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beatlesdumpsterfire · 3 years

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For @pushmipulluridesagain's prompt:

The Beatles go to Target

Brian should have known better than to give the boys the day off, completely unsupervised. Even John, Paul, George, and Ringo were shocked. In fact, they were so shocked that they couldn’t think of a single thing to do to fully take advantage of Brian’s huge mistake.

So, they found themselves in the sitting room of George’s flat, staring around at each other with blank looks plastered across their faces. Finally, John was the one to break the silence with a suggestion:

“Why don’t we go to Target?”

It wasn’t the most exciting option out there, but it sure was something, and it was a lot better than sitting around like their wax figures at Madame Tussauds. None of the other boys had any better ideas to offer, so that was that. Before Brian could change his mind, they all piled into George’s car and sped off to their local Target.

“Are we looking for anything specific?” Paul asked the car. Ringo turned around from the passenger seat and grinned back at Paul.

“It doesn’t matter if there’s something specific we’re looking for, we’re bound to walk out with a cart full of things we didn’t even know we needed.”

“I once went to Target looking for a screwdriver and I came out with an inflatable lawn decoration,” George mused. “I don’t think I’ve even taken it out of the box though.”

“There’s something about Target, it just sucks you dry,” Paul thought aloud. He paused for a second and quickly turned to John, who was obviously on the verge of making a bad joke. “Don’t you dare say it,” Paul warned him.

John luckily listened, which saved him from a hefty slap from Paul, and instead shared some wisdom he had picked up from a TikTok he saw the other day.

“You know, I heard somewhere that you can steal a certain amount of stuff from Target and they won’t stop you. They keep track of what you take, but they’ll only pull the authorities in when you’ve surpassed a certain dollar amount of stolen goods. It’s so they can charge it as a serious felony, I think.”

“Huh,” Ringo thought aloud. “So I could steal just under that amount and waltz out of the store?”

“I doubt it’s that black and white,” Paul interjected. “If they catch you taking something, they’re bound to stop you, right?”

“Why don’t we test it, lads?” John grinned. Paul let out a groan; he should have seen where that conversation was going. He had been a fool to assume they were going to take an innocent trip to Target.

“I’m game,” George said from behind the steering wheel. “We were bound to do something stupid today, I’m glad we figured out what that was.”

“Sounds like fun,” Ringo chirped happily. “I’ve never stolen anything before.”

“You haven’t either, have you, Paul?” John teased Paul.

“I have too,” Paul murmured. He had pocketed a single bean from the grocery store when he was 5 and, while his mom made him return the bean to one of the employees working there, he still felt it counted.

John could see straight through Paul’s fib, but he was confident that his mate would participate, as much as he acted like he was against it. Knowing that they were all on board to rob a Target got John feeling especially energized: he couldn’t wait to kick capitalism in the shins.

“Let’s make a competition out of it, Lads,” he announced, clapping his hands together. “30 minutes on the clock, whoever comes out with the most impressive collection of items wins.”

“What’s the prize?” George asked.

“Bragging rights,” John decided. None of the other boys were especially happy about that but, considering they were going to rob a store, they were all already kind of winning something in a sense.

“And one last thing,” John added, “if you get caught, you’ll be disqualified.”

“That’s straight-forward enough to me,” George nodded as he turned into the Target parking lot. “We’ll meet back at the car once our 30 minutes is up then?”

“Yeah,” John said.

“You’re going to get your asses handed to you!” Ringo cackled, unbuckling his seatbelt and rushing into the store before anyone could even set a timer. Paul, John, and George all exchanged tired glances; they knew Ringo was about to do something stupid.

And, of course, they were right. Ringo tore into the Target, the bell dinging above his head as he scanned around the store, his heart beating up into his throat with a wild look in his eyes. He needed to prove to his mates that he could be the best thief out there, one that was bound to earn their utmost respect. Ringo hadn’t really listened to the rules all that much, but he felt that he got the overall gist of the competition: he just had to take the biggest and most impressive thing and not get caught. That was a piece of cake because he, Ringo Starr, was the Master of Deception.

Ringo sprinted for the electronics department, nearly taking out an older gentleman and a mannequin in the process. The mannequin slowly toppled over, flattening the older gentleman behind Ringo, giving him the most action he had received in well over 50 years.

“Ooh!” the older man squealed.

Ringo made it to the section with the really big televisions and felt his pupils dilate tenfold.

“Yes,” he breathed out. Sure, there were three Target employees on the floor nearby, but Ringo was the Master of Deception. He had this in the bag. He managed to slow his breathing down to a pace that didn’t make him look like a rabid animal, and sauntered to the biggest TV in the store. Ringo looked it up and down and then smiled. He was gonna win this thing so hard. He looked to the left, making direct eye contact with one of the employees, and then looked to the right, making direct eye contact with the other employee, and then turned back to the TV. And, in one big grunt, he dislodged the TV from the wall and proceeded to shove it down his pants.

Both employees probably would have made more of an effort to stop him if they hadn’t been so thrown off guard by the fact that he had just put an 80 inch TV down his rear. It was a mystery how he was able to fit that screen in there, but somehow he did it.

Well, Ringo was the Master of Deception after all, I guess he was just doing what he did best.

While the TV was semi-concealed, the latter half of it stuck out of the seat of Ringo’s pants and rose well-above his head, so there was no denying what he was doing. Ringo had grossly miscalculated how heavy the TV was going to be; he was obviously struggling as he attempted to shuffle his way to the front doors. The two employees who had just witnessed this entire shit show exchanged an uncertain glance and shrugged their shoulders. They weren’t paid enough to deal with shit like that. Let the weirdo shove a TV down his pants if he wanted to.

Somehow, by some miracle, Ringo managed to make it to the front doors without being stopped (although he did attract a lot of strange looks). It was only when the metal detectors started to blare through the store that Ringo was surrounded by seven employees, two of which body slammed him to the ground. In a matter of seconds, the TV was removed from his pants and Ringo was sitting against the Starbucks counter by the front door with his arms shackled behind his back, moping not only because he had been eliminated from the competition and arrested, but also because he could no longer confidently say that he was the Master of Deception.

After Ringo powered into the store, Paul, George, and John synced their watches and agreed to meet back in the parking lot to determine the winner (they already knew that Ringo was going to be disqualified, it was only a matter of time before they found out exactly what he had done to eliminate himself).

George was the second to enter the store behind Ringo. As if he was going on any old Target run, George casually strolled through the front doors and made his way directly to the food section. The second John had initially mentioned theft, George’s stomach growled since it had officially been 20 minutes since his last meal. From that second onwards, George could only think about one thing and one thing only: filling the apparent goddamn void in his stomach.

So, in that food aisle, George went to town, carefully packing his shopping cart to the brim with crackers, cookies, sandwich-making materials, and lots and lots of candy. Satisfied with his load, he retreated to the back of the store where he very quickly found the employee break room and settled there, seated eagerly in front of his stuffed cart. A few employees filed in and out of the room as George worked away at his feast, but none of them bothered to stop him because they could care less. This was just an average day at Target: some guy had shoved a TV down his pants a few minutes ago, so George’s spectacle wasn’t even the worst thing they’d seen all day.

In ten minutes, George had consumed well over 50,000 calories and patted his extended stomach with content before letting out a belch that rattled the whole establishment for well-over 10 seconds.

Across the store in the women’s lingerie section, Paul snapped his head up from a rack of nice bras and scanned around in a panic. When he realized that the shaking wasn’t coming from an angry guard storming up to him, Paul’s shoulders relaxed and he returned back to sifting through the silk fabric, trying to find the flashiest bra available.

George collected all of his empty packages and started to shove them into a plastic Target bag that had been discarded in the breakroom so he had evidence of just how many things he had stolen that were now sitting in the bottom of his stomach. But, George wasn’t going to stop there; as impressive as his feat was, he knew that he was up against some tough competition (aka John, Paul didn’t count), so he really had to step up his game.

As he scanned around the store trying to find something good to snag, it occurred to George that he was wearing a red shirt and a pair of khakis (he was long overdue to do his laundry). He was basically an employee at Target, so George knew that he really could take things the extra mile. And oh boy, did he. He approached a cash register where there was an apron and an employee’s scanner sitting loosely around and tugged the apron over his head, adding the scanner to one of his front pockets. To be an incredibly huge nuisance, George went out of his way to unscrew the credit card reader (with his Target screwdriver, of course) and packed that into his apron as well. He checked his phone and, when he saw he had two minutes to spare, he decided that he had had his fun, and returned to the parking lot.

For Paul, when he first entered the store, he was a nervous wreck. Since the bean incident, he had vowed to never do a wrong thing ever again in his life. But, deep down, he knew that he would much rather become a criminal than let down his mates. He especially didn’t want to see the look of disappointment on John’s face if he came back empty-handed; that just wasn’t acceptable.

So, he decided to go the conservative route and start off small. After sneaking a pack of Trident Layers into his coat pocket without so much as a blink of an eye from those in the vicinity, Paul felt his heart rate slow. It was okay, this was fine, he totally had this. So, from there, Paul started to get more of a feel for the sticky fingers, sliding a pack of soap up his sleeve and a daily planner down his shirt. Now he was really feeling the groove of things, so he boldly made his way to the gift card section and grabbed a $20 Applebee's gift card. He was really going wild now. He was yet to face any consequences for his actions, so he booked it to the best part of Target: the electronic section, where Ringo had just been fucking shit up five minutes prior. Attempting to keep all of his stolen goods concealed, Paul strolled up and down the aisles, trying to decide which items on display were the best to grab (aka what would impress John the most). After checking to see if the coast was clear (which it was, since all the staff in the area were busy dealing with Ringo in the front of the store), Paul slid a Nintendo Switch inside his coat and hustled away from the crime scene, giggling to himself.

Now he was on a high. He was bound to win the competition with his impressive level of skill; the rest of the boys had probably already been caught because they were nowhere near as sneaky as him. As Paul hustled past the home goods aisle, he caught a glimpse of a Rolling Stones poster and turned back around with a smug look. The poster immediately went down his pants, where it belonged, so Mick’s face was pressed up against some stuff I’m not going to list out here. To top off the successful day, Paul made his way to the lingerie section to pick out an especially nice bra to give to John as a joke, to really rub in his victory. With the exception of the quick period of shaking that nearly made Paul crap himself, he was poised with a confidence he had never felt before, like he was immortal. Paul crept his way out a side door and returned to George’s car with his head held high and his pockets completely lined with goods, making it to George and John with three seconds to spare.

John knew exactly what he was doing from the get-go. He knew that his mates would all fall for a friendly competition and get so consumed by it that John could do his dirty work undetected. He knew that Ringo was bound to create a distraction big enough for him to do what he set out to do. He wasn’t sure if Paul and George would get caught too but, if they did, that would just be an additional bonus. After watching George and Paul hurry through the front doors, John stomped out his used cigarette on the pavement and ambled in behind them.

“Hey, Ringo,” he calmly greeted his mate as he made it through the front doors, where Ringo was still handcuffed and swarmed by employees and police officers.

“Hi John,” Ringo attempted to wave back, failing miserably. With a satisfied smirk, John moved to the front registers and, one by one, popped them open with a screwdriver that he himself had stolen from Target just the previous week. You’d think that alarms would have gone off, or someone would have noticed, but no, John was the true Master of Deception. He opened his coat to reveal a large, holographic fanny pack (also stolen) and started to fill it with the 1s, 5s, 10s, 20s, and 100s in each cash register. In under a minute, he had emptied out every register in the store, right under the cops’ noses. It was practically a miracle.

While George and Paul were still trying to make their way around the perimeter of the store, finding the best things to take, John was out the front doors in under three minutes, his fanny pack stuffed to the brim with cash just like George’s stomach was about to be with food.

“Fools,” John couldn’t help but laugh to himself as he lit a new cigarette and took out a long, satisfied drag. And, with that, he let himself back into George’s car and reclined backwards in the front seat, his feet kicked up on the dashboard. He kept an eye out for any commotion if someone caught on to his crime, but the store was incredibly peaceful and still, like a lake on a cool summer’s morning. John found that to be oddly beautiful, so much so that he knew he could write a decent song about it, called “Hey Target I Just Robbed You Blind, Suck It”.

After what felt like ages of waiting, George finally emerged from the store and, not too shortly afterwards, Paul trailed out after him.

“Did you see they arrested Ringo?” Paul asked as he plopped in the back seat, his pockets swishing this way and that and a loud, papery crunching noise coming from his pants.

“I was able to get in a quick word with him,” George told Paul. “Turns out he tried to steal the biggest TV in the store by hiding it in his pants.”

“Classic Ringo,” Paul rolled his eyes. “You’re awfully quiet,” he turned to John. “Nervous to lose?”

“You wish,” John snapped back to life, reclaiming his role as the leader of the competition. “Well, let’s go then, boys, shall we? Show off what you were able to grab.”

George was the first to go, and Paul and John’s eyes widened as he emptied out the opened food packages from his stolen bag. He had enough in there to fill half a trash dump.

“I ate all of that in under 10 minutes,” George proudly shared, before letting out another loud burp. “And, I took this.” George untied his apron and threw it in the pile, adding along the scanner and the credit card reader. “They thought I was an employee,” George couldn’t help but laugh as he looked down at his red shirt and khakis.

“What are you gonna do with a credit card reader?” Paul couldn’t help but ask. It seemed like the stupidest thing George could have taken. Well, actually a toilet plunger from the bathroom would have been stupider, but Paul had come to that conclusion earlier after taking the toilet plunger from the men’s room and talking himself into putting it back.

“Dunno,” George shrugged. “It seemed like it would be hard to take, so I took it.”

“That’s admirable,” John admitted, impressed with his younger mate. “Alright Paul, show us your booty.”

Paul couldn’t help but grin in anticipated excitement at his seemingly inevitable victory as he first retrieved the pack of gum and soap, followed by the daily planner and $20 Applebee’s gift card.

“Hold up,” John stopped him. “You’re disqualified.”

“Disqualified?” Paul nearly shouted in shock. “Why?”

John pointed at the Applebee’s gift card.

“That’s a foul right there. No one in their right mind would steal an Applebee’s gift card and consider themselves a winner. That just spoiled whatever else you took, I don’t even want to see it.”

“But I took a Nintendo Switch!” Paul tried to protest, reaching into his coat to grab it.

“I don’t care,” John held his ground, “you’re disqualified.” George watched onwards in excitement; he loved it when he did better than Paul.

“Now how’s that fair?” Paul protested. “We’re all judges here, your word isn’t above ours!”

“It is when I already know I’ve won,” John retorted. Before Paul could fight against this, John unzipped his jacket, displaying his fanny pack. Both Paul and George broke into fits of laughter.

“You can’t be serious, John,” George howled, “You think you won with that?”

“That’s the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” Paul added in, relief washing over him that John might have just been giving him a hard time. That theory was quickly abandoned, however, when John, sporting the strongest poker face ever seen in the history of mankind, unzipped the fanny pack, revealing the stacks upon stacks of cash inside.

“I counted it all while you were in there wasting your time,” he explained to George and Paul’s gaping faces. “It’s near $20,000.” George recoiled in shock.

“John,” Paul’s voice was shaking now, “I don’t think that was such a great idea…”

“They haven’t caught me though, have they?” John tested Paul with a raised eyebrow, nodding towards the store.

“But I don’t think you should be sitting in their parking lot with the $20,000 you just stole, John,” George told him, trying to keep his cool.

“I’m not worried about it,” John waved George off. “Ringo’s got them all busy. Meanwhile I’m gonna buy me a new car to celebrate.”

“John,” Paul deadpanned, “you already own three cars. And you don’t have a driver’s license.”

“You really do need to consider other ways to live lavishly,” George agreed.

“What matters is that I’m $20,000 richer and you’re not,” John snapped back at them, growing frustrated that they weren’t as in awe of his achievement as he had hoped.

Right as Paul was about to suggest that John go back inside and return the money before they got into any serious trouble, Ringo knocked on George’s window, accompanied by two cops, making them all jump. After glancing back at John to make sure his money was hidden, George rolled down the window.

“They’re taking me to the sin bin,” Ringo explained, nodding at the two cops who were holding him in a deathlock. “Apparently putting a TV down your pants is considered a crime.”

“No kidding,” Paul told him.

“My bail is supposed to be posted at about $20,000,” Ringo continued, ignoring Paul. “Can you help set old Ringo free?”

Paul and George slowly turned to face John, who was scowling downwards.

“Yes,” George answered for him, “in fact, I think we’ve got $20,000 we can spare.”

Ringo smiled.

#I wrote a novel with this one #sorry #beatles ask #beatles fanfic #john lennon #paul mccartney #george harrison #ringo starr #target #ringo really tried his best

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serceleste · 4 years

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hamilton thoughts part 1

Now that I’ve watched the Hamilton film 4 times and listened to the soundtrack more times than I can count (let’s just say I can sing the entirety of Alexander Hamilton, Wait For It, Hurricane, and Burn unprompted with no music in the shower - and perhaps more?? I’m not sure, I’m definitely close at least on Satisfied - and I can sing along with most of it lol), here’s an unorganized list of things I love!

Everything about Lin because I love him.

I love the whole cast tbh. I would marry all of them. I definitely have a crush on all of them.

When I watched it the first time I was surprised by how much I recognized, given that I had never so much as listened to the soundtrack, but it felt like every other line I was like, “that’s from Hamilton??” “If it takes fighting a war for us to meet it will have been worth it.” “I’m a trust fund, baby, you can trust me.” “Raise a glass to the four of us, tomorrow there’ll be more of us.” “I love my sister more than anything in this life, I will choose her happiness over mine every time.” “My mother was a genius, my father commanded respect, when they died they left no instructions, just a legacy to protect.” “What is a legacy? It’s planting seeds in a garden you never get to see.” Etc, etc etc. The writing is so clever and beautiful and emotional, I love it.

The way Hamilton pouts and poutily says “okay” when Burr tells him to sit down and then immediately jumps back up again “one more thing-” in Non-Stop.

The crescendo and then the pause before that last “wait for it” (in Wait For It, obviously, lol).

Everything Jonathan Groff does as King George is gold but I’m gonna list a bunch of specifics anyway lol, starting with that walk.

And the way he shimmies his shoulders.

How he says “everybody” so menacingly and then goes back into the “da da da”.

When he stamps his foot and it turns blue!

His bouncy dancing at the side of the stage!

Then he does that drop during The Reynolds Pamphlet lmao.

Also I love when he and Washington share the stage for a moment, the way they eye each other and edge around.

“John Adams?!” I died. That ensemble member is adorable. (I am drawing a blank on her name, I’m sorry, I know she’s the one who will be in the new West Side Story!) I also love how she jumps to put the seat right under his butt when he gets mad.

The recurring theme in Act 2 of dragging John Adams is hilarious.

“Hamilton wrote the other 51!” Leslie’s passion is A+++.

“I think your pants look hot.” and Hercules flips his coat back and shows off his thigh. <3

“Laurens, I like you a lot.” They are in love and no one can make me think any different. Lin did it on purpose! Bi Hamilton FTW.

Plus, you know, the letter about Laurens’ death is soul-crushing. Hamilton’s face, I need help. *gross sobbing*

I also love that in the background of that scene you can see Lafayette and Mulligan on the upper level reading their letters.

Or how during Stay Alive, Eliza is up on the balcony presumably writing/about to write the letter to Washington asking for Hamilton to be sent home. There are genuinely cool things done with the letters and the way the performers are arranged, like that part, or in Guns and Ships, the way the letter gets from Washington to Hamilton.

Plus the way Eliza literally burns a letter during Burn.

It’s so simple in comparison to most of the rest of the play but I love the staging of Dear Theodosia, that it’s Burr and Hamilton seated side by side but separate, and the changing lighting. Lighting isn’t something I generally notice but they do some neat things in Hamilton.

The way the ensemble holds a board beneath Hamilton to act as a table for him to write at in Non-Stop is so neat, the way it builds into the physicality of him always moving.

Hamilton absolutely wants Washington to be his daddy, I’m sorry but he does. He wants those glorious thighs and he wants to kneel down and - okay, I’ll stop. :D

Jefferson even says “daddy’s calling”. I rest my case. (Yes, okay, I know it’s probably meant more as a nod to the illegitimate son rumors but let me have this.)

Hamilton and Angelica have an emotional affair through punctuation, I can’t. The comma is legit in the official lyrics!

Their whole meeting of like minds, mutual pining thing does a lot for me. Plus combined with the angle that Angelica is half too socially conscious to let herself have Hamilton and half too loving of her sister to have him when Eliza wants him.

I had too many things so I’m going to split it up, lmao.

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

#hamilton #lin manuel miranda #alexander hamilton #hamilton x laurens #hamilton x washington #jonathan groff #king george iii #john laurens #hamilton x angelica #angelica schuyler #eliza hamilton #george washington #aaron burr #leslie odom jr #thomas jefferson #hercules mulligan #marquis de lafayette

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pregnant-piggy · 4 years

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Secret Summer - part I

George Weasley x reader

Words: 7600+

Warnings: none

A/N: Ah, I want the summer so bad. This is my first George fic and I fell in love with him. I know this one’s long but the next one is shorter. Oh and happy pride month, my loves!

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Summer had always been your favourite season. The sun and heat were not your enemy. You loved tanning at the beach and diving into the cold water afterwards. Eating ice-cream three times a day, reading a book in the shadow of a tree and staying up late to look at the stars. The late, hot nights were your favourite.

The only downside to summer was the break from Hogwarts and more specifically the break from your friends. Of course you would try to meet with them, but it was hard to find a moment that everyone was available. A lot of your friends went away on vacation to countries far away and when they got back, you were gone with your family.

Nothing was any different this summer, except one thing. Last year you had missed your friends, this year you missed your boyfriend.

You and George had been together for five months now and you had never been away from him for so long. At Hogwarts you were always around him, in class, going on dates or just studying together. Now he was home and so were you. It killed you. Your parents had decided to go on a holiday with just the two of them and you were supposed to go to your aunt and uncle.

Now that was something you were not looking forward to. Your uncle and aunt were... different from you. They were very strict, always following the rules. And of course it wouldn't just be your aunt and uncle, they also had children. Three. Three little, snitching children. The oldest one was eight years younger than you, so there was not much to bond over.

However, everything would change the day before your parents’ departure. You were packing your bags for your stay with your family when your mother called you downstairs.

‘What's the matter?’ you asked when you entered the living room.

Your father was sitting on the couch browsing through a book called Ten Things To Know When Travelling Through Canada. As an answer to your question he gestured to the kitchen where your mom was busy making dinner.

‘An owl arrived for you,’ you mother said and she pointed at an old brown owl. Around its leg a letter was tied. You tried to untie the letter without hurting the owl but the owl didn't even seem to notice you were touching it.

‘Who is it from?’ your mother asked while stirring in a pan.

‘George,’ you answered.

‘Ooh, what did he write?’

Your mom knew of your relationship with George. As soon as you came home for the summer, you couldn't help but tell her. She was really excited for you and with every owl that came from George she wanted to know what he had written.

‘I remember when your dad used to write me such things,’ she had sighed when George had sent you a letter saying how much he missed you in the first week of the vacation.

You quickly read the letter and a smile broke on your face.

‘He is asking if I can spend the summer at the Burrow,’ you answered your mother's question.

Your mother dropped her spoon and clapped her hands excited. She began to dance around the kitchen. Her squeaks made your dad come into the kitchen, looking suspicious from his wife to you.

‘What is going on?’ he asked.

‘Our daughter is spending her summer with her boyfriend!’ Your mother sing-sang and pulled you into a hug.

‘Mom!’ you giggled and tried to free yourself from her embrace.

Your father looked at your mother and tilted his head.

‘What about Margaret and John? They are expecting (Y/N).’

‘Oh, I'm sure they will understand,’ your mother said and you sent her a thankful smile; she knew how much you hated staying at your aunt and uncle's.

Your father said nothing else for dinner and also kept his mouth when you sat with your parents in the living room. The TV was on and even though your father was staring at it, you knew he was having an inner debate. He knew that you didn't like to spend with his brother’s family and if he let you go, you would have a much happier summer. But then you would be staying with your boyfriend.

It was not like you were actually waiting for your father's approval. You were going anyway, whether he wanted it or not.

‘Dad, it won't be much of a difference than the time we spent at Hogwarts for the past half year,’ you pointed out to your father. ‘And his whole family is there.’

That seemed to do the trick because before you went to bed your dad told you that he would drop you off at the Burrow when he and your mom left for their trip.

- -- -

The next morning was hectic. Now you knew you were going to your boyfriend you had to make some changes to the clothes you were bringing. Your mother helped you pick out some stuff.

When you were packed and ready to close your bag your mom slyly slipped a pack of condoms in it. But she failed to hide it from you.

‘Mom! What?’

‘Oh, come on! You're staying at your boyfriend!’

‘And his family!’ you pointed out. ‘They don't even know George and I are dating. They just think we're friends.’

‘Oh,’ your mother said and she sat down next to you on your bed. ‘You didn't tell me.’

‘It's nothing,’ you shrugged. ‘Actually it is kind of exciting, isn't it?’ you added with a small smile.

Your mother kissed you on your head and closed up your bag.

‘Don't tell your father, he’ll have a heart attack,’ she said before taking the bag and walking downstairs.

- -- -

The ride to the Burrow took forever. It was still early and not many people were awake yet. The roads were almost completely deserted.

The song on the radio didn't reach to you and neither did the conversation of your parents. The trees on the side of the road flashed by and your mind dozed off to the last day of school.

It had been the hottest day of the year and everyone was outside looking for some shade. Some seventh year Hufflepuffs had charmed the greenhouses so that it was cooler there. They had only let a few people in and you and your friends belonged to those people. The sun had shone bright on the glass roofs and lit up the plants around you. The morning you spent with your friends but the afternoon was reserved for George. He had wanted to show you something. He took you to the furthest edge of the school grounds. You had never been there before and was surprised with what you found. There, far beyond Hagrid's hut was a small pond. The sun was reflected by the water and all around the edge of the pond there were pink and blue flowers. You had spent the rest of the day there with George and returned late, almost too late for dinner.

A smile appeared on your face as you thought back of that day. You couldn't wait to see George, though it would be hard not to kiss him in front of his whole family.

After an hour your father drove his car in front of the Burrow. Nervously he looked at his watch. This had not been his plan. He had planned to be at the airport by now.

‘You only have to drop me off,’ you reassured him. ‘Say hi to Mr and Mrs Weasley and that's it.’

Apparently the sound of the car had aroused the Weasley household because Mrs Weasley was walking towards you, followed by Ginny and Ron.

‘(Y/N)! Good to see you! I am happy you could make it on such a short notice!’

Mrs Weasley embraced you and then turned to your parents. You let them talk and said hello to Ginny and Ron.

This wasn't your first time at the Burrow. You had been there quite few times now, but every time you stepped foot on the Weasley's property you were amazed by their house. It was completely different from any house you had ever been in and that’s why you loved it so much.

You said goodbye to your parents and wished them a happy and safe trip. You waved them goodbye until you couldn't see the car anymore and then turned to the house.

‘Fred and George are still in bed,’ Mrs Weasley said while she began with breakfast. ‘Ron, go wake up your brothers! Have you eaten yet, dear?’

‘Oh, yes. I had a quick breakfast before I left,’ you answered and watched Ron ran up the stairs to wake the twins.

‘Do you want something?’ Mrs Weasley asked. She was busy with four pans at the same time and you saw eggs, bacon and sausages.

‘Just tea, Mrs Weasley.’

Mrs Weasley pointed with her wand at the kettle and the water started to heat.

You chatted with Ginny about how her vacation had been so far and you discovered that she, just as you, missed her friends. They were all away for the summer.

‘I'm lucky to have you here now,’ Ginny said and you smiled at her. The age difference between you and her had never been an issue. You got along very well with Ginny.

Ron came back down followed by Fred and George. When you met eyes with George you felt butterflies in your stomach. He sat down next to you at table and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

‘I didn't know you would be here so early,’ he admitted, suppressing a yawn.

Under the table his hand found yours and he squeezed it. You hummed softly as a reaction and from the corner of your eye you could see the smile on your boyfriend's face.

Meanwhile Mrs Weasley had finished breakfast and with her wand she placed the plates on table. She gave you a cup of tea.

During breakfast stories of the vacation so far were being exchanged until the conversation was interrupted with Mr Weasley entering the kitchen.

‘(Y/N), good to see you!’ the man exclaimed when he saw you. ‘George has begged us for the past two weeks to invite you!’

Next to you, George's face turned red. Fred laughed into his plate with eggs and his twin kicked him under the table.

Fred was the only Weasley that knew about you and George. Hiding something this big from your twin brother is impossible. You knew that it would be a tough vacation with Fred's dubble-meaning jokes. They had been there at Hogwarts too and you were surprised not more people knew about George and you.

- -- -

‘I missed you,’ George said after he checked the door. He was showing you your room, you were staying in Bill's old room, that had been turned into a guest room, but actually just wanted to be alone with you.

‘I missed you too,’ you replied and placed a soft kiss on George's lips. His hands slid to your back and he pulled you closer. You wrapped your arms around the boy you had missed so much these past weeks.

‘So you haven't told them yet?’ you asked after parting. George laughed a bit nervous.

‘No, I'm sorry,’ he said against your skin.

‘No need to apologise, babe,’ you said and placed a small kiss on his nose. ‘We'll tell whenever we are ready. Until then we just have to be careful.’

And like it was planned, Fred burst through the door. You and George quickly let go of each other and Fred laughed at your shocked faces.

‘You're not gonna keep this a secret longer than a week,’ Fred grinned. George threw a pillow at his brother, who ducked away letting the pillow fall on the ground with a thud.

- -- -

You spent most of the day with Ginny. She had claimed you at breakfast and you didn't want to disappoint her. Besides, you would have the whole vacation to spend with George, one day less wouldn't hurt.

Majority of the day was spent outside in the hot sun. The activities included teasing the gnomes and playing board games in the grass. Mrs Weasley brought you lunch halfway through the day and Ron joined you and Ginny in a game of exploding snap. Fred and George were nowhere to be seen. You slyly asked Ron about them but he said he hadn't seen them.

When it got colder you went back inside. The sun had shone brightly and you could already see the light tan lines on your legs.

After a short shower it was time for dinner. Mrs Weasley had done her best to create the best welcome-dinner you had ever seen. She made all the things you liked and even more.

‘We have to celebrate your stay here!’ Mr Weasley said when you sat down at the table and a sheepish smile grew on your face.

As you started your dinner, conversation quickly changed to plans for the rest of the summer break. You listened mostly; you had nothing to add. You did find out that Harry and Hermione would arrive in two days and would, just as you, spend the rest of their vacation at the Burrow.

‘Harry will sleep with Ron and Hermione with Ginny,’ Mrs Weasley explained.

‘Why not with (Y/N)?’ Fred asked and you could see the mischievous glint in his eyes. ‘She's got much space in her room. Not like she has someone to share it with.’

There it was, a joke that made you want to sink into the ground. George's face turned red and he kicked his brother under the table. But his family didn't understand the joke. They didn't even notice it. Molly just went on to explain that Hermione would be perfectly fine in Ginny's room.

‘Fred is just worried he won't be able to visit Hermione like that,’ you teased Fred. He turned red and his brows frowned; he would take revenge.

Fred was not the only one to react to your joke. Mrs Weasley frowned curious and Ginny chuckled into her chicken. But the most remarkable reaction was from Ron. He had choked on his food and his face was as red as his tomatoes.

‘Wha- what do you mean?’ he asked you in between coughs.

‘Nothing,’ you laughed and patted his back. ‘I'm just kidding.’

Over the table you shot a look to George who shrugged. Was it possible that Ron was jealous at your lie?

You had watched him and Hermione over the past years whenever you were in the same room as them and you had to admit that there was chemistry. But when you asked George about it he said that Ron always denied he had feelings for Hermione, or anyone. Maybe that was not the truth.

Without any more jokes that people could misinterpret dinner finished. You offered to help with the dishes but Mrs Weasley pointed out that you were on vacation here and told Fred to do the dishes.

‘I'm on vacation too!’ he sputtered but his mother already left the room. You laughed and that delivered you an angry glare and a hit with the dishcloth.

- -- -

In your pyjama shorts and sweater you lied in bed. The sun had set a while ago already but you couldn't fall asleep. You had left the curtains open and was staring at the night sky. The little, white dots shone luminous on the dark blue canvas.

Above you the floor squeaked. Someone must have left their bed. You listened to the sound of the soft footsteps that disappeared quickly. A shiver ran over your spine. You knew you were safe but still that feeling of slight fear filled your head. There is nothing to be afraid of, you said to yourself. It was probably just someone who had to go to the bathroom or maybe it was that stupid ghost.

But the feeling didn't decrease as you now heard footsteps on the floor your bedroom was on. And they got louder and louder. You sat up in bed and your hands clasped the bedspread.

The handle of your door went down to reveal a dark silhouette. Your eyes were focused on the figure and you didn't move.

‘(Y/N)?’ the dark figure whispered and you recognised George's voice. ‘Are you awake?’

You relaxed and sighed as you reached for the light next to your bed. It popped on and revealed George in his pyjamas.

Apparently the scared look was still on your face because George said: ‘Are you alright?’

‘Yes, you just scared the living crap out of me,’ you said and turned your face into a smile.

George hurried over to your bed and sat down. He cupped your face with his hands and placed a kiss on your nose.

‘I'm sorry. I didn't want to wake anyone. Maybe I should've warned you.’

‘Yeah, maybe you should have,’ you chuckled and let George kiss you. ‘Now to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?’

‘I missed you.’

‘You just saw me two hours ago!’

‘I know.’

‘How have you survived the past two weeks?’ you asked giggling.

‘Barely,’ George breathed in your ear.

His hands slipped from your face to the bottom of your sweater, pulling it over your head to reveal a tank top. In the small light you could see the surprise on his face, but he recollected himself and again reached for the hem of your top. This time nothing was covering your naked chest as he pulled your tank top over your head.

At the sight of you half-naked in his hands, George moaned softly. You could feel the excitement rushing though your body when you pulled the boy closer kissing him passionately. You had missed him. You had missed this.

The night was filled with moans and giggles, so soft no one else in the house heard them. And when you fell asleep, peacefully in the arms of the boy you loved, you mentally made a note to thank your mother for her addition to packing your suitcase.

- -- -

The bed was empty when you woke up the next morning. You knew George had to wake up in his own bed to not raise suspicions but it still made you feel sad.

Silently you got dressed, letting the impressions of last night wonder in your head. In a daze you walked down to the living room. There, Ginny was sitting on the couch in front of the fire, still in her pyjamas, looking just as tired as you. You sat down next to her and said nothing. Together you watched Mr Weasley get ready for his work with the help from his wife.

‘See you tonight, girls!’ he said before stepping into the fire saying ‘Ministry of Magic' and disappearing.

Ginny went upstairs to change and Molly gave you a cup of tea. She looked at with piercing eyes and for a minute you were afraid she had heard you and George. That she knew everything and you had to spend the rest of your summer with your stupid aunt and uncle.

But Mrs Weasley said nothing and walked away, leaving you alone in the living room. You stared at your tea, a bit shocked by your own paranoia.

Before you could finish your tea, Fred entered the room. He sat down opposite of you with a smug smile on his face. You rolled your eyes at him. Of course he knew about last night, but some part of you had hoped that George had managed to escape his room without his twin noticing.

‘Fun night?’ Fred asked and you shot him a dark look but you couldn't answer because Ginny walked in.

She looked a bit more awake now she had changed and probably freshened up. Still the bags under her were clearly visible.

‘Didn't sleep much?’ you asked.

‘No,’ Ginny yawned, like your question reminded her of how little sleep she got. ‘Probably because we did so much yesterday.’

‘Hey, that's funny! (Y/N) didn't sleep much last night either!’ Fred exclaimed.

‘How do you know that?’ Ginny shot back at him, despite her lack of sleep still sharp as always.

‘I heard-' Fred started but you cut him off.

‘I came across him on my way to the bathroom.’ You gave Fred another angry glare and smiled at Ginny hoping she wouldn't notice you were lying.

‘Okay,’ she said and changed the subject of the conversation. ‘What do you want to do today?’

‘I dunno,’ Fred mumbled sinking into his chair. ‘We could play some Quidditch, we don't have even numbers though, maybe (Y/N) can be the referee.’

‘I'm fine with that,’ you said, knowing that your Quidditch skills count for half a person, if not a quarter.

- -- -

After breakfast you and the Weasleys walked to the open field behind the house. The morning sun was already shining radiant and the five minute walk left everyone sweating.

Two hours of Quidditch later everyone was melting away under the heat and the game was stopped. You walked back to the Burrow to find some shade under one of the trees that surrounded the house. Fred disappeared into the house and came back with bottles lemonade kept cold in a bucket filled with ice cold water.

The lemonade was quickly finished and when Ron grabbed the last bottle, Fred took the bucket and emptied it over your head.

Though the cold water was a refreshing and actually quite nice, you quickly turned around and started to cast spells on Fred, wetting him with water jets.

Your attention was on Fred but from the corner of your eyes you could see George looking at you. Or better said, at your shirt. The water had not only made your head and hair wet, it had left you completely soaked. Your shirt was sticking at your body and you were aware of it showing your bra in a not-so-concealing way.

Fred had fled to the house and Ron and Ginny had followed him afraid of also getting wet if they stayed any longer. You were left alone with George and he was not even trying to hide his looks by now.

After quickly looking around and seeing no one he took two steps to stand in front of you, lifted you and pushed you with your back against the tree. His mouth caught yours and his hands squeezed your thighs. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer.

God, you loved everything about this boy. His kiss tasted like lemon and toffees and after a while his mouth opened and his tongue slid into your mouth.

Now, you were only vaguely aware of your surroundings. Anyone could have stood next to you and you wouldn't have noticed. All you could focus on were George's hands and his lips.

After what felt like a way too short time, you had to break apart to both catch your breath. You lowered your legs but stayed locked between your boyfriend and the tree. The bulge in George's pants could be felt through your own shorts and you captured his lips in a sweet kiss.

This moment could have lasted forever if it was up to you, but unfortunately Mrs Weasley's voice broke the comfortable silence. You were hidden behind the tree and she could not see you but at the sound of her voice George took a step back. His face expression changed so fast you were afraid someone had actually caught you but when you looked around the tree you only saw Mrs Weasley in the door frame far away.

You turned back to George but he was already walking towards the house. You ran after him, shirt still sticking to your body and your shorts wet and uncomfortable to walk in.

‘What happened to you?’ Mrs Weasley asked when you stepped foot into the kitchen through the backdoor.

‘Fred and I had a water fight,’ you said and smiled to show her there was nothing to worry about. ‘It'll dry.'

Mrs Weasley pointed her wand at you and you felt your clothes dry. You thanked her and sat down at the dining table. On it there were sandwiches, the reason Molly had called you inside.

You looked around to find George but he had disappeared. Maybe to freshen up?

You spent the rest of the afternoon in the backyard, with your attention in a book. Ron and Fred were playing with a ball, throwing it back an forth. Mrs Weasley was working in the part of the garden that wasn't terrorised by the gnomes.

After a few hours in the sun, you felt like your skin was burning off your body and you decided to go inside. You hadn't seen George since before lunch and you were wondering what he was up to.

‘George? Are you in here?’ you asked and knocked on the door of the twins' bedroom.

‘Yeah.’

The door opened and George came to your sight. He let you in and you sat on his bed.

The floor of the room was scattered with laundry and papers. Just like his dorm at Hogwarts. But here the walls were bright green instead of the dark red of the Gryffindor Tower.

‘Are you alright?’ you asked trying not to sound too worried.

‘Yeah, I'm fine,’ George answered and he sat down next to you. His hand quickly found your hip and he pulled you closer. You rested your head on his shoulder.

‘Okay, you just disappeared and I was wondering if I did something wrong,’ you admitted.

George chuckled. ‘Believe me, you did nothing wrong. I just needed a break from my family, that's all.’

You nodded understanding; you loved the Weasleys but they were a lot to take. Always around and in for a talk. It was nice, but if you wanted some time alone it was not.

‘You want me to leave?’ you asked and already got up but George put his arms around you and pulled you closer to him.

‘You're not going anywhere,’ he whispered in your ear.

- -- -

‘Do you really have to go?’

George wrapped the sheets over you and placed a kiss on your forehead, in a way only he could. In the dark you could see the regret in his eyes. He didn't want to leave you, but he was, just as you, scared that someone would find him in your room in the morning.

‘It's only-' you looked at the clock on your nightstand ‘-five,’ you grumbled.

‘(Y/N), if I don't leave now, I'll never. I don't want them to find out like that,’ George said, referring to his family.

He got up and walked to your door. You sighed but didn't ask further; you knew this was no discussion. George made his point and the conversation was over.

‘I love you,’ you whispered in the dark.

‘Love you too,’ was the answer before the door closed.

With closed eyes you listened to the footsteps that walked back upstairs. You heard a squeak when George stepped into his bed and then everything got silent again.

But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't fall asleep anymore. You tried everything: meditation, counting sheep, just closing your eyes and thinking about happy things. Nothing worked.

The sun came up and lit up your floor. The curtains were open; you hadn't closed them last night. Usually you slept with the curtains open. At night you loved to gaze at the stars from your bed and you liked waking up with the sun shining on your face. However, not when it was this early.

‘I thought this was vacation,’ you grumbled to yourself when the rooster crowed.

When after ten minutes you really couldn't lie in bed anymore you got up. While you got dressed your eyes fell on an empty piece of parchment on the desk. Your parents must have arrived at their destination by now, maybe you should write them. Merlin knows how long it would take before your letter got to them.

Hesitantly you started to write. What should you tell? You knew your mother probably would want every juicy detail, but your father would read the letter too and you didn't want to give him a heart attack.

After you finishing your letter, the house was not so silent anymore. Mr Weasleys wouldn't go to work today. Instead he would pick up Harry at his aunt and uncle's. Hermione would arrive somewhere in the morning.

‘(Y/N), good morning!’

As you walked into the kitchen, you were greeted by Mr Weasley and George. They were both sitting at the dining table. Arthur was reading the newspaper and George was staring outside.

‘You're up early!’ Mr Weasley exclaimed when you sat down opposite of George.

‘Yeah, I couldn't sleep anymore.’

‘Is it that rooster? I have tried everything to make him stop, but he just won't,’ Mr Weasley said and looked over his shoulder outside.

‘No, it wasn't the rooster,’ you mumbled and over the table you felt two eyes on you.

Mr Weasley turned back to his newspaper and you dared to look at George. He shot you a worried look and mouthed: ‘me?’ You shook your head and averted your eyes from him.

Yes, actually it was because of him, but he didn't need to know that.

‘There is a post office in the village, right?’ you asked.

‘Yes, but you can use our owl,’ Mr Weasley said.

‘No, my father doesn't appreciate owls. Or birds in general,’ you added and thought back of that one time your friend had sent a letter with a dove that wouldn't leave your father alone. ‘I think I'll post it the muggle-way.’

‘I'm sure George will take you,’ Mr Weasley said, already turning back to his newspaper. ‘Right, George?’

‘Yes, of course,’ George quickly said when he saw his father's look.

- -- -

‘I'm sorry about this morning,’ George said and bumped your shoulder.

‘It's fine,’ you mumbled; you didn't feel like talking about it now.

George put his arm around your shoulder after looking around suspiciously.

You held the letter tight in your hand and thought about what you wrote. Even though you had written only about innocent things to save your father from any harm, you had thanked your mother for helping you pack. She would get the meaning behind it, while your father just would think it was a sweet compliment.

The village was still asleep and only a few people were awake. The baker, the postman and a few people on their way to work. On your way to the post office you stopped for coffee and muffins at the bakery.

‘Sweets for my sweet,’ George said when the baker gave him the muffins and you cringed at the cheesy words.

Around people he didn't personally know, George had no problem showing his affection. But once he was around familiar faces that attitude changed and the most affectionate thing he would do was his hand on your back, after making sure no one could see it. At first you hadn't mind it, you had thought it was cute and exciting to have a secret relationship. But as the months passed by, and George still didn't show his affection in public, you feared that maybe you were something he was ashamed of. You had never talked about it with him and just brushed it off every time the thought entered your mind. But now, with his family, it suddenly came closer than ever before and you couldn't ignore the feeling anymore.

A bell tinkled when you opened the door of the post office. It was an old building on the outside and the inside matched the exterior. With wood on the floor and the ceiling the room was dark and felt cramped. Behind the counter stood an old woman.

‘George! How are you?’ the woman crowed.

‘Good, Mrs Mavisson,’ George answered. ‘How are you?’

‘Well, my knees hurt more every day and Craig-' she gestured with her head to the door opening behind her ‘-claims we should modernise our system.’ You bowed forward a little bit and saw a mature man in the shadows. ‘Who is this beautiful lady you brought with you?’

A blush crept on your face and you stared at your hands that were wrapped around your letter.

‘This is (Y/N),’ George said and placed his hand on your shoulder. ‘She's my girlfriend.’

Your cheeks turned even more red and you looked up at George. His cheeks were pink but he looked confident.

‘Well, isn't that wonderful!’ the old woman exclaimed and she took your hand. ‘Look at you, you're gorgeous! Craig! CRAIG!’

The man from the shadow stepped in the light. He was younger than the woman. Young enough to be her son.

‘Craig, this is (Y/N). George's girlfriend!’

Craig was way less impressed than his mother. He glanced at you, conjured a forced smile on his face at George and stepped back in to the darkness.

‘Oh, don't mind him, sweetie,’ Mrs Mavisson said and she waved her hand. ‘What can I do for you?’

You gave her the letter for your parents and explained where they were. It was quickly taken care of and after a jovial goodbye, you stepped outside the office into the sun.

‘Mrs Mavisson has worked her entire life in that store. The only way she'll leave is in her coffin,’ George chuckled and he took your hand.

Maybe you were wrong, but it felt like a weight had been lifted of George's shoulders. On the way back to the Burrow he talked happily and smiled, a lot more than this morning.

However, when the Burrow came in sight he let go of your hand and his smile faded. You immediately missed the convivial boy but you understood it too. Though George would never admit it to someone, home was not his favourite place. It was the place where his mother would scold at him for not doing his best at school or for not cleaning his room. The place where he was one of the Weasleys, the other twin. He was not George, he was a son.

‘If you liked this morning, we can do it more often,’ you suggested.

‘That would be nice.’

‘It would.’

A small smile returned on George's face and this time it stayed there, even when he stepped inside the kitchen and was surrounded by the whole family.

- -- -

The fire was burning and the heat spread through the whole living room. How wonderful the weather had been the past few days, so bad was it now. Though you didn't mind, there was something cosy about the rain and thunder outside while you sat in a sweater and woollen socks in front of the fire.

Ron and Harry were playing chess, with the help from Fred and George, on the floor at your feet. Mrs Weasley was darning socks in a rocking chair in the back of the room and Mr Weasley had disappeared in his garage. Hermione, Ginny and you were sitting on the couches talking.

‘Did you know Pansy is dating that Ravenclaw with the big eyebrows?’ Ginny asked.

‘But I thought she and Malfoy were a thing!’ you said.

‘No, I thought so too, but Luna said that the boy had confirmed it the last day of school.’

‘How awful must it be to date Pansy,’ Hermione sighed and you agreed with her.

‘Speaking of dating,’ Ginny started and you felt like she had been wanting to tell this for a long time. ‘I heard our sweet George is dating someone.’

A high pitched sound escaped your mouth but you hid in behind a cough. George looked up when he heard his name, not knowing what Ginny had said. Fred however had been following your conversation and was staring at you with an expression you didn't trust.

‘What's with me?’ George asked and you tried to sign to him not to. But he didn't see you and now turned to Ginny.

‘I heard you're dating someone,’ Ginny repeated.

George's eyes widened and he turned red. ‘I'm not dating anyone,’ he muttered and stared at the ground.

‘Come on! We're family! Tell us!’

‘There is nothing to tell.’

George got up and rapidly left the room. You felt bad for him, but figured it would only add to the rumours if you went after him now.

Fred got up too and walked after his brother. When he passed you he whispered, but so soft no one else heard him: ‘Don't tell.’

Nothing in Fred's behaviour showed he had said that and you almost thought you had imagined it, but before he disappeared you made eye contact with Fred and nodded.

Maybe Fred wasn't such a joker when it came to you and George after all.

‘I don't care what he says,’ Ginny said after Fred had gone upstairs too. ‘Amy saw him with someone on the last day of school. She didn't see who, though.’

‘Maybe it was just Fred with a wig,’ you joked and hoped Ginny would drop the subject.

‘Well, he must write her,’ Ron said from his position on the floor. He had beaten Harry at chess and was now involved in the conversation. ‘What if we got one of his letters?’

‘Or one of hers?’

You smiled at their plan that was doomed to fail.

The clock stroke eleven and Mrs Weasley, who had fallen asleep, scared up. She sent everyone to bed, but not before scolding at them for letting her fall asleep.

- -- -

You wanted to lie down in your bed, but there was already someone in it.

‘George!’ you whisper-yelled and George put his hand on your mouth.

‘I thought this was easier than waiting for everyone to be asleep,’ he explained.

You lied down next to him and breathed in his scent. The rain was slamming down on the window and muted the other sounds of the house. Everyone once in a while the room lit up and five seconds later the house shook from the thunder.

In silence you lied thinking about the conversation earlier in the living room. You were tired but you wanted to talk to your boyfriend. At night was usually when you and him caught up on each other's day. You had missed talking to him. Of course you had missed the romance, but in the two weeks at home you had realised how big of a deal George was in your life. At Hogwarts he was always around and you could talk to him any moment of the day. It was at home that you realised how much those little moments meant to you.

‘We don't have to talk,’ George said like he could read your mind.

You smiled sheepishly and buried your face in his neck. There was something about doing that that was comforting. You felt like the whole world disappeared for a moment when you hid in George's neck.

His hand was caressing your hair while you dozed off. The thunderstorm was still going on but you didn't even hear it anymore.

- -- -

A loud banging on your door woke you up. You slowly opened your eyes. That hollow feeling of loneliness filled your heart when you reached for the empty space next to you.

The banging continued and you felt the sound in your chest.

‘Who's there?’ you asked and the door opened.

Ginny was standing in your room her face glowing with excitement. She ran to you and dropped herself on your bed. Hermione appeared as well and she closed the door.

‘Gin, it's seven in the morning!’ you groaned and rubbed your eyes.

‘No time to be tired!’ Ginny exclaimed and she sat up straight. Only now you noticed the letter in her hand. She was waving her arms but you could read to who is was written.

‘Oh no, Ginny!’

‘It must be her! Who else would write him?’

‘His friends?!’ you asked and lifted yourself up.

‘I already woke up Harry and Ron,’ Ginny spoke, ignoring your comment. ‘They should be here any minute.’

And not long after she said that the two boys entered your room. The room was not big and with five people there was not a lot of space left. Ron sat down at the foot end of the bed and Hermione on the edge of it. Harry kept standing.

‘Ginny, what is so important you have to wake us this early?’ Ron grumbled at his sister.

She held up the letter and waved it in front of Ron's face.

‘She wrote him! I waited for the mail this morning and this letter was addressed to George!’

Ron's expression showed exactly how you felt.

‘Ginny, it could be one of his friends. And it is definitely not worth getting up for this damn early!’ he said.

But Ginny didn't listen to him. She ripped open the letter with excitement on her face. That didn't last long though. As she read more of the letter her face turned less happy and more into a frown. After she finished it she dropped her hands and stared at it.

‘And?’ Harry asked, but Ginny didn't answered. Ron took the letter from her hand and searched for the sender.

‘Lee,’ Ron said plain. ‘It's a letter from Lee. Not his girlfriend.’

‘It could have been his girlfriend,’ Ginny said with a low voice.

‘But it's not. Nice job, Gin,’ Ron said and got up. He left the room with Harry. Hermione placed her hand on Ginny's shoulder.

‘Don't listen to him. You are right; it could have been his girlfriend. Right, (Y/N)?’

‘Yes,’ you lied and put the letter back in the envelope. With your wand you closed it and gave it back to Ginny. ‘You might want to put his back before he notices.’

Ginny nodded and left your room swiftly. Hermione stared at you and you felt like you knew what was coming.

‘It's you, isn't it?’ she asked and squeezed her eyes.

‘Yeah,’ you smiled. ‘But please don't tell anyone. George- I mean, we haven't really told anyone, so...’

Hermione just smiled back at you and left you alone. Your groaned and fell back down on your bed. Great way to start a day.

- -- -

Your mood didn't get any better as the day went on. Ron apparently decided not to communicate with Ginny in any way but shooting her angry glares and George was silent the whole day, sitting in the corner of the room with a book in his hand. However, not once did you see him turn his page. And on top of it all, it was still raining.

You wanted to talk to him, tell him that there was nothing to worry about. Ginny would get bored by it within a few days and everything would turn back to normal.

However you couldn't talk to your boyfriend until the end of the afternoon. Mrs Weasley had asked her son to go to the store because she had forgotten something and you had offered to join, under the excuse of wanting some fresh air.

So now you were walking with George under an umbrella, arms hooked as soon as the Burrow was out of sight.

‘I love the smell of rain,’ you said. ‘And how everything looks right after it has rained.’

‘Hmm,’ George hummed and you looked at him.

‘Are you alright? Please, don't feel bad or forced to do anything because of Ginny's comment. Don't worry, she'll get sick of it in a few days.’

‘I know. I just don't think I am ready to tell them,’ George confessed.

‘Can I ask why?’ you asked insecure.

‘You saw how Ginny reacted! I can't tell them anything without it being blowed up. And then it is you!’

You held still and looked at George sharply.

‘What do you mean?’ Your voice was demanding and not as soft anymore.

‘They would freak out! (Y/N), I have been hiding our relationship for seven months! If I told them now they would- they would- I don't know! They would laugh at me, at us.’

George's words hurt you. You were standing in front of him with tears welling up in the corners of your eyes. It didn't matter, it shouldn't matter what his family thought. But now it just sounded like you were not enough for his family.

‘So you are just never going to tell them?’ you snorted. ‘I don't care what they think George, you know that. I love you and that is all that matters.’

‘I love you too but-'

‘No, apparently not as much I do. Guess I am an idiot for not noticing after all this time.’

You stepped away from George into the rain. For seconds you stared at each other. The cold rain drops wet your shirt but you didn't care. You were focused on George's eyes and tried to read the expression in them. But you saw nothing. His eyes were empty.

The hot tears mixed with the cold rain on your face. The dark sky was lit up by a strike of lightening and thunder immediately followed. You turned around and started to walk away, back to the Burrow, half hoping George would run after you, the other half of you wanting to be left alone.

And he let you go.

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley imagine #george weasley x y/n #harry potter x reader #harry potter #george x reader #weasley twins

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canyonmoonlily · 5 years

Text

| What Goes Up |

live! on tour series

A/N: Here comes the Smut ;)

.....

“Y/N!”

“What?” your entire body lurched upright at the sound of your name. You could hardly see thanks to the blinding sunlight streaming in through the unfamiliar window. You hardly remembered what the hotel you were staying in looked like you’d been so inebriated the night before.

“Alarm!” The same voice that had woken you from your slumber called from beyond the closed door. Oh. It was only then you noticed Immigrant Song by Led Zeppelin was playing very loudly. At first, it had worked great as an alarm but you’d grown used to it and could sleep through it like a pro now.

The voice that had called for you to turn it off must’ve been one of your bandmates. According to your phone, it was already 10:30 am so you might as well start your day. You stretched and moved to get out of bed after turning it off only to find you are, in fact, stark naked.

Oh fuck. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.

You hurriedly grab your robe you’d hung on the bathroom door and wrap it around you. You were scared to look in the mirror and see hickies or some indication of promiscuity from the night before. You had nothing against sleeping around, but considering you’d still only ever slept with someone once, you weren’t usually bold enough to sleep with a stranger. Which only means that if you did, in fact, have sex last night it was with someone you knew.

Like Harry.

The last thing you can remember is Harry singing along with George Harrison’s voice as you cried into his chest. Like the emotionally unstable psycho you are! your brain added.

You ripped the metaphorical bandage off and took a glance at yourself in the bathroom mirror only to find no evidence that anyone had touched you the night before. You also didn’t feel sore other than a slight headache. Considering you hardly ate, it took nothing for you to get drunk so hangovers were never really an issue for you.

You feel like you’d know if something had happened the night before. It had been a hot minute since the one and only time you’d had sex before. The only obvious differences in your appearance seems to be the absent of the makeup you’d worn the night before and your clothing. Had Harry taken off your makeup for you? Your chest contracted at the thought of him taking the time to play caretaker to drunk you.

Then you remember the way he’d kissed Kendall the night before, and remind yourself that despite the Game Night events, you were only friends. And that was all you’d ever probably get out with him. You needed to place your mental emphasis on the fact that you had him in your life at all and be grateful for that. There was no point in stringing yourself along on the hopes that one day he’d fall in love with you and the two of you would live some kind of happily ever after. Your life was far from a movie and you were far too old to be entertaining such fantasties anymore.

....

Harry watched you slip out of the green room with a heavy heart. You were like no one he’d ever met before. Last night, with all of your drunken ramblings and your little hands grabbing at his hair, calling him pretty. You had laid with your head in his lap for hours, going on about everything from George Harrison to the inherent good or evil of human nature.

He’d gazed at you adoringly, laughing the night away while the party died downstairs. He’d left Kendall alone but he wasn’t worried about her, she knew he didn’t love her. It was purely a publicity stunt, as always.

Harry shouldn’t love y/n. He knows this. Columbia records was considering signing a deal with your band, a major one that would launch your group even further into music stardom. You’d only released one album, and already had a huge fan base. Harry’s opinion the matter was of great value to the record label, and he’d been given specific instructions not to go and “make any unprofessional or romantic connections with the three of those girls.”

Harry had agreed to those terms, but that was before he knew you.

The first time you stepped into the pre-tour production meeting room he thought he was going to vomit. You’d all stumbled in late, being scolded by your manager, John. You hadn’t noticed Harry was even in the room.

You were slightly shorter than average, with all of the right curves and long, golden hair down to your waist. You donned an old Ben Folds Five tshirt and high waisted denim. You couldn’t seem to keep your hair out of your face. Your bandmates looked pained every five seconds as you whispered what was clearly absolute nonsense into their ears throughout the meeting. The way your eyes sparkled with mischeif, your unabashed goofiness nearly smacked him out of his chair. You were nothing like what he expected when he’d been told he’d be touring with an all girl band. You were the most alive thing in the room.

He knew why you were upset. It was because Kendall was wrapped around him like a fucking sloth after tonight’s show in Cleveland.

His feet didn’t consult with his mind before he found himself following your fleeting figure.

“Y/n!” He called.

You stopped dead in your tracks, refusing to look back at him.

“What is it, Harry?” Your sweet voice was a bit hoarse.

“Where are you going?” Harry’s voice was small, reminding you of your younger brothers back at home. You felt the cold armor you’d wrapped around your heart bend a little.

“To bed.” You responded simply.

“Listen, Kendall and I...it’s not—“

“Harry I didn’t ask. You don’t know me an explanation.”

“I do, though. What happened after game night—“

“—doesn’t need to be talked about it again. I’ve already erased it from my mind. Your secret is safe.”

“Secret? Y/n what the hell are you going on about?” Harry’s voice broke a bit, at that you finally turned to face him.

“I know you probably don’t want her to find out about that—or anyone to for that matter. It wasn’t very professional of us.” The shining of tears on your face took Harry by surprise, as you’d melt your words void of all emotion.

“Y/n I don’t give a shit about her!” Harry nearly yelled. “Well, no, I do care about her but not in that way.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Then why are you two making out every time I see you together? Harry, you’re not making me feel any better.”

“It’s a stunt. It’s for publicity. To keep the paps entertained.”

“Oh.”

“I....y/n, these last few months we’ve spent...” Harry can feel himself getting choked up as he struggles to meet your eyes. When he does, you can see he’s fighting back tears and you don’t know what you expect him to say next. “I think—no. I know that I am in love with you.”

Your breath gets caught in your throat. The skin tight, bell bottom jumpsuit you’re wearing seems to be 100000x tighter than you remember it being a few hours ago.

“You don’t have to say it back, you don’t owe me anything, I—shit. Shit I’m sorry.” His chin is wobbling now and the world’s biggest rock star is falling apart right before your eyes. But in a second, your lips are on his before the first tear can fall.

His whole body caves into yours, pulling you closer then you think you’ve ever been held in all of your 22 years on this planet. Your hands find his hair as his lips move in sync with your own. They’re soft and sweet and suddenly the only language you know how to speak. He is clinging to you like a man starved, though you know he is anything but.

“I love you. I thought it was obvious already but, I’ll say it a million times if you need to hear it: I love you. I love you. I love you.” You day in between kisses. Harry pulls away slightly to meet your eyes and can feel himself going cold. “What?” Your brow furrows at his expression.

“I just never want to forget the way you’re looking at me now.”

Then your back is against some nearby wall and his lips are on yours again faster than you can register anything that’s happening. The kiss swells into something more urgent, more passionate than before as your tongues begin their dance. His hands are everywhere, and you forget where yours end and his hair begins.

His lips begin trailing to the underside of your jaw and a moan slips out before you can stop it. He groans a response, and you swear you can feel something hard pressing against your lower stomach. Harry’s entire body has caved into yours, you standing on your tippy toes to press yourself more firmly against his willow-y frame.

“Shit-shit. Harry, someone could see—“ it suddenly dawned on you that you’re just passionately making out with in the middle of the hallway.

“Oh—oh.” Harry’s brows furrow and you see a glint of hurt in his pretty green eyes. You gently cup his face.

“No, I don’t mean it like that!” You whisper yell the reassurance. “You know I’d love to be seen with you. I just, H....I’m insecure about this kind of stuff.”

Amusement paints a pretty smirk on Harry’s face.

“You mean....sex?” He teases and you swear you could wrap your hands around his throat and throttle him if you had another 5 inches of height and actually stood a chance.

“Yes, sex, now come on.” You mock his accent and tug him away from the wall, the two of you giggling like horny teenagers.

...

Within a minute Harry has you pressed up against the door of his private bus. He’s fumbling with the strange lock and kissing you like he’s dying at the same time. You’re floating.

Once the latch clicks into place, your feet leave the ground again and your laid against something soft. The warm lighting is hitting Harry in a sinful way—he looks like the color gold personified and he’s smiling at you like you’re the Sun. He towers over you and you’ve never felt smaller. You start to wrap your arms around yourself but he stops you.

“Just let me look at you for a sec, y/n/n.”

With one last heated look he dives back into you and you’re a mess of tangled limbs again. You can feel his hands ghost over your clothed breasts and his lips ghosting over your neck again.

“God, I can’t get enough of your neck. Ya’ve got tha prettiest neck ‘ve ever seen,” he groans with a grind of his clothed, hard cock into your own clothed heat. You’re making noises you’ve only ever made before that time after Game night. And you know you’re ready to give it all to Harry. Anything he wants from you you’re willing to give.

His hands roughly grope at your breasts and you nearly scream. He’s pulling his shirt off and unzipping the top of your jumpsuit before you can do it again. Harry sucks in a breath of air at the sight of your naked chest.

“God—those tits. Just like I imagined ‘em,” he says before taking a nipple in his mouth, suckling on you like some animal. You whimper under his attention and he stops briefly.

“Angel, is this alright?” Harry looks into your eyes and holds your gaze.

“Yes, yes. T-take what you want from me.” You nod vigorously and submit yourself to him. His response is a growl you feel travel straight down to your core.

He goes back to your breasts, leaving lovebites and growling out the occasional “mine.” His lips trail down to your hips, right above your pelvis as he shimmies the rest of your jumpsuit off your legs.

Then the warmth of his breath is on your pussy and a single kiss is pressed to the front of your lace panties.

“H, you don’t have to—“

“I want to. Please.”

You nod and gulp. At this point, Harry’s seen more of your body than anyone else has and seems to be enjoying it. The only other time you’d had sex all the lights had been off and there was next to know ForPlay.

“I’ve just never had someone—do that.” You offer you an explanation. Harry freezes.

“No one’s ever eaten you out?” He asks incredulously, his head poking up from between your thighs. “What the fuck, why?”

Your cheeks heat up and you suddenly can’t make eye contact with him. “Well my ex, he and I only ever did it one time and he just...didn’t.” Harry nearly chokes on his own breath.

“You’ve one ever had sex once?” his hands are gripping your thighs now and he’s subconsciously moving closer to your face.

“Y-yeah. God this is embarrassing.” Your hands cover your now red face and tears gather in your eyes, lower lip trembling. This is not a conversation you wanted to be having but you also didn’t want to lie to Harry.

He pulls his hands away from your face and nearly crumbles at the sight of your glassy eyes. “No, no. Why is that embarrassing? You have nothing to be embarrassed about.” He coos softly, brushing away any tears that had fallen. You felt so small and seen in his embrace.

“Because I thought that maybe I was the problem? That something about me was ...off so he left me after we...you know.”

Harry audibly scoffed and cradled your face in his hands. “I’ve wanted this, I’ve wanted you for so long,” His voice is gruff and honest. “There is no one I’d rather be with right now. And that idiot ex of yours is a fucking madman because you’re never getting rid of me after tonight.”

You kiss him and feel something in your chest ache in an almost foreign way. You didn’t know you could feel like this. He kisses you back harder and the heat between you builds again. His hand cups your lace covered pussy and rubs gently over your clit and you jolt. His lips trail back down to your heat and before you can register what is happening his nose is pressed against your mound and inhaling you like some meal. A growl resonated in his chest and he begins tugging your underwear down your legs.

His tongue delves into your folds gently, teasingly. He finds his way to your clit and then sucks the breath from your lungs. You go pigeon toed and nearly scream at his assault on your most private area. You’re making noises that feel foreign as they leave your mouth but Harry laps them up along with your heat. He’s growling and letting out little sweet comments about how good you taste and you don’t know how you’re going to ever look at him without blushing again.

“H, H I’m close,” you whine out, little body shaking under the weight of his arms holding your torso down. Your hips are bucking up wildly but Harry is comepletely unbothered, giving no indication that he’d heard you at all. It isn’t until he sucks un your clit with a new vigor that he makes his intentions clear.

You’re screaming, toes curling, his name falling from your lips so loudly you’re sure everyone in the stadium can hear you. You’re fucked and you don’t even care, Harry’s cooing in your ear as tears fall from your eyes, descending from your high. He pulls your body into his and whispers sweet nothings in your ear until you come back to reality.

“Are ye alright, angel? We could just go to sleep?” Harry asks gently, warm breath in your ear.

“No, no. I want you. I’m just a little overwhelmed because no ones ever...he didn’t... make me you know.” Your face is heating up again.

“Why are you still talking about sex to me like we’re in middle school, y/n?” He laughs loudly. “I just spent the last 10 minutes face first in your pussy. You can say the word orgasm around me.”

You can’t help but laugh but also swing an arm around to sock him in the chest but he catches your hand and steals your breath with a kiss. His hands slide up the smooth expanse of your back and he straddles you, caging you to the end with his body.

You buck your hips into his, a hand snaking down to palm his rock hard member through his briefs. It feels, much larger than you anticipated. He growls and ruts against your hand like an animal.

“Please, Harry...” your eyes are hazy with desire as they meet his nearly blackened ones. He whips his briefs off and settles himself at your entrance.

“Are you sure? You’ll be stuck with me after this.” He half joked, looking into your eyes with a choking intensity.

“I’ve never been more sure. Please.”

He lets out a loud cry at the feeling of your heat around him and you’re whimpering uncontrollably at the intrusion. But you love it, God it hurts but you love it. Harry had not prepared himself for how tight you would be. It was like bedding a Virgin. Your ex must not have been well endowed, Harry thought.

Harry can’t believe how good you feel, and he’s never been particularly loud, but he’s crying out with every movement. You’re trembling beneath him, whimpering and yelping. Both of you just consumed with the other. You take his hand and place it around your throat, and his eyebrows shoot up in an expression of utter shock. He grips your throat in his hand and builds speed quickly. Milking his cock in your tight heat.

“You feel so fucking good. You’re mine now, mine.” He growls through clenched teeth as his hips snap into yours. You’re practically in tears.

“Yours. Yours yours yours.” His cock has reduced you to a weeping echo chamber.

When the two of you climax it is like the clash of a symphony and he collapses into your body, holding you closer to him than anyone’s held you before.

As you drift off in his arms, one nagging thought plagues you,

What the fuck were you going to tell your bandmates?

#smut #harry x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #rockstar!y/n #on tour #harry styles #harry styles fluff #harry styles multichapter

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what-is-your-plan-today · 4 years

Text

Riding High Ch 18: Sugar

Chapter Summary: It’s July, and Fliss’ birthday…

Chapter Warnings: Bad Language words.!!!

Chapter Pairings: Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

A/N: Ok, so I know you’ve all been on edge since He-who-shall-not-be-named was released on parole and I hope this chapter doesn’t disappoint. We’ll be gearing up for a bit of a rough time over the next few chapters for Friss so buckle up…

Also, I noticed yesterday that Tumblr seems to be swallowing huge chunks of my work on SSB…so I’m going to try and publish this in one, but if it doesn’t work I’ll split it over 2 parts.

Chapter Song: Shogun by George Ezra

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

“And we got two in the front, two in the back, sailing along and we don’t look back”

July 2018

“So now what?” Mary looked at Fliss as the two of them sat side by side at the table, both looking at the laptop in front of them.

“Ok, so see these spaces here…” Fliss said, pointing to 2 empty squares dotted in the unpublished Internet Page and then to the larger space at the top “Now we need to add the photos…”

They were working on a project of sorts for Sandybrook’s website. They’d decided to give Monty his own little weekly blog for the summer called “The Life of Monty” which Mary had eagerly said she wanted to write, something for her to do over the break. “Ooh, ok!” Mary nodded “I already know which ones I want to use!” “Yeah?” Fliss looked at her.

“Yeah…ok so I want that one that has me, you and Monty in…you know the one that Frank likes where we are both laughing.” Fliss smiled “Ok, we can use that one.” “And then the other one is the one where Monty had the Party Hat on because it was his birthday.” “Good choice.” Fliss smiled “And what about the one across the top.” “The one of him in the pasture.” Mary said after a moment “Where he is looking up and pulling the funny face, you know with all his teeth out?”

Fliss grinned “Yeah, it looks like he is smiling.” Mary nodded eagerly “Yup.” “Ok…” Fliss said, and with a move of the mouse she set to work selecting the photos, ensuring that they were positioned and sized right for the frames. She couldn’t help but smile at the one of her and Mary. Mary was looking at the camera, laughing a lot whilst Fliss was, in turn, watching her and laughing too. Frank had been trying to take the photo of the 2 of them but Bill had been stood behind him, pulling stupid faces which had reduced Mary to tears, and her giggles had then set Fliss off. Frank said he adored the photo, that much in-fact it was now the screen-saver on his phone.

Fliss clicked save and then looked at Mary. “Wanna give it a final read over, check if you want to add anything else?”

Mary nodded.

“Ok, you do that I’m gonna start dinner.” “What are we having?” Mary looked at her.

“Carbonara. That ok?”

Mary grinned her approval as Fliss stood up, dropped a kiss to Mary’s head and walked into the kitchen.

It wasn’t long before Frank came home and greeted Mary before he headed into the kitchen area. He wrapped his arms round Fliss from behind, dropping a kiss to her neck.

“Good day?” he asked and she hmmed in agreement.

“Not bad…are you filthy, as usual?”

He chuckled as he let her go and moved to the fridge. She stopped what she was doing and turned to face him as he reached in for the water jug. He was, as always, covered in grime from his work and Fliss bit her lip. There was definitely something about seeing him in his dirty work jeans and grubby T-shirts that got her blood pumping.

“Stop it.” he said, giving her a look, knowing full well what she was thinking. She shrugged and with a grin turned back to the food.

“Oh, erm, wanted to check…are you if we use photos of Mary for her blog on the website?” Fliss asked, turning back to him.

“Of course I am.” he said, frowning “Why wouldn’t I be?” “It’s a public sight.” Fliss shrugged “Just wanted to check that’s all.” “It’s fine.” Frank said, placing a kiss to her cheek “I think it’s a really good idea anyway, give her something to do and practice her writing. Like Bonnie said, she’s sharp on the numbers but could do with honing up her English a little bit. She’s too logical, this should give her something to be creative with and keep her occupied over the break.”

And you…he refrained from adding. In the week following the notification that parole had been granted, John had been released. And this had set Fliss on edge. One night after she had snapped at Frank, causing a full scale argument over the fact he had bought the wrong type of salad dressing, she’d broken down and confessed that she wasn’t sleeping properly and this was causing stupid things, like Ranch v French dressing, to tip her over the edge.

The day after her spectacular salad dressing related melt down, Greg, who had already requested details of the terms of his release, came over and the 3 of them gone through, in detail what it meant realistically for Fliss.

“Basically it’s as good as you could hope for.” Greg explained “He is forbidden from contacting you or any of your family in any way, via any means. He is State-bound to Massachusetts, specifically the Boston area. He’s tagged, and on a curfew between the hours of 7pm and 7am. And moreover the authorities here are following the UK’s lead as well and trialling these new GPS tracking tags, which they’ve deemed him eligible for. So at any time, any place, they’ll be able to lock onto his whereabouts…”

“So if he does breach his conditions…” Fliss started and Greg nodded “They’ll be on him like a shot.” he said, with a gentle smile “Look, I know this is shit…but you really do have nothing to worry about. One breach and he’s back inside. And when he reaches the end of his parole, we’ll file for an injunction with the same conditions. Keep him away from you.”

Since the conversation with Greg, Fliss had calmed down somewhat but still, in week following her confession she didn’t spend a night away from Frank, seemingly coping better with the fact that she was around him, and even when he wasn’t there, the fact she was in his apartment gave her some safety and comfort.

So he’d asked her to move in permanently 3 days ago. Which he was still waiting for an answer on.

“What you thinking?” her voice broke through his thoughts.

“Honestly?”

“Always.” she nodded.

“When you’re gonna give me an answer to that question I asked you a few days back.” She took a deep breath and looked down at the floor before she looked up at him, a soft smile on her face.

“Are you sure you want me here, full time, and you’re not just asking because-“

“Lissy…” he cut her off, shaking his head “I’d have asked you move in here the day I did if I’d thought you’d have said yes. I’d love you to come live with us. And I know Mary would too…” “Ok, that’s blackmail.” she narrowed his eyes at the fact he’d dropped Mary into the equation and he grinned. “Is it working?”

She bit her lip and nodded “Yeah, ok, I’d love to…” “Yeah?” he said, a huge smile spreading across his face, warmth flooding his chest.

“Yeah…” she nodded, and grinned as he wrapped his arms around her, pressing a kiss to her lips.

“Gross…” Mary mumbled as she walked past the pair of them to the fridge, retrieving a juice box. . Frank broke away to look at her as she stabbed the straw into the hole at the top.

“Better get over it Stack.” he smirked. “Fliss just agreed to come live with us.” “Really?” her eyes widened and she grinned as Fliss nodded. Mary moved over to the pair of them and wrapped her arms around them both, Frank’s hand falling to the back of her head as she looked up at him. “Does that mean I don’t need to eat any more of your cooking, like ever again?”

Frank rolled his eyes and glanced at Fliss who was chuckling slightly “Trust me Mary…” she said, grinning “I’ve no intention of eating his cooking either.”

***** Of course Verity and Bill were over the moon when Fliss told them she was moving into Frank’s, and the next week or so they all spent doing various runs with the things she decided she needed to take. Everything else she would be leaving in the annex to either throw or store at a later date.

Considering the amount of time they spent together, it wasn’t a huge change for them, it just meant that the comfortable routine they adopted when they were together became a daily one, and it suited the pair of them just fine. Frank also surprised Fliss by getting her a vanity unit which she had made a passing comment about, making space for it in their room.

After 3 weeks it had become the new normal for them. They shared chores, shared Activity Club runs, grocery shopping, bills…Frank had tried to object to that one but Fliss had put her foot down insisting that if she was living there she was paying her way so he’d caved in the end and agreed. Fliss felt happy, safe, secure, loved...and Frank was over the moon simply knowing he had her to come home to every night.

One particular evening, a few days before her Birthday they were due to meet Evelyn for dinner as she was in town again to visit Mary, but Fliss was running ridiculously late, and as a consequence was in a total flap

“Fuck, fuck…” she groaned, jumping out of the jeep and calling Thor to her. “Come on buddy…”

She hurried across the lawns and threw the door to the apartment open, Thor shooting in before her.

“I’m so sorry I’m late…” she instantly began apologising as she walked into the living area and groaned loudly “The last lesson overran and then one of the waterers broke in the livery barn, flooded Horatio’s stable…” “It’s ok, calm down…” Frank chuckled, dropping a kiss to her cheek. “How did it break?”

“He’s been scratching his arse on it.” she said, rubbing at her temple “He broke it off the wall. We turned the supply off but I had to sort his bed before I left, then call his owner to tell her…” she groaned “Fucking nightmare.” “Want me to take a look at it?”

Fliss shook her head “Dad’s gonna do it tomorrow, keep him busy. He always moans at me for asking you and not…” she trailed off as she spotted Evelyn who was sat on one of the chairs in the living room. “Oh, Evelyn…hi. Sorry, I didn’t realise you were coming here…I thought…”

“We were…” Frank explained “But Mary wasn’t feeling too good so I suggested to Mother she come here instead.” “Oh, no, is she ok?” Fliss asked.

“Too much sun I think, she’s been running around at the Activities Camp all day and hardly drunk anything, despite the lecture you gave her. She’s had some water and gone for a nap. She’ll be fine when it’s time for dinner.”

“I thought seeing as we can’t go out I’d treat you to take out.” Evelyn spoke, standing up. Fliss eyed her for a moment before she shrugged.

“I can make something.” she said, and Frank shook his head.

“No, Lissy…” “I can do chicken with that pear and blue cheese salad you and Mary liked.” Fliss said, “Surely that’s gonna be better for her than a take out if she’s feeling shitty?”

Frank looked at her and then to his mother “That ok with you?” “Sure, that sounds good.” Evelyn nodded “but only if it’s no trouble.” “It’s fine.” Fliss nodded “Let me go take a shower and then I’ll get started ok?” Frank nodded and dropped a kiss to her cheek before she headed off to the bathroom. Thor made his way into the living room and took his usual place on the rug, flopping down as he looked up at Evelyn as she followed Frank over to the kitchen area. He pulled a bottle of white wine out of the fridge and held it up.

“Sancerre?” Evelyn arched an eyebrow. “And a pretty good one too…” “Fliss’ choice, not mine.” he said, “I assume that means you’d like a glass.” “I don’t want to put you out Frank.” she said, and he shook his head.

“You’re here now so…” he said “Oh, we normally eat outside but I’m not sure if Mary’s-”

“What, in open view of everyone?” Evelyn asked, horrified “It’s hardly-“ She stopped dead as Frank shot her a look, and held her hands up. “Point taken…”

Frank poured her a glass then got a beer for himself and leaned back against the counter as his Mother nodded appreciatively at the wine.

“So, pear and blue cheese…” she said and Frank looked at her “You hated cheese as a child.” “Well, I like it now.” he shrugged “And Mary loves that salad so…” “It’s not a dish I would normally associate with a child to be honest.” Evelyn mused.

“Well, I think we can both agree Mary isn’t a particularly standard child so…”

At that point Fred sauntered into the kitchen, straight to his food bowl. Evelyn eyed him, before she turned to Frank and smiled “I already took a Benadryl…” He snorted and a few seconds later Mary appeared.

“Hi Grandmother. Fliss said you were here.” “You feeling ok?” Frank asked as she walked over to him. He swung her up and she rest her head on his shoulder, nodding. “Want some more water?” “Fliss told me to ask for the elec…erm…the electo-” “Electrolytes” he said, nodding. “Not a bad shout…”

He set her on the counter and then reached into the cabinet to the right of the sink where they kept the medical supplies and pulled a sachet from the box. Grabbing a glass he pulled the Filter jug out of the fridge and made her the drink before he handed it to her. “Take it slow ok?” She nodded and took it from him with a thanks, sipping at it carefully, pulling a face. “What flavour is that?” “It says orange.” he answered, looking at the packet.

“Well it’s wrong. That’s disgusting.” “It’s good for you, so stop complaining.” he said, tossing the empty sachet into the trash.

To his surprise he heard his mother chuckling and he turned to look at her. “I remember giving you something similar when you came home with sunstroke from playing Baseball all afternoon. You spat it out and told me you’d rather die than drink it.” Frank gave a huff and then turned to Mary who was grinning ear to ear “Don’t even think about it.” he pointed at her.

She shrugged and then took another mouthful, grimacing as she drank. “Please can I get down?” Frank obliged and watched as she headed off to the sofa, Thor jumping up besides her, settling his head in her lap.

“Go and talk to her.” Frank looked at his mother “That’s why you’re here, to spend time with her. Not me.”

Evelyn nodded, and for a moment Frank thought he saw a flicker of emotion in the woman’s eyes, but as quick as it had flashed across her face it was gone and she turned and made her way into the sofa. Frank leaned on the edge of the archway which led into the living area and watched as she sat down in the chair she had occupied previously before he heard the door to the bathroom open again, signalling Fliss was out of the shower. He moved to start taking the different things they needed to make dinner out of the fridge and turned on the oven before he seasoned the chicken breasts just as she had shown him with salt, pepper, chilli and a squeeze of lime. He dropped it onto a tray, placed it in the oven and was washing his hands when Fliss walked dressed casually in a pair of shorts and a fading Guns N Roses tank top. She was barefoot and her damp hair was piled up on her head in a haphazard bun. This was Frank’s favourite way to see her. Completely relaxed and at home.

“Chicken’s in.” he said as he turned to the fridge and then poured her a glass of wine.

“Thank you.” she smiled, taking a sip.

“Can I show Evelyn around?” Mary asked, and Frank turned to her.

“Finished your drink?” “Yeah.” “Ok then yes, of course you can.” She stood up and Evelyn followed, giving the pair of them a smile as she passed by the kitchen area of the open plan living space

“Oh, Felicity.” “Fliss, please.” Fliss nodded to her as she turned back to what she was doing.

“Fliss, sorry, but could I be awkward?” Evelyn asked.

“No doubt you can.” Fliss mumbled between gritted teeth and Frank smirked to himself before she tuned to look at Evelyn.

“Could I ask for my salad dressing on the side?”

“That’s fine.” Fliss nodded “I’ll make you a separate bowl.” “Thank you, that’s very kind.” Evelyn smiled before she headed out after Mary.

“If she doesn’t eat this, then she’s gonna be wearing it.” Fliss looked at Frank who let out a laugh as he chopped up the slices of cucumber.

“Now that I would pay to see.” “I’ll do it for free.” Fliss narrowed her eyes.

Frank chuckled again as they continued to make their food. After about 10 minutes or so, just as they were dropping the salad bowls onto the table, Evelyn and Mary re-appeared.

“You’ve made a nice home, certainly considering the area anyway.” Evelyn said, as Frank invited her to sit at the table before he headed back to grab the bottle of wine, a beer for himself and more water for Mary.

Fliss rolled her eyes” The area is fine, and Frank did it all, not me. Well, him and my dad. I only moved in a few weeks ago.”

“Yes, he does speak very highly of your parents.” “Well they love him.” Fliss shrugged “But then again what’s not to love.”

Evelyn looked at Fliss for a moment as Frank made his way back to the table, and they all settled down and began to eat. As she had been at Mary’s birthday, his mother was polite, nodding appreciatively at the food, joining in the conversation and she sat with Mary once they’d finished so Mary could show he the latest installation of Monty’s blog. After another bottle of wine and a few more beers, Frank realised it was getting quite late and then told Mary she needed to be getting ready for bed. Evelyn took this as her queue to call for her driver, which Frank was pleased about as it saved him having to ask her to leave.

Mary headed for a shower and the three adults made small talk until she reappeared in her pyjamas just as Evelyn’s driver called to announce his arrival. She bid Mary goodnight and then Frank made to walk her down to her car when the woman surprised him and looked at Fliss.

“Could you…I’d like to speak to you.” Fliss looked at Frank before she shrugged “Yeah, sure…” Frank frowned, but didn’t object. He looked at his mother and nodded “Let me know when you want to see her again.”

“I was actually wondering if she could come to Boston for a few days.” Evelyn said and Frank took a deep breath. “Obviously, when it’s convenient.” “Maybe.” He nodded “Goodbye Evelyn.” “Yes, I’ll call you.” she nodded and then the two women headed out of the apartment. Fliss stuck her hands in her pockets as they walked.

“I’m glad he took my advice.” Evelyn broke the silence “Regarding you, I mean…”

“Yeah he told me what you said to him.” Fliss gave a snort “Gotta say I was surprised after I’d unleashed quite a nasty verbal tirade on you…” “Well I think all things considered at the time I deserved it.” Evelyn shrugged “And I’m not surprised you hate me so-“

“I don’t hate you Evelyn.” Fliss cut her off, shaking her head “I hate what you did to Frank and Mary, and honestly? I still don’t understand it.”

“I thought I was doing the right thing.” “But how?” Fliss pressed “How was tearing a girl away from the only father figure she has ever known, the man that has cared for her and loved her since she was 6 months old the right thing?”

Evelyn shook her head “I know Frank and I made an assumption-” “No, you knew Frank.” Fliss looked at her, “It was, what? Almost 8 years since you saw him last when you turned up…and how long was it before he left Boston since you actually had a conversation with him? I just…” Fliss trailed off and looked down at her feet before she glanced back at Frank’s mother “it baffles me how someone can be so callous towards their own child, that’s all.”

Fliss watched as Evelyn stopped and looked at her “What do you want me to say?” “An apology might not go amiss…” “I did that with his birthday card, paying the fees…” “Money doesn’t make it ok Evelyn.” Fliss sighed, “And a card isn’t the same as saying it to his face…” she scratched at her head “If you want to try and salvage something from this mess, have some form of relationship with your son…” “What makes you think-“ “Because I saw you this evening, at various points, watching him…you might be able to keep your face straight but they eyes don’t lie” Fliss said gently. Evelyn looked down at the ground as Fliss continued. “I suggest you start with a verbal apology, a very open and honest discussion, because that’s when you get the best out of Frank. On a face-to-face level, when he isn’t being lied or talked down to”

“You really do know him exceptionally well don’t you?” Evelyn smiled.

“Well, we’ve had enough of our own discussions recently with everything that’s been going on so…” “Right, your ex-husband.” “How do you-“ Fliss sighed, “Mary?” “No, actually, she never said a word. I looked you up.”

“Course you did.” Fliss groaned.

“I was curious about your family.” Evelyn shrugged “You have quite the back story.” “Yeah well, its history.” she said “And long may it stay that way.”

“Well I hope for all your sakes it does.” Evelyn shook her head “Nothing I can’t stand less than a man that deems it acceptable to do that. Lord knows I pushed Preston the extremes at times but he never once raised a hand to me…or his voice now that I think about it. He preferred to argue on a cerebral level...”

“Very like Frank.” Fliss smiled.

“Yes, the two are exceptionally similar.” Evelyn said as they reached the car. “Thank you for dinner Fliss, it was a very enjoyable evening.” Fliss smiled and then as Evelyn opened the car door the woman turned back to her “Just think about what I said Evelyn. You can’t turn the clock back but it’s how you go forward from here that matters.”

Evelyn nodded, and with that she climbed in the car and shut the door. Fliss watched them drive off before she turned and headed back towards the apartment. “You ok?” Frank asked, turning to look over the back of the sofa as she walked into the living area.

“Yeah, fine.” Fliss smiled. “Mary in bed?”

“She’s reading” Frank nodded “Told her you’d pop in and say goodnight.” Fliss yawned as she slid her arms round his shoulders from behind “I’ll go now, then I think I’ll get in bed myself. I’m whacked.” Frank smiled and turned his head to give her a kiss “I’m just gonna finish watching this and then I’ll be with you.” “What is it?” Fliss asked, turning her attention to the TV.

“A documentary on whales, funnily enough.” Frank said, “You’d enjoy it…” “You’re such an old man” she teased and he scoffed.

“Not what you were saying last night.”

Fliss laughed “Well you keep yourself in good shape, what can I say.” With that she kissed his cheek and headed down the hall.

After bidding goodnight to Mary and Thor, who seemed very happy to remain in Mary’s room with Fred, she changed for bed and slipped into the sheets, stretching out before she got herself comfortable. She was dozing, drifting in and out of a light sleep when she felt Frank climb into bed behind her, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her to his chest.

“Finish whale watching?” she asked as he dropped a kiss to her shoulder.

“Yeah.” he said gently. “So you gonna tell me what my mother wanted?” “Nothing much…” Fliss said, and she turned in his arms so she was facing him. “She was actually quite contrite.”

“Course she was…” “No, I mean it, I think she’s genuinely sorry.” Fliss said, her hand gently tracing shapes on his bicep “Maybe you should give her a chance to apologise properly.”

“That must have been one hell of a talk.” Frank snorted “You were all for dumping salad on her head before!”

“We had a very honest discussion, I got a few things off my chest.” Fliss shrugged “And, well, like it or not she’s still your mum Frank.” “No, she’s my mother.” he corrected her “Your mom is a mom.”

“Was your dad a dad or a father?” “He was a dad.” Frank said, “Most definitely.”

“Do you remember much about him?” she asked.

“Little bits.” he said, his hand tucking her hair behind her ear. “Mostly about stuff we did. Baseball, football, when he taught me how to ride a bike. All the fun stuff you do with kids really.” he took a deep breath.

“What did he do?” “He was a Surgeon” Frank said “Neurology.” “Really?” Fliss looked up at Frank as he nodded “Well that’s pretty cool!”

“Yeah.” Frank nodded “I wanted to be just like him when I was a kid. I sometimes wonder if I idolise him a bit more because he’s dead you know but…” “Have you ever asked your mother what he was like? You know, since he died?” “Once or twice.” Frank replied “For all of Evelyn’s faults she did love Dad. She gave up her own career and research partnership she had with Cambridge in London to move to Boston when she met him. Then they had me. I think she resented me a little bit at first because me and dad were so close, and then when Diane came along that was it, Daddy’s girl...”

“No longer his main woman.” Fliss smiled.

“Something like that. You know, I do wonder at times why on Earth she had us.” Frank snorted “if we were such inconveniences…” “It can’t all have been bad.” “Well we wanted for nothing. In fact, we were both very spoilt. And yeah, we had Birthday parties, fun, vacations, trips…but when dad died…I dunno, it kinda went to rat-shit.” “It must have been hard for Evelyn you know, losing him when you were both so young.”

“Yeah.” Frank sighed “I’ve no doubt it was. I remember the police coming round and breaking the news about the accident…only time I’ve ever seen her break down.”

“You know before, she said that you remind her of your dad.” Fliss looked at him.

“Yeah she’s told me the same, last time I saw her in fact. Probably why she doesn’t particularly enjoy being around me that much.” “I think she enjoys it a lot more than she lets on.” Fliss shrugged “And besides, I enjoy being around you. And so do my parents…so…”

Frank gave her a soft smile before she leaned up and gave him a kiss.

“I know…” he said, as she snuggled into his chest “And that’s all I care about.” ******

Friday rolled around and with it came Fliss’ birthday. Frank was pretty sure Mary was more excited than Fliss to give her the gifts they had bought, and with good reason. Fliss beamed as she opened her various packages from them both, which included a bottle of her favourite perfume, a pale blue and white striped sleeveless button down which Frank had thought was quite nautical so very apt and a box of British chocolate. Bonnie had also stopped round the night before to give her a bottle of her favourite gin and a huge bag of sweets which she declared she was hiding from Frank as she didn’t trust him not to eat them.

Frank then handed her the envelope with her main present in and she opened it, her mouth dropping open as she looked at the Broadway Tickets.

“Lion King?” she said, looking up at him. “We’re going to see the Lion King?” He nodded, smiling “I know you wanted to go so…” “Oh my God…thank you!” she practically squealed throwing her arms round his neck, kissing his cheek.

“You’re welcome.” he smiled, winking at Mary over his shoulder. She gave him the thumbs up. Fliss turned back to look at the pile of presents arranged on the coffee table before Mary handed her another smaller wrapped one.

“This is from me…and Fred…and Thor.” she added and Fliss smiled, unwrapping the small black box. She opened it, and a small card fell out which she picked up and read out loud.

“We hope you enjoy your “Precious Paws” hand-made resin beads…” she trailed off, and glanced down at the charms in more detail. One was green speckled with gold and the other was blue speckled with silver.

“The green one has some of Heidi’s tail hair in it…” Mary pointed as Fliss gently took it from the box to examine it in more detail, clearly seeing where the hair was wound through the resin of the bead “And the Blue one has Thor’s in.”

“I…” Fliss felt herself choke up “Mary these are beautiful, where did you…” “Joanne told me about them.” Mary said, and Frank smiled at her “And then Frank helped me order them…” “They’re not officially Pandora but the woman said when we emailed her they’d fit the standard bracelet.” He said as she turned her head to look at him, her eyes shining.

“Thank you both, so much…” she turned to Mary and wrapped her up in a hug before she did the same to Frank, giving him a soft kiss “Love you.” “Happy birthday Sweetheart.” he smiled, hugging her again.

As Fliss had booked the day off, so had Frank so the three of them along with Thor and Fred spent the afternoon after visiting Fliss’ mum and dad on one of the boats belonging to Paul, the owner of the shop Frank worked in. Frank had deliberately chosen one of the smaller ones so they could access the small stretch of sand just off St Pete’s beach that they all loved. It was quieter than the main beach as it wasn’t reachable unless you waded or sailed over and they spent the afternoon on the beach with a few beers and a picnic, before they headed home. Mary crashed out on the way back, her head lolling on Fliss’s lap as she sat at the front of the boat, her bare feet resting on the bar in front of her, simply watching the dolphins. Thor was barking at them like mad, wagging his tail and then suddenly he shot to the bow of the boat, placing both his paws up on the metal, threatening to throw himself overboard. Frank’s hand shot out to grab his collar.

“Dumbass…” he yanked him back, and turned to Fliss “Does this mutt have a brain in his head?”

“Don’t’ talk about my baby like that…” she narrowed her eyes at Frank as she covered Thor’s ears with her hands as he sat by her feet, tail thumping on the floor. “Fred does his share of stupid shit too, like getting his head stuck in cereal boxes.”

Frank rolled his eyes “At least Fred knows not to jump in the ocean.”

“That’s because he has no sense of adventure.” Fliss shot back, causing Frank to snort. Standing up, Fliss gently moved Mary, so that she was led flat down before she stretched and moved next to Frank who tossed his arm over her shoulder.

“Had a good day?” he asked and she grinned, nodding.

“The best.” she smiled “I love it when you bring me out sailing.” “I’m driving.” he turned to face her, grinning. “You’re sailing.”

“Whatever” he mumbled as his lips pressed to hers. She snaked her arms around his neck as his slid round her back, pulling her closer to him as he kissed her deeply his tongue sliding against hers.

“You can unwrap your last present when we get home…” he said, grinning like a school boy as he rest his forehead head against hers.

“Yeah?” she asked, arching an eyebrow

“I’d let you unwrap it now but…” he nodded to Mary and she snorted.

“You know we’ve not actually done that.” she mused. “Sex on a boat I mean…” Frank let out a laugh “You harbouring a bit of a sailing kink?” “More of a sailor kink” she shot back and he shook his head, giving her another quick kiss before he turned his attention back to the boat as he guided it back into the Marina.

He made good on his promise once they got back, loved on his girl. Once in the shower and then again later on when he woke up as Fliss had done the same to use the bathroom. Frank knew he would never get tired of hearing the soft cries of his names and the various encouragements she gave him when she begged him not to stop or told him how good he was making her feel. As he tumbled right over that edge, behind her 3rd, or was it 4th orgasm, he’d lost count, his fingers tightened slightly on her hips as his head tipped back in ecstasy. He lay still, panting as she collapsed onto his chest, his hands stroking up and down her spine as she lifted her head, grinning as she caught his lips in a soft kiss before falling down onto the mattress next to him. She looked at him, her eyes flashing in the soft light that was sneaking into the room through the crack in the curtains, a look of pure love on her face, as if he had hung the moon and the stars in the sky, and it was enough to choke him up slightly. He still wasn’t sure he was worthy of her unadulterated adoration, but damned it, he’d try constantly to be the best version of himself if it kept her by his side.

He didn’t wake the next morning when Fliss’ alarm went off. Instead he woke to a gentle kiss to his cheek and as he roused himself the smell of freshly brewed coffee hit his senses. Blinking he smiled softly as Fliss placed a mug on his night stand.

“What time is it?” Frank asked.

“Just gone 7. I’ve got an early appointment with the Ariat rep at the stables, remember?” “Oh, yeah…” he said, rubbing his eyes.

“You told me to wake you before I left.”

“Yeah, I don’t know why I did that…” he moaned and she chuckled.

“You gonna bring Mary up later?”

“Yeah, I’ll leave he with you for the afternoon if that’s ok? Need to clean the boat and get it back.” “Course it is.” she smiled. With that she bent over to kiss him again and in a shot Frank’s arms were round her waist and she was flat on her back on the bed, laughing as he caged her with his arms.

“Frank…” she whined, as he kissed her softly “I can’t, I’m gonna be late as it is…” “One more kiss, come one…” he pleaded, and she relented as he pressed his lips to hers before she eventually pulled away and shoved on his chest. With a pout he moved allowing her to stand and she shook her head at him.

“You’ll be the death of me Frank Adler.” she said, straightening her top and he eyed her figure up as she did so and gave a shrug.

“What a way to go…” he smirked and with that she reached down, grabbed one of the various scatter cushions that lived on the bed during the day, and smacked him straight on the face with it.

He and Mary shared a lazy morning before they both dressed and headed out going via the bakery at the end of the high street to pick up a coffee and some Danishes for a late breakfast for Fliss as he knew she’d have left without eating any, she always did when she was out earlier than them. As he pulled up, Mary was out of the truck before he had stopped, something which he was fed up of telling her off for.

Frank walked into Fliss’ office where he placed the bag of food on the desk, along with the cardboard carrier which contained their coffee and gave her cheek a kiss. Mary shot into the tack room, grabbed her little box of brushes and shot off to go and see Monty.

“Bye then…” he said sarcastically, and she completely ignored him. He snorted, shaking his head as Fliss laughed.

“Busy morning?” he asked and Fliss nodded.

“I’ll say.” she nodded to the bag “Saturday’s always are…aww, you bring me breakfast?”

“If 11 am counts as breakfast” he snorted and Fliss laughed as she continued sifting through the pile of envelopes on her desk. There was one that contained a few clearly hand delivered cards, he could tell by the shape and the fact they had no post marks, and then another small pile that had arrived in the post. “Bill, bill…oh…” She stopped at a bigger envelope. “A card?”

Frank shrugged. She turned it over, ripped open the envelope and pulled out a white card with simple block writing on the front in multi-colours. With a frown she opened it and scanned the greeting, before her eyes grew wide and she threw it down onto the desk.

“Lissy?” Frank frowned, and he looked at her as she shook her head, taking a deep breath, before she swallowed and turned to face him. “Honey, what is it?” “It’s…” she swallowed, her eyes wide “That card…it’s…it’s from John.”

Frank’s face grew harsh as he grabbed the card and read the greeting. It was 3 words long. 3 simple words, but even he knew from what she’d told him about the name John used to call her, that it was from him. Happy Birthday Sugar. “Fucker.” Frank growled, tossing the card back onto the desk as Fliss turned to him and he wrapped her in his arms, letting her simply press her face into his chest. He rubbed his hand gently up and down her back as her breathing evened out and she stepped back. “You ok?” “Yeah…” she said, “Do me a favour and get rid of it.” “Don’t you wanna call the police?” he frowned.

“They’re not going to do anything about a card.” she shook her head

“He’s broken his parole…” “And they can’t prove its him.” she sighed “They’re not gonna DNA test or whatever on that…” “Fliss…”

“No, Frank…just…” she shook her head. “Please, do what I ask and rip it up, burn it, whatever, I just…get rid of it”

“Ok, ok…” he appeased and she nodded, before she looked to the doorway and hastily her face rearranged into a smile.

“Hi Steph!” she greeted. Frank turned to see a dark haired woman dressed in riding gear, Fliss’ next client. “DJ is ready, get Jo to get you on and I’ll be out in a moment.” The woman smiled and headed off down the yard. Fliss looked at Frank.

“I didn’t think about the fact this place was so easy to find.” she shook her head “The webpage…” Frank sighed, it was something if truth be told he hadn’t considered either “Look, the worst he can do is send you shit.” he said, almost trying to convince himself as well “He can’t set foot out of Mass…he’s clearly doing this to try and upset you so…” “Well he can fuck off and die.” Fliss said venomously, “Ass hole…a fucking birthday card? He’s clearly losing his touch.” With that she gave his cheek a peck and grabbed a Danish out of the bag before she picked up her coffee. “This lesson is only half an hour so as soon as I’m done Mary can ride Monty and then she can do her jobs and stuff. You go and clear the boat from yesterday or whatever it is you were planning on doing and I’ll give you a call later ok?”

“Sure.” he nodded.

“Love you.” she smiled at him, before she left the room.

Frank watched her go before he looked at the card. She’d asked him to get rid of it…but something was telling him not to. He pondered it for a moment before he tucked the offending item back into the envelope and then curled it up so it would fit in his back pocket, before he headed out to the jeep, pulling his phone free as he walked.

“S’up Man?” Greg greeted him as he opened his truck door threw the envelope onto the passenger seat.

“I need some advice.” Frank spoke quietly, glancing over to where Fliss was now stood in the middle of the paddock, the women on the large grey horse was walking around her in a circle. “Can we meet?”

#riding high #frank adler x ofc #frank adler #gifted #gifted fan fic

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amoralto · 4 years

Note

In your recent post from Gloria Steinem’s “Beatle with a future,” do you know the “she” that Derek Taylor is referring to? Or is that supposed to be apple or the Beatles themselves or something? Who Paul didn’t officially say goodbye to? It seems revealing how John would say “nothing’s going to change Paul.” There’s so much there. Oh and one last thing, who was Ringo saying “always worrying about people” ? Idk why but it’s hard for me to tell who was talking to who here.

Re: the “friend from Philly” Derek Taylor refers to, it’s not specified. Somebody better-versed in fan/groupie/Beatlemania-era dalliance stories may be able to connect the dots, but as far as Steinem describes it she was merely one of a few girls who’d met the band while they were in Philadelphia (September 2nd) and had now followed the band to their engagement in New York (September 20th) holding a charity concert for the United Cerebral Palsy Fund at the Paramount, their last gig on the US tour before returning to England to record Beatles For Sale. Here’s all the appearances she and the other girls from Philadelphia make in Steinem’s article:

It was time for The Beatles’ performance. Everyone crowded into the hall, looking expectantly at the room in which The Beatles had been “incommunicado” and “resting,” the same room into which I had seen Ed Sullivan disappear. Paul McCartney came out first, looking soft-faced and vulnerable as a choirboy. George Harrison and Ringo Starr followed animated and laughing. John Lennon moved quickly behind them, but his face was stoic and aloof behind his dark glasses (the face that inspired a London journalist to write, “It has the fear-neither-God-nor-man quality of a Renaissance painter’s aristocrat”). Behind Lennon came three chic young girls, two brunettes and a blonde, in their late teens or early twenties. McCartney jerked his head toward them as he got in the elevator and told some of his staff members to “look after the birds now, won’t ya.”

[...]

The Beatles’ entourage crowded together in the wings, and I talked to the birds. Were they working for The Beatles or interviewing them? No, they were just friends. “We met The Beatles at a press conference in Philadelphia,” said the pretty blonde, “that’s where we’re from.” Two of them wore wool suits with short culotte skirts. They all looked as if they had stepped from the pages of a teenage fashion magazine, and one carried a met them,” corrected the friendly blonde, “and this time we brought along a friend.”

The girls were simply left to sit in an adjoining room apart from Steinem, John, and Ringo, with both Paul and George in their own rooms presumably sleeping:

The Beatles were leaving for London early the next morning. That, plus the fact that several Manhattan hotels had turned them down, brought them to the Riviera Motor Inn at Kennedy Airport. The rooms were small, barely big enough for a bureau, twin beds and a television set but they had commandeered a whole floor and there were policemen guarding the halls. Our room was jammed with carts of Scotch and Coca-Cola, trays of sandwiches and two photographers, the young ladies from Philadelphia, a tall girl who had followed The Beatles from San Francisco, several journalists who had been on the Beatle tour, a pretty airline stewardess in a very lowcut dress who was acting as hostess, and, occasionally, Neil Aspinall and Derek Taylor. Two of The Beatles were in other rooms, but Ringo Starr and Lennon were in the one adjoining us with the door locked. It was opened only to admit Aspinall, Taylor, one or two other selected young men and liquor.

And at the end of the article:

I thanked Lennon, who looked worried, and said, “I hope you’re as true as you seem.” I said goodbye to the three birds who still sat in the adjoining room. Two were stretched out on the bed and a third was applying eye shadow. (“Women,” Lennon had once told a reporter, “should be obscene and not heard.”) They smiled their Mona Lisa smiles.

The “charity” concert itself was a point of consternation for the band (think Embassy-level feelings of exploitation, with the audience made up entirely of high society folk who could afford the exorbitant ticket prices and John saying they were treated “like animals”), and yet another thing in a cumulation of things they’d incurred over the past several months that had the band feeling exhausted and frustrated and even disillusioned with the unrelenting scrutiny and tabloid headlines and general mania surrounding them. Which may be why there’s a sense of distrust and weariness from John and Ringo that comes through in the article.

Add to that Derek Taylor ultimately resigning from his position as Brian Epstein’s assistant (a position he’d only held for about a year) from the stress and that triggering argument with Brian he’s confiding with Neil Aspinall and John about (which Brian would try to backtrack on, asking him to stay, to no avail), and just the random and curious fact that Bob Dylan and Albert Grossman were there in the room as well (which Steinem only gives a passing mention to; sleepless!John and Bob would later have breakfast together), it would seem Gloria Steinem had (albeit entirely unwittingly) caught the Beatles at a very intriguing point in time.

(I could go on more about Derek Taylor and how his emotional sensitivity/ego and issues with Brian Epstein (his management, his overprotectiveness of the boys leading to possible misattribution of blame, etc.) seems to prefigure his later issues with Paul and later serve as a bonding agent for him and John in mid-late-1968 (although John would still eventually cry betrayal, in typical gang leader fashion, when John interpreted Derek wanting to keep the Beatles together as “siding” with Paul against John), but I have another earlier ask I have to yet to reply to where that would be more pertinent for me to discuss it.)

Re: “nothing’s going to change Paul”, there’s definitely a lot to deconstruct and pick apart there, even if to the uneducated observer (Steinem) it comes across as just another “desultory” aside to pacify Derek, just as he tries to pacify Derek with the Brian issue (“He’s all right, but he doesn’t understand people having a few laughs, not even me laughs with me wife.”). Insert essay here.

Re: Ringo, I read it as him making a rueful comment on the situation in general, and therefore referring to both Derek and John. I could be wrong, though! The mileage varies.

I checked through @amoralto to see if I had posted/transcribed any interviews and such from around this time, and it turns out I have! Larry Kane’s with John and Ringo from Philadelphia (as it happens), with Ringo’s matter-of-factness with the tabloid trap they’re in (“I’ll have it on tape, I’ve been called a queer”) and John and Ringo talking about being the band being alone together (“One gets reliant on the others”).

Also, I’d be willing to post the entire Steinem article if anybody’s interested! Like I said, it’s an intriguing glimpse into the trauma of living through Beatlemania, something which still gets underplayed in the Beatles historiography - and also something I wish Ron Howard’s film could have focused on, instead of just shallow anecdotes by famous fans who went to see them in concert - and a worthwhile read, even if Steinem sometimes comes across as naive and even judgmental. She also unfortunately skews towards (if not wholly believes in) the popular, nigh-deleterious stereotypes of the Beatles (i.e. John as the Most Talented and Most Intelligent and Most Versatile - indeed, she sought out the Beatles specifically to talk to John in the first place) typical of many features/articles from the time (and which still unfortunately continues to this day).

#ask #1964 #gloria steinem #derek taylor #the beatles

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lennonknowsmysins · 5 years

Text

lessons in attraction

beatle: george

summary: a man-bunned george learns that you’ve had a guitar lesson. he quickly fixes that.

warnings: uh iss kinda cute

a/n: i’ve been thinking a lot about this concept but i wasn’t sure how to start it so i apologize that the beginning is kinda weird. also i’m on the final season of glee and its put me in a really weird mood for some reason. i’m really fucking attracted to georgie with a man bun and also this specific guitar i find really pretty.

You didn’t know why the boys were seeming incapable of putting their instruments away themselves but you didn’t mind doing it yourself. At least it got you out of doing something more boring. As it turned out, being the Beatles assistant was a much more low-key job than you originally thought. Or at least so long as you didn’t get into the middle of anyone’s arguments.

Paul gave you an easy smile as he handed you his bass, chuckling softly as you reacted to the weight of it before following the others out. Humming the tune they’d been working on as you carefully settled the bass back into it’s case, followed by John’s electric

You stopped when you got to George’s acoustic guitar, admiring the flowers adorning it. Side eyeing the door, you slid the instrument onto your lap, your nerves shooting up. If someone walked in on you fondling George Harrison’s guitar, you’d surely be fired. Or humiliated, considering you had no idea how to play. Or both. Probably both. But you had the chance now, you might as well take it.

The strings felt surprising rough against the pads of your fingers as you ran your fingers along them. Your hand was shaking, either because you shouldn’t be doing this or because you didn’t know how to do this, but the guitar made a pleasant sound that made you smile as you strummed it. You stroked the strings again, trying to think of what positions George’s fingers had made. Clumsily, you copied what you remembered, whining as it made a buzzing sound and letting out a small cheer when you finally seemed to play it right.

“I didn’t know you played.”

You shot straight up when you heard the smooth voice. Turning around, you were met face to face with George in all of his man bun glory, who was leaning against the door frame with an amused smirk.

“Mr. Harrison, I am so sorry! I know that I’m not supposed to but it was just there and-” You rambled, holding the guitar in front of you like it was a shield. He cut you off by holding his finger up as he strode over to you, eyeing you up and down. He was going to fire. He was totally going to fire you. “I’m really sorry.” You squeaked, unsure of what else to do.

“It’s okay, I’m not mad.” He said easily. You stood still, your mouth opening and closing while you stared at him with wide eyes. He put his hand on your shoulder, “Relax, honey, it’s okay.”

“You’re not going to fire me?” You whispered sheepishly.

“’m not gonna fire you.” He chuckled, squeezing your bicep. “So you play then?”

You shook your head, still a little on edge. “I don’t. I always wanted to learn how but I never did.”

“Why not?” He asked, his eyebrow quirked. You shrugged

“I see.” He nodded in thought for a moment.

“Why don’t you put that one away and let’s try... er where’d it go...” He mumbled, beginning to search the studio. “Here it is.”

He came back to you with a shorter guitar, holding it up, “This one’s got a skinnier neck so it’ll be easier on those little fingers of your’s.”

You blushed at his comment, butterflies forming as he grinned, his little fangs gleaming. You’d never noticed them before.

“C’mere, this’ll be better sitting down.” You took a seat next to him on the couch, trying to ignore how his thigh brushed against your’s.

He pulled the strap across your shoulder before bringing his arm behind you. You froze when he took your hands- the left one first, positioning your fingers in a certain order.

“This is G chord. You make this position here and then use this hand,” now he took your right hand, bringing it to the body, “to strum with your thumb.”

He took his hands away, letting you try. You successfully play the chord, earning an approving hum from George.

“Good job, sweetheart. Now, let’s try a D chord.” George moved your fingers again, his beard scratching lightly against your cheek. You play the new chord with ease, straightening up with pride. “Very good! Do you remember where your fingers were for the G chord?”

You brought fingers back to where they were originally, struggling a little to get the correct shape. “Like that, right?”

“Okay, now go back to where you were for the D chord.” He nodded when you did so. “Alright, now play a G chord, then play a D chord.”

Furrowing your brow, you play the G, then huff as the D comes out as an unpleasant buzz. You try again, only for the D to buzz a second time. You feel your face heat up, embarrassed that you’re currently making a fool of yourself in front of the lead guitarist of the Beatles.

“Hey, it’s alright, it’s alright.” He comforted, rubbing your arms, “This isn’t the easiest at first, but I’ve got you. Let’s try again, this time, make sure that your fingers aren’t too flat against the strings.”

Once more, you played the short harmony, this time correctly.

“Hey, you’ve got it!” He praised, squeezing your waist as you giggle. “And that is basically the chorus of Yellow Submarine.”

“Thank you Mr. Harrison.” You laughed, looking back at him.

“Call me George.” He said softly, meeting your eyes.

“Thank you... George. And thank you for not being mad for touching your guitar.”

He brushed a stray hair from your face, finger lingering on your cheek. “I think we need to get you your own guitar. You’ve got potential to replace me.”

You shook your head, “I could never, the band would fall apart without you.”

George was about to say something else when the door opened and Ringo walked in, looking questionably at the sight of you basically sitting his band member’s lap.

“Training your replacement, Georgie?”

“Something like that.” He murmured, helping you off the couch and to slip the guitar off. “We’ll have to continue this.”

George winked and joined the drummer at the other end of the room. You stood, staring in his direction in awe of what had just happened.

Did George Harrison have a thing for you?

#george harrison x reader #george harrison #the beatles x reader #beatles x reader #the beatles #bruh #classic rock x reader

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365days365movies · 4 years

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February 28, 2021: West Side Story (1961) (Part 1)

It all began tonight...and with one story.

The fact of the matter is, love stories wouldn’t be anywhere near the same today if it weren’t for one seminal text: Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet. It’s one of the most influential of Shakespeare’s plays, and that’s true no matter what you think of the original.

But above them all, this adaptation rises. It’s one of the most publicly acclaimed Shakespeare adaptations and musicals of all time, and I would presume that that’s for a good reason! And I hope so, especially considering...the last musical...

Ugh. OK, let’s finish off Ramance February with a bang, and let’s finally get this shindig underway! Romeo and Juliet, take two! SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (1/2)

Rather than Verona, 1961 New York City is where we set our scene. A title screen with bongos and other instrumentals set the musical tone for the film against a simple artistic background. Aerial shots of the city follow, and then...snap.

Oh, yeah, that’s the stuff. These are the Jets, a gang led by Riff (Russ Tamblyn), and our Montagues for the film. As their rest turns to amble, and their amble turns to dance, they run into Bernardo (George Chakiris), leader of the Puerto Rican gang known as the Sharks, our Capulets. Their amble also turns into a dance, as they cross into Jets territory.

To fully translate this, Riff would appear to be our Mercutio for the film, while Bernardo is almost certainly our Tybalt. And, as always, the two clash with their respective groups, and an initial dance-like fight between a couple of individuals soon escalates into a full-on brawl and dance battle.

Ah, but our Prince has arrived, in the form of Lt. Schrank (Simon Oakland), as well as his subordinate Sergeant Krupke (William Bramley). Schrank is not tolerant of the street fights between the two gangs, but he’s clearly far more reasonable to the white Jets, as opposed to the Puerto Rican Sharks.

See, if you look back this month, I mentioned that a lot of romance studies tend to take from Romeo and Juliet, specifically if there’s a conflict that separates the two leads. However, those films work to give a reason for the “old grudge” that breaks into new mutinies. And this adaptation of the original play decides to give a reason for that divide.

Race: an age-old struggle. And after the Prologue is done and the two gangs are warned, Riff brings his group together, and they pledge to prevent the Puerto Rican Sharks from taking over their territory. Riff brings up the idea to get their old co-founder involved. When the others note that he’s gone good and left the Jets, we get the first major song of the musical (”Jet Song”).

Riff goes to meet his friend, and co-founder of the Jets, Tony (Richard Beymer), to ask him to come to the dance hall tonight, where the Jets will meet the Sharks in a neutral space for both gangs. But Tony works for a living now, after having left the gang. Riff’s confused by this, and asks why exactly Tony refuses to come back. Tony explains that he feels something on the horizon. While he doesn’t know what that is, he knows that he doesn’t want to miss it.

Riff leaves, and Tony sings on the fact that he feels something coming soon (”Something Coming”). In case you weren’t sure, Tony is our Romeo of the film. And as he looks towards the future, we get a glimpse into the life of someone on the other wide of this struggle, Maria (Natalie Wood), our Juliet. Her friend Anita (Rita Moreno), Bernardo’s girlfriend and the Nurse of the film, is making her a dress for the dance tonight.

Maria is potentially engaged to marry Chino (Jose de Vega), our Paris of the film, and someone whom she isn’t a huge fan of. Bernardo tells him to watch her at the dance tonight, and she puts on her new dress in excitement.

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Time for the dance! Both the white kids and the Puerto Rican kids arrive, but tensions begin to rise, until Glad Hand (John Astin) steps in and sets up a sort of dance that’s meant to bring them together. And it’s time...TO MAMBO! And lemme tell you, if you want to good showcase of dance in this film, look no further than the mambo scene.

And as the two cultures clash in dance in their own way...two eyes meet from across the room. And our romance begins.

This romance between Romeo and Juliet is one of the most iconic in all literature and cinema, and one can say that it’s foolish or young or whatever, but it’s an iconic romance. And I’ll be DAMNED if I’ve ever seen a better version of that romance than this scene. Sorry, DiCaprio and Danes, this is much, MUCH better.

The two speak with each other and the world around them drops away. They speak as if they’ve met before, but they know that they haven’t. And as the grow gradually closer, physically and emotionally, they begin to kiss...and then Bernardo steps in. He takes his sister away, and the connection surprises Tony. Chino takes Maria out of the dance hall, and Tony starts to follow. Before Bernardo can stop him (by force), Riff gets in the way.

Riff offers to meet Bernardo that midnight at a local candy shop, Doc’s, for a war council. He agrees, and they all part ways to continue dancing. Except for Tony, of course. Having just learned Maria’s name, he fixates on it as it echoes in his head (”Maria”). And it’s wonderful, and it’s iconic, and it’s...great.

Back at Bernardo’s and Maria’s place, Bernardo chides Maria for her dalliance with Tony. Anita scolds him, however, and the two make their way to find the others on a nearby rooftop. There, they speak on what it truly means to be an immigrant in America, especially in 1961 (”America”). And it’s depressing, truly depressing that this seems all too familiar today for so many. But, I digress, as this is a great song.

But once the boys leave for the war council, Tony finds Maria in the apartments, and they talk about their love for each other. Maria is afraid that their people won’t accept each other, and Tony says he doesn’t care. They pledge their love for each other with a duet, and another iconic song (”Tonight”).

It’s a gorgeous duet...but I need to acknowledge something: these two aren’t singing. Not on screen, anyway. The voices heard are Jimmy Bryant for Tony, and the ever-forgotten, ever-unerappreciated, late, great Marni Nixon for Maria. You have no idea how many times you’ve heard her voice, but you’ve heard it more than you think. The King and I, My Fair Lady, Cinderella, Alice in Wonderland, An Affair to Remember (YUP), The Sound of Music, oh, and MULAN. Marni Nixon overdubbed the voices for SO MANY people in Hollywood, and she wasn’t credited vary much back in the day. A lovely lady, and one who always deserved more credits than she got!

There’s one more person who overdubbed a voice: Tucker Smith for Riff, but only during the Jets Song. But now...now, it’s all Russ.

The Jets linger about, waiting around for the Sharks. As they do so, Sergeant Krupke pulls up in a cop car and interrogates the group for their doings. Once he leaves...we get my favorite song in the musical. The only one I know by heart, and my absolute favorite. This is “Gee Officer Krupke!”.

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It’s also this musical’s version of Queen Mab’s Song, cementing Riff’s role (and fate) as Mercutio, and I love it in every way. It’s just a fun song that also gives a lot of needed information about the time period’s treatment of teenagers judged to be delinquent. Also...I just fuckin’ love this song, AND how it’s performed in this film. I can never get tired of people bopping Russ Tamblyn on the head. I just love it.

At that point, they get into Doc’s Candy Shop, welcomed by Doc (Ned Glass), the kindly owner of the store and the Friar Laurence of the story. The Sharks also arrive shortly afterwards, and the parley begins. They set up a fight between the two hangs to settle things once and for all. However, as they start to bring weapons in, the newly-arrived Tony intervenes and gets them to use fisticuffs rather than weapons.

However, Schrank soon arrives to check in, and the group pretends to be getting along. However, the racist Schrank kicks out the Sharks, then attempts a peaceful discourse with the Jets. He also offers to help them with the upcoming fight that he suspects, saying that he’s on their side. Fuck Schrank, he’s genuinely a piece of shit.

Once the Jets and Schrank leave, Tony tells Doc about Maria, and he fears for both of their safety. Still, nothing can stop Tony’s exuberance, and he leaves that night with a smile on his face and a song in his heart.

Intermission! Let’s take a break, then start up Part 2! See you there!

#west side story #robert wise #jerome robbins #william shakespeare #romeo and juliet #natalie wood #richard beymer #rita moreno #george chakiris #russ tamblyn #romance february #user365 #365 movie challenge #365 movies 365 days #365 Days 365 Movies #365 movies a year #mygifs #my gifs

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matsumi101 · 4 years

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Who is this Kid?

Crossdressing Fem!Reader Hamilton Insert

Secret

Description:

General Washington has been relentlessly receiving letters one after another that has been requesting two same things over and over again. It’s high time he confronts the writer directly about it, and maybe clear something that he’s been hearing around while he’s at it.

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Warnings: swearing, drinking

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Notes:

> Masterlist

> Read from the beginning.

> “F/N” means fake name and “Y/N” means your real first name

> I don’t think I warned y’all before but I wasn’t really planning on writing chronologically. I’m not sorry lmao

> Surprise Wednesday update! I’ve been reading the rb tags and the replies you guys keep leaving in my story and honestly it makes my heart go 💞 aaa ily guys sm and im glad you’re enjoying the story 🥺🥺🥺

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Taglist (if u wanna be added do tell!)

@thebitchiestnerdtowalktheearth @cutie1365 @girlmadeofivory @i-honestly-dont-know-anymore @takemyhand-bitch @hamiltrashqueer��

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“Hey, Juggernaut.”

You adjusted your coat before pulling your tent open. “Yo,” you greeted quietly to the soldier waiting in front of your tent. “General Washington calls for you,” he informed you. You nodded and ducked out of your tent, not wanting to wait another second to know what your superior wanted to talk about. You walked at a brisk pace, never stopping until you were now in front of the tent that was noticeably larger than the rest.

You swallowed thickly, millions of possibilities running in your head to as why you were called. A big part of you hoped that it was with regards to your plans, though there was a smaller bit of you that feared that it might be of something else. Not wanting to keep yourself on edge any further, you pushed the tent open and let yourself in.

"Your excellency, sir. You asked to see me?"

You readily saluted at the presence of not only George Washington but the aide-de-camps and officers that were with him as well. They circled a table, where a map and a few mock pieces were laid out for them to view and move around. While John and Lafayette's eyes twinkled with recognition, the others simply stared at your arrival. "Private F/N L/N?" George assumed. He motioned you to be at ease, which you silently obeyed.

"Yes, sir," you confirmed with a steady voice.

George quickly dismissed the rest of the people out of the tent, the only ones remaining were you, him, and Alexander who was busy writing something at his desk at the corner. “I’ve been reading your letters,” George began, moving to get something from his main desk. You immediately tensed as he pulled out a small stack of envelopes underneath. You kept your lips sealed, waiting for the General’s input on your requests.

“You’ve been asking to have the same thing approved for years now,” he began, “and recently, you’re asking for a rather unique position in your unit, correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

From the corner of your eyes you could see Alexander perk up slightly at the conversation. He subtly glanced up from his work, his eyes falling on George as the general picked up an open letter that had been lying on his desk. “Let’s talk about the first one,” George announced. “I’ve noticed there was a slight change with your offer.” You licked the bottom of your lips out of nervousness, fiddling with your hands behind you.

“Unfortunately, even I can’t agree to it.”

“If I may sir, why not?”

George looked up from the letter to you. “Women cannot be paid to study, son,” he explained plainly. You tilted your head the slightest, confusion from his statement evident. “Sir, I do not seek for women to be paid to be taught basic medicinal procedures,” you murmured, and that was enough for George to mirror your expression.

“That doesn’t seem to be the message I’m getting from your letter, L/N.”

You opened your mouth to counter, but when a vague memory hit you like a punch in the gut, you couldn’t help but to smack your forehead in realization. “Shit, I am so sorry,” you apologized, the annoyance woven in your voice directed to yourself more than anything. George furrowed his brows at your sudden drop of formality, noticing how you were cursing under your breath as you returned to position.

“I must’ve sent you my draft letter instead of the actual one. The pay that I mentioned in the letter refers to the pay of the nurses, not the education that I wish to be provided to them.”

Your face turned to more of an embarrassed one. “I... might’ve written this late at night so my thoughts merged while I was writing,” you confessed, looking down at the ground. “I apologize for causing a misunderstanding. Writing... has never really been my best suit.” You could feel the back of your neck heat up with embarrassment, and the blood was slowly creeping its way to your cheeks the more you dwelled on your mistake. George huffed, and you could’ve sworn there was laughter that came along with it.

“We have our own weaknesses, son,” he said. “Rewrite your statement, then I’ll have it sent to the Congress for approval. Hamilton.”

“Yes, sir?”

The called man straightened from his seat almost instantaneously. “If you’re not too busy, you can help Private L/N draft his proposal to the Congress tonight?” he requested. You looked at Alexander almost the same time he looked at you. “I take it you approve of his plans, sir?” he asked George, though it came off more of a statement than a question.

“Yes. If our nurses are given the same pay as our male doctors, or at the very least raise it, then there wouldn’t be any need for our officers to resort to... violent methods of recruiting them.”

Your jaw visibly clenched at the last few words, and George wasn’t dense to not notice it. “If we treat our camp followers properly, as we should’ve been since square one, then they wouldn’t be working out of spite or fear,” you pointed out through gritted teeth, “and by teaching them the required medical procedures to treating our wounded, then there would be more hands on our medical team without really hiring more hands.” Alexander nearly beamed at your words and hurriedly wrote something down on a spare piece of paper.

“That’s an excellent point F/N, I’ll make sure to include that in your proposal,” he announced eagerly.

You stared at Alexander with surprise while George chuckled in amusement. “Now, since we’ve cleared all misunderstandings for your first request, I take it we’re good to move on to the next one?” his voice wasn’t as light as when he brought up your first request. “Ready as I’ll ever be, sir,” you replied. George nodded, pulling a different letter.

“Private L/N, I’m sure you already know the contents of your own letters, so I will say right now that I just can’t approve you to a... what is this term you used?”

“Field medic, sir.”

“Right.”

“Field medic?”

Alexander wasn’t really supposed to be a part of the next conversation, but he couldn’t help but inquire about the strange new term he just heard. “Basically a doctor soldier tasked specifically to treat wounded men while on field and pull them out of there,” George explained, and you nodded. Alexander’s face contorted, and you sighed internally as it was the response you already expected to get from someone hearing your concept for the first time.

“I... I don’t get it,” Alexander murmured. “We can bring our men to the backlines just fine during combat, I don’t see the point of having a person to specialize in that.”

You were just about ready to explain, but then George put up his hand to stop you. “I can hand you Private L/N’s letters of proposal for later, son,” George reasoned. Alexander’s face fell, and the man buried his face back to his work. “With all due respect sir, I feel like I am fully capable of putting this concept into action. My endurance is beyond average to run around the field and carry our wounded, all I need left is some proper first-aid training.”

“And we need your endurance in the frontlines!” George retorted. “Juggernaut, you’re our best foot soldier, I cannot afford to send you to the medics.”

You nearly physically recoiled at the use of your nickname. You wore the title “Juggernaut” with pride ever since, and George knew. Your tendency to almost never use your gunpowder and instead resort to close combat was what earned you the nickname, and your commanders made sure to utilize you best for that. Simply put, your fearlessness to be up close with the redcoats was something praised by your fellow soldiers and feared by the enemy.

“Sir,” your voice dropped low. “Many men die bleeding out in the field when they could’ve lived if only someone had been there to pull them out, but the second they’re crippled they are not our standing soldiers’ priority. Moreover, many more die in the tents simply for having infected wounds that could’ve been survivable had someone treated it long before. These men have hopes of coming home to see the end of this war and what follows as much as any of us, even while they lay in their own pool of blood as the rest of the fight ensues around them. Sir, they have lives they want to go back to, too, just like us.”

When you were done talking, the air within the tent was heavy. Was it out of realization or just the sheer weight of your words, no one was quite sure, but the tension was so thick no blade could cut through it. “I can see you are as adamant in saving lives as you are taking them,” George mused, finally breaking the suffocating silence that wrapped around the three of you. He glanced down at your letter, hesitancy clear as day. Between the two of you, it was the sixth one you sent for your proposed role. For every letter of declination he gave you, you rebutted with a new letter no more than two to three days later countering his reasonings. For someone who isn’t the best at writing, you do write a lot, he thought.

“Let my hands be stained saving the blood of my allies than spilling the blood of my enemies,” you responded, quoting your own letter.

George huffed, setting down the letter. “I will... think this through for the meantime,” he announced. You resisted your mouth that nearly quirked upwards at his words; consideration was a good enough sign for you. “Thank you sir,” you breathed. George eyed you carefully, thinking if there was anything else needed to be said to you. “I suppose that will be all for now,” he decided tentatively. He dismissed you, and just after you thanked him for his time and turned around was then he remembered.

“Hold on, Private. I feel like there’s one more thing needed to be discussed.”

You looked over your shoulder, almost fearfully, as you moved away from the tent’s exit. George leaned back, crossing his arms as he looked at you with a nearly blank stare. “I feel like we should address the secret circulating around you,” he pointed out. Your jaw dropped to the floor, a chill striking you from the feet up. A hand flew over your arm as goosebumps riddled your limbs, and you feared the worst.

“What secret, sir?” you asked, your voice nearly returning to normal with panic.

“Juggernaut, I don’t think we need to beat around the bush over this. Other soldiers have seen it, too, and you need to come clean with it.”

Other soldiers? The thought was everything but comforting. You always thought you had been discreet with your identity, but apparently you weren’t based on the General’s accusations. However, you kept your mind straight enough to keep droning on. Maybe it was just a mistake, maybe it was just a false rumor that was meant to drag you in the dirt. Yeah, maybe that’s it. You desperately wished that was it.

“It must be a mistake, sir. Whatever this secret may be must be just a measly rumor to throw me off,” you tried to reason out.

“Would it be considered a rumor if we have a witness?”

Your stomach dropped. So there are people who saw? That was definitely not right. You were always sure to have your corset on, only taking it off inside the tent, and whenever you bathe you made sure you were either alone or the last one out and never surfacing from the water. George glanced over to Alexander expectantly, and for the first time the secretary seemed to not want to partake in the conversation.

“Hamilton here has your verbatim.”

You could feel your palms turn sweatier as the seconds passed. You steadied your breathing, trying to calm yourself and stay reasonable. Alexander stared at George incredulously, as if he was the one who’d been ratted out by their superior. He looked over to you, and despite your seemingly calm stature there was nervousness in your eyes that spoke otherwise. Not wanting to lie, Alexander nodded almost apologetically to confirm. You felt your shoulders sag. Had you been too lax when you discussed about pretending with other disguised women? Or had you been too loud when you were rambling to yourself in your own tent? You feared what was next to follow, but if there was someone who bore evidence of your secret, then it was better for you to speak the truth.

“I apologize for deceiving you, sir,” you conceded, dropping your head. “I am more than willing to accept the punishment for my actions.”

“Funny, I figured you’d know enough the consequences of having more liquor than the daily rations you’re given.”

“Wh... what...?”

You tried to wrap your head around the new information. Liquor... daily rations... was that what General George Washington accusing you of this whole time? “Or is the excess whiskey your secret to your fearlessness after all?” George mused teasingly, and you shot up straight when it finally registered to you. “No sir, that would be my low sense of self-preservation,” you answered hurriedly, jokingly. Thankfully for you, George chuckled at your banter.

“Well, don’t think of dying too early, young man,” George advised lightheartedly.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sir.”

The tight feeling that was mentally suffocating you the whole time released your entire being. “Though, if it’s any assurance, my stash of vodka hasn’t really been consumed,” you informed. “If anything, I think the only time I made use of it was when I disinfected someone’s wound.” George sat up straight, a curious look flashing in his eyes.

“Is that so?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Who’d you heal?”

You paused, wondering if you should really say. “It was Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens.” You glanced up, noticing the inquisitive look both George and Alexander held. “If it’s any compensation for my troubles, I can offer some of my personal beverage. Surely, you’d like a shot,” you then offered, swiftly dodging the questions that might’ve followed your prior statement.

“And how will I know this is not a ploy to try on my good side, son?”

“Was I on your bad side this whole time, sir?”

“With the direction your letters were going, you might be at the tipping point of being so with the Congress.”

You laughed uneasily. “Rest assured sir, my offer is all in good faith.” George uncovered the mug that rested on the edge of his table, and you took that as the sign to approach. You pulled out your flask, which had been refilled from the much larger bottle that you were hiding in your tent (you wondered if someone that visited your tent before saw the bottle which led to the accusations), and poured a hefty amount into the mug, much to George’s pleasure. You waved to Alexander with the flask. “Do you want some too, Hamilton?” you asked him. Alexander stared at your flask, then to George, and then to his papers.

“Come on, son. It’s not everyday we have a little extra liquor,” George insisted, a welcoming smile on his face.

Alexander didn’t hesitate to come over to the table the second he got George’s approval. He brought his own cup, and you readily poured him almost the same amount as George. “Thanks, I needed this,” he sighed gratefully, the strong scent already wafting through his nose. The three of you shared a toast, and you took a nice, long swig from your flask. A satisfied growl emitted from each of you, the burning sensation running down your throat.

“Well sir, I should head out now,” you said quietly.

George nodded, and finally dismissed you. “Call the others back on your way out,” he ordered, and you gave a verbal confirmation before pushing one of the tent flaps open. You peered outside and saw that Lafayette and John were talking nearby. You headed to them, waving a hand to catch their attention.

“F/N! The General didn’t chew you out too much, I hope?” John teased.

You rolled your eyes. “Well, I got out alive,” you joked. “The General requests you guys and the other officials to return, by the way.” John chuckled, patting your shoulder as he passed by. Lafayette ruffled your hair before he and John headed out to look for the other officials that dispersed in the camp. You sighed and walked back to your tent, the clashing sensation of relief and anxiousness washing over you.

Your secret was safe... for now.

#hamilton #hamilton musical #hamilton fanfic #hamilton fanfiction #hamilton reader insert #reader insert #fanfiction #fanfic #alexander hamilton #john laurens #lafayette #george washington #who is this kid

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