read through the entire meal, you still considered it a win. And although Ron only ate half his food before not-so-subtly scooping the rest into your bowl with a grunt of ‘not hungry’ (the biggest lie you had ever heard in your life) - you were glad that no arguments had broken out at the table. 

Ron giving you his food was something that had been happening more and more lately. 

See, Ron’s method of coping was more complex than Harry’s or Hermione’s, or even yours. And it was something that could only be quantified if you watched him very carefully. It was likely only something you could name because you had known him for so long, and you had seen him do this so often throughout the years. 

Ron was someone who suffered. 

It was strange to put a name to, but that’s what it was. In all the years you had known him, whenever Ron found himself in emotionally troubling times, he put himself through purposeful suffering - a kind of martyrdom - in order to cope. 

Back when you were kids, a few months before his eleventh birthday, he had been so worried that his Hogwarts letter wasn’t going to arrive. He convinced himself that he simply wasn’t good enough - that somehow, even though his parents and all of his brothers before him had gotten their letters, he just wasn’t going to get one. 

He worked himself into such a frenzy about it that he spent hours doing the most difficult, painstaking house chores that he could think of, simply to prove to himself that he was useful. And to perform some suffering because that was how he coped with the anxiety and the emotional pain. After his letter came, when the worry left him, he didn’t bother with any more chores. He didn’t make his bed for weeks, no matter how much his Mum nagged him to do so. 

After Harry’s name was pulled out of the Goblet of Fire and Harry was named the Fourth Champion - that was one of the worst states you had ever seen Ron in. (And Harry, but in a different way.) 

Hermione thought that Ron went cold on Harry because he was angry with Harry. But you saw it for what it truly was - Ron was trying to end the friendship because he thought that he didn’t deserve Harry as a friend. The Tournament was presented as a chance for eternal glory, riches, praise. And Ron was being reminded yet again how entirely unremarkable he was. So he wanted to sink lower. He wanted to be as unremarkable as the Malfoys and everyone else told him he was. He didn’t even want to be associated with Harry - the wondrous fourth champion, if it meant getting a modicum of praise for it. 

But as usual with Ron, his own insecurities presented as annoyance, and anger toward other people. He pretended to be mad at Harry for not giving him the ‘secret’ of putting his name in the cup. 

Ron went for weeks without talking to Harry. Not as a punishment to Harry, but as a punishment to himself. In reality, he was dying inside, not being able to talk to his best friend. He wanted to berate Harry with questions about the process of the Triwizard Tournament, he wanted to become excited with his best friend about the whole thing. 

He told you at one point that he would have even preferred to hash out the whole argument, loudly, and simply have it over with. But he froze out Harry with bitter silence, simply because he felt that he deserved the pain of being separated from his best friend. 

After a few nights of contemplation, Ron had realised he was wrong to blame Harry for it. It was a short-sighted response out of anger. Really, what kind of numpty, especially Harry, who hated the attention, would willingly put their name into a death tournament? 

But still - he went on for weeks without talking to Harry, instead of simply apologising, because he felt that he deserved the punishment of being away from his best friend. He felt that he should be punished for being lowly and unremarkable, and for not simply believing Harry in the first place. 

Ron partook in suffering and self penance as a distraction from dealing with all of the true, deeper pain that he felt inside. 

And this time, his self imposed punishment came in the form of Slytherin’s Locket. 

The Locket affected all of you negatively. That much was clear within the first few days of the object being in your midst. 

When you put it on, you could best describe it as - heartbreak. A deep, awful ache in your chest that simply made you sad more than anything else. It made you want to burst out crying at any moment, it made you feel as though any happy thing had gone from the world, and any goodness you once knew would never be possible again. You would almost compare it to the feeling of a Dementor’s presence, though it didn’t come with the bitter chill in the air or the horrible memories flashing through your mind. 

Often, this came with a terrible headache - pressure building under your skull, almost as if your brain was bubbling into soup between your ears. At times, it made it difficult for you to focus on anything other than the heartache, in an almost dizzying way. 

Sometimes, when you wore it for too long, it… made you want to hurt yourself. It made your skin feel too tight and made your mind screech with the most horrible thoughts. Thoughts you almost couldn’t ignore. Ideas like - tearing all of your skin off, revealing the bloody viscera underneath. Telling you that would be the only possible way to make that horrible feeling go away. That part was something you had never told the others, and probably never would. 

Hermione guessed that your more ‘sensitive’ nature was what made the Locket trigger sadness in you, rather than irritability or anger. It gave Hermione a more quiet, reserved anger - a contemplative rage that you had only seen in her before she had trapped Rita Skeeter inside that jar. 

And for Harry and Ron - it made them snap. It put them on edge, made them entirely irritable. But with Harry, likely because of his tolerance toward things like the Imperius Curse - it took much longer of wearing the Locket for those feelings to truly affect him. 

Ron seemed to be the most vulnerable to its effects, unfortunately. 

You wouldn’t say that he was weaker, not by far. You would say that he had a tender heart, and a very unfortunate tendency to ignore his heart’s greatest needs. Ron was someone who was always harder on himself, he criticised every inch of himself far more than others did. Every ounce of pain that he felt - he didn’t let himself truly feel it. He turned it bitter, he released it as annoyance, or rage, or resentment. 

The Locket clearly felt that in him, and took advantage of it. The Locket knew that Ron had never truly dealt with his pain, so much negative emotion stored up inside of him, and the Locket was feasting on Ron like a buffet of negativity. It certainly didn’t help that Ron kept volunteering to wear it for longer and longer periods of time - wallowing in his martyrdom, desperate to keep you from taking your turn because he couldn’t stand to see you crying again. 

(He had said to you before that if you weren’t crying on his cock, then there was never a good reason for you to. And he would punch any prat in the face who caused those tears but him.) 

As you helped Ron clean up the dishes from the evening meal, Harry took the Marauders’ Map and went back to the camping chair that he had planted in his usual pouting corner. Though tonight the energy coming off him didn’t seem nearly as foul as he muttered ‘I solemnly swear that I am up to no good’ and began pouring over every inch of the map as he usually did. 

Hermione gathered some books off her cot with a huff and began to walk toward the mouth of the tent, clearly going out to take her watch. She had told you before that even as it got cold, she enjoyed the isolation of sitting outside the tent alone - she enjoyed the peace and quiet. 

You weren’t sure why you bothered, but you stepped toward her, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder to stop her for a moment. 

“Do you want some help with those books?” You asked. “Maybe a second pair of eyes looking that stuff over could be useful.” 

“No. I’d like to be alone, thank you.” Hermione replied. 

Even though it was a relatively polite sentence, she delivered it in the most curt, edging on snide manner possible. Clearly she was eager to have her alone time as the tent flaps bellowed behind her in a comically speedy way as she left the tent. 

You felt a pang of hurt at her words, but you certainly understood where she was coming from. 

You turned back to help Ron finish up the dishes, thinking nothing more of it. 

But it was his next words that inadvertently set off a hurricane. 

“That’s so Hermione isn’t it?” Ron scoffed. “So damn stubborn that she would turn down such a perfectly polite invitation for help. Needs to do every bloody thing by herself.” 

“It’s fine, Ron.” You sighed quietly, taking the last bowl from him to dry it off with a dish towel. “I under-” 

You were about to take up your usual job - mediating any potential conflicts or sore spots between the group. But your words were cut off when Harry’s annoyed voice came from behind you. 

“Yes, Ron, because you’ve been so bloody helpful lately.” Harry griped, his tone entirely sarcastic. “It’s not surprising that Hermione is used to working on her own. You don’t have to sit around and criticise her while she does it.” 

Ron whipped around then, fixing Harry tightly in a dangerous glare while he pretended to be more interested in the Map. He kept looking at the thick enchanted parchment in his lap while Ron bitterly spat out a reply. 

“Oh yes, because you’ve been wracking your fuckin’ brain, actively working on solutions, now have you?” Ron argued back, his voice rough and rude as you had ever heard him. Obviously, he was bitter over the insinuation that he wasn’t helping. “Sitting around staring at that bloody map all day, what’s that gonna do?” 

Ron’s words, his harsh tone even stung you. 

You rushed to step between him and Harry, even though Harry was still sitting in his brooding chair, attempting to seem unphased. He was putting up a wall of calm, not giving Ron the response that he so desperately wanted. Ron wanted Harry to be just as frustrated and aggravated as he was. Rather than sitting back calmly and spitting well-calculated sass. 

But you hoped that it wouldn’t get to that point. If they were both angry, you wouldn’t be able to interfere. You wouldn’t be able to get their attention off of anything but pissing each other off more until it fizzled out on its own - or until Hermione stepped in. Which would be the worst possible result. 

You needed to direct Ron’s attention away from the argument so that it wouldn’t blow up into a massive fight. 

“Ron, let’s go for a walk?” You posed, gently putting your hand on his cheek, trying to get him to look at you. “Come on, let’s go get some fresh air.” 

He was still glaring at Harry with a harsh bite in his jaw. You could feel the rage grinding his teeth together under your touch. It was something that made you nauseous. 

Ron didn’t reply to your request before Harry spoke up again. 

“I spend so much time looking at the map because I’m making sure that the people we love are okay.” Harry explained, his voice dull. “Not that-” 

“They’re at Hogwarts, and we’re here.” Ron cut him off sharply, completely ignoring you and your attempts to get him away from the conversation, which was very quickly going off the rails. “Even if they’re in trouble, dying, what are you gonna do about it?” 

Harry inhaled sharply at this, but mustered no reply. 

You glanced over your shoulder at him, not taking your comforting touch off of Ron. You saw the depth of sadness swimming in his eyes at this. You knew this was something that cut him deep. 

He looked at the Map every single day because he could rest slightly better knowing that the people he loved - Ginny, Neville, Luna, Seamus, Dean - were safe. He liked to watch them walk the halls, attend their classes, go about a routine. But if they did come into some kind of danger, he had no clue how he would stop it. He couldn’t stop it. That idea was something he had considered, time and time again. And it hurt him greatly. He couldn’t do anything until he had secured and destroyed all the Horcruxes - something you were nowhere near close to doing. 

You thought perhaps this would be the end of the argument. That Harry would go back to brooding quietly and Ron would take you up on that offer to go for a walk. But your hope fizzled away when Ron opened his mouth again. 

“I suppose The Great Harry Potter doesn’t need to work at things, now does he? Because every fuckin’ thing just falls into his lap, huh?” Ron sneered, sounding as though the words ‘Harry Potter’ tasted awful in his mouth. 

You knew that this wasn’t just about the Horcruxes, not by far. Ron was talking about so many things in life. Things that haunted him that he had never allowed himself to let go. 

The House Cup during their first year, Harry’s position on the Quidditch team, his Invisibility Cloak, the Triwizard Tournament - even the affections of girls and the admiration that came with his name. All things that Ron had long been jealous of that had literally fallen into Harry’s lap with no difficulty whatsoever. 

“Ron, please, let’s just go take a breather.” You begged. 

You hooked your fingers into the front of his thick woollen jumper, tempted to try pulling him out of the tent and away from Harry completely before things got worse. 

And then, things got worse. 

Harry burst like a game of Exploding Snap. He jumped up out of his chair suddenly with a shout, causing you to jolt while Ron kept glaring at him, unflinching. 

“Fuck off, Ron!” He screamed. “I would love it if my name could get us out of this mess! But right now, it seems more people in the world want me dead-!” 

Ron reached around you, pointing an accusing finger at Harry as he cut off the other man’s words with a shout of his own. 

“I wish I would have known that when I signed on to be your best friend years ago-!” 

“Best friend?” Harry repeated, halfway between a gasp and a sarcastic sneer. “Some friend you are. What have you done for me in the past few years aside from scream at me and gripe and complain?” 

“Stop it!” You shouted this time, whipping your head toward Harry, done with trying to haul Ron away. “Both of you, stop! You both love each other and this is nonsense!” 

It was the truth. But they were entirely blind to the truth right now.

Naturally, they both ignored you. 

“And what have you done for me, aside from nearly getting me killed?” Ron snapped back. 

“Ron, stop!” You squealed at him, trying once again to stop the fight. 

You had never seen any of their bickering or arguing come even close to the level of friendship ending. But under the circumstances, you feared that if it didn’t stop soon - this might be it. 

You dug your fingers into his jumper again, this time actually trying to haul him toward the mouth of the tent by force. He didn’t seem at all bothered by this - he simply continued engaging in a very fierce glaring contest with Harry. 

When his jumper stretched down slightly, you saw a glinting around his neck, and then you realised: 

He had been wearing the Locket for nearly two days now. 

You thought that Hermione was supposed to be taking her turn, that it was outside the tent with her and her books. But surely enough, when you reached inside his jumper, your hand came back with that green locket. As you looked at it, you found that the sight of it almost mocked you. 

“Ron, take it off.” You demanded sharply. “Come on, you don’t mean any of this, it’s just-” 

“Who says I don’t mean it?” Ron snapped, reaching up and batting your hands away from him. Surprisingly, he then tucked the Locket back inside his jumper, rather than taking it off. 

He was still actively punishing himself. And it was likely that Harry’s comment about him not being helpful was only playing into the toxic circus already going on in his mind that made him feel the need to wear it for longer. The Locket must have been loving the dark cloud of emotions that Ron was feeling right now. 

Harry took a step toward you and put a hand on your shoulder, trying to pull you away from Ron. 

“Come on, Y/N, it’s no use talking to him. He’s being a complete idiot right now, he’s not going to listen.” 

Typically yes, that would be the case if Hermione or Harry tried to talk to him. When Ron was angry, their personalities did not mesh well. He would put up nothing but a wall of silence or brute stubbornness toward them. 

But when you talked to him, it was different. When he was greeted by your warm empathy, your gentle understanding, it was different. In the worst cases where you truly needed to break through to him, you ended up with your mouth on his cock to break that stubbornness. But either way, you would get him to listen to you, and eventually he would calm down and talk it out. 

Ron’s glare was like a sharp poison dagger, piercing the place where Harry’s hand met your shoulder. 

It seemed that those words from Harry’s mouth, so casually calling him an idiot, along with Harry’s touch on you - even though it was the most casual, platonic touch he could have performed. All of it brought Ron’s anger to a boiling rage, and under the influence of the Locket - he snapped. 

“Don’t touch her!” Ron growled. He reached around you and shoved Harry squarely in the chest in order to get him away from you. 

You would be lying if you said that the words and especially his tone carrying them didn’t send a distinct zap through your cunt, instantly awakening the lust you had been trying to push down all day. 

Harry let out a sharp gasp as Ron’s hand hit his chest, and stumbled backwards a few steps - partially because of how hard Ron had pushed him, and partially numb from shock. His fights with Ron had never turned physical before. He found himself flushed with fear, and not one due to intimidation of his best friend’s physical stature. He was afraid to potentially lose the friendship. He was afraid that he had taken things a step too far. 

You looked between the two of them, tingling with shock yourself, completely unsure what to say or do. You were tempted to shout for Hermione, but then Ron began speaking again and shocked you and Harry even further. 

“This may come as a surprise to you, Harry, but you don’t own everything in the goddamn world.” Ron said, spitting Harry’s name through his lips like it was a vile poison. 

Was he seriously insinuating that Harry put a hand on your shoulder because he thought that he owned you? 

Was Ron getting possessive over you? 

“Excuse me?” Harry squeaked out, clearly having as much difficulty processing the words as you were. 

If anything, Harry was jealous of your relationship with Ron. 

The two of you had been so close before even coming to Hogwarts. When Harry had seen the two of you idly chatting and laughing so hard that you could barely breathe when he had approached your train carriage during that first ride to Hogwarts, he had been purely intimidated. On that day, Harry had felt like he had no one in the world, like he was so damn alone, and Ron already had you as a best friend. 

Harry had always been jealous of the closeness that you had with Ron. The inside jokes from your childhood, the stories of the things you got up to as kids that he only heard about secondhand. Harry had always wished so hard, yearned deep in his heart that he could have grown up in the magical world so that he would have known Ron sooner and could have been his best friend for as long as you had. Every single time Harry arrived at the Burrow, you were already there, laughing it up with Ron, making him feel like he was the biggest third wheel to your already amazing friendship. 

To this day, Harry was still surprised that Ron gave him the title of best friend and not you. 

“Ron-?” You questioned numbly, and he cut you off. 

“You heard me.” Ron growled, his voice dark. 

It was something that made your stomach jump, a mixture of shock and lust flooding you. It made you numb and limp and turned you into a perfect ragdoll, your body entirely receptive to Ron’s next chaotic, unpredictable movements.

“She doesn’t belong to you.” Ron ground out, his throat scraping against the words in a gravelly way that made your pussy so wet. 

“I never said-” Harry gaped quietly in protest, but he cut himself off with a quiet gasp when he witnessed what his best mate did next.  

Ron threaded a hand into the back of your hair, a grip so strong and commanding, a touch that immediately said ‘I own you’. 

You released a small gasp in response, arching into his touch as shockwaves of pleasure pittered through you from this point - from feeling his large, strong hand gripping you there. He didn’t waste a moment before he ripped on your hair, forcing your head backwards so he could have a good angle to shove his mouth onto yours. 

Dizzy with the combination of pain and pleasure, your mouth so easily fell open to him. You had nothing but ripe, burning moans for him as his rough, unshaven face scratched against yours and his demanding tongue shoved past your lips. He was almost forcing you to choke on his presence as your needy lust came back with a vengeance, thumping hard between your thighs. 

Harry found himself confused. 

He was still so bitterly angry, that annoyance from the argument still sizzling through his veins. But he found his cock quickly swelling to hardness at the sight of Ron taking you so savagely, treating you to roughly, doing things to you that Harry had definitely never done. 

Harry was always soft with you. He didn’t know anything but softness when it came to his intimate time with you. Witnessing this was so absolutely hot, and Harry couldn’t deny that. He should have been more upset by this revelation - by the familiarity, by the natural way you just let Ron kiss you. 

Harry should have been jealous. He should have stormed away to brood at the fact that you had clearly been fucking Ron behind his back for as long as you had been fucking him. But he couldn’t find himself angry about that. He only found it to be a turn-on. 

Part of his brain screamed that he should have known all along. A girl as perfect as you wouldn’t have just one boyfriend, definitely not. (Was he your boyfriend? The two of you had never discussed that part…) 

The first time you had ever kissed him, Harry just felt exceedingly lucky. And he had felt similarly confused, wondering why the hell you had snogged him so suddenly, without seeming to show any interest in him beforehand. 

That night in the Gryffindor Common Room, after everyone else had gone to bed, he had asked you if he should be concerned about his kissing technique because Cho had been crying while kissing him and afterwards, and Ron had made that joke about how Harry must be horrible at snogging, then. 

And without even answering, you pulled him forward by the length of his Gryffindor tie and snogged him furiously. (At the time, he had been embarrassed by how easily he had moaned into your mouth - something he had definitely not done with Cho - but you had assured him later that you found it cute.) 

And then you explained to him that his kissing technique was more than fine, and that Cho was still hung up on Cedric, and he should stop ‘playing with her fragile emotions’. He had been too pleased to have you that he hadn’t cared at all about turning Cho down for Valentine’s Day. 

So naturally, he hadn’t questioned the nature of his relationship with you since. 

In this moment, he was still bitterly mad at Ron. But he watched to watch. He found you beautiful and irresistible, even if he should have hated seeing you with Ron. He just found it hot. And he was confused as to why that was - but he certainly wasn’t going to move unless you or Ron yelled at him to bugger off. 

The whole time that Harry contemplated this, Ron thoroughly explored your mouth with his tongue. This left you whimpering and writhing to get closer to him, despite the tight grip he had on your hair. You were needy for more, arching into him, needing to be closer to his warm, Quidditch-hardened body. Your hands tightly gripped his biceps through his thick jumper, wishing you could feel more of him, more of his delicious bare skin that you had experienced under your hands before but missed so dearly. 

“Ron-!” You squeaked out in protest as he pulled back from the kiss. 

The movement resonated a wet smack through the tent and left Harry’s mouth flooded with his own saliva as he saw the thread of spit that tangled between your two mouths. He would deny that it was out of pure want. 

He stared in awe as he saw how swollen and used your lips already were after just a few moments of Ron’s rough kissing. 

Typically, that was an imagery that Harry could only get from you after hours of kissing, slow and sweet. Or something he would see on the rare occasions when you had sucked his cock for hours, pinned him down and teased him until he was begging for more. Naturally, that thought made his cock give a needy pulse inside his trousers - but he refused to touch himself. 

He didn’t know when he had gotten so damn hard, but he knew that he was standing at full attention, and he hoped that Ron wouldn’t look over to see the very obvious bulge at the front of his pants. 

Something that truly mystified Harry was the look on your face. 

You had such a doll-like expression; your eyes glassy, your jaw slack, your lips parted. Your gaze was locked on Ron, tracing his every movement as though you had been hypnotised. If Harry didn’t know any better, he might say that you were under the Imperius Curse. In all the times that Harry had taken you to bed before, he had never seen that look on your face. 

Whenever you gleefully climbed on top of him (or the spare few times when you let him climb on top of you) you were always so present. Often, Harry was surprised by how composed you could be when he was the one begging and falling apart. Whenever he looked up at you, there was an almost wild look of mischief behind your eyes as you decided with pure, intricate calculation what you were going to do to him. 

And Harry could do nothing more than sit back and enjoy the ride. He supposed it was the one area of his life where he didn’t have to panic about the decision making. The one time where he didn’t have to fret about being responsible. 

“Ron,” You moaned out weakly, gently begging him for more. 

Harry then realised - Ron did that for you. And you must have liked it a whole lot. 

Because you made absolutely no protests as he mouthed along your cheek roughly, the short, coarse hair of his short beard clearly scratching your skin along the way. You only let out more beautiful moans as he began sucking savagely on your neck. 

“Ron, ah-!” 

Harry only became worried when he saw Ron quite clearly dig his teeth into your skin right at the neck of your shirt, biting down hard enough to draw blood. He continued to yank on your hair, holding your body in a tight arch to keep you from squirming away. You didn’t yell out any protests at this, but the sound you made was a sharp holler - perhaps it could have been from pleasure or pain. 

You had never made sounds like that with Harry, so he couldn’t exactly tell. 

Either way, it had Harry reaching to his back pocket for his wand. But he didn’t yet draw it out and point it at Ron. He was too damn curious to let this continue and see where things went. Especially if you didn’t want it to stop. 

“Y/N?” Harry questioned, his voice ripe with concern. 

He needed to check on you. If you even so much as uttered the words ‘no’ or ‘stop’, then he would put Ron on his ass without hesitation. 

You let out another moan, and his cock throbbed with need, trapped inside of his pants. He hoped that he could forget about it for now. 

You let out a small whimper as Ron tongued over the bite harshly, seemingly enjoying the taste of the blood, before he picked a new spot and bit down again. You made another wounded noise and Harry gripped his wand tighter before you finally responded to him. 

“I’m fine, Harry.” You breathed out, sparing him a quick sideways glance - barely able to turn your head with Ron’s strong grip holding you still by your hair. 

“Don’t you dare say his fucking name!” Ron growled out, clearly insulted that you were talking to Harry when all of your attention was supposed to be on him. “Not until I’m done with you.” 

In a fraction of a moment, these sharp words were paired with the sound of skin stinging against skin. 

Harry let out another gasp as he watched Ron’s large hand come down across your cheek. It was hard enough to make a distinct sound, and throttle your head to the side. But it definitely wasn’t hard enough to shake you out of the lustful haze you were in. If anything, the stiffness of his palm colliding with your cheek seemed to add to it. 

More shock pulsed through Harry when he heard you let out another moan, definitely a pleasurable one. He pulled out his wand and held it at his hip, not yet prepared to threaten Ron. Because if he wasn’t mistaken, you were enjoying this. 

“Ron,” You gasped quietly. 

You found yourself shocked by the way the slap had caused your pussy to throb between your legs. 

“That’s right.” He grunted back before he leaned back in, taking your mouth in that entirely commanding way once again. 

You could do nothing but moan pathetically and hope that soon he touched you where you needed it most. 

Sure, Ron had been somewhat rough with you before. 

He was always more of an animal in bed - Ron always fucked dumb and wild, climbed on top of you and let loose like a mindless animal until he was done. And you always liked it that way. 

You went to him when you wanted to be sore and full, when you wanted to lay back and forget about your day. You thought it was sweet of Harry to check on you. He had always been so different when it came to sex. 

You went to Harry when you wanted to be taken care of with intense softness and slowness. Sex with Harry was always more like making love - a devoted worship of you or you worshipping him. You liked to have his sweetness completely under your control, to know that he would do anything you said at a moment’s notice. 

And of course, Hermione was completely different. You went to her when you wanted to fight for dominance and sometimes lose, or win and have the pleasure of having her at your mercy. She was a very rule oriented person, so she was the type to have you stand in the corner with a book balanced on your head while she finished writing an essay and then give you a reward for not dropping it. But she was also someone who liked to be mind-broken and forget about all the rules sometimes. You liked that it was so unpredictable and surprisingly non-routine with her. 

While you knew each of them well, intimately - you were somewhat surprised. 

Ron had never been this mean before. 

Mostly, you were surprised by how quickly you were coming to like the meanness in him, especially when it was presented as a sexual aggression toward you. You knew that it was something you would crave long after this was over. (You hated that you could imagine yourself purposely pissing him off just to get this result.) 

After a few moments, Ron pulled away from the kiss again, leaving you panting, entirely breathless. He leaned his forehead against yours in a move that Harry would almost consider tender - quite a contrast to his other actions, staring daggers of dangerous passion into your eyes as your chest heaved. 

“I’m fine.” You muttered quietly, wanting to assure Harry that you were okay with everything that Ron was doing. More than okay - but you weren’t quite ready to admit that just yet. “It’s fine.” 

Your words were clearly intended for Harry, who you could see out of the corner of your eye was clearly prepared to take Ron down if need be. It was a nice safety net to have, but with your cheek stinging as much as your needy cunt - it was an unnecessary one. 

You kept your eyes locked on Ron as he teased a thumb across your bottom lip. You were tempted to tease him, tempted to call out Harry’s name again just to see what would happen. But you were worried that he would get you all worked up and then not let you cum, and that would be the most pitiful punishment of all to you on this day. 

“Fine?” Ron chuckled darkly. “I’ll show you fine.” 

He wretched your neck back harshly again, taking advantage of the hold he had on your hair. You couldn’t contain the moan you let out as he shoved his tongue past your lips once more, his free hand coming up to grope your breast through your shirt so harshly that it ached. 

He reached for your pants and tugged on them so hard that the button went flying, making a small ‘tink’ on the floor as it disappeared somewhere on the other side of the tent. You distantly hoped that Hermione could sew, or that she knew some spell for mending buttons, but that was a fleeting thought in your mind at the moment. 

Ron shoved his hand past the waistband of your pants without a second thought, without even a breath of asking permission. It was that boldness, the way he simply took you like you belonged to him - it was that feeling of being owned by him that made you clench around nothing, further soaking your cotton panties as he shoved his fingers into them. 

Ron pulled back from the kiss, letting out a breathy chuckle against your cheek as he felt that heady wetness. He had to pry the sticky fabric off your cunt to make his way to the source, and it only made him more sure of himself. He made bold, cocky movements when he posed two of his fingers rigid, sweeping up the length of your needy pussy. He gathered the wetness thick on his fingertips before he found your clit with practised skill and rubbed it in mean strokes. 

“Ron!” 

Your knees bent and your fingers dug into the fabric of his jumper, desperate to hold on to something. Your thighs clamped down around his hand, and when you let out a whining moan, Harry’s cock pulsed sharply when he realised he could hear the sound of your wetness audibly, even though it was slightly muffled, still trapped inside of your pants - he could hear each mean, wet stroke as Ron touched you. 

“Ron, please!” 

You were already begging to cum. 

But he had no determination to finish you off right now. He didn’t want to make you cum yet - otherwise, the show would have been over too soon. He only did this for a moment before he pulled his fingers back out of your pants, now absolutely soaked and glistening with your wetness. Then he shocked you and Harry yet again when he purposefully held the hand up for Harry to see. 

“More than fine.” He scoffed, referring to your earlier words. “Look at how fucking wet she is for me.” 

An incredibly tempting thought came over Harry. To cross the room and put his lips around those fingers, to taste your essence (something he was already intimately familiar with) while enjoying the thickness of Ron’s digits on his tongue. But there was still that part of Harry that was pissed off, and somehow, that part won out. 

“You’re mad.” He barked out, pocketing his wand again and crossing his arms tightly over his chest, setting his jaw and giving his best enraged expression. “You’re disgusting.” 

Ron let out another bitter chuckle. “You’re still watchin’, mate.” 

Seeing as it was not a demand to fuck off and stop watching, Harry continued to keep his eyes locked on the scene. All while trying his best to keep putting up that front of anger while arousal overtook him. 

Ron used the hand in your hair and a hand on your hip to throw you toward the table, finally releasing the grip on your hair to manhandle you until you were positioned how he liked. He bent you over the table with your palms supporting you on the surface, your ass sticking out, with your knees grazing against the attached bench in what must have been in an uncomfortable way. It put you and Ron sideways to Harry as Ron got behind you, showing off your profiles to him. If Harry wasn’t mistaken, Ron was purposefully showing off, making sure that Harry had a good view of whatever he was going to do to you next. 

You moaned again as Ron tucked his grip into your pants and underwear and ripped them down all at once, shoving the fabric down to your knees. You let out a pitiful, beautiful whimper as he put a hand on your jaw, forcing your head back painfully so that you could look up at him as he towered over you. He wanted you to know how much power he held over you. 

It made your cunt throb even harder, and you were sure that Harry could see the wetness glistening on your thighs. 

Ron’s body was warm against your back, the muscly hot furnace that he always was. Without warning, he shoved those two still wet fingers inside your cunt, and began fucking you open without mercy. This caused you to moan harshly and arch into the touch, aching for more. 

“It’s funny, innit?” Ron posed, a dark laughter dancing in his voice. “Someone had to show The Great Harry Potter how to fuck. One thing that didn’t just come to him with natural grace.” 

Over the sounds of your moans and Ron’s fingers moving slickly inside your cunt, Harry felt a wave of humiliation rise up in him. He would absolutely deny that Ron speaking so harshly to him like that, combined with his best friend for once looking down upon his name - actually made his cock throb harder. A big part of Harry internally scoffed. Did Ron honestly think that Harry was some blushing, clueless virgin? 

“I know how.” Harry replied, the words entirely daft to his own ears once they came to the open air. He sounded like a petulant child pretending that he hadn’t eaten a cookie before dinner. Absolutely no truth or proof behind his own words. 

Ron let out another dark laugh at this, and Harry’s stomach clenched with a strange combination of humiliation and lust. 

If Harry was being completely honest with himself, there was a time in his life when he had been taught how to fuck. It wasn’t something that came naturally to him without a bunch of nervous fumbling. But Ron certainly wasn’t his instructor. 

You had been the one to teach him how. 

…

Harry let out a needy whine, deep frustration radiating through him as your hips slowed down on top of him yet again. He wanted to cry as you sat down on top of him completely, trapping his cock in stillness, leaving him leaking and needy inside of you as your leaking pussy sheathed completely around him. It was the most beautiful torture - every inch of him sheathed in your hot wetness, but dear god, he needed you to move. 

“Hush, now, darling - there’s no need to whine.” You scolded him, your voice oddly sweet and soothing for words that brought such a disappointing lull over him. 

“But-” Harry breathed out a protest, and you yanked sharply on his Gryffindor tie. This caused the words to die off in his throat as his neck was jerked with a short snip of pain. 

He was still mostly clothed - still wearing his cardigan, unbuttoned and slumping down his arms, and his white shirt with a few stray buttons undone. With his trousers undone and pulled down to his thighs along with his underwear, letting his cock out. Usually, when you fucked him, no matter how undressed he got, you kept his tie around his neck. You had found that it was a very convenient leash - a very easy way to shut him up and make him obedient at a moment’s notice. 

It was something he was now unconsciously trained toward, which he both loved and hated. Ron and Hermione had no clue why Harry went so slack and became a puppet following your every whim if you even so much as grazed a suggestive touch near his tie during classes - it was something that made his brain go fuzzy and made his cock harden at an alarming speed. 

This afternoon, you had decided that the chosen form of torture - well, intensely wet, pleasurable ‘torture’ - would be riding him. You had shed your clothing and you were now sitting astride his lap naked, alternating between fucking him hard and fast for a few moments before you slowed down and then slopped completely until he begged for you to continued. 

It was a move that simply dared someone to come into the Gryffindor boys dorm during the class that the two of you had skipped and catch the two of you while you humped up and down on Harry’s cock. But he couldn’t even bring himself to care about the possibility of getting caught, as you easily made him forget about everything other than the feeling of your warm, tight, wet cunt clenching down on his cock. 

“I told you, Harry, we need to train up your stamina.” You whispered, speeding your hips up once again, daring him to hurl off the edge of oblivion into a mind-bending orgasm. “It’s like Quidditch - if you don’t practise, then you’ll never get better.” 

Harry only sputtered out a moan and clutched onto your hips tightly, pressing his face into your breasts as his over-edged balls ached and he internally begged for mercy. 

So what? He didn’t often last long with you. You were a goddess, and your pussy was perfect, who could blame him? What he lacked in stamina, he usually made up for in enthusiasm and the intense willingness to eat his own cum out of you afterwards, which you more than enjoyed. 

“Y/N, please-!” Harry grunted out desperately. 

…

“Ron, please!”

Harry’s mind was abruptly sucked back to the present by the sound of your voice, begging in that needy, airy tone much like he had been begging you for release all that time ago. He found it remarkable how someone as composed as you could be taken apart so easily by Ron. Perhaps he might just end up asking Ron for some tips after this - even if it would inflate the git’s ego a bit too much. 

“If you’re so great, then how come she’s not begging for your cock, hmm?” 

Ron teased, seeming to take great joy in focusing his attention on mocking Harry while his fingers fucked your pussy raw. He ignored your whines and pleas and the way you rocked your hips back into him, clearly so desperate for his cock as he had pointed out. 

“Watch and learn, Harry.” 

Harry wanted to make some sassy comment about how he didn’t need to learn this from Ron, but he was far too intrigued, his eyes glazed over with lust as he watched. 

“Ron-!” You let out his name in a gasp as he pulled those fingers out of you abruptly. 

He then slapped your ass, streaking those wet fingers across your behind in a way that made the hit sound even sharper, and you choked on your own breath and arched back into the touch. You looked fucking magnificent. Harry would absolutely catalogue this in his mind forever - though he hoped that this wouldn’t be the last time he got to watch Ron fuck you. 

Ron then used the hand that wasn’t slick with your arousal to pop open the button on his own trousers. Harry hoped that Ron wouldn’t make a comment about how intently his eyes became glued to his best friend’s cock as it fought to be freed from his pants - no underwear keeping it from fighting against the zipper as Ron easily shucked down the pants over his hips. 

Harry had snuck glances at Ron before. It was difficult not to grow curious about what your best mate’s cock looked like when sharing a room with him for six, going on seven years. Especially when the latter of those years had been filled with Ron growing into a tall, broad man that easily overtook Harry in stature. And Harry had spent an increasing amount of time thinking about Ron’s cock when he woke up to the sound of Ron wanking with deep, ragged grunts. 

He had caught sight of Ron coming out of the shower before. After Quidditch practices, and when racing to use the bathroom at the Burrow before anybody else could take up the already cramped shower schedule. And while Harry had admired Ron’s muscles, he had never dared to look down before. He would never be so blatant. He had never wanted to be called out for his curiosity. He never wanted that curiosity to turn into desire. 

But now, his eyes focused boldly on Ron’s cock, seeing as it was the only naked part of him available to stare at. 

Even though Ron’s red hair was one of the most distinguishable traits about him, Harry was surprised by just how bright and fiery his pubes were - like a hellish flame from which his cock sprung out. And boy, was it an impressive one. 

It was eight inches long, maybe a bit more, and it was thick. The only way to describe Ron’s cock was fat. It was quite pale, just like the rest of Ron, with a slight pink flush around the head that was swallowed up by his foreskin. But still, Harry found himself fixated on just how massive Ron’s cock was. 

Harry found himself wondering what the thick shaft would look like wrapped up in your hand, or the dainty, delicate touch of Hermione’s, and his throat became particularly dry when he imagined this. 

Strangely enough, even though Harry’s cock was a good two inches shorter and it was skinnier (much like his general stature when compared to Ron’s) - the first thing that Harry felt when looking at Ron’s cock wasn’t jealousy or inadequacy, but rather - awe. A horny type of marvel, like he was looking at a brilliant sex monument that he had just discovered. 

A small pang of worry flashed through his insides at the idea that Ron was likely going to take you so roughly with his obnoxiously large cock. He knew that Ron wasn’t going to be gentle all of a sudden. Harry worried that a cock of such size might hurt you. But again, he knew that he could step in if you asked him to. 

Ron grabbed his cock with the hand that he had previously been fucking you with, spreading your wetness over his shaft with a few good pumps. He poised a touch on your hip and then, with a hand on the base of his cock, began running the now exposed, throbbing tip along your weeping slit. 

Harry thought that he might push in after a moment, especially when you let out a whimper and arched your back toward him, daring him to sink in. 

“Ron, please. Please, baby. Come on.” You begged, your voice half caught in your throat as you were overtaken by need. 

Harry’s cock was freely leaking into his underwear now, and he almost shouted for Ron to begin fucking you out of his own dizzy desperation. 

But then, still teasing his cock along your swollen pussy lips, Ron put his other hand under your jaw. He squeezed your cheeks tightly between his thumb and forefinger - and he turned your head toward Harry. You had previously been facing the wall of the tent with half-closed, dopey eyes. 

Harry found himself deeply surprised by this. Of course, the whole point of this (supposedly) was to direct your attention away from Harry. Ron had even banned you from speaking his name. So why did he want you to look at Harry now? 

When your glassy, lustful eyes met Harry’s, his stomach jumped. He swallowed harshly around nothing and he knew that you saw the bobbing of this throat. You let out a whimper, squirming in Ron’s hold, still trying to fuck yourself back onto his cock. This caused Ron to let out a displeased growl and move the hand that he had on the base of his cock to your lower back, shoving you toward the table so that the edge of it cut into your hips. 

While keeping a tight hold on your face, making sure that you never looked away from Harry, Ron leaned in and grumbled something lowly in your ear. Even though you were panting harshly and Harry’s own heartbeat thumped in his ears, he could still hear the words so distinctly from across the room: 

“Go on. Tell him how badly you want my cock.” 

“I want it.” You whimpered. 

This wasn’t good enough for Ron. 

He yanked on your hair again, keeping your face locked on Harry. But at the same time, he made sure you stayed focused on the task at hand with his cock kissing at your entrance, the fat head of it just barely teasing in - but not nearly giving you enough to be satisfied. 

“Tell him who.” Ron barked out. “Tell him who you need.” 

“I need you, Ron!” You whined. “I need Ron’s cock.” 

These finally seemed to be the words that set him off. 

He slammed into you without further ceremony, digging his fingers into your hip and keeping the other hand in your hair for leverage. He began fucking you like a wild animal, his hips a blur of flesh that lit up your insides with pleasure. It was what you needed, and you instantly thanked him with a chorus of deep moans echoing from your throat. 

“Good. Fucking. Girl.” Ron ground out these words, driving each syllable home with a hard thrust of his hips. 

His movements filled the whole tent with nothing but sounds of his hips colliding against your ass, your wet pussy eagerly swallowing up his thick cock. Paired with his rough, animalistic grunting as he claimed you, complemented by the sounds of your withering moans - your lungs already wilted and tired, your body begging for release. You loved being used by him, and you knew that if he kept up the pace, you could cum just from the feeling of his big cock filling you up. 

It was this symphony of sounds - the very obvious signs of fucking - that drew Hermione’s attention back toward the tent. 

She had been roused by the yelling, originally. She didn’t want to intervene in the bickering like she was simply the ‘mother’ of the group, imposing rules and order on everyone. That role did become annoying after a while. So when it died down naturally, she had been thankful, and simply went back to her book. 

But it was the sounds of fucking that truly caught her attention. Completely against her own will, it started a fire between her legs and drew her up. If she wasn’t mistaken, that was your girlish lilting voice calling out Ron’s name. She knew that Harry wasn’t asleep and she hadn’t seen him leaving. So were the three of you-? 

“Fuck, take it! Take it like the little fuckin’ cockwarmer you are!” 

That deep growling voice couldn’t possibly be Ron - could it? 

With her pussy beginning to ache annoyingly between her thighs, Hermione pulled back the tent flap and stepped inside. The sight she found before her quickly made her gasp. 

Ron was fucking you. 

He had you bent over the table. There was something in the back of Hermione’s mind that screamed ‘that is where we eat, this is not sanitary’ - but she ignored that part of her mind in favour of the headliner. 

Which was the beastly way that Ron was taking you, harsh grunts pouring from his lips as his very large cock pounded into your pussy with seemingly no care. This made your poor pussy more swollen by the second, and seemingly - more coated in natural wetness as you creamed all over him, taking nothing but pleasure in his rough movements. 

You were moaning breathlessly, hanging onto the edge of the table for dear life, your face shaped into a perfect O as hot breaths poured from your lips. With your back arched out, showing your ass to Ron in a perfectly pornographic picture that was right out of one of the magazines that Hermione had accidentally seen under Ron’s bed. 

Your whole body rocked with his thrusts, the table creaking under the pure force of him - something that made Hermione realise just how strong he was for the first time ever. It was a thought that made her slightly dizzy and made her throat dry. The expression on his face was like nothing Hermione had ever seen before - tight-browed determination, not a lick of uncertainty anywhere among his features. Clearly, this was something he was confident in. And that confident power suited him so well. 

And Harry was watching. 

He was standing a few feet from the table, his arms crossed over his chest and a very obvious bulge in his pants. A stiff expression on his face as he stared at the scene more intently than she had ever seen him with anything other than Quidditch. 

The lick of heat that Hermione was feeling quickly boiled into a hellfire. Although she knew that her cheeks were pink, and suddenly her jacket felt overwhelming to have on, she didn’t ask to join in. But rather stupidly: 

“Ronald, stop this! Now!” 

Hermione hated that her first instinct was to scold Ron like a child, to order him around like this. 

But the dominant energy pouring off him in waves was certainly not something she was used to, and she had the utmost urge to stamp it out. Though you seemed to be enjoying yourself and Harry seemed perfectly intent to watch, Hermione’s gut told her that there was something wrong with the scene. On the surface, it was Ron’s apparent roughness with you, making Hermione worry that he was handling someone as delicate as you the wrong way. 

But deep down, she knew it was her own spiteful dominance washing up - a possessiveness she felt over you. Something that made her want to challenge Ron for you and have the pleasure of being put in her place. Or, have the pleasure of winning and taking you in front of him. 

Perhaps, what her gut truly wanted to tell her was wrong with the scene was that she wasn’t a central participant in it. 

Ron let out a sharp growl of frustration when Hermione’s shrill voice hit his ears. If there was any boner killer in the world, it was Hermione’s whiny, authoritative voice calling him by his full name. 

He pulled his cock out of you before you could blink. Harry made a choked sound at the sight of Ron’s now angry red cock parting from your swollen cunt with a sticky string of wetness, much like when you had parted from that breathless kiss at the beginning of all this. 

“Ron!” You whined sharply, wondering what the hell he was doing. Your orgasm had been a tight knot in your belly, but now it was fading off so quickly that it hurt. 

Hermione would deny that she stared. She would deny that she could a good eyeful of your pussy as it gaped around nothing, clearly aching for Ron’s cock, spilling more clear wetness out onto your own thighs with each aching, empty clench. Drool gathered in her mouth at the sight of your body so desperate. 

And a sight she had never seen before - Ron’s hard, bobbing dick, bright red and absolutely coated in your wetness. She almost mourned not being able to stare at it for longer as he tucked it back into his trousers and zipped them back up with a clearly frustrated haste. She would deny that the sheer size of his cock amazed her and made her own cunt clench with a filthy, hungry ache. 

“No-!” You squeaked out a protest, looking over your shoulder at Ron and sighing in defeat when you saw that he had tucked his cock away. 

Then you turned your gaze toward Hermione, looking at her with pure disappointment floating in your eyes. 

“Hermione!” You whined out, a clear plea for her to let the whole thing continue.  

She almost couldn’t stand the kicked puppy look from you, especially not when she was so used to giving in to you, giving in to all your little whims. Especially when your pussy was wet and your eyes were glassy with lust - she couldn’t resist you like this. 

You didn’t rush to pull up your own pants, unlike Ron. You didn’t see the point, seeing as, even if they didn’t all know it yet, everyone in the room had seen this part of you quite a few times before. 

“You just have to ruin everything, don’t you, Hermione?” Ron barked, clearly making his way toward the entrance of the tent to leave. 

It was likely that he wanted to sulk off between the trees for a wank since Hermione was becoming all ‘protective’ over you. He was far more afraid of anything she would do to him than whatever vague threats Harry had made earlier. 

“What if you were hurting her?” Hermione said meekly. “Did you even ask her if you could do that?” 

It was rare - so very rare that she admitted she was wrong. The minute she had told Ron to stop, she regretted not simply cheering the scene on. But she wasn’t going to go back on it now. She needed to be in control. She needed the whole thing to be her idea now. 

During the entire exchange, Harry remained eerily silent. Ron was glaring at Hermione with the fierce vengeance of the Locket still pulsing through him, and Hermione was giving him the stiff jaw that she usually did before they burst into an epic argument. If Harry was lucky, another argument would lead to more fucking, and he wasn’t going to speak up and ruin that. 

You whimpered again weakly as you straightened your back. You reached for the waistband of your pants and pulled them up slightly to give yourself some mobility in your footing, rather than having them hooked around your legs. But you didn’t pull them up to completely cover your pussy yet. You were still very needy, desperate for an orgasm. If someone else didn’t fuck you soon, you would either have to push Harry to the floor and take him or lay back on the table and start masturbating out in the open without care. 

“She liked it.” Ron growled, entirely confident in this statement. 

Hermione barely contained a whimper of her own as Ron’s hot breath fanned over her face. The condescending glare he gave her only emphasised their height difference, somehow making her insides hotter. 

“But it’s just so easy to blame the big, bad Ron Weasley for everything, isn’t it?” Ron huffed out. 

He turned his back then, and you knew he was about to storm out of the tent, so you finally scrounged up your voice and managed some words. 

“Take it off.” You choked out. “The Locket. Take it off.” 

Whatever happened next, you didn’t want it to be caused by anger. 

You wanted it to be caused by desire - by need. 

You knew that you weren’t the only person in the tent who needed this. You could see the way Hermione was unconsciously clenching her thighs together, and Harry’s cock was testing his zipper mightily. And even though Ron had started touching you out of a possessiveness, it wasn’t the first time that anger had sparked this kind of wild fucking from him - it was just an intensely exaggerated reaction under the Locket’s influence. 

But you knew that it would likely put everyone more at ease if he took it off. 

“You’ve been wearing it this whole time-?” Hermione gasped, reaching for the neck of Ron’s jumper as you had earlier. Surprisingly, he let her. 

“I still liked it.” You announced, wanting to assure Hermione that even if Ron’s need to brutally fuck you was prompted by the influence of the Locket, you had intensely enjoyed it. 

“I absolutely enjoyed it. In fact, I think Ron is the only one around here with any sense.” You said. 

It was then that you felt the draft from the tent flap blowing cooling air on your wet cunt - something that finally prompted you to pull your pants up the rest of the way. 

Harry almost begged you not to, not wanting sex to be off the table, not yet. Ron had to contain a laugh when you reached to fasten your pants with a button that was sitting on the floor in the corner. 

“Beg your pardon?” Hermione gaped, entirely shocked by your words, partially confused as to what you meant. 

Ron grinned wickedly at this revelation - he knew exactly what you meant. 

So, he made no moves to fight her when Hermione took the Locket off him and stashed it in her pocket, rather than putting it on. (She wanted to be clear headed for what she hoped would happen next.) 

“If we don’t stop fighting and start fucking, then we’re going to drive each other insane with all the damn bickering.” You explained.

Hermione looked between Ron and Harry, who were both very still and refused to look at her, much like they did when they thought that they were in trouble. It was quite clear that they were waiting for her to take the lead, to make the important decision as she usually did. 

And then she looked at you. She found herself quite taken with your sex-messed hair, your kiss-swollen lips and the pure need that glazed over your eyes, a few wet tears kissing against your lashes. 

“Hermione, please.” You begged, that pure need swallowing up your chest, making her name sound so beautiful coming off your lips. 

She was distinctly reminded of the last time she had heard those words coming off your lips, begging her for something in a distinctly similar way. 

…

“Hermione, please.” You murmured sharply against her lips, already untying the front of her cotton pyjama shorts. “I’ll be quick, I swear.” 

You had her pinned against the sink in the bathroom at the Burrow, licking the taste of spearmint toothpaste off her teeth. It was just after the two of you had completed a nightly routine, preparing for bed.��

You thought that routine should include an orgasm or two to help with better sleep, but Hermione feared getting caught. Even though the two of you seemed to be the last ones awake, everyone else already finished with their night and in bed. The house was quiet with sleep, even with the number of family members and guests gathered there, staying over in anticipation of the wedding. 

“Y/N-” Hermione choked out your name, reaching a hand up and putting a thumb on your pulse point, pressing down sharply as a warning. 

This was something that caused you to whimper against her mouth and pause the movement of your hand against her wet panties. It was a technique she had developed with you, a soft spot of yours that easily got you to behave or focus when she needed you to. 

“Hermione.” You replied, your voice full of breath, a quivering need balancing on your tongue. It was like a Veela’s call that delicately invited her to give you exactly what you needed. 

Hermione let out a sharp sigh. You held your breath as she gently rubbed her thumb over that spot on your neck, knowing that you would either be denied, or she would soon give in. There was no amount of begging you could do if she had already made up her mind. 

“Quickly.” She told you, her voice sharp and authoritative. 

It was like she was reminding you when an essay was due or telling you to pull down your skirt because your knickers were visible. But instead, she was pressing the fact that you had to make her cum quickly so that the two of you wouldn’t get caught. 

“Quickly.” You repeated the word with a nod. 

You then descended to your knees as you helped her half sit up on the sink, taking her shorts and underwear down to her ankles. 

“Good girl.” She praised in a strained whisper. 

She had to forcefully muffle her own moans with a hand tightly over her mouth as your lips latched onto her clit. 

Most of the time, Hermione didn’t know if she was a potent authority in your life, or if she let you run her like the brilliant scam artist that you were. But either way, she loved you enough to let you have the things you wanted. Most of the time. 

…

That had been just a few short nights before the ensuing blur of preparing for Bill and Fleur’s wedding, and the chaos that had everyone tumbling out of there with urgency. That was the last time that Hermione had cum before setting out on this entire tedious ‘adventure’. So of course, her lustful need was worse than ever, if only from starvation of touch over time. 

“Please.” You breathed out the word again, your voice desperate as ever. “Please, I need this. I think we all need this.” 

This drew her attention back to the present, back to the authority she had over you - well, you and the boys right now. 

Now that she thought of those boys - 

“You’re speaking for Harry now too?” Hermione chuckled, turning to look at the one person who had been silent through all of this. 

He raised his brows, looking rather caught. His mouth gaped like a fish as he desperately searched for the words to say ‘I was hoping that I would be included in the dirty filthy fucking without having to ask’. 

Harry didn’t get a chance to come up with a reply before you trampled over him with your own words. 

“Oh please, he’s been hard since Ron first kissed me. Also, for the record, you don’t have to ask Harry for sex, you just tell him it’s happening and he nods and takes off his pants.” You announced, looking at Harry in an intensely knowing way.

Hermione let out a breathy chuckle at this, giving Harry a very interesting sideways glance - studying him like she would study a particularly interesting book. Harry’s stomach bubbled with excitement and lust because you had given him a similar look so many times before. It made him imagine being trapped between you and Hermione while you both came up with increasingly naughty ways to torture him, and he found the fantasy to be equal parts scary and thrilling. 

Ron’s brows knitted together with intense thought and he looked between you and Harry. 

Harry caught Ron’s eye, and he began to turn cherry red when he realised he had been outed as very needy, and very easy. He thought perhaps Ron was judging him - he had no clue that now his best friend was looking upon him with a newly formed sexual appetite. 

“Well, then. Y/N, I suppose you’re right.” 

Hermione huffed out these words before marching across the room toward you with determination. She placed the few books that she had tucked into her arm on the table behind you before she tangled her fingers into your hair in an entirely possessive and well-known manner. Then she forced your lips towards her, kissing you fiercely, but much gentler than Ron had. 

The realisation truly hit all three of them then, that you had been having sex with the other two the entire time. But through some ingrained embarrassment and some intense need not to throw off the balance of the friendships with pining and jealousy, they had always begged you to keep it secret. The worst part of realising it now was - they all knew that they could have been sharing you and each other the whole damn time. 

Naturally, Ron was the one who had to say it out loud. 

“So, you’ve been havin’ me, and him, and her?” He said, pointing to himself, and Harry, and then to the back of Hermione’s head as she feasted greedily on your mouth, driving home the point. “The whole time?” 

Hermione pulled away from the kiss, leaning away from your body slightly, letting both the boys pointedly stare you down for a moment before you answered the question. 

“Yes.” You answered honestly, that lustful breathiness coming back into your voice. “I wasn’t really under the impression that I was supposed to be monogamous.” 

“Mono - what?” Harry finally spoke, the first one to prod at these words with a confusion that he and Ron were both feeling. 

“Monogamous.” Hermione repeated, stripping off her jacket and tossing it to lay on one of the benches beside the table. 

She then reached for your pants, noticing the absent button but ignoring it for now as she ripped the material down over your hips again. She took you with a carelessness that said she already knew she owned you and she could do whatever she pleased with you as she once again exposed your needy, hot pussy to the open air. 

You let out a throaty moan as Hermione continued explaining the term to the boys. 

“Monogamy describes a type of relationship where two partners are exclusive to each other, romantically and sexually, and any romantic or sexual contact with other partners outside of that is considered cheating.” 

Hermione explained this in the textbook fashion that she usually spoke about things. As usual, her flawless intellect and perfect composure only turned you on more. She snaked one hand under your shirt while the other reached between your thighs and began gently teasing her fingers along your wetness. You let out a moan when she gripped onto your breast and her fingers grazed your clit - she was pleased to find you braless. 

“I believe what Y/N has been engaging in with all of us would be considered polyamory. A person in multiple romantic or sexual relationships at once.” Hermione added on. 

“What if we were all - you know - together?” Harry posed, clearly feeling curious about the idea. 

“That would still be considered polyamory.” Hermione said. 

Hermione wanted to mention the concept of a closed off poly relationship - the idea that the four of you would just be the four of you, with no one else involved. How it should be. That’s what always seemed right. It was right in front of her the whole time, and she felt foolish for not being able to see the reality of things sooner. 

“I don’t want anyone but the three of you.” You moaned quietly. 

Hermione let out a small grin when you voiced this for her. 

“You sure that you haven’t been fuckin’ any other tossers on the side?” Ron piped up. “You are a little desperate, love.” 

Your pussy quaked at his degrading words combined with the sweet nickname, and you choked on a harsh sound because of it. 

“Shut up.” You whined. “It’s just us. It’s always just been us.” 

Harry liked the way you said that. Us. 

You humped your hips into Hermione’s touches as she worked her fingers inside of you - there was a slight gape around her delicate touch, plenty of room where Ron had furiously fucked you open. 

“Did Ron cum inside of you?” Hermione asked, shifting the conversation dramatically and unexpectedly. She pulled back her fingers to inspect for that telltale streak of white. 

Harry choked on his own spit at the filthiness of her words, entirely surprised by it, and though Ron was shocked by her dirty words, he rushed to answer. 

“Didn’t give me the bloody chance to.” He grumbled in complaint. 

Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes at this. 

She pulled back from you completely then, causing you to whine out in protest as you were once again teased and left hanging. She ignored your neediness as she turned back toward the boys. 

“Hermione-!” You called out, collapsing against the table as your face curled into defeat. She ignored you for now. 

Hermione walked over to Harry and grabbed the front of his jumper with one hand and then fed him the fingers that she just had inside of you, clearly eager to test out that needy compliance of his that you had mentioned earlier. Harry didn’t question her and fell so easily to her touches, something that caused her to bite back a smile as she gave out her next instructions.

“Well, Ronald, if you behave yourself, then maybe you’ll get to cum inside me tonight.” Hermione told him, using that bossy tone to say his name in a way he had previously hated so much. 

The bossiness combined with the pure filth spilling from her lips was now something that made his cock throb and protest against the confines of his pants. 

Harry continued greedily sucking on her fingers, letting out quiet moans around them as he bobbed his head, forcing Hermione to speak louder to be heard over his humming and the sounds of his wet sucking. 

“Now that I’ve seen your cock, I want to try it out.” She said, looking at Ron, seemingly paying no mind to Harry as he devoured her fingers. “So you’ll fuck me while Harry fucks Y/N, alright?” 

You cunt tingled at her words - she said it like she was doling out a homework schedule, posing it like a question while leaving no room for her authority to be dethroned. 

It seemed that rule-oriented Hermione was entirely good at making them, and in this situation, nobody was going to protest.

…

A short while later, the four of you were in the middle of the floor - none of the cots were near big enough to fit all of you at once. And sure, Hermione was talented in Transfiguration and could have fixed that, but her patience was worn thin and it was easiest just to toss the blankets on the floor in a pile and close the tent flap so that nobody’s bits got cold. 

Hermione had everyone strip down. 

The boys were much more efficient in following her orders when getting their clothes off than they ever were in following her study schedules. You were no different, of course, being used to falling under her strict, but merciful reign. 

You took a moment to admire each of your companions, especially when Ron let out a comment about Hermione ‘catching up’ and she began to peel off her clothing too. 

Ron was strong and muscular, pure bulk with a perfect bit of chub on him. (Sadly, less chub than he had a few months ago thanks to the lacklustre food situation). His love for food and Quidditch had paid off, resulting in a body that was broad, like a wonderfully warm, soft brick wall. He had filled out his once gangly height so that he looked much more like a professional athlete now than a clumsy toothpick. 

You found his muscular shoulders to be so thick and admirable, a sign of his humble power, especially now that he had the scar from being splinched still healing pinkly over his skin as a reminder of his strength. His soft stomach and thick thighs were utterly perfect in your eyes, a perfect frame for that magnificent, large cock. 

Harry was opposite to Ron in almost every way, and still so utterly perfect. 

He was thin, as you had always known him to be, and he was shorter than Ron by a good two or three inches. (You had always liked that about him because it meant he was easier for you to manhandle.) 

Where Ron’s skin was smooth and freckled and he was naturally pretty hairless over most of his body, Harry was well - hairy. The dark chest hair was something that easily attracted you, a contrast off his pale skin, making a trail down his chest to the nest of dark pubic hair from which his cock sprang out. His cock was smaller than Ron’s but never failed to impress, especially when you had him beneath you and had that cock at your mercy. 

Naturally, after he stripped down, Harry kept his glasses on, wanting to be able to see everything that was going on. His eyes kept bouncing between Ron and Hermione so fervently, taking in all the new flesh as it was revealed to him. You definitely couldn’t blame him for doing so. 

Hermione was a goddess. No other words could describe her. 

Her skin was soft and pale, dotted with beauty marks in some places. You noticed that she too was starting to become a bit too thin, and you vowed that you would put a bit more on her plate during the next meal. Nonetheless, you had always found everything about her to be so perfect. From her pert breasts with soft pink nipples to the small patch of hair between her thighs that was surprisingly a bit lighter in colour than the hair on her head. 

The scene that had unfolded was nothing short of erotic - something stolen right out of your most epic fantasies when you thought of the three people that you loved the most. 

Hermione had been barking orders at everyone and her bossy nature couldn’t even be dampened down when Ron sheathed his cock inside of her for the first time. She simply took the thickness in stride, fucking back into him while she was on her hands and knees. 

The blatant confidence of her voice wavered only slightly with her pleasurable moans, but it seemed that the sex was turning into a battle between the two of them. Ron’s stubborn urge to fuck her harder, to make her break until she was nothing but a brainless mess (for once in her life). Versus Hermione’s own stubbornness, her urge to continue ordering everyone around even while an orgasmic coil wound tight in her stomach and became increasingly more distracting. 

You were on your hands and knees in front of her, mirroring the position so that you could kiss her, and she could touch you freely. She petted sweetly along your face, fisted your hair, or groped your breasts as she pleased while balancing herself with the other hand, and you lavished in the attention. 

Once again, Harry was a grand contrast from Ron as he fucked into your needy pussy from behind. He was entirely different from the beastly version of Ron that was brutalising Hermione’s cunt without care, creating slick slapping sounds throughout the room. 

Harry - as usual - was like a puppet that needed to be pulled on a string. His cock was more than enough to fill you perfectly, but he wasn’t someone who could be rough or fuck you brutally. You were quickly learning that he couldn’t even pound into your cunt harshly to satisfy that deep ache when he was prompted, it seemed. 

“Harry, harder, please!” You moaned, fucking your hips back into him as you fisted the blanket beneath you. You were desperate to recreate the feeling Ron had performed on you - raw, unfiltered possession, pure need taken out on your pussy. 

But Harry being needy was an entirely different form. 

Where Ron was rough and possessive, taking out his need on you by setting out to prove that he owned every inch of your body - Harry was soft. He needed to be the one owned. 

Harry bit down on his lip hard to muffle his whines, fucking you in bouts of fast, rabbit-like strokes before slowing down as the need to cum tightened in his balls. Not wanting to disappoint you, he would then grind deeply into your pussy, trying to will away his own orgasm. 

It wasn’t working very well. 

Especially not when he looked down and saw your wetness leaking out around his cock. Not when he remembered how good you had looked with Ron stretching you open, causing an impulsive need for him to fuck into you quickly again. But his strokes never built up into that harshness you were craving before he let out a deep, throaty whine and slowed down again, fearing cumming too quickly and being scolded for it. (Or being disappointed in himself, honestly.) 

You wished more than anything that you had a Gryffindor tie to put around his neck to direct him how you wanted to, or a literal leash to tug on. 

Harry was a good pet, but he needed to be treated like one. 

Without a leash to hang around his neck, you hung your head between your shoulders and let out a moan of disappointment as his slowing movements caused your orgasm to edge off once again. He was inadvertently torturing you, making your cunt ache more angrily than ever as you throbbed around his cock in red hot waves. You supposed that it was payback for all the times you had made him wait so long to cum. 

“Harry,” You warbled out in a whine, his name harshly scraping against the back of your throat. 

He couldn’t see your face in this position, couldn’t see your expression of pure anguish - so he thought it was a sound of encouragement. He thought that he was doing very well. But of course, Hermione quickly knew what it was, even with Ron fucking her so hard that he was practically driving her hips out of placement. 

“Harry, you - you have to go harder!” Hermione barked at him, still managing to give orders, even in her current position. “She’s never going to cum like that!” 

Ron let out a throaty chuckle at this, highly amused. 

“Mate, do you need me to show you how again?” He asked. 

He slowed his brutal fucking of Hermione only for a moment, long enough to catch his breath and let Harry get in a reply. 

Harry let out a wounded sound at this, entirely similar to a kicked puppy. As much as the idea of Ron pushing him out of the way to take your pussy roughly and ‘show him how’ was intensely hot, Harry wanted to prove himself. 

“No, I don’t need to be shown, I’m perfectly capable of making a girl cum, thank you very much.” Harry replied, his sass partially throttled by the dryness of his throat, your cunt clenching around his cock making him breathless. 

“Ron, don’t you dare stop!” Hermione ordered sharply, trying to fuck herself harder back on his cock. 

Ron reached down and grabbed Hermione by the jaw, much the same as he had done to you earlier, and tilted her head up. His lips met the flushed skin of her cheek as he leaned down, draping his hot, sweaty body across her back. 

It was something that she likely would have called grotesque before - the act of Ron’s sweaty skin against her - but she let out a needy whimper. And she didn’t squirm against him as he held a tight grip on her face. Harry nearly came at how tightly your pussy hugged his cock then, both of you intently watching what happened next. 

“I’ll bloody well do what I like.” Ron said, his voice still taking on that dark, menacing quality even though he was no longer wearing the Locket. “And if you behave, I just might let you cum tonight.” 

He mirrored her earlier words back to her, clearly mocking her. Before Hermione could come up with any clever reply, she was cut off with a gasp out of her own lips as Ron released his grip on her face and began fucking into her harshly again. This knocked her forward so hard that she had to restabilize her arms against the floor to keep herself from falling flat on her face. 

“Harry, turn me over.” You told him, thinking he would have more success if you were on your back. 

Harry mumbled out a ‘yes’ and then pulled out of you. This caused you to whimper with disappointment before he put gentle hands on your hips and helped you get comfortable on your back. 

Without asking, he put a pillow under your head - it was that kind of sweetness that had always drawn you to him. 

In this new position, you were almost between Hermione’s spread arms, your face surrounded by a wild curtain of her hair as she hung her head low between her shoulders. She was panting heavily with the effort as Ron continued to fuck her roughly and now had a two fingers on her clit - determined to finish her just to show that he could. 

While Harry situated himself between your naturally parted thighs, Hermione leaned down and seized your lips. Her kiss vibrated hot moans into your mouth while Harry pushed back into you, and Ron fucked her so hard that he jostled her head, making her unsteady in the kiss. 

“Oh, fuck!” Harry sighed, entirely delighted in the feeling of your wetness around him. 

When you reached down and began rubbing your own clit with determination, he then began fucking you at a quick pace, no longer worried that he would cum before you. Even if he did, he would see you through it and make sure to take care of you, he mentally vowed. 

He was soft, but quick, his hips pattering against yours in speedy movements that actually treated your pussy rather gently. He chased his orgasm inside of you while creating a warm tingle through you that met up nicely with the hot stinging your own fingers made on your clit. 

Eventually, your kiss with Hermione turned into the barest contact of lips on lips as her mouth parted with hot moans, the pleasure absolutely mounting inside of her. Ron’s grunts echoed in the background as the sharp, almost vicious smacking of his hips against her ass continued. 

“Fuck, Ron!” Hermione cried out, all hot breath against your cheek. “I’m cumming! Fuck! Don’t stop!” 

“Take it!” Ron growled. “Take my fuckin’ load, pretty little bitch!” 

On any other day, in any other situation aside from giving her an orgasm with his cock buried deep inside of her, Ron Weasley calling Hermione Granger a ‘pretty little bitch’ would have landed him some pretty severe injuries. But in this instance, it made her moan so hard that her voice cracked, and it was most definitely one of the things that triggered her orgasm. 

“Ron-!” She choked out. 

The sweet sounds she made combined with the absolutely feral noises coming out of Ron lit your whole body on fire. You knew that this sweet symphony was what caused Harry to fuck into you like a mad rabbit for a few seconds before you felt pure heat spilling into you. Upon instinct, you reached around him with your free hand and dug your nails into his arsecheek, forcing him to fuck you through his orgasm even while he gasped and choked on his breath from the overstimulation. 

“Y/N-” 

You let yourself get some lasting pleasure out of extra moments of his hard cock filling you up, and with your own touch on your clit, you rolled into a gentle, but deeply satisfying orgasm. 

“Please-” Harry choked out, and you finally released him, letting him pull back. 

You moaned at the sight of his cock coming out of you - the tip bright red and still weeping bits of cum, almost crying out in protest of the overstimulation, much like the tears that dotted the edges of his eyes. You had made him cry much more severely before when you had more time to tease him, and it was something that you had highly enjoyed. 

He collapsed on top of you and began kissing along your shoulder, being the sweet boy that he was, and he groped one of your breasts. When you tilted your head to look toward Ron and Hermione, she let out a few last pittering moans and he let out a deep grunt before pulling out of her. 

She collapsed entirely then, and it was only her last bit of mindfulness, directing herself as she fell that kept her from falling right on top of you. 

Ron still had a warm hand on her hip, and as you looked down the length of her body, if you weren’t mistaken - he was still raging hard, even after he had cum. (It wasn’t the first time it had happened. Sometimes Ron worked himself into such a frenzy that he needed to cum two or even three times in a night before his cock fully went down. It lovingly surprised you every single time.) 

“Good?” Ron posed, his voice gentle for the first time in hours. He patted Hermione on the hip, clearly directing the question at her. 

Of course, he was still tender-hearted below the surface. He would never fuck someone’s brains out like that without ensuring that they were okay. 

“I’m good.” Hermione replied, choking on her own breath. 

She spared him a glance over her shoulder, and he gave her the most utterly timid grin - it was such a roaring contrast to his earlier bold words and his rough touches, but it was somehow a fantastic assurance toward Hermione that he was, of course, still the same Ron. She could still boss him around in every other aspect of life, but if she needed a break from all that bossing, he could do this for her. 

Satisfied with this, she leaned in to kiss you again. 

You sighed with delight into her mouth and snaked your tongue past her lips, more than enjoying the attention you were being ravished with. Your pussy still nagged for attention between your legs and you hoped that Hermione wasn’t too tired to play with you. 

“You know Harry, you don’t have to keep starin’ at it.” Ron joked. “It’s not gonna bite you, mate.”

There was a slight slick sound, and when you pulled away from Hermione’s mouth and opened your eyes, you realised that it was Ron pumping his hand on his still very hard cock, wanking with the combination of Hermione’s wetness and his own cum that he had gathered there. 

It took your orgasm-hazed brain a second to realise that he was talking about his dick. When you glanced over your other shoulder, you realised completely that Harry’s focus was no longer on peppering kisses over your neck and shoulder, but very much on staring at Ron’s cock. 

With Harry’s body still flush against yours as he laid on top of you, you felt the deep sigh that he let out. You could see the contemplation in his eyes, the slight fear to express his desires that you had seen in him before. You reached up and ran your fingers through his hair, encouraging him. 

“What is it, darling?” You asked gently. 

“I keep staring at it because, well…” He sighed again before continuing. “I want to… what is it that Hermione said? ‘Try it out’.” 

Harry highly resisted the urge to hide his head in your neck with embarrassment after this admission. He looked from you, to Hermione, then to Ron for some kind of approval - or simply looked not to be mocked. 

“Oh, you should.” Hermione said, giving a moan of contentment as she stretched out her back like a cat. 

She had finally regained some energy after being so thoroughly fucked, and she turned from where she had collapsed on her stomach to lay on her side, showing off her gorgeous body to all eyes in the room. 

“It’s magnificent.” She added on with an almost dreamy sigh. 

Hermione smiled - a sweet, coy smile, and you let out a giggle as Ron caught her eye, his brows raised in shock. It was one of the few things she had complimented him on without hesitation. This whole thing had certainly turned the group’s dynamics upside-down. 

When Harry looked to Ron, he found concern knitted in those freckled features. 

“Harry, typically, I think when blokes do it, there’s a bit more… um… preparation… involved, innit?” Ron posed, hesitation taking up every inch of his voice for the first time that night. 

Clearly, he thought that Harry meant he wanted to take Ron in his ass - and he was concerned about Harry’s inexperience versus Ron’s sheer size. 

Harry flushed red, perhaps from embarrassment at having this pointed out to him, or from the lust of considering what it would be like to have that beautifully large cock splitting him open. (You did feel Harry’s cock give a pathetic twitch against your thigh). This time he did lean into your shoulder to hide as much as he could. 

“Yes Ron, please tell me more about how much preparation it would take for me to handle your very giant cock.” Harry drawled sarcastically, trying to make a joke out of it. 

Hermione let out a chuckle at this. When you caught Ron’s eye, you could see a distinct heat swimming there. Obviously he enjoyed Harry talking about him this way, even if it was with his typical sass. 

“You should suck him off.” You said, running your fingers through Harry’s dark locks again, trying to be gently encouraging. “Unless you’re afraid that he’ll break your jaw,” You made a joke of your own, and Harry let out a sarcastic scoff against your skin. 

Harry didn’t need anymore convincing when Ron got a hand in his hair, practically hauling him off of you. He let out a lilting moan of his own as Ron handled him into place, much like he had done to you earlier. 

Hermione then crawled over to on weak bambi legs and laid herself on top of you, pressing her body against yours - chest to chest, lips against yours with the usual sharp determination and an almost lazy exploration of her tongue through your teeth. She hooked her thigh over your hip so that she could press her sloppy, used cunt against yours. 

This inadvertently made one of the hottest sensations you had ever experienced when she began grinding her pussy against yours and Ron’s cum began spilling out of her to meet Harry’s cum in a sloppy mess between your thighs. 

It was truly a perfect union of all the people you loved the most. 

While you sucked on Hermione’s tongue, you heard a sloppy gagging sound beside your head that more than caught your attention. You couldn’t help but to pull away from the kiss with the curiosity to look. Hermione began kissing down your neck and lavishing your breasts with attention while you craned your neck to look at Ron and Harry. 

Ron had Harry on his back, and had mounted his chest. From the kind of sideways angle you had, Ron had a commanding, tight hand in Harry’s thick, black locks and held him still while he rocked his cock into Harry’s mouth. His eyes were screwed tight, clearly trying to concentrate on pleasing Ron, gagging with each movement as he struggled to accommodate such an intense size. 

“Relax, Harry.” You said, reaching out to gently pet your fingertips up his arm. You let out a moan when Hermione sucked harshly on your nipple - clearly she was seeking joy in getting a reaction out of you. “It’ll be easier of you just relax and let him fuck your throat.” 

That was something you knew from experience, on both sides. Ron’s cock was massive to accommodate, but it was easier just to sit back and take the ride. And Harry was intense, thoughtful, a worrier. He wanted to please and know that he was doing well. But he did better when you fucked every last thought out of his head. 

“Yeah, come on.” Ron grunted quietly, trying to force more of his cock down Harry’s throat. “You’ve got a sweet fuckin’ mouth when you’re not usin’ it to talk back.” 

Harry moaned at this praise and you saw him visibly relax, and you gave him a few more sweet pets as you added on: 

“Good boy. Come on, be good for him.” 

Which seemed to truly encourage him, and he let Ron start up a good rhythm. He was much gentler than he had been with you or Hermione, taking mercy on Harry for being so new at this. It was an easy back and forth that gathered drool on his chin and soon at him moaning around Ron’s cock as he enjoyed the fullness on his tongue. 

You let out a moan of your own when you felt Hermione’s fingers prodding at your well-used pussy and felt her soft lips lingering around the top of your mound. 

“Looks like Harry left me a little present here, hmm?” Hermione sighed, sounding overjoyed at the fact that Harry had cum inside of you. 

You knew that Hermione was filthy - pin you down and shove her hand up your skirt while in one of the carriages on the train filthy; sneak you into the Prefects bathroom in the middle of the night filthy; crawl into your bed in the Gryffindor girls dorm and clamp her hand over your mouth to keep you quiet filthy - but this was reaching all new levels. Even for all the things you knew of her, all the dirty secrets that the two of you shared. 

“Oh, fuck!” 

It just caused you to moan, especially when those fingers breached you sharply, taking you like she owned you once again. Her tongue prodded at your entrance eagerly as her touch caused Harry’s mess to spill out of you. She just lapped it up, filthy and eager. 

Her tongue worked on you so perfectly. 

You couldn’t help but to put a hand down and grip that wild hair, arching your hips to hump against her face as she fucked her fingers into you gently and tongued along your clit. She was treating your pussy lovingly, each touch commanding pleasure out of you, but not possessive or rough. 

It was the same way she handled tests, with a deeply ingrained knowledge making each answer meaningful. It was that beautiful thing about her that made her quiet and reserved in her performance, not having to command the room with arrogance or noise. Her tongue danced along your cunt with confidence and grace in a way that had your toes curling in minutes. Her fingers curled inside of you while she smiled against you, knowing how she already had you teetering on the edge. 

“Such a good girl for me.” She sighed. 

“‘Mione,” You moaned back at her, the loving nickname dancing on your lips as a warning that you were already close. 

“Oh, come on Harry, you can gimme one more.” 

You heard Ron’s voice grunting roughly above you, and when you craned your neck again and spared the boys a glance, you were incredibly turned on by the sight. 

Ron had Harry pinned under him, and now, rather than having his cock shoved down Harry’s throat, they were pressed hips to hips and chests to chests as you and Hermione had been before. Harry was breathless and gaping for air underneath Ron - from what you could see, Ron had both of their cocks in his large fist, sliding them together in a mess of cum, trying to milk another orgasm out of the spent, whining, overstimulated Harry against his own, still somehow hard cock. 

“Ron, fuck, please-!” 

Harry could do nothing but cry and buck up against the touches, desperately trying to suck air in through his parted lips, his cock weeping for more. It was a sight that sent a sharp jolt of pleasure through you, and had you squeezing around Hermione’s fingers, hurling over the edge toward your orgasm as she gently sucked on your clit. 

“Oh, fuck, ‘Mione!” 

Hermione sighed with satisfaction and licked you through it, making your thighs quiver with your own overstimulation as she shoved her tongue deep inside of you. Seemingly, she was determined to lick you clean, to lick the essence of your existence right out of you. 

When she was done with this, she then began to kiss her way back up your body and shoved her tongue in your mouth again. You moaned with delight at tasting yourself on her tongue, and the lingering salty traces of Harry there too, and you held her face between your hands as you indulged in the kisses. 

You were only distracted from her sweet lips when you heard Ron’s voice again, even more ragged as he had another orgasm. 

“Fuck, Potter, take it-!” 

Him calling Harry by his surname in such a degrading tone made your stomach curl with a unique arousal, and it certainly got Hermione’s attention too. She planted her hands beside your shoulders and looked up to survey the scene while you cricked your neck awkwardly. 

Ron was kneeling on either side of Harry’s chest once again. His stomach was covered in his own mess and he was panting in an entirely filthy manner with his mouth open while Ron sat above him, fisting his own cock with the clear determination to make himself cum. 

His release splattered across Harry’s face in wide, white streaks, painting Harry’s tongue, his open lips, his cheeks, and dirtying his glasses in the most filthy manner that you had ever seen him - Ron let out a deep satisfied grunt as he came, and his cock finally softened in his fist. 

(Perhaps it was because the part of his ego that had started the entire argument, the thing that felt jealous of Harry in the first place was finally satisfied.) 

“Ron!” Hermione called his name in her ‘scolding’ voice once again - perhaps she thought cumming over Harry’s face was just a step too far, just a bit too degrading. 

She reached off to the side for her wand, and for once in his life, Ron didn’t flinch. It was like an unspoken air in the room that she didn’t intend to curse him with it as a consequence, but rather - she simply intended to clean up Harry’s face with magic. 

“Just let me enjoy it.” Ron said, reaching out with his clean hand and stopping Hermione with a gentle grip on her wrist. “Just for a minute.” 

Harry - who seemed to be so fucked out now that he was barely present - let out a hum of agreement, and licked some of Ron’s cum off his lips. 

This gave you a brilliant idea. 

You gently rolled Hermione off of you and then you crawled over to Harry. With all of them watching you intently, you licked a path across his cheek, gathering quite a bit of Ron’s spend on your tongue before you shoved your tongue into Harry’s mouth - engaging in an entirely filthy kiss where you exchanged the taste of Ron between the two of you. 

It was something that reverberated a hot moan through Harry, had Ron groaning, and even caused a small sigh of delight from Hermione. 

“All of you are degenerates.” Hermione sighed, shaking her head, pretending to be displeased by the whole thing. 

“Yeah, and you’re our leader.” Ron reminded her with a laugh. 

…

When you woke up the next morning, the entire tent had a different energy. 

Before you even opened your eyes, you heard giggling. 

When you managed to peel open your sleep-stuck eyes, you saw Harry and Hermione standing at the small kitchenette, preparing what you guessed was breakfast. Harry was speaking quietly, and you couldn’t hear him, but it surprised you entirely when he made a grab for Hermione’s ass, groped her so boldly through her loose sweatpants. And rather than slapping him or scolding him - she let out another bright, air giggle, and simply smacked him with a tea towel in the most playful manner possible before he let out a laugh too. 

The events of the day before had not been some loneliness induced hallucination on your part. All of it had happened. And it had shifted everyone’s mood for the better. 

You moved to get out of bed and this drew both of their attention toward you. Harry proceeded to stir whatever Hermione had in the pot on the stove to distract himself while she watched you carefully. 

After you had successfully gotten your boots on, when you looked up, you realised that she was wearing one of Ron’s jumpers. Clearly one from a few years ago, something that would have been too small for him now that fit her well, comforting and worn-in with the large R in the middle that signified it had been made by Molly some Christmases ago. 

It was something she could do now without fearing setting off jealousy in any of you, and that fact made you smile. 

“Where’s Ron?” You asked, feeling a single piece missing from the quaint scene. 

“He volunteered to take watch.” Hermione noted, motioning toward the tent’s entrance. “Even though I’ve told him the wards are fine and he really should rest, you know he hasn’t been getting enough sleep lately-” 

“I’ll get him to go to sleep after breakfast.” You told her. “You know him, he just wants to keep a watchful eye. He’s protective.” 

You crossed the room, and in a move that felt so utterly natural, you gently kissed Harry on the mouth and then kissed Hermione - so out in the open, no shame, no hiding. You felt like a wonderful weight had been lifted off of you as they both smiled at you. Smiled - no jealous glaring, no arguing. 

You couldn’t have felt better as you grabbed your jacket off the back of a chair and put it on as you went outside. 

Ron was sitting a few feet away from the opening of the tent in one of the camping chairs. He stared out into the open as the sun crested over a nearby hill, just kissing everything with a bright, blinding streak of light. There had been a frost overnight that coated everything in bitter white and put an awful chill in the air. So you zipped up your jacket as you went over to him, and he gave you a small smile when he saw you. 

When you stood in front of him, he reached out to you naturally, and you easily gave in to his movements as he pulled you into his lap. There was a worry in the back of your mind about how well an old camping chair might hold the both of you at once, but you figured it would be a good laugh if you broke it. So you simply planted your ass in his lap and strung your legs over the arm of the chair. He wrapped his arms protectively around you and nuzzled his head against your arm. 

You frowned when one of the first things you spotted was that glint of silver poking out of the neck of his jacket. 

“Ron, you’re wearing it again.” You sighed, reaching out and picking up the Locket between your fingers, thumbing along the serpent with distaste. 

“I’m fine,” He replied, taking it from you and tucking it back inside of his coat. 

“Ron-” You were going to argue, but he cut you off. 

“Really, it’s not as bad as it was.” He said, his voice sounding genuine and light, sounding like the Ron that you usually knew. His voice wasn’t grinding, angry, or annoyed like he usually did when he wore it. 

“What do you mean?” You asked, your curiosity most definitely peaked. 

“After yesterday, it’s like…” He struggled to find the right words to explain it, and you were patient with him. “Everything is out in the open now. Genuinely, I used to feel like shit, because… I was jealous. Proper jealous. And not just jealous of Harry… I honestly thought that there was a point in my life where I would just… end up alone.” 

Him saying those words broke your heart, and you swallowed harshly around the lump in your throat, holding back tears while he continued. 

��I thought that you would leave me, and Hermione would stop finding excuses to be around me. I thought Harry would realise I’m a shit friend and stop wanting to be around me. And I think the Locket knew that I just spent so much time being afraid - and… it turned that fear into jealousy.” He explained. 

It was similar to what you had believed, but somehow, worse. 

“Whenever I would see you touch Harry’s arm, or if I would see you and Hermione whispering, talking to each other about stuff you read in the fucking books… or even if I just saw Hermione look at Harry, I thought it was just one more reason I was gonna be alone. I thought it was all of you plotting against me to leave me faster. Bloody bonkers, I know.” 

“Ron.” You said his name gently, your throat clutched by those tears - you put a hand on his cheek and titled his face toward yours, gently laying your forehead against his before you said your next words. “We love you so much. We all do. And after everything we’ve been through together, we’re all just stuck with each other. So you’re definitely not getting rid of us.” 

“I know that now.” Ron chuckled. “I think that’s why it’s easier to wear the damn thing. Because now I just feel… lighter. I don’t feel like you guys are having secrets behind my back. None of us have any secrets anymore.” 

You nodded at this. 

“I like it better this way.” You sighed happily. “Truthfully, I could never see myself just going and… pairing off with someone. I just want it to be like this, always. You, Harry, and Hermione are the only people I’ve ever wanted.” 

“We’re going to need a massive bed, then.” Harry’s voice piped up behind you, his body just barely peeking out of the tent flap, his comment making both you and Ron chuckle.

“S’pose you could afford to buy us one,” Ron commented, causing Harry to roll his eyes and give a very sassy pout. 

“You coming for breakfast or what? Or is your gigantic cock weighing you down and you can’t get up?” Harry replied, his tongue entirely quick. 

You got up off Ron’s lap to let him up, and on his way into the tent, he picked up a handful of frost-covered leaves and shoved them down the back of Harry’s jumper. He let out a yelp at this, causing Hermione to call out ‘boys!’ in that entirely motherly way that she did. 

It was so entirely different, but so entirely the same. Truthfully - you would never want it to be any other way.

...

If you want to see more Poly!Golden Trio fics, I would like to see this fic reach 10 Comments and 15 Reblogs!

(This can include anonymous asks, because I always leave the anon option turned on for people who need it, and I don't care if the 15 reblogs all come from the same person, as long as it shows enthusiasm for the fic.)

If I were to write more Poly!Golden Trio, I don't know if it would be a direct follow up to this or set in the same 'universe' at this fic, but I love the pairing of Poly!Golden Trio x Reader, so I would love to write more about them if you guys want to see it.

I would also love to hear your input/feedback, and if you want to see more, what kind of fanfic ideas would you want to see with this pairing? What kind of kinks or situations would you like to see played out with this pairing? I often take inspiration from requests and random ideas that people send me - just like I did when writing this fic!

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Common Errors in Word Choice

Often when we’re writing, we’re caught up in the moment and don’t necessarily realise when we’ve used the wrong spelling or variant of a particular word.

their/they’re/there

Their - of or relating to them or themselves especially as possessors, agents, or objects of an action

They're - they are

There - in or at that place

you’re/your

You're - you are

Your - of or relating to you or yourself or yourselves especially as possessor/s

aloud/allowed

Aloud - with the speaking voice in a way that can be clearly heard

Allowed - permitted

who’s/whose

Who's - who is; who has

Whose - of or relating to whom or which especially as possessor/s

lead/led

Lead - to guide someone or something along a way

Led - past tense and past participle of lead

lose/loose

Lose - to undergo deprivation of something of value, or defeat

Loose - not rigidly fastened or securely attached

steak/stake

Steak - a slice of meat cut from a fleshy part of a beef carcass

Stake - a pointed piece of wood or other material driven or to be driven into the ground as a marker or support; an interest or share in an undertaking or enterprise

break/brake

Break - to separate into parts with suddenness or violence

Brake - something used to slow down or stop movement or activity

affect/effect

Affect - (v.): to produce an effect upon; (n.): a set of observable manifestations of an experienced emotion

Effect - result, outcome

inquire/enquire

Inquire - to put a question

Enquire - chiefly British spelling of inquire

peak/peek/pique

Peak - a sharp or pointed end

Peek - to take a brief look; glance

Pique - to excite or arouse especially by a provocation, challenge, or rebuff

a lot/alot

A lot - to a considerable degree or extent; often, frequently

Alot - a common misspelling or typo of "a lot"

into/in to

Into - used as a function word to indicate entry, introduction, insertion, superposition, or inclusion

In to - involves words from verb phrases. Use “in to” if the word "to" is part of an infinitive verb phrase. For example, "She brought me in to train for the job." You can also use “in to” if the word "in" is part of a phrasal verb. For example, "I will plug in to this guitar amp."

less/fewer

Less - constituting a more limited number or amount

Fewer - a smaller number of persons or things

chose/choose

Chose - past tense of choose

Choose - to select freely and after consideration

then/than

Then - at that time

Than - in comparison with

compliment/complement

Compliment - an expression of esteem, respect, affection, or admiration

Complement - something that fills up, completes, or makes better or perfect

farther/further

Farther - at or to a greater distance or more advanced point

Further - to a greater degree or extent; in addition, moreover

nauseated/nauseous

Nauseated - (v.) affected with nausea; felt disgust

Nauseous - (adj.) causing nausea or disgust; nauseating; affected with nausea or disgust

Sources: 1 2

[shares-a-vest]

Prompt: Family Heirloom and Starry Night (Discord Drabble) Two prompts in 24hrs, the drabblers are spoiled today. It's Lex's birthday! @thefreakandthehair I'm so sorry that my Frankenstien prompt for your b'day is also Steve Sad Boy™ hours. But it has a light-hearted end!!! 🏈🏈🏈 tw: death of a grandparent (way in the past)

"Why would mom mail this to me?" Steve finally mutters from his position at the kitchen bench.

Eddie shimmies upright on the couch and rubs at his eyes, long glazed over from forcing himself to pretend to pay attention to tonight's game. He'd flipped it over a good half an hour ago as the space he had given Steve started to linger on a little too long for his liking.

He just wasn't supposed to almost fall asleep while waiting for Steve to join and watch his favourite team win all those... points? touchdowns?

It doesn't matter nearly as much as the package that was delivered late in the afternoon – one that has left Steve glued to his kitchen stool.

A heavy but small and thin box with 'FRAGILE' and 'DO NOT BEND' emblazoned all over it, the red warnings leaving just enough space for their address and the return label.

Steve has opened it, Eddie realises, looking over his partner's impossibly hunched shoulders when he reaches him.

"I don't remember ever seeing that in your house, sweetheart," he says, standing close and snaking his arms around Steve's middle.

He frowns at the small framed print of Vincent Van Gough's Starry Night painting and rests his chin on Steve's shoulder.

"Mom hated it," Steve explains, "Refused to hang it anywhere in the house after my Grandpa passed. He left it to her."

Eddie hums in the affirmative.

The gold and gaudy frame doesn't exactly scream Mrs Harrington's taste in decor...

"Should I call her?" Steve rasps, setting the print down to pinch his nose, "What if something's wrong and that's why she is sending it to me?"

Eddie can feel his lip quivering.

"Maybe we should talk first, hmm?" he suggests, giving Steve a reassuring squeeze.

"Or..." Steve continues, his tone becoming bitter, "She's sending it now to make it official. That I'm no longer..."

He cuts himself off with a shaky exhale and looks around their relatively new (but technically very old and rundown) apartment. A quiet little spot in Indy they'd scored without too much searching.

One that they soon filled with their records and clothes, Eddie's amp and guitar and Steve's old trophies. Too many knickknacks they'd thrifted with the help of Robin and a lot of second-hand furniture Wayne found.

An apartment they are still in the process of making their own as they work themselves out together.

Their place in the world. Their home.

Eddie looks over to a patch of blank wall by the phone.

A spot that could use something...

"Do you like it, the painting?" he whispers, pressing a kiss to Steve's ear.

Steve grips the frame, his knuckles quickly turning white as he tenses up. He nods his head vigorously and sniffles.

"My grandpa..."

"Starry, starry night," Eddie sings low, "Paint your palette blue and grey..."

He reaches out to place his hands over Steve's and feels them relax in his touch.

"Look out on a summer's day..." Steve continues wetly, "Yeah..."

He sighs and closes his eyes, shifting his weight back onto Eddie.

"Looks like a pretty good heirloom to me," he says, swaying them just enough to leave Steve humming contentedly without threatening his position on the rickety kitchen stool.

Eddie continues humming the song, a favourite of Wayne's that he only ever passively listened to enough to pick up on the opening line and tune.

"Wanna watch the game with me?" he asks, nodding back to the television as he finishes the song.

Steve giggles, his shoulders gradually shaking them both.

"Baby, I watched that game two Sundays ago."

"But it's your favourite," Eddie argues, jostling their conjoined form, "The Cubs!"

"Eds, that's baseball!"

[trashmouth-richie]

hi, ziggy! ahhh i missed hih ❤️ could you pretty please do something for jealous!eddie where maybe somebody flirts with tooty because she got that milf glow after she had the babies lmao ily ❤️

anon💕💕 thank you for the req! this took a little spin and has an open ending, but!!! the twins are in this and some other familiar faces ❤️ might get a part 2? who knows!

a night out without the kids. almost an unheard of event. but tonight corroded coffin were performing their annual concert the night before halloween.

sissy & oz toted their overnight bags up the paved sidewalk to grandma and grandpa’s house— the same house you had once called home when the wheeler’s took you in as a teen.

reaching the front door eddie squats to eye level with the twin three year olds. “okay you two,” he says in his fatherly tone, “last time you stayed the night grandpa said you terrorized the cat.”

“i no do it daddy,” sissy speaks her little voice high pitched and tattling, “ows chaseded hims.”

a frown spreads on her brothers face his brown eyes pleading, “i did not! sissy made tinky swim in the potty!”

eddie bites his lip to hide a laugh and you take a deep breath, “that’s another thing, the cat’s name is bruce, not stinky.”

“but mama,” sissy complains, head held high in a defiant pose— one eddie recognizes as a mini version of his wife, “boose 's hard to say.”

eddie ruffles her hair and stands up, talking out of the side of his mouth, “always arguing like someone else i know,”

his large hand slides down the curve of your ass pinching the leather fabric snug on your skin, giving it a tight little squeeze.

“eddie!” you scold, swatting his hand away, “not in front of the babies.”

he grabs your waist and pulls you back into him before you can rap your knuckles on the front door. his mouth is hot in your ear, “sorry mama,” he purrs, dancing his tongue on the shell of your ear, “you just look so fucking hot tonight.”

sissy and oz are both slapping the door with both palms as it swings inward. “who’s makin’ all that racket?!”

“gwampa! it’s us!”

“issy and ows!”

wayne smiles as big as he always did when his grandbabies visited, “are you sure y’all ain’t no robbers are ya?”

“gwampa’s silly, daddy!” oz squeaks, squeezing wayne tight around his leg.

eddie grins and chuckles, “aww nah buddy that word is ‘senile’”

you smack eddie in the chest and usher the kids inside to play with their cousin, alex. “thanks for watching them tonight, we really appreciate it,” you say to wayne reaching through the threshold and giving him a hug.

“ah, ain’t no problem,” wayne says flipping eddie the bird behind your back, “karen and i love these little turds.”

“u too oh two be good for grandpa and grandma okay? eddie hollers, “be nice to the cat, sissy… i’m talkin’ to you.”

her little nose wrinkles into a pout and her brows furrow together.

“swear to christ himself, that kid is the spittin’ image of you, tooty.”

“god help me.” eddie pouts, “i’m gonna go gray before i’m forty.”

—

you kiss the kids goodbye and wave from the windows of your jeep before heading to the hideout. eddie looked particularly good tonight, leather pants, a cut off shirt, he even let you smear some eyeliner on his eyelids before tonight’s gig.

“nervous?” you ask, carrying some cords from eddie’s old van that now belonged to big d.

gareth walks past you with an amp, “not really, the hideouts like home away from home, makes me feel 18 again.”

you smile and ruffle his still thick curls, “will coming tonight?”

a sad look replaces his smile, “haven’t talked to him in a week… last i heard from jonathan he was staying with joyce and hopper.”

“he’ll come around man,” eddie says coming through the back door, “he loves you.”

“yeah, i hope.”

—

the boys— men now— rocked a killer show, fans still screaming for the band even though half of them were married and the lead singer had two kids.

you were front in center, in your designated spot that you always stood after the first show where eddie sang ‘lady evil’ just for you.

now you were sporting a new homemade shirt, ‘sitter’ crossed out with ‘mama’ his old leather jacket on your shoulders.

a hand sits on your lower back you giggle, “jeez nance, how drunk are you?”

only it wasn’t nancy, but a random guy. burly and tall, a thick beard on his face matching the short hair on his head, balancing a cowboy. you didn’t recognize him from anywhere and you pull back with a shocked face,

he smiles and you can smell liquor on his breath as he leans in real close, “been watchin’ you all night little darlin’ looks like you need a drink.”

you scowl and turn away from him, looking for jonathan and nancy but they’re nowhere to be found.

“hey,” he blunders stumbling towards you, “you like cowboys?”

you don’t want to give him the time of day or even the satisfaction of a tasteful retort so you do your best to ignore him, looking at eddie as he turns to thrash the guitar riff with jeff.

eddie turns back around to continue the song and shoots you a wink, the same time a big sloppy pair of lips press on your cheek, hard and unwelcoming.

you didn’t see eddie’s eyes turn to black or the way he dropped the neck of his guitar hands balled into fist, you were seeing your own scarlet red, turning and slapping the face of the drunk asphalt “cowboy”.

eddie cuts the band and grabs the mic, “hey fucker!” he pushes his lips in a smooch and whistles like a dog, “here boy, up here.. yeah you— the guy who just got slapped.”

cowboy slap face looked up to the band, “what?”

“you must be new to town, huh? a drifter maybe?”

he lifts his head and spits on the ground, “what’s it to you?”

eddie laughs a little crazy-like, “… that,” he says pointing to you, “is my wife… and i’m sure you don’t know this or maybe your marbles are a little rattled up there with the cobwebs, but..” he jumps from the stage in a dramatic flare, wet hair bouncing behind him, skin slicked in sweat.

he tossing the mic behind him, standing tall and flicking the brim of the guys hat, toe to toe. “i’m not afraid to kill a man.”

“you’re bluffin’,”

“wouldn’t be my first, and for her,” he says moving you behind him, “won’t be my last,”

….

[tiffanydaleo]

Tricky

"Tricky" 11/14" Mixed media collage by Tiffany Arp Daleo

“11/14” Mixed media collage Instagram Facebook Pinterest Tumblr YouTube Link

[corroded-hellfire]

not sure if you’re taking requests, but could you write something where perv!eddie has a thing for the reader and they catch on to it? they act like they’re sore from a work out or something and ask eddie for a back rub. (cue them making happy moaning noises and asking him to go deeper/harder and making poor eddie lose his mind)

Perv!Eddie is amazing. 18+ because of spicy themes.

Words: 1.2k

Eddie is not nearly as slick as he thinks he is. He’s not sly about asking you to take a look at his geometry problems when you’re wearing a low-cut top, where you have to bend over his desk to look at his work. He’s not fooling anyone when he “accidentally” spills some water on your white shirt—conveniently right over your nipples. Honestly, he’s lucky he’s so cute and that you have a big fat crush on him, or he’d be in deep shit.  

After no sign of Eddie easing up on his perviness, you decide to start teasing him. Just subtly at first, by wearing a sweater on a day that’s too warm for one, just so you can strip it off in front of him, or acting annoyed when you see a piece of trash on the floor of the hallway, so you have to bend over to pick it up, giving him a perfect view of your ass. As completely unsubtle he is about being perv, he’s even less so when he tries to adjust himself in his pants. Maybe it’s just because you know to look out for it, but you’re pretty sure he’s always sporting a boner around you. You were hoping all the teasing would get him to finally say something, but he’s a stubborn teenage boy so it seems like you’ll have to amp it up. 

You waited for a day when you knew Eddie had Hellfire right after school to ask him to pick you up from the gym on his way home. He’d drive right past it anyway, so it seemed like a simple, normal request. But the moment you see his van pull up to the curb of the gym, your plan gets set into motion. 

Rolling out your neck, you walk around to the passenger’s side of the van. Opening the door, you pull yourself up, making sure to do it with some extra gusto so your breasts bounce slightly.

“Thanks for picking me up,” you say as you buckle your seatbelt. 

“Yeah, no problem.” You’re not sure if he’s even aware that he’s ogling your chest. “Want me to take you home?”

“Can we hang out at your place?” you ask.

“Sure.”

The drive to Eddie’s place is short, and when you get out of the van and walk up the few steps to the front door, you make sure to emphasize the motion of your hips. Inside, you head straight back to Eddie’s bedroom, leaving him no choice but to follow you. When he steps in the room behind you, you plop down on the bed and sigh as you bring a hand up to your shoulder.

“You, uh, okay?” Eddie asks as he shrugs out of his leather jacket.

“Really sore from the workout,” you say, stretching out the muscles in your neck. “Would you mind giving me a back rub?”

“Oh,” Eddie says, clearly taken off guard. He raises his eyebrows as he slowly inches towards the bed. “Yeah, okay.” 

Doing your best to suppress your smirk, you roll onto your stomach and lay your head on Eddie’s pillow. When you feel his body weight sink onto the bed next to you, you slip your hands beneath the pillow and wriggle your ass under the guise of getting more comfortable. 

“Where, uh, where should I rub?” Eddie asks, voice shaky. 

“Anywhere. Everywhere.”

The bed shifts a little as Eddie leans in, and his strong warm hands land on the middle of your back. You’re forced to bite your lip to keep from letting out an instantaneous moan. That’s meant to be saved until he’s been massaging you for a bit. His thumbs dig into the muscles along your spine. 

“Oh, that’s so good,” you say. The room is so quiet you can hear the brief hitch in Eddie’s breathing. You swell with satisfaction, knowing he hasn’t heard anything yet.

“Right there!”

“S’g-good?” Eddie asks. 

“Ugh, yes. Harder.”

The bed moves beneath you and the mental image of Eddie needing to adjust his hips has you smirking to yourself. Deciding to really mess with him, you inhale before letting out a purely pornographic moan. 

There’s a sharp inhale from above you, but he’s quick to cover it by letting out a few fake coughs. 

“Shit, deeper Eddie.”

His hands hesitate against your thin shirt, only for a second, before he’s digging deeper into your muscles. Letting out another moan, you silently wonder how long you should keep this going. A soft grunt escapes from Eddie and you figure you’ve tortured the poor boy enough. Slipping your hands out from underneath the pillow, you push yourself up and swing your legs around Eddie so that you’re sitting next to him. 

His hands are in his lap—conveniently over his crotch—and he twists his rings around. There’s a rosy color on his cheeks that looks like it’s spreading. A smug smirk comes to your face when he can’t meet your eyes. It seems like he’s looking anywhere but at you.

“So,” you say, leaning in towards him. “How about I give you a different kind of massage?”

Eddie’s eyes widen as he finally meets your gaze, and you hear him audibly swallow. His mouth opens, but nothing comes out as he turns impossibly redder. Giggling, you lean in even further towards him, giving him a peek down your shirt. His eyes dart down to your chest before back up to your face. When you bite your lower lip, he looks away from you again.

“Y-You don’t have to do that,” he finally says. 

“Eddie,” you say. “Do you really think I’m that mean that I would tease you like that and not help you out?”

As wide as Eddie’s eyes were before, they grow three times the size now as his head shoots towards you. 

“That was all on p-purpose?” he stammers.

“Of course,” you say with a giggle. “You haven’t exactly been subtle lately, Eddie. Figured I’d see how far I could push it before you said something. Turns out you’re about as stubborn as I am, though.”

“Well, shit,” Eddie says, letting out a chuckle. “Yeah, you pushed it pretty far.”

“So, let me help you out,” you drawl, hand ghosting over his thigh. Eddie’s quick to catch your wrist though, letting out a hiss through his teeth.

“I, uh, really don’t need it,” he says. You drown in confusion until Eddie moves his other hand off of his crotch. There’s a wet spot on the front of the denim and you raise your eyebrows.

“Oh, guess so. Well.” You swing your leg over both of his until you're sitting in his lap, straddling his thighs. “I’m pretty sure I could work you up again. What do you say? Up for the challenge?”

Eddie laughs and shakes his head. “Not gonna be much of a challenge at all, baby.” 

He flops back on the bed, pulling you down with him. Giggling, you press your lips to his and start to work your hips against his body. Almost instantly, you feel a stir in the denim below him. No, this would not be a challenge at all.

[its-vannah]

Girl, Put Your Records On | Eddie Roundtree x Reader

A/N: I haven't seen any fics with him, so I had to make one. I love his character so much.

Blurb: Being the daughter of a music producer has its perks, and one of those is meeting Daisy Jones and The Six's Eddie Roundtree.

Warnings: Just fluff and a hit of angst, implied intercourse (no detail)

Daisy Jones and The Six Masterlist

Being the daughter of a music producer had it's perks. For starters, you were able to listen to new albums and singles before anyone else. While the rest of the world waited for upcoming releases, you were already taking the record out of its sleeve and putting it on the phonograph.

Not to mention all the artists and bands you were able to meet. Your father was constantly popping open a bottle of champagne to celebrate his clients to celebrate their upcoming albums and tours.

Although you were too young to drink yourself, it was nice to feel included. Being there with your father, surrounded by new and interesting people with dozens of stories to share.

But being the daughter of a music producer has its downsides, too. On the smaller scale, sometimes your favorite songs wouldn't make the cut. When you were younger, it hit harder. But as you got older, you just accepted it and moved on.

That wasn't the only down that the role came with, however. You were a young, beautiful, kind girl with a heart of gold and a lot of love to give. Not many men in the industry had any problem taking advantage of that.

There was a thrill to it, for them. Sneaking around with their producer's daughter with the possibility of getting caught at any moment. You were sixteen when you had your first love. He told you all the right things, did all the right things. But the night before he left, he tried to convince you to "live in the moment" while leading you to his van.

It didn't take long for you to realize what was happening, so you freed yourself from his grasp, shoving him back and walking back inside your home.

He was too old for you, anyway. He was twenty, and you were still a kid. It wasn't right, but it was the seventies and he was gaining popularity. It didn't matter what he did, he had every girl in America wrapped around his finger. You, however, had made the choice not to be one of them.

A few years later, when you were nineteen, an up and coming group walked inside your father's studio. He was hesitant about letting them record, but he trusted Teddy and gave them a shot, alllowing you to sit inside the sound booth to hear them play.

You could see the nervousness written all over their faces as they got ready to play. They wanted to impress Teddy, and you didn't blame them. He wasn't easy to read.

Reclining in your seat beside Marcus, who gradually increased the volume on the lead vocalist and lowered the sound of the guitars, you smiled as you listened to them play.

By the end of their demo, you were on the edge of your seat waiting to find out whether or not they'd get an offer.

While Teddy went to discuss it with your father, you stepped out of the sound booth and made your way towards the group.

Smiling, you held out a hand to the only woman, who was closest to you when you walked in, introducing yourself, "Hey, I'm Y/N."

Karen gave you a gentle smile, shaking your hand, "Nice to meet you, I'm Karen."

The drummer, who was fiddling with his drum sticks, hollered over her, "That's Karen Karen."

Raising a brow, you couldn't help but release a small laugh, "Karen Karen?"

The blonde shot him a look, "Fuck off, Warren."

Warren grinned, nodding his head as a way of greeting you.

Beside him, the lead vocalist looked over at you, "Is there something you need, Samantha?"

"It's Y/N," You corrected, "And I just wanted to say I like your sound. It's different. I think you guys have a good chance of getting a deal."

One of the guitarists, the one with curly hair who had been ogling Karen for the past half hour, smiled up at you from his seat on the amp, "Thank you, Y/N. Our main focus is creating music that people l-"

"For the love of God, Graham, shut up," The vocalist grumbled, turning back towards you, "Look, it's nice to meet you, but we're a bit busy here."

Graham held his hands up in surrender, returning to fiddling with his guitar, mouthing "sorry" to you.

The fifth member of the group, who had been nervously tapping his foot flashed his bandmate an irritated look, "C'mon, Billy, she's just being nice. At least people actually like our music."

"Eddie, all I'm saying is that we need to spend less time socializing and more time figuring out what we do if we don't get this deal."

On that note, you cleared your throat, "You'll get the deal."

Simultaneously, Eddie and Billy spoke over one another, the former asking if you really thought so and the latter asking how in the hell you knew.

"I know Mr. L/N well, and so does Teddy. Look, the last few bands Teddy has invested in haven't been doing too great. But I really think you guys have a chance. I know you guys do."

Eddie gave you a lopsided smile, "They liked us in Pittsburgh, I don't see how this is any different."

Billy glared back at him, "If you'll excuse us, I think we have a few things to discuss."

Nodding, you turned to exit, giving the band one last smile. But before you could step out the door, Teddy came back in with your father in tow.

Teddy looked at the band, "We're giving you a shot, don't blow it."

The band, who Teddy had earlier referred to as The Six, erupted in smiles, hugging each other and patting one another on the back.

Your dad wrapped an arm around you, addressing the band, "I see you've met my daughter?"

Billy's eyes widened a bit. He thought you were just some random kid. But you had been in the sound booth, he should've known better.

Warren, who was very obviously high, nodded, "Yeah, she's hot."

Wincing, Karen glared at him, "She's been very kind, Mr. L/N."

Your dad eyed Warren, kissing you on the head before congratulating the band one last time, kissing you on the forehead, and walking back to his office.

Once he was out of sight, Eddie took one of Warren's drumsticks out of his hands and smacked him on the head with it, muttering, "Dumbass, that was her dad."

The drummer's mouth formed an "O", "You think he knows?"

"Jesus Christ, Warren," Karen said, shaking her head before turning to Billy, "And you, you need to get the stick out of your ass."

A look of pride settled on Eddie's face. You could tell the two of them didn't see eye to eye just from the small interactions you had with them.

Moving towards the exit, you waved them goodbye, "I'll see you guys around."

Warren and Graham waved happily, Karen and Billy nodded, and Eddie tilt his head to the side with a smile.

Once you were out of earshot, Karen looked back at Eddie, "Jealous, are you, Roundtree?"

"Piss off, Karen."

Warren looked between the two of them, connecting the dots, "Psst, Karen, I think he's jealous."

Rolling her eyes, she flashed him an irritated smile, "Yeah, I figured that out, thanks."

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

Billy: As soon as we got the news and packed up, I ran to the nearest phone to tell Camila. She had always believed in us, and now everything was falling into place.

Karen: I think I went back and got drunk in my room afterwards. We may have gone out to eat, I don't remember. We had been living gig to gig, I was just happy to have an income.

Camila: It was the first time in a while that Billy really seemed happy with how the band was going. He had always believed in it, but I really think it helped him to see that everything was coming into place. That we wouldn't be living in a shack forever.

Warren: I don't even remember being in the studio. I was in my twenties, I was doing anything I could get my hands on. Drugs, alcohol, women. I was just along for the ride.

Karen: I could still kill Warren for telling the producer's daughter, Y/N, that she was hot in front of her dad.

Warren: We all thought it. Especially Eddie. I was just the one who said it.

Eddie: There was something about Y/N that was different. She wasn't just a newfound fan, she believed in us from the start. She and Camila were the first people to have our record in their hands. As for Warren's comment to her dad... She was beautiful, still is, I just think he could've handled it better. A lot better. By not saying anything.

Graham: It was nice to know that someone outside of the band and Teddy believed in us. Moving out to LA meant that we were starting over. In Pittsburgh, nearly the whole city had heard of us. At least, the people our age.

Eddie: That day was a turning point for the band.

Camila: There was no going back after that. They started recording and within a month, they were on their first tour.

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

You came to every recording session The Six had, excitedly listening to their songs and giving input. You studied the way Marcus moved the volume and reverb, making a mental note of it. What he did had always fascinated you, and he was willing to teach you. It was one of the perks of being F/N L/N's daughter. People bent over bsckwards to make you happy.

Over the course of their time recording, you went out for drinks a few times with them.

You met Camila, who you adored, and quickly became friends with. You wouldn't have changed any of it for the world.

Well, except one thing.

From the moment you met Eddie Roundtree, your heart hadn't stopped fluttering, skipping a beat every time he walked into the room.

Warren constantly teased the two of you about it, suggesting different ways to release the tension between the two of you.

Karen kicked him under the table, giving him a look that sent fear down his spine.

It made the moment awkward for a minute, but the band could sense it was bound to happen.

Eddie was used to being pushed around by Billy, who was by far the most popular and well-known member of The Six. But for once, he was first place. With you.

The two of you often nursed a glass of champagne, talking to one another at the bar while Graham attempted to flirt with Karen, who wound up finding another guy to hook up with, and Warren fell into a crowd of women.

He took a sip, looking down at you, "What's it like, getting to hear new music before anyone else? Not just ours, but in general."

"It's incredible. Don't get me wrong, being in the studio so much has its ups and downs, but I wouldn't trade it for the world. There's nothing else I can imagine myself doing. That's why I want to work in the sound booth."

"You do?"

"Yeah, Marcus offered to teach me a while back. I just wanted to wait until you guys went on tour. I just want to focus on The Six, just taking it all in."

Eddie bit his bottom lip, "So... You and Marcus...?"

You shook your head, "Are friends. My mother is friends with his. We grew up together, he's just a few years older. He's protective, like how I imagine an older brother would be."

He nodded, "So, are you seeing anyone?"

"No," You let out a shaky breath, not meeting his eyes, "Are you?"

"No, are—I already asked you that," He said nervously, swirling his glass in his hand, "Do you... Have an interest in... You know, seeing anyone?"

"It depends on who it is," You said, heat rising to your cheeks, "And you? Anyone on your mind?"

He set down his glass, looking at you, "There is."

Meeting his eyes, you turned your back to the counter, leaning on it for support, "What's she like?"

"You have a mirror?"

You burst out laughing, "Is that your best line, Eddie? C'mon, you can do better than that."

He put his head in his hands, embarrassed.

Pressing a hand to his back, you used your other to pry his head away from his hands, "Don't worry, you can make it up to me."

Raising a brow, he tilted his head, "And how can I do that?"

"Pick me up on Friday at six."

"That's the day before tour starts."

"I know."

He nodded, "Wear something nice."

"Don't I always," You tease, stumbling into his chest.

He lifted the glass from your hands, "You know what I mean. I do, however, think you've had enough of this. C'mon, I'll drive you home"

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

Warren: I was so happy to see Eddie leaving with Y/N. He was growing up, leaving the nest. It was about time he got laid.

Eddie: I drove her home. She had driven herself, but I was worried with her having three glasses. Truthfully, I just wanted to see her get home safe. And she did. I dropped her off at her door, walked her up, and waited until she got inside before I left. Once I got back in the car, it hit me—I had a date with Y/N.

Karen: I think he was more excited about the date than the record deal.

Eddie: It had just been a big few months. Moving to LA, getting a deal, meeting Y/N. Things were finally going my way.

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

Eddie: Long distance relationships weren't easy by any means. I was the one who had to call, since we were constantly moving around. It strained us a bit, but she was able to go to a few of our concerts and I got to see her, take her out a few times.

Karen: Y/N visited us while we were in the northeastern part of the states. She stayed with us for a week and a half. And I never got any damn sleep while she was with Eddie. They could've been quieter, but I guess it was young love.

Eddie: She had her own hotel room during her time staying with us. Her dad set it up. We'd just stay in mine talking to one another.

Warren: Eddie swore nothing happened in his hotel room when he was alone with her, but I was on the other side of the wall. Look, I was pretty high, but it'd be hard to forget that. I may have been the one to call her hot, but he was the one that took it three, four steps further. Good for him, though.

Eddie: It was only when we got back from the tour that things started to go downhill with me and Y/N.

Camila: After I gave birth to Julia, Billy checked into Rehab. I was on my own for a while. But when the band came back, they were there to help me. Julia enjoyed time with Uncle Graham and Eddie, and Y/N whenever she was off work.

Graham: Eddie and I were there a few times a week just helping out and checking in on Camila and Julia. I loved that kid more than anything. We'd just sit out in the grass and I'd sing to her.

Eddie: Camila needed all the help she could get, especially with Billy not being there. Not that he would've done much anyway, to be honest. I tried to be there for her and Julia in any way I could. I didn't realize that it would tear Y/N and I apart.

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

"Eddie, I barely ever get to see you. Can't you go one day without seeing Camila and Julia? You can stay with me. It's better than that shack."

"That shack is my home, whether it's shit or not, Y/N," He grumbled, "Camila needs all the help she can get with Julia. She's only a few months old."

"Her mother is with her, Eddie. She's got her mom, Graham, the whole band really. It's not that I don't want you to be with them, I just want to see you. I never get to see you."

Eddie sighed, "Y/N, they mean everything to me."

"They're your bandmates, I get it, I just—"

"Y/N..."

It was written all over his face. He wasn't just talking about The Six.

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

Karen: We'd all known, except for maybe Billy and Camila, that Eddie was in love with Camila. We just thought that he had put those feelings aside when he met Y/N.

Warren: Out of all the girls Eddie had dated, which hadn't been much, she was my favorite. She was fun, she kept up with us, she was passionate about music and the band. When they broke up, I nearly snapped the guys neck. And I'm not a violent guy. She just deserved better than whatever the hell that was.

Eddie: Camila and Billy were married. I would never have come in the way of that. At the same time, it wasn't fair to Y/N. I loved her with my whole being, but I still had some unresolved feelings for Camila that started stiring when Billy was gone. It's wrong, and I know that, but it wasn't fair.

Graham: Eddie was an idiot for what happened. I remember when he came back from their first date. He swore up and down that they'd get married one day.

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

When the band broke up, everyone went their separate ways. Karen continued touring, this time without Daisy and The Six. Warren got married and started working on boats, which became a passion for him. Billy stepped away from music and settled into life with Camila and his daughters and Graham continued working in the music industry, starting his own family. Daisy recovered from her addictions, and wound up adopting kids of her own.

These all took years to play out. But not for Eddie.

As soon as the band was over with, the first thing he did was buy a ticket to LA and knock on Y/N's door.

He explained everything and told her he loved her, he always had.

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

Y/N Roundtree: Eddie proposed to me the night he showed up on my doorstep. He told me he couldn't imagine a life without me. I was touched.

Eddie: But she said no.

Y/N: I loved him, but I told him it would take time. We still had so much we didn't know about each other. It had been ages since I had seen him. I didn't even know that the Six had split up until he told me. He was back in LA that fast after the split.

Eddie: We did get to know each other, though. And I proposed almost a year later. We got married a few months after that. And the rest is history.

Y/N: It was a quiet ceremony. Eddie didn't want Billy there, and thought it may be a bit off putting for me to have Camila there. But I knew how much he cared about her and the girls, so we extended an invite.

Camila: Billy and Eddie never really saw eye to eye, and with Billy finally getting comfortable with family life, I didn't think it would be good to thrust him back into that.

Eddie: Y/N was a little upset they chose not to come, but understood. If you invite half a family, it doesn't exactly work.

Billy: I was surprised Eddie found the balls to get married.

Y/N: It wound up just being Eddie's immediate family, mine, Marcus, Warren, and Graham. Daisy showed up a few days earlier to congratulate us on our wedding, bringing a guitar with her as a gift. She just didn't think being back in that environment would be good for her. There would be too many questions.

Daisy: Just because the band was over doesn't mean the music couldn't continue. Eddie was a good guitarist and Y/N knew everything about managing sound and rhythms, so I figured it was an appropriate gift. I was really happy for them.

Eddie: Karen was touring at the time and wasn't able to make it, but she visited once the tour was over and stayed a few days.

Y/N: I preferred having a smaller wedding, with the people we knew the most.

Warren: They had great alcohol. I wasn't high during the reception, so I was actually able to enjoy it. I even met my wife there.

Graham: It made me long for a relationship, honestly. But it also made me realize I need to focus on myself first. I didn't want to just settle to settle.

Y/N: Our son was born a year and a half after we got married and music was automatically a big part of his life. He'd sit on Eddie's lap at not even a year old while Ed played the guitar. I still have pictures of them back then on the mantle.

Grant Roundtree, Eddie and Y/N's oldest son: I remember when I decided I wanted to pursue music. Dad sat me down and explained what happens when you achieve fame and how to handle it. Mom told me that I needed to take it one step at a time and really enjoy my childhood.

Farrah Roundtree, Eddie and Y/N's daughter: Grant never stopped playing that damn guitar mom gave him.

Grant: Sometimes I played just to drive Farrah and Eli crazy. I never stopped.

Eli Roundtree, Eddie and Y/N's youngest son: I wanted to be just like Grant when I was younger. He was my cooler, older brother. He even taught me how to play the guitar and I could carry a tune, but my stage fright got in the way of anything beyond that.

Eddie: Grant went into the music field, Farrah pursued modeling and is now acting, and Eli is just now graduating from high school, planning to attend college this fall.

Y/N: I'll always be grateful for Daisy Jones and The Six, but I've got to be honest—I'm even happier it ended when it did.

Eddie: Everything happens for a reason, and for me, it couldn't have ended at a better time.

[juniperskye]

Bangin’

Summary: I’m back with more hair stylist reader!!!  Eddie finally graduated from Hawkins High and moved to New York City. There was definitely a culture shock, but he was finding it easier to fit in there than back in Hawkins. The one thing he was having trouble with however, was his hair management. His neighbor in the trailer park, Ms. Sweeny, used to cut his hair for him, but now living in a new city…he needed to find a good salon. The events of season 4 did not happen.

Eddie Munson x Hair Stylist (Fem)Reader (she’s kind of sunshiny emo lol also she’s described to have colored hair, tattoos, and piercings)

Fluff

Word count: 977

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, no use of y/n, half assed salon info, let me know if I missed any!

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

Eddie let out a huff of air in attempt to blow his bangs out of his eyes. His hair had been pulled back into a low messy bun, to keep it out of his face while he moved stage equipment for tonight’s show.

He had moved to New York six months ago after finally graduating from Hawkins High. The big move hadn’t come as a surprise to his friends back home, they all knew that Eddie was destined for greatness. The day he left, he made a promise to Garreth, Jeff and Grant, letting them know that the band wasn’t dead, and he’d be waiting for them to join him in the city when they graduated. That same day, Wayne handed Eddie an envelope, letting him know he had been saving it to ensure Eddie could get by until he had a steady job.

Wayne had pulled Eddie into a tight embrace and they both sniffed, ensuring to keep themselves composed. Refusing to shed any tears. They had separated, shared a curt nod and then Eddie got in his van and drove off.

New York had been everything he had dreamed of, the hustle and bustle of the city was far more his speed than that of suburban Hawkins. He had gotten a job at this bar; it was a few blocks away from his apartment and they had needed someone to bartend and help out with the bands that played there. Eddie had jumped at the opportunity, and he had mentioned his band upon his employment.

The owner of the bar had told Eddie to get him a demo tape and that he would decide if they would play there. He’d been overjoyed when the manager expressed interest after hearing the tape, telling Eddie that as soon as his friends got to NYC they’d have a place to play.

But that was still a few months off. Until then, Eddie would have to make himself useful at the bar. Which is how he currently found himself setting up amps on the stage for tonight’s show. The bar was pretty warm, heating had kicked on to combat the chill from outside. Which is exactly why Eddie had pulled his hair into a lazy bun, only now it wasn’t the heat that was getting to him, but his unruly curls that framed his face.

“Hey man, once the stage is set, you’re good to go for the night. I appreciate you coming in on your day off to help.” Carol, the bar manager, informed Eddie.

“Thanks Carol!” Eddie said, blowing his bangs out of his face once more.

“Cutting Edge.” Carol said.

“What?” Eddie questioned.

“Cutting Edge, it’s a salon over on Bleecker. The hairstylist there can fix up those bangs.” Carol informed as she walked to the back office.

“Hey, thanks!” Eddie called after her.

Once the stage was all set up, Eddie grabbed his stuff and made his way over to Bleecker. He walked past an assortment of restaurants, shops, barbers, until he found your salon. Tucked between Joe’s pizza and The Paw Spa was a tiny salon, on the front window painted in clean white letters were the words “Cutting Edge” with a pair of scissors painted below.

As Eddie entered, a small bell rang out from above the door. He looked over to see two hair cutting stations and two shampoo stations, there was a narrow hallway that seemingly led back to additional space. The salon was designed using mostly black and white accents, checkered floors, bright walls, polaroids lined the wall behind the front desk. In the pictures, Eddie took note of the incredible haircuts and colors that the patrons in the images wore.

“I’ll be right with you hon.” Your warm voice called out over the buzzing of the clippers.

“No rush, thank you.” Eddie replied.

He watched as you faded the sides of this guy’s haircut. The top had been longer, curly and blue, but you had brought the sides in with a perfectly blended fade. As you turned the chair Eddie noticed the design you had lined in his hair. He was in awe of how meticulous you had been in your work.

That is when his gaze shifted to you. You took his breath away, with your black and pink hair, your septum piercing and the tattoos that littered your exposed arms.

“Alright Theo, your total today is, $15. Thank you so much for coming in!” You greeted.

“Thank you! The cut is great, and the color has been holding up well. I’ll call you to schedule a root touch up soon.” Theo suggested before making his leave.

“How can I help you?” You greeted Eddie, finally noticing how handsome he is.

“I uh, I just need a trim. My hair is in my eyes all the time and it’s driving me insane.” Eddie explained,

“Absolutely! Come on back and have a seat.” You gestured to your station.

Eddie sat and you asked him a few questions to gauge how short he wanted his hair. You had inquired about the last time he had a trim and what his current haircare routine was. Once you’d started cutting his hair, he’d been able to ask you a few questions. He’d asked about your taste in music, how long you had been in New York, and how you got into hair.

By then you were done with his hair, and he couldn’t help but feel saddened by the fact that it was over. He wanted to keep talking to you, it had been so easy, he didn’t want it to end.

“Are you done for the evening?” Eddie inquired.

“I am, I just have to close up.” You explained.

“Would you want to come see this band at the bar I work at?” Eddie offered.

“I would love to.” You smiled.

[vitaminseetarot]

PAC Pick a Fruit: Something To Look Forward to in 2024 ❄🎁🎊

Sup y'all, I'm finally back again! I have not been as active on this blog as I've wanted to be these past two months, but hopefully that will change a little bit as the year settles to a close for winter.

I'm also excited to use my Tarotwave deck which just arrived in the mail this past week. I'm grateful to have backed it on Kickstarter! I know this is gonna be one deck of cards I'll be very amped to use on this blog. It's like an early Xmas gift ^^

2023 has been a bumpy ride for many people (and yours truly), and the biggest thing most of us want to know is how our next year is going to be, and if there's anything good in store. So I made sure to focus on asking for only the most positive and beneficial things that will bless you in this reading, because I want 2024 to be exciting for you and I wanna hype you up.

Pick one of the squishable fruits below to find out a hint or two about what you have to look forward to in 2024.

1 - Strawberry 2 - Orange 3 - Banana

Pile 1: Strawberry

Queen of Cups + VI The Lovers, IX The Hermit, Eight of Wands; Trillion, Anything is Possible, Guidance

For you, pile 1, 2024 is gonna be filled with pleasant little surprises that could appear out of nowhere. The Trillion card is connected to Aquarius and talks about living by ones own truth, but the zodiac is also connected to Uranian forces, helping us receive out-of-the-box insights to whatever challenge we're facing.

I think this pile has spent a great amount of time working on themselves. I don't know if you relate to the word "shadow work" or not, but this feels like you're in the tail end of that cycle. You've grown a lot in emotional maturity over the past months, and perhaps have released some form of major karmic or generational baggage that was weighing on you emotionally. Now it's going to become easier for you to express who you are because the extra emotional burden will not be there as before.

I'm sensing a vast expansiveness to this pile as a result, a willingness to be open to life. It's a calm and steady feeling. This is "come whatever may" energy. 2024 will be a chance for you to settle into the quiet, because that's where the miracles will appear. I feel like this is a quiet that's been anticipated, more relieving than boring. This is a space of being in the flow with life and being ready for whatever comes next without mental resistance.

For some, this could be a romantic reading. I tend to think of strawberries as a rather flirtatious fruit! And we have the Lovers here too. Typically the Lovers talks about decisions, but I don't feel here like you're in a position to be making some kind of clear cut choice at the moment. This is more emphasizing on loving the feeling of love itself. This is a carefree disposition to allowing your heart to guide you when things look overwhelming on the surface.

There's no need or pressure to rush into any kind of decision even if there's an eagerness to do so. You're being encouraged to fully take time out and explore your feelings so you can create a better alignment with the type of person you desire in your life. You're allowing yourself to be curious and open minded without the unnecessary input that others may give you unsolicited. The Hermit is in an empowered position here.

I think 2024 will give you time to lean back rather than pursue, which is not the same as being avoidant. We have the eight of wands here; when the opportunity strikes, it can strike hot! But the key is that you're taking in this energy rather than chasing it. In the meanwhile, you're filling up your cup and learning how to be fulfilled with this peaceful space, and you'll find it easier to be patient when it comes to finding whatever you've been seeking.

You're learning that you have all the time you need to stay in this calm state, and that rushing with everything doesn't always speed up fate. The sense of having more time to sleep and nurture yourself will greatly benefit you when the time comes to receive this incredible spiritual insight, love, or blessings in the material world.

Pile 2: Orange

XI Justice + 2 of Cups, 4 of Cups, 5 of Swords; Single, What You Seek is Seeking You, Stories

For pile 2, the biggest keyword here is Clarity. If you've been in the fog about something for a while, that may start to clear up in 2024. Something that seemed difficult to tackle before will be greatly simplified for you. The Single card is Mercury energy and talks about beginnings in a conventional sense. So you'll look forward to starting over with something next year, perhaps from scratch, so it'll be better than before. You can deal with issues with a fresher mindset.

This is a specific message for a few, but if lately you feel like you've been involved in rumors, gossip, or some form of negativity spread through word of mouth, I see this dissolving in 2024. It will swing back around. Perhaps whoever is spreading the rumor will receive one in return. No hexing done here, but it looks like karma will put in the work to show that you or someone you know is innocent. If someone you know is gaslighting or spreading lies, they will feel the brunt of this. Any negativity sent to you will simply spin around and cancel itself out. So don't worry about other peoples' perceptions in 2024, they will undergo a big shift.

For others in this pile, you may have had some disagreements with your love or even business partner. Either one large disagreement that's been on the back burner for a while, or it's little ones that add up. It'll be different amongst you. But in 2024 these tiny issues will be more easily resolved. Things won't seem to complicated to untangle once any given situation is figured out.

Your energy is spent a lot more here on moving forward and looking for something new next year than dealing with conflicting relationships. With the four of cups, you're ready to move past whatever company or crowd is messing with your mood because you know better shit is on the way and you don't want to waste your emotional currency on anything draining or inherently unsatisfying.

You would rather move into what is right for you than deal with the drama, though I think there will be times when it circles back around and you may have to confront it again… It won't be as difficult as it was in the past, however. You're not dealing with so much confrontation in 2024, especially if you're actively prioritizing healthy relationships and practice healthy boundaries with others.

This may look to be the year where the art of setting mental boundaries is perfected. Mental boundaries means choosing what you'd rather think about than let your mind run loose. No longer trapped in the undertow of other peoples' nonsense, you're starting to get your life fully together. This will spill outwards into the outer world, and this will greatly help ease off the kind of bothersome encounters with people that may have popped up in 2023.

Some of you may identify as people pleasing, which is something that I see less of for you next year. It's almost like the vibe of seeing a kid watch a bunch of other children bully each other during recess, only for that lone kid to decide to go their own way and read a book. He might even make a new friend that way, who knows? 2024 will give you the chance to shrug certain expected worries off your back like water off of duck's feathers. Citrus is clean and refreshing. You can expect only the simplest and cleanest interactions moving forward (yes, I have Simple and Clean inside my head now, oof). It's all about keeping your eye on the prize that awaits ahead.

Pile 3: Banana

9 of Cups + XIV Temperance, XVIII The Moon, 7 of Wands, Prism, Projections, Power

Wow, so much lunar energy in pile 3's cards! I see bananas as lunar because they're shaped like crescents (and to go bananas is to be a lunatic!). Then you got two different version of moon cards on top of one another!

In this deck, the Moon has a softer and more subtle approach than the RWS. There's a greater emphasis on dreams and intuition with this card. Have you been connected to or manifesting with the lunar cycles? Or creating a dream journal to track your visions? If you've been interested in doing so, now would be a good time to look into it, as a confirmation. You're in alignment to receive!

This pile is really feeling the buzz of desires fulfilled and is pushing beautiful energy out into 2024. I'm not seeing specific desires listed here, just the overall potency of manifestation magic. This could possibly be a big year for you even. Just try not to get too carried away with the need to make 2024 into a particular kind of good year. Even if great things are lined up, allow room for the uncertainties to occur. These moments will happen to test you, and you'll need to stand your ground and be firm with what you want without your worries getting the best of you.

Pile 3, with Projections and Power? You are gonna look forward to 2024 being like a canvas for you to paint on. You can decide to paint whatever you wish, for a window of time as brief as the full moon. That's why your other three tarot cards are trying to slow you down a little bit, lol. Even if great luck is offered to you, be careful with how it factors into your life. You're being asked to have modesty, which must mean you're set to achieve or receive something very nice. But yeah, a sense of humbleness and gratitude will really help you here.

You're being reminded with the Moon that you don't have all the answers right now, and it's okay. Oftentimes the wish doesn't get granted until we lose our attachment to it or get sidetracked with life, then it's able to come in more easily. When we try to act resistant and overly arrogant with the seven of wands, it can bite back against us.

I'm also getting a message here about being humble with your blessings so to not attract unwanted attention from people. You could end up in a position where some may throw a lot of projections on you, but you will need to remind yourself of your Prism qualities. Prism is like pure spirit, it's the card of being spiritually aligned with one's self. You will be reminded that beyond good and bad fortunes, the pure spirit of self doesn't change. That is your power source.

Another thing you may look forward to are psychic upgrades. If you've been working on your psychic talent, you could receive a major boost this year. You may experience more clairsenses or messages in your dreams. These experiences and abilities will allow you to find the right time to act or wait on certain choices in your life. Your intuition is being greatly sharpened and amplified in 2024. Use this power with great care.

This reading has not been evaluated by the FDA to diagnose, prevent, treat, or cure any disease or infection. Please ask your physician before going online.

2023, @VitaminseeTarot ™

[gotham-ruaidh]

Little Bit Better Than I Used To Be

Catch up: Chapter 1 (Starry Eyes) || Chapter 2 (Save Our Souls) || Chapter 3 (Dancing On Glass)|| Chapter 4 (Merry-Go-Round)|| Backstage (1) || Backstage (2) || Chapter 5 (Danger)|| Backstage (3) || Chapter 6A (Love Walked In) || Chapter 6B (Without You) || Backstage (4) || Chapter 7 (Stick To Your Guns) || Chapter 8 (Time For Change) || Backstage (5) || Chapter 9 (Take Me To The Top) || Backstage (6) || Chapter 10 (Home Sweet Home) || Backstage (7) || Chapter 11a (Nightrain) || Chapter 11b (Nothing Else Matters) || Chapter 12a (Handle With Care) || Chapter 12b (I’m So Tired of Being Lonely) || Chapter 13a (Angel) || Chapter 13b (She’s My Addiction) || Chapter 13c (Patience) || Chapter 14a (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 14b (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 14c (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 15a (Dreams) || Chapter 15b (I Sing A Song of Love) || Chapter 15c (You Can Do This If You Try) || Chapter 16 (Let That Feeling Grab You Deep Inside || Chapter 17A: Never Tear Us Apart || Chapter 17B: It’s Tough To Be Somebody, And It’s Hard Not To Fall Apart  || Chapter 17C: I’m Wishing, Lord, That I Was Stoned || Chapter 18: Turn The Page || Chapter 19A: When You’re Alone, Do You Let Go? || Chapter 19B: Heading For A Spin || Chapter 20A: I Don’t Need Nothing When I’m By Your Side || Chapter 20B: I’m Walkin’ Down This Rocky Road || Chapter 20C: You’re The Only One Who Gets Through To Me || Chapter 20D: Together We Can Make It A Dream || Chapter 20E: My Main Objective Is To Get You To Turn Your Mind Around ||| Also posted at AO3

Chapter 20F: Heaven Isn't Too Far Away

I don't need to be a superman

As long as you will always be my biggest fan…

 -- “Heaven,” Warrant (1989) [click here to listen]

North Carolina || March 1989

“I’m sorry that I’ll miss you in L.A., but I’m really glad you’re going out there. for the rehearsals. Especially since you won’t be making it to Europe.”

Jenny Fraser Murray sighed into the phone. “I’m torn, Claire. On the one hand I’ll be so happy to have a few days away from the kids – Ian’s mom is a godsend. But on the other hand I don’t want to be away from them for even a minute.”

“Ian will be happy to have you to himself, though.”

Claire heard Jenny smile through the phone. “He said it will be like old times. When we were dating, and we’d sneak off behind the amps to make out before a gig.” She paused. “Something you and my brother probably do all the time now.”

Claire smiled. “When we’re together, yeah.”

“I was really surprised when Jamie told me you weren’t going out to L.A. Is this the longest you’ve been apart?”

“Yeah.” Claire twirled the long telephone cord around her wrist. “I’m not going to lie, Jenny, it’s been incredibly hard to be away from him for so long. But at the same time, it’s been really helpful.”

“How so?”

“Just…it gets intense with him. And as much as I love him, and as much as I know he loves me, we both needed the time to breathe.”

“I hear you. So what have you been up to this week?”

Claire leaned back in her chair. “There’s a clinic in town – I got in touch with them right after we moved in, and I’ve been going in every day to volunteer. Just a few hours, helping out with some of the walk-in patients. Cuts, burns, broken bones – lighter stuff.”

“Sorry. One sec.” Jenny’s voice was muffled over the phone, but Claire could still understand the words Maggie and share and your brother. Clearly the Murray kids were giving their mom a run for her money today.

“That sounds like fun, Claire. Or your idea of fun, anyway.”

“It feels so good to be a doctor again, Jenny. It’s a far cry from surgery, but – ”

“But it’s something. Something you’re good at, that you enjoy. And it’s something that’s all yours.”

“Exactly. When we get back from Europe, I want to do something more permanent at the clinic. I spoke to the woman who runs it – they’re definitely open to it. I told them everything about my past, and my license – they’re willing to work with me.”

“That’s awesome.” The line clicked. “Ah – Claire, I’ve been waiting for Ian all morning. This is probably him. I’ll call you later, OK?”

“OK. Say hello to him and the kids for me. Talk you soon.”

“Take care of yourself, sister.”

Jenny hung up.

Claire glowed a bit. Glanced up at the clock on the wall, and crossed the kitchen to make some tea.

Ten minutes later, snug on the couch that was one of the only pieces of furniture Jamie had shipped from his old house in LA, Claire dialed a 212 number on the touch-tone phone, set the receiver on the arm of the couch, and pressed the speakerphone button.

“Dr. Germain’s office. Jeanne speaking.”

“Hi Jeanne – it’s Claire.”

“Hello, Claire! Right on time, as always. I’ll transfer you over.”

A few clicks on the line, and then –

“Good afternoon, Claire!” Raymond’s voice boomed through the telephone. “Did you make it to the clinic after we spoke this morning?”

“I did!” She sipped her tea, tucking bare feet under her folded legs. “Three hours have never flown by so fast.”

“That’s wonderful. Are you still open to what I suggested in our session this morning?”

“I am. He’s not on yet, is he?”

This was the second week that Jamie, Claire, and Raymond had held their daily sessions – via telephone while Claire was home in North Carolina, Jamie was with the band in Los Angeles, and Raymond at his office in New York. Raymond had recommended they start meeting during Jamie and Claire’s time away from each other – and to help them all get comfortable working together before the Europe tour kicked off in a few weeks.

Speaking over the telephone was not as ideal as being in person – but it helped them all get into the new routine. Raymond met individually with Jamie and Claire each morning, followed by a group session in the afternoon. Claire and Jamie spoke with each other outside of their time with Raymond, of course – Claire called Jamie’s hotel room as his wake up call every morning, he spoke with her before bed every night – but the conversations with Raymond were different. Focusing on topics that were deeper than Jamie telling Claire about rehearsals or meetings with the label, and Claire telling Jamie about a patient’s antics at the clinic or how she had finally gotten around to staining the bedside table they’d picked up at a garage sale.

Raymond had approached working together in a very pragmatic way. He struck a balance between getting to know one another and probing deeper on certain topics – after all, there were many things that Jamie and Claire still didn’t know about each other. But there was no timetable – Raymond insisted they work at their own pace, because the real work would happen once they were in Europe.

Claire and Jamie actually looked forward to their time with Raymond. It helped them focus on themselves, and on each other, in a new and refreshing way. It bridged the thousands of miles between them, during their time away from each other. And having that separation – together with the telephone, and not needing to look at each other to speak – was indeed a good opportunity to explore some topics.

“I’m here. Hi, Claire.”

“Jamie,” she smiled. “Where are you?”

“I’m at the label’s office. Colum dragged me here to meet with the suits. I said yes, as long as I could get lunch delivered and an office for an hour. So excuse me if you hear some chewing.”

“What’s for lunch?” Raymond’s voice crackled through the line.

“In-N-Out. My favorite, a double double with a chocolate shake. Claire, the more I’m here, the more I don’t miss being in L.A. But this…this I miss.”

“Well, as your doctor,” she teased, “I’m also grateful for your arteries that we don’t eat that kind of food at home.”

Jamie snorted. “So what did you do at the clinic today?”

“Splinted a broken thumb and stitched up a gash on a little boy’s head.”

“You sound like you’re smiling. I love that it makes you happy, but I’ll never understand why.”

“If I may,” Raymond interjected, “there’s a little more to it than making Claire happy. She and I explored that this morning.”

“Yeah.” Claire sipped her tea. “You’re right, Jamie – it does make me happy. It makes me happy because I enjoy doing it. But more than that, it gives me a sense of purpose. I’m helping people, I’m making a difference.”

“And?” Raymond prodded gently.

Claire pursed her lips. “And, it’s something that’s only mine.”

The line was silent for a long moment.

“Jamie?” she asked gently.

“You mean, something that’s separate from our life together, Claire?”

“Jamie,” Raymond responded, “if you’re thinking that this is something meant to replace you, or any aspect of your relationship…trust me when I say it’s not. When Claire and I spoke about this earlier today, she made it clear that that’s certainly not the case. It’s a way for her to build her own identity, as Dr. Claire Fraser. Because she’s left behind who Dr. Claire Beauchamp was – the surgeon and pill addict. And she’s also built an identity as Claire Fraser – wife to Jamie Fraser.”

“And I love being Claire Fraser, Jamie. I do. God, I wish I could hold your hand right now.” She sighed. “But I need to find out who Dr. Claire Fraser is. In my time at the clinic, I’ve started doing that. And I’m still tied to you. I wear your letter and your ring on my hand, and your name on my driver’s license and my heart. This is…just…more than all of that. There’s room for more.”

Still Jamie remained silent. Claire’s heart began to race.

But Raymond let the silence stretch.

“Jamie…” he finally interjected after a while. “Do you want Claire to keep exploring this side of who she is? Who she could be?”

“Of course,” Jamie replied instantly. “I want nothing more than for Claire to be happy, and for her to be who she’s meant to be. She’s meant to be a doctor. She’s known that since she was a little girl, and that’s so awesome she knows that about herself. I still don’t know who I want to be.” He paused, chewing. “And I know that she’s also meant to be with me, to be my wife. That’s another part of who she is. Am I right, Claire? I’m not off base?”

“You’re right,” she said softly.

“OK. So – I know that she’s a doctor, and she’s my wife. I also know that there’s a huge part of her, that she hasn’t been able to grow for the entire time we’ve known each other. We’ve focused so much on our…our love, and our sobriety, and my music. But now I see that that’s been at the expense of other things. Like, her being a doctor. And I honestly feel kind of terrible that while I’ve been recording new music and touring and performing and dealing with my own shit, that’s all taken over and hasn’t given her the space to explore and grow.”

“That’s one way to look at it, Jamie.” Raymond’s voice was so focused, and Claire pictured him scribbling in his notebook. “But you can’t beat yourself up over it. Does what Jamie said, resonate with you, Claire?”

She rested her head on her arms, folded on the arm of the couch. “It does and it doesn’t, Raymond. Yes, I stepped away from medicine while I was getting clean, and then it was more important to me to figure out how to be with Jamie, and then get used to life on the road, and focus on my marriage. So I decided to push medicine to the background. To support Jamie in the way he needed, the last tour. I made that choice. Jamie didn’t force it on me – I would have said something if it wasn’t what I wanted. And now, I’m choosing to grow this side of myself again.”

“I don’t ever want you to think that I don’t support anything you want to do, Claire,” Jamie said softly.

“I don’t ever even think of that, Jamie. And if I did, I’d tell you.”

“I hope you would. I wouldn’t ever want that to be a misunderstanding between us. I will support whatever you want to do, you know that, right?”

“That’s a good segue way,” Raymond spoke softly.

Claire cleared her throat. “I’m glad you’re with Colum today, Jamie, because I’d like you to ask him something for me, for the tour.”

“Okay…he already agreed to have a doctor on standby, you know. If we get pregnant.”

“I know. I love that you did that for us, Jamie. But this is something new. When we’re in Europe, I’d like to find a way to volunteer at local clinics wherever we are. To spend time doing that in every city. I know that it won’t always be possible, of course – but I want to give back, when I’m on the road. I don’t want to just stop when we leave North Carolina – I want to keep going. I want to keep exploring this side of myself. And I know that everywhere we go, there will be people who need my help.”

“I would love for you to do that, Claire.” She could see him grinning. “God I wish I could hold you right now, so tight. I want you to do this. This is fucking awesome.”

She swallowed. “I miss you so much, Jamie. I love you, and I love being with you, and I can’t wait to be with you on tour. But I need to have something consistent that’s my own. I can’t be with you all of the time. And this helps me to do that.”

“Fuck yeah. I want this for you. Think of how cool it will be.”

“Yeah!” she grinned ear to ear. “And even if I’m pregnant, I can still do it. For a time, anyway.”

“I’ll speak to Colum about it today. The label or the local promoters have got to have connections. And I don’t want there to be any publicity. I don’t want people to think you’re doing this for the PR.”

“And you’d be OK, Jamie, with Claire being away from you during the day?”

“Yeah, Doc. Um…being here in LA without her, I’m more comfortable saying that now.”

“Versus before you left?”

“Yeah. I – Claire, I love you so much, but we were spending too much time together. It was…suffocating.” He paused, clearly uncomfortable with silence on the line. “Baby, talk to me. Fuck, I hate that I can’t see you. Talk to me. Does that make sense to you, what I said?”

“Yeah.” She sighed. “I get it, Jamie. I love you so much. I want to be with you all the time, but it’s not healthy.”

“Raymond, does that make sense?” Jamie’s voice was rushed, almost panicked. “Am I making sense? That I want to be with Claire all the time but I know that’s not a good thing?”

“It does, Jamie, and you are. You didn’t mention this to me before – is this something you’re only realizing now, in this conversation?”

“Umm…yes and no. I mean, I miss Claire so much right now that it actually hurts. But it’s been so fucking great to be here with the band. Angus’ girlfriends are out of town, so we’ve been spending a lot of time together, just me and Ian and Angus. And Colum, too. It’s been so much fun. I’ve been so busy. Almost too busy to think of anything else.”

“So – those fears we talked about during my visit. That without Claire beside you, you’d somehow fall back into addiction. That you needed her as your anchor, your constant reminder to stay sober. Do you still feel that way?”

“A little bit. But it’s not a big fear front and center every moment of the day. I mean, it sucks to come back to an empty hotel room, and it’s hard for me to sleep alone, but I know that’s temporary. And, I know that on the Europe tour I’ll be very busy during the day, probably more than I was the last tour. So even if Claire was with me all those hours, it’s not like I could really do anything with her during that time. I’ll be busy, and it’s not fair to her to just sit around without me. She can use that time more productively. Like volunteering at local clinics.”

“Good. I know that it was really difficult for you to fly out there on your own, and I’m glad you called me before you left for the trip, too, because I think we’ll all agree that you staved off a panic attack by doing that. But now that you’re there, do you understand why I had recommended you spend some time apart?”

“Yeah. Claire, did you understand from the beginning?”

“I did. But that doesn’t matter, Jamie. What matters now is that you understand. And that we have a new plan for Europe.”

“I love you so fucking much, Claire. I need you, baby. I can’t wait to see you again.”

She blew a kiss through the phone.

Jamie coughed. “Um, Claire? I need to tell you something.”

“Are you all right?” Raymond cautiously asked, after about thirty seconds of silence on the line.

“Um…yeah. I got another tattoo.”

“O..kay…” Claire replied.

“Was this planned, or impulse?” Raymond asked gently.

“Um…I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and I knew what I wanted, but I decided a bit last minute.”

“I see.” Claire spoke slowly. “What is it, and where is it?”

“It’s the outline of the state of North Carolina. On my left arm.”

Claire couldn’t help but smile. “Where? In that space between the koi fish and your mom’s name?”

Raymond chuckled. “The two of you, I swear.”

Jamie laughed. Free. “Yeah, Claire. I don’t even want to know how you guessed that.”

“What can I say,” she laughed. “The perks of being a rock star’s personal physician.”