#nightdresses in Australia

[cachiashop61]

Choose the Right Sleepwear Sets for Peaceful Sleep

Why is it that we take time to dress up before a party or date? With the changing trends, let us make a trend of dressing up before you go to sleep. By this, we don't mean that you should put on make-up and do your hair. What we want is for you to choose the women's loungewear sets in Australia that give you the perfect slumber party vibes.

These days, girls' nights out and pajama parties have become very popular. And for those special parties, you need a look that is not too casual but makes you look quirky. For this, you can choose from nightdresses in Australia that give you just the right kind of look.

Many people may not be willing to invest a lot of time when it comes to choosing a nightdress. Come; let us understand why it is important to have a look at the minute details while selecting that perfect nightdress or loungewear of yours.

● Breathable fabric - To get a good night's sleep, it is important that you choose cotton sleepwear in Australia that allows your body to breathe. They are fabricated with lightweight fabric which feels light on your skin while giving you a feathery touch. 

● Wash care instructions - Nightdresses are something that we wear every day and require maintenance atleast 2-3 times a week. So, it is essential to read about their wash care instructions, like are they machine wash or hand wash. It gives you an idea about how to take care of your nightdress while preserving its fabric for a long time.

● Prints and patterns - Nightdresses these days are not just limited to wearing while you sleep. These are various other occasions that call for a quirky nightdress like breakfast dates, slumber parties, or campfires. So, it is crucial to choose a suitable print and pattern. These days a lot of prints and patterns have become popular that are catching everyone's attention.

Style should not only be limited to when you are going out. You dress for yourself, and thus choosing fancy sleepwear or women's lounge pants in Australia is not wrong. Times are changing, and thus the need to adapt to those changes has become crucial now. Whether it is your dress sense or presenting yourself to others, you need to stay updated with the trends that make you feel confident in many ways.

So, style the way you want but make sure to choose the right outfit!

Original source: https://cachiashop61.blogspot.com/2022/06/choose-right-sleepwear-sets-for.html

[innerwearsofficial]

This lace thong slip at IW is intended with high cut legs and features nice and quality fabric that feels and fits better to your body.

Shop Now: https://bit.ly/3Q9HRRd

[softquietsteadylove]

can you write thena having a nightmare and gilgamesh sneaking into her room to help her fall asleep again?

"No...no!"

Gil padded down the hall, walking carefully towards the closed door at the end. He could hear her breathing, hear her flinching in the bed and tossing the blankets to the floor.

Thena had always had a terrible time sleeping, and Mahd Wy'ry hadn't helped any.

It made her weary--exhausted, really, constantly dragging her feet as she tried to pretend she was fine in the wake of her episodes. They had improved over time, agonisingly slowly, but steadily all the same.

She always maintained that she should have her own room, separate from him. He didn't see the need, but she insisted that she couldn't be trusted in such a state. She stated that she couldn't be trusted conscious, either, but he'd had his arguments for both.

Still, the room at the end of the hall was hers, and she always made the effort to try and sleep in her bed, alone. No matter how many times she would have terrible, horrific nightmares, or if she would fall into an episode in her sleep, or even just if she was too fragile to be alone. She always tried to find solace in her solitude.

But while that might have worked before, it was different in Australia. Because this was their home, just him and Thena. And if she thought he was going to let her suffer in silence - in isolation - for even one minute then she was sorely mistaken.

"No, please...Gil."

His heart cracked a little. She always sounded so different like that. Her voice would squeak out, small and scared, nothing like the statue of a woman who was the Warrior Eternal.

Gil grasped the doorknob gently, turning it as slowly and quietly as possible. He had no fear of her, but he knew it was dangerous to try and sneak up on a Fighter like her. She could snap out of a dead sleep with a weapon in her hand.

But she was calling him.

Gil walked into the room, mindful of which floorboards would creak under him. He walked over to the bed, a war torn mess of sheets and blankets, her night dress tangled around her legs and her hair clinging to her sweat sheened skin. He laid a hand over her forehead. "Thena."

"Gil," she whimpered in her sleep, her chest rising and falling frantically. "Please--please come back. I didn't mean...I didn't mean it."

She was dreaming he had left her? She sure had one hell of an imagination. Because it was never, ever going to happen. He pushed her hair back, running his palm over her flushed skin. "I'm right here, Thena. I'm not going anywhere."

"Gil, please," she continued in her misery. She turned over, seeking out his warmth subconsciously. Her hand clutched blindly at his. "I can't do this without you."

He couldn't do it without her, either. And one day he would really convince her of that. Until then; Gil slid his other hand under her, shifting her over on the plush bed so he could slide in beside her. Part of him always had reservations about doing so. But it wasn't as if it was the first time doing this.

He usually had to come to her; Thena was far too proud to slither into bed with him. As of yet, anyway.

"Gil," she sighed, finally able to anchor herself to his strong, warm comfort. She snuggled into him shamelessly in her deep sleep,

"I'm right here," he assured her again, his hand tapping a light pattern against her delicate shoulder. He idly pulled the neck of her nightdress up over the exposed skin.

"Gil?" she blinked, sorting through the vision of him lying beside her in the dark.

"Hey," he whispered, not sure if she would rather believe she was still sleeping or not. "It's okay, just a dream."

She just stared at him with those vibrant green of hers, nearly teal in the blue light of the moon. "I...I told you to leave. And-"

Gil snorted, cutting off her misery early on. "Not happening, I'll tell you that right now."

Thena just stared at him for another moment. But there was nothing to do but accept it, considering both of them were far too stubborn to relent.

Gil's brows raised as he felt her lips on his cheek. It made him tingle all over, feeling as if he were lying in a sunny field of flowers, her beside him all the same. He didn't question it, and she didn't give him the opportunity to. She tucked her head under his chin, burying her face in his warmth.

Thena was nearly asleep again when he spoke.

"My bed is bigger...just...for the future."

She buried her smile against his shirt. "So, carry me there next time."

[womenbras]

Plus Size Long Nightdress & Swimwear Australia – Online Suppliers with Great Deals

When you do not wear loose and comfortable clothes while sleeping at night, not only does it seem hard to get out of the day's work mode, but the body scrambles to get rid of the awkward tension. Plus size long nightdress is the perfect wearable for people who feel tired with daytime tasks. This will not only unwind your body completely but also help you sleep soundly.

Plus-size dresses are very uncommon among Australian homewear suppliers. Working in this direction, some manufacturers have chosen to make specialty plus-size clothing available. They sell swimwear Australia online as well as plus-size bras, nightwear, shape wear, sleepwear, and other items. When it comes to requiring wearables for swimming pools and beaches, one can choose from a range of products.

Types of Swimwear Generally Offered by Reputable Manufacturers:

Swimsuits – These dresses are specifically designed and developed for women who do not want to expose too much of their bodies in pools or on beaches. It comes with a bottom, and these dresses usually cover the hips, thighs, and rear.

Tankini Tops and Bras – If you enjoy wearing two-piece suits but need more coverage than a plus-size bikini top provides, a tankini can be a terrific choice. This can help wearers feel confident around slimmer ladies and enhance their appearance.

One Piece Bather – Wearing the fully covered bather, one can enjoy outside bathing or showering without any hassle. Make certain that the fabric you choose is durable and not mesh.

Mastectomy Swimwear – This is designed specifically for women who have undergone a mastectomy, which is the surgical removal of one or both breasts. These provide women with a comfortable and supportive fit.

In conclusion, reputable suppliers are offering a wide range of large-size swimwear in various categories to choose from. Ladies who want to live with freedom and enthusiasm can buy as per their choice and interest.

Find a renowned plus-size bra and nightdress supplier online and browse their range of products.

Source: https://plussizesleepwearaustralia.blogspot.com/2023/03/plus-size-long-nightdress-swimwear.html

[coquettefashion]

Pink Satin Tiered Ruffle Bow Babydoll

[fragilepixiepet]

That green nightdress is actually so cute i need it. Where did you get it????

Tag @mine-allyours so i can see your response please!!!!!

@mine-allyours i gots it a week ago from kmart, i am from australia tho so idk if u will be able to find it elsewhere :(

it was $8 tho so if ur australian and like cute nighties go to kmarttttt 😄

[cool-cillian-murphy]

Nightdress Market Unidentified Segments - The Biggest Opportunity Of 2020

What is Nightdress Market? A Nightdress or nightgown or nightie is a loosely hanging item of nightwear, almost exclusively worn by women. The nightdress is made from cotton, satin, silk, or nylon and may be decorated with lace appliqués or embroidery at the bust and hem. The rising disposable income of women and the increasing trend towards online fashion are some of the major drivers boosting the growth of the market. Free Sample Report + All Related Graphs & Charts @ : https://www.advancemarketanalytics.com/sample-report/10953-global-nightdress-market Latest released the research study on Global Nightdress Market, offers a detailed overview of the factors influencing the global business scope. Nightdress Market research report shows the latest market insights with upcoming trends and breakdown of the products and services. The report provides key statistics on the market status, size, share, growth factors, Challenges and Current Scenario Analysis of the Nightdress. This Report also covers the emerging player’s data, including: competitive situation, sales, revenue and global market share of top manufacturers are Hennes & Mauritz AB (Sweden),Calvin Klein, Inc. (United States) ,Ralph Lauren (United Kingdom),David Jones Limited (Australia),Zalora Group (Singapore),Eberjey (United States),Mimi Holiday (United Kingdom),Oysho (Spain),Morgan Lane (United States) ,Sleepy Jones (United States),Gelato Pique (United States),.

Nightdress Market Data Breakdown and Market Segmentation: by Type (Cotton, Silk, Satin, Nylon, Other), Application (Winter, Summer, Spring&Autumn), Sales Channel (Online, Offline)

What's Trending in Market:

Trends towards Online Shopping

Challenges:

Maintain Brand Loyalty

Rapidly Changing Customers Expectations

Restraints:

Availability of Local Brands May Hamper the Growth of the Market

Market Growth Drivers:

Rising Disposable Income among the Women’s

Growing Demand for Nightdress’s among the Developing Nations

  Enquire for customization in Report @: https://www.advancemarketanalytics.com/enquiry-before-buy/10953-global-nightdress-market Region Included are: North America, Europe, Asia Pacific, Oceania, South America, Middle East & Africa

Country Level Break-Up: United States, Canada, Mexico, Brazil, Argentina, Colombia, Chile, South Africa, Nigeria, Tunisia, Morocco, Germany, United Kingdom (UK), the Netherlands, Spain, Italy, Belgium, Austria, Turkey, Russia, France, Poland, Israel, United Arab Emirates, Qatar, Saudi Arabia, China, Japan, Taiwan, South Korea, Singapore, India, Australia and New Zealand etc. What benefits does AMA research study is going to provide? – Latest industry influencing trends and development scenario – Open up New Markets – To Seize powerful market opportunities – Key decision in planning and to further expand market share – Identify Key Business Segments, Market proposition & Gap Analysis – Assisting in allocating marketing investments Strategic Points Covered in Table of Content of Global Nightdress Market:

Chapter 1: Introduction, market driving force product Objective of Study and Research Scope the Market Keyword without Region market

Chapter 2: Exclusive Summary – the basic information of the Nightdress Market.

Chapter 3: Displaying the Market Dynamics- Drivers, Trends and Challenges & Opportunities of the Nightdress

Chapter 4: Presenting the Nightdress Market Factor Analysis, Post COVID Impact Analysis, Porters Five Forces, Supply/Value Chain, PESTEL analysis, Market Entropy, Patent/Trademark Analysis.

Chapter 5: Displaying the by Type, End User and Region/Country 2015-2020

Chapter 6: Evaluating the leading manufacturers of the Nightdress market which consists of its Competitive Landscape, Peer Group Analysis, BCG Matrix & Company Profile

Chapter 7: To evaluate the market by segments, by countries and by Manufacturers/Company with revenue share and sales by key countries in these various regions (2021-2026)

Chapter 8 & 9: Displaying the Appendix, Methodology and Data Source Finally, Nightdress Market is a valuable source of guidance for individuals and companies in their decision framework. Avail 10-25% Discount on various license types on immediate purchase @ https://www.advancemarketanalytics.com/request-discount/10953-global-nightdress-market Data Sources & Methodology The primary sources involves the industry experts from the Global Nightdress Market including the management organizations, processing organizations, analytics service providers of the industry’s value chain. All primary sources were interviewed to gather and authenticate qualitative & quantitative information and determine the future prospects. In the extensive primary research process undertaken for this study, the primary sources – Postal Surveys, telephone, Online & Face-to-Face Survey were considered to obtain and verify both qualitative and quantitative aspects of this research study. When it comes to secondary sources Company's Annual reports, press Releases, Websites, Investor Presentation, Conference Call transcripts, Webinar, Journals, Regulators, National Customs and Industry Associations were given primary weight-age. Definitively, this report will give you an unmistakable perspective on every single reality of the market without a need to allude to some other research report or an information source. Our report will give all of you the realities about the past, present, and eventual fate of the concerned Market.

Thanks for reading this article; you can also get individual chapter wise section or region wise report version like North America, Europe or Asia. About Author:

Advance Market Analytics is Global leaders of Market Research Industry provides the quantified B2B research to Fortune 500 companies on high growth emerging opportunities which will impact more than 80% of worldwide companies' revenues.

Our Analyst is tracking high growth study with detailed statistical and in-depth analysis of market trends & dynamics that provide a complete overview of the industry. We follow an extensive research methodology coupled with critical insights related industry factors and market forces to generate the best value for our clients. We Provides reliable primary and secondary data sources, our analysts and consultants derive informative and usable data suited for our clients business needs. The research study enable clients to meet varied market objectives a from global footprint expansion to supply chain optimization and from competitor profiling to M&As. Contact Us:

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[hillnerd]

Waking Up- Chapter 2

Rating PG-13      A03    ff.net   [previous chapter]  

fic summary: The war is over, but there’s still plenty of battles ahead for Hermione and Ron. Her parents are still in Australia, Ron is hiding secrets, and she has to wonder when she’ll wake up and it’s not from a nightmare. My version of an ‘Australia fic’ - Romione abounds 

 Huge thanks to @amysthefardareismai for her wonderful indepth beta-ing, and @abradystrix for her lovely betaing and britpicking. Y'all are the best!

And thank you to the people who have read this and reviewed- I appreciate you so very much.

CHAPTER WARNINGS: cursing, graphic descriptions of violence, mentions of suicide/ideation

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

Taking watch seemed so unnecessary. Hermione's spells were amazing, and there were so many extra spells to alert them to the presence of people, why did they need to sit up late into the night staring into the woods?

The first few weeks were the hardest. His shoulder was tattered, and his sanity felt like it was in the same sorry state. Had the Ministry figured out that Ron broke in? Would his family be a target now? Were any of them maimed or dead because of him? Would it make his Mum love him less than she already did?

Ron shook his head at that last thought, and readjusted the locket. That bleeding locket. Every time he wore it he could feel it scrabbling at him. Back when he had Scabbers, one of the twins had told him about a Muggle torture where they'd put a rat on the victim's stomach, put a bucket over the rat, then heat up the bucket so the rat would chew right through them. They threatened to do that to him with Scabbers a few times before he started Hogwarts. It had frightened him, but he'd never truly understood what it could feel like until he'd put on the locket.

Every time he wore the locket he could feel it, gnawing through his chest, burrowing inside him, and shredding every piece of him apart.

The things it made him think were horrid, but worse was how it made him behave. He was used to a steady stream of vile self-loathing thoughts. What he wasn't used to was being unable to hide them. The thoughts took over his very being, and he became a complete arse when he wore it— he knew it and just couldn't seem to stop himself.

On watch he couldn't even occupy himself with doing something helpful because his whole body felt so weak. He wasn't sure if it was from his injury, hunger, or the locket— but he was completely depleted. He was useless, he could tell Harry and Hermione thought so.

Every time he told them to not say Voldemort's name they'd roll their eyes. Every time he mentioned they needed food, or a plan, they'd snap at him and talk down to him like he was a naughty three-year-old. Every time he couldn't do something because of his arm they'd scoff and act like he was making excuses. He'd always felt like a tagalong, but never more than in the last few weeks.

His one solace was that none of them were being all that useful anymore. There wasn't a plan of any sort. They had no goals. He couldn't think of a good plan, and Harry was leading them to nowhere. Meanwhile his whole family could be dead. No one cared though. Why would they? They had more important things to think of than the family of a teen so useless he couldn't so much as hold a mug in his left hand anymore. If he couldn't be a shield to them, what use was he? Why'd he ever think he meant anything to them at all? He was nothing.

Nothing, absolutely uselessly nothing.

"Ron?" he heard from the tent, startled out of his revelry. Hermione stood in the tent's entrance, but she wasn't properly bundled up for the cold. She was wearing a thin nightdress that seemed to float around her, and she looked so beautiful it made his breath catch. "What are you doing here?"

"Keeping watch," he replied, giving her a quizzical look.

"Why'd you bother coming back?"

"What?" Ron asked, looking at the locket and back to her. Where'd he gone? Oh right… He'd left them.

Harry came from the tent, looking fierce and sharp eyed.

"Why are you here?" Harry spat at him, eyes giving a faint red glow. "Hermione and I were better off without you— Always have been. Everyone sees it, why can't you?"

"Merlin, you're so pathetic," she sneered.

He didn't have an answer. The locket burned through his chest but he couldn't do anything to touch it, instead he found the sword of Gryffindor in his hand.

"You just thought you'd take a nice long holiday…" Hermione trailed off, wild hair floating about her, as she stroked a hand across Harry's chest. Ron stifled a whimper. He wouldn't cry in front of her. The locket beat as one with his heart.

"Oh Ron…" she said with a sultry pout. "The only thing you can do to stop the pain is to kill him."

Yes… All he had to do was take his sword and strike him, right through the heart and—

Fuck this, wake up, Ron!

He stood and he took steps towards Harry whose haughty eyes never wavered from his own. Hermione nodded and seemed to mouth to him 'yes' as he approached with the sword. He thrust the sword forward, stabbing haltingly through the ribs of Harry's chest.

Harry's face held no malevolence now. He was back to being the scrawny specky best friend, tired, brave, kind… And now with a look of scared uncertainty on his face.

"Ron?"

Blood blossomed across Harry's chest and Hermione screamed. Harry fell in a heap and blood splattered the snow-covered ground.

Wake up! WAKE UP!

With a jerk of his leg Ron finally escaped. His left arm was entirely numb, and he clenched and waved it to get feeling in it again. It stuttered and halted as he tried to rotate it. He pressed fingers harshly into the scarred flesh around his shoulder, willing it to wake up. He'd dealt with his arm acting up ever since he'd gotten splinched all those months ago, but normally he could get feeling and use back into his arm if he kept at it enough. Pain streaked down his arm like a fresh burn, making him let out a hiss. Pain was better than numbness, he supposed. Though it hurt something fierce, he stretched his arm out at that one funny angle he knew worked to get his arm going again.

What a fucked up dream. He hated the ones that were rooted in something real.

He looked to the camp bed beside him and Harry was there, lying asleep, peacefully dozing away on a heavy dose of Dreamless Sleep. With that particular potion, Harry could sleep through just about anything. Ron reached over to check his friend was truly breathing, then checked his pulse and lifted the duvet to make sure there wasn't any blood. He felt like a wanker and a creep for doing it, but he was desperate for peace of mind.

He almost killed his best friend those months ago. Well, it wasn't really him— it was the locket - but for just an instant the locket almost made him do it. Harry had looked so afraid of him that night. He'd even jumped away when the sword came down on the locket, convinced for a moment that Ron truly had betrayed him, truly wanted him dead.

They'd never talked about it since, still had trouble believing Harry could fully trust him again. He'd gone on about Ron saving his life and destroying the locket, but Ron knew the truth. He was no hero. He was a snivelling bastard who'd almost killed his best friend in cold blood.

"Fuck…" Ron groaned to himself. He didn't want to go down the self-hating path for another night. It didn't do anyone any good. That's how the locket had gotten to him. Not able to come up with counterpoints to his self loathing, he got up from his too short bed.

He arranged the blankets so the bed looked occupied. When he left it looking empty Harry had the habit of seeking Ron out, and he didn't want Harry missing out on sleep. Satisfied with the composition of his pillows and bedclothes, he cast a spell to replicate some snores and snuck down the stairs.

He wished he could wake Hermione, wrap his arms around her and bury his face into her bushy hair, but she needed the rest too. Plus he didn't want to get flack from his sister for sneaking into her room to use Hermione as a comfort blanket. Instead he went to the bathroom for his morning shower.

As he waited for the water to warm he looked in the mirror. He wasn't as god-forsakenly skinny as he had been, but he still looked a right unshaved mess. He'd never seen an Inferius before, thank Merlin, but he imagined his pale skin and deep purple bags under his bloodshot eyes could make him pass for one. Stooping under the shower head that was at least half a foot too low for him, he twisted and waved his left arm some more. The feeling still hadn't entirely returned to the blasted thing. The last three fingers were almost entirely devoid of feeling except for the odd painful prickle in his pinky. Considering all that he'd done and survived it was a small penance to pay. He turned the knob until the water was so hot he turned red as a fresh boiled chizpurfle, but his arm and fingers had feeling and could finally move normally again.

Done with his shower he put on his watch and checked the time. Two fourteen… He briefly considered taking a Dreamless Sleep potion. It seemed to work for Harry. Usually Harry was mumbling or yelling out in his sleep, but since the war he had been rather quiet. Whether it was the potion or lack of the Voldemort connection, Ron wasn't sure. He didn't want to ask Harry— that'd just bring attention to the fact that he had been the loudest damned roommate to put up with over the last seven years.

Ron opened the cabinet and looked at the neat row of draughts he could easily take. No one could fault him for it. He hadn't slept a full night in weeks. He held one in his hand and nearly uncorked it before he stopped himself. What if something were to happen and both he and Harry were too out of it on potion to help? He'd never be able to forgive himself if something happened and he'd not been ready. He'd gone through that too many times this year. He'd never let it happen again.

Mind made up, he put the potion back on the shelf and went downstairs for his nightly vigil. Compared to his watches when they were on the Horcrux hunt, the ones at the Burrow were almost pleasant. Sure he was dead tired, lonely and felt a hollow pit of sadness— but he couldn't complain. If anything it gave him a chance to mourn in private. Any other time of day and he'd be surrounded by people that needed him to appear strong, but in the middle of the night, all expectations fell away. He could freely be a grouchy depressed git, and no one would have to suffer his ill moods. He was determined to never be the same arsehole he'd been with that locket around his neck.

He was able to look out into the night from inside from the comfort of home, with plenty of food to power him, and a handy clock on the mantle to tell him everyone was alright..

They'd removed Fred's clock hand when he died at some point, when Ron wasn't sure. He didn't want to ask. He'd entered the Burrow a few days after the final Battle, everything had been set right, the house was clear of dark spells and the ghoul's butchered body had been buried, his room was back to normal (aside from a few posters they'd been unable to clean the gore from) but the clock was missing Fred's golden hand.

Every night that Ron sat in their living room, four hands would point to 'home' and four would point to 'away', unless one of his brothers was visiting the Burrow or had a late night at work. Since the war had ended, no one's hand had been on 'mortal peril,' for which he was immensely grateful. He glanced up at the clock on the mantle to make sure this was still true and his stomach flipped like he'd taken a step and missed it.

George's hand was firmly set on 'prison.'

Alarm coursing through him. Ron bolted for the stairs when the familiar sound of someone apparating made him freeze. He glanced at the clock, hoping George had come home, or one of his brothers apparated to tell them all what happened. The hands stayed firmly in place.

Someone else had apparated onto their property. His family closed off their property to all but the closest of confidants with a series of wards, but without the Fidelius Charm in place it was possible for people with enough power or cleverness to break through.

He saw the person's silhouette, tall and quick moving towards the kitchen door. Ill-lit by the waxing crescent moon, he couldn't tell who it was. The intruder was almost at the door. There was no time to get help. Ron was by himself. The only advantage Ron had for certain was surprise. There was no way the intruder could know Ron was awake, and in the dark, no way the intruder would have spotted him.

Ron quickly perturbed the kitchen door, and crept along the wall to the scullery. He cast a silencing spell and wrenched the window open. He threw himself through it and scrambled to fit his shoulders through the narrow opening. It felt a lot smaller than the last time he'd attempted this escape route at the age of twelve. He crept as quickly as he could around the side of the house.

He peered around the house. The stranger gasped as the perturbence spell threw their hand away from the door.

Ron steadied himself, then in a low voice cast his spell. With a noise and a burst of red light the intruder was knocked off his feet, unconscious. Ron ran to the body and wrenched it over to see the slack face of Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"Oh shit!" Ron cursed, taking a few steps back. He'd just cast a Stunner on the new Minister of Magic! Would he end up in prison like George? No… Of course not. It was Kingsley… He was defending his home in the middle of the night. Surely he couldn't begrudge Ron that?

"Rennervate!" he nervously incanted.

Kingsley gave a gasp and raised his wand, pointing it at Ron.

"Sorry... thought you were an intruder," said Ron, his wand still pointed at Kingsley.

"I gathered that," Kingsley said in his low calm voice, eyeing Ron's wand with raised eyebrows.

"You need to prove you're you. Who were you with for the Seven Potters mission?"

"Hermione. We rode a Thestral together. Who were you with?" asked Kinglsey, wand still trained on Ron.

"With Tonks," he said, voice tight at the thought of her.

They each lowered their wands.

"But really, I'm sorry 'bout the Stunner," Ron said, stooping to help Kingsley stand. He was surprised to find himself a little bit taller than the Minister.

"Nothing to be sorry about. I'd have done the exact same in your position," he said, putting away his wand and giving a wince at the movement. "I didn't expect anyone to be up."

"Yeah, well…" Ron didn't bother trying to come up with a reason. "Are you here about George?"

Kingsley nodded as he brushed the dirt from his robes. "Your mother must still have that clock of hers."

"Did he blow something up? Someone up? What happened? Is he ok?" Ron prodded impatiently.

"He's safe," said Kingsley, infuriatingly enigmatic. Safe. For all that meant, George was alive but sentenced to a life in prison for Ron knew not what. Safe now. Did that mean he was unsafe before? What had George done? Ron was bursting with questions, but didn't feel he knew Kingsley well enough to feel entitled to answers. "He's not in extreme trouble either, all things considered. As for all the circumstances, I'd prefer to only tell it once. Would you like to get your parents?"

The thought of waking his brittle mother to this made Ron feel a tremble in his gut.

"I'll get Dad. Mum, she… she needs her sleep after everything..."

Kingsley nodded in agreement, following Ron into the house as he unperturbed the door and snuck upstairs to wake his father.

It was an odd sensation to sneak into his parents' room for the first time in many years. Suddenly vibrant memories of sneaking in to cuddle between his parents, and finding other siblings hogging the bed struck him as he opened the door. No matter how many kids were in their bed, they always made room for more. If they had to, they'd spell the bed wider to accommodate everyone. No one was ever turned away, no matter what.

Part of him wanted to curl into the bed and have his mum hold him and tell him all his nightmares were rubbish, there were no monsters, and everything was ok. He couldn't do it, of course. Besides the fact that he was an inch or two shy of six and a half feet and eighteen years old, he knew monsters were very real and all his nightmares were rooted in horrid memories. There also was the fact that his mother was in an incredibly fragile state, one he'd never imagined he could see her in. If anything, he should be the one holding his mum.

As gently as he could, he shook his father's arm. His dad immediately opened his eyes, but was slow to sit up, so as not to jostle the bed.

"What's wrong?" he whispered, fumbling a bit for his glasses.

"It's ok. Don't wake Mum. I need you to come downstairs. Kingsley's here," said Ron, keeping his eye on the form of his mother, hair in long braid, as she usually did for bed. She'd done that since he could remember.

His father quickly followed him, putting on a dressing gown as they went down the dark narrow hallway. Dad did the same practiced look at the family clock and gave a gasp.

"George is fine, Arthur, but that's why I'm here," said Kingsley, his voice instantly calming. "George has been arrested for apparating under the influence to the top of Tower Bridge."

"THE Tower Bridge?" Arthur spluttered, looking aghast. "There could have been hundreds of witnesses!"

"He did it so late at night that we were quite lucky. Only one person actually saw him Apparate up there and they've been Obliviated. He was seen by many other Muggles on the bridge, but they didn't see him do any magic. They called it into the Muggle police reporting there was a man on top of the bridge, and they were concerned he was a jumper— "

Dad hissed in response. For an instant Ron almost laughed. They couldn't possibly think George was going to kill himself, could they? The very thought was mental!

Someone that young wouldn't opt for death. George was only twenty— far too young for anyone to contemplate dying… But life and death decisions were the sorts everyone had been making the past few years. You could be vibrant and laughing one moment, then a lifeless corpse under a pile of debris the next. Ron could practically smell the pulverized stone, and hear Percy's wails as he held Fred. His corpse had more joy on its face than George did now.

The more he thought about it, the more terror gripped at Ron. Suicide didn't seem that far outside the realm of reality. His brother had shut down and withdrawn from everyone. The few times he'd allowed anyone to see him, which was only in Muggle places like his hotel lobby or nearby restaurants, he'd been all bloodshot eyes and dark dull looks.

George very well could be that bad off.

"He… he wasn't going to jump, was he?" Ron asked, his voice small and childlike, despite its timbre. He felt his ears turn red.

"I really don't know. He was arrested on the spot by a pair of patrol officers from the M.L.E.S. —

Magical Law Enforcement Squad," said Kingsley before turning to Dad. "I'll do everything I can to keep news of this getting around, Arthur, but I can only do so much. He still needs to be bailed out."

"Of course," Dad somberly said, dazedly turning to the stairs. "I'll… I'll just put on some clothes… I'll let Molly sleep until I know more."

"I'm coming too," Ron insisted. The thought of sitting and waiting for news at home left a clawed out pit in his stomach. He'd done enough waiting around for shitty news the past year.

"You don't need to," Dad weakly protested.

"I want to. I'm up and dressed already, and… and I won't be able to rest until I see him and know he's ok."

His father nodded in assent. Ron was glad no one had thought to ask why he was up and dressed in the middle of the night. He hadn't expected them to. Most people's odd habits were rather accepted after the war, probably because everyone was too spell shocked to take the time to notice other people and do anything about it.

He'd thought at the end of the war he'd feel relief and happiness; that he'd finally be able to smile and celebrate. So many magical folk were in that boat now. The few papers he'd looked at had smiling faces, victorious ticker tape celebrations in Diagon Alley, and people thrusting mugs into the air to toast The Boy Who Lived, victory, and whatever rubbish made people happy.

Ron had crumpled the newspapers and set them on fire the day of Fred's funeral.

This must have been what it felt like for the Order after the first war. Yeah, they won— but it felt impossible to celebrate. So many people were dead or worse. People they knew— not some random heroes… Good friends, elves, kids, his brother… All kind, good, brave people who deserved to live.

For the survivors who knew them, it was nothing but funeral after funeral, bearing witness to breakdown after breakdown… How could anyone ever laugh again without the guilt immediately coming in, let alone celebrate? Was it any wonder George was such a wreck? He thrived on laughter before Fred's death. Even on Potterwatch, on the run and Death Eaters on their tails, the twins had been hilarious and clever.

"Did you see George?" Ron asked Kingsley.

"I did, but only briefly," said Kingsley before looking at Ron and seeming to see the hungry desperation for more information. "He was very intoxicated and was dozing in a holding cell. I had him put in his own cell, and there's someone watching him for safety's sake… just in case."

In case of what? In case George actually was 'a jumper' on that bridge? It took everything in Ron's power not to curse out loud. He and Kingsley knew one another, but not all that well and never as peers— and now Kingsley was Minister of Magic. Even if it was the middle of the night Ron didn't think it'd go over all that well to let loose a string of foul fucks, shits and buggers.

"How'd you know about him getting arrested anyways?" Ron asked, trying to distract himself from thoughts of his brother's mental state.

"I made it clear to the law enforcement staff that any notable business to do with the Order of the Phoenix would always need to be brought to me. Apparating to the top of Tower Bridge would count as notable."

"Yeah, that'd just about do it," said Ron with a shake of his head, looking for a quill. He dashed off a note to the family just in case it took a while to get George out of jail. He didn't want them to wake up alarmed at not only George being imprisoned, but Ron and his dad missing as well. He supposed he could have gone up to undo the snoring charm on his bed, but decided to leave it on the off chance he'd make it back before everyone was awake.

Dad was quickly back down the stairs fully dressed, though his thin hair was sticking up as bad as Harry's in the back.

They Flooed to the Ministry, as Apparition directly into any of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement offices was strictly forbidden by those who were not official staff of the department.

It was strangely disconcerting to not be on a deadly mission, undercover, getting his brains hexed out or getting his shoulder splinched. For the past few years Ron hadn't been to the Ministry except to break in. Part of him kept expecting someone to jump out from behind a column to arrest them all. He instinctively had his wand out until Kingsley gave it a pointed look. He quickly stowed it, his face flushing.

As they went through the Atrium of the Ministry there was a significant blank spot where the disturbing 'Magic is Might' statue had stood. Without people, and without any statue, the Atrium echoed with every footstep they took. They took a golden lift that said in a cool female voice "Level Two, Depart of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters, and Wizengamot Administration Services."

The hairs on the back of Ron's neck prickled as they stepped off the lift. The last time Ron had been in this hallway he'd been Polyjuiced as Reg Catermole, stupidly attempting to make Yaxley's office stop raining. Nerveless clammy hands, so much smaller than his own massive ones, had shakily held his wand. If he hadn't been able to get that damned office to stop raining he could have ended up being responsible for the imprisonment, and perhaps even death, of Mary Cattermole. Then, just when he thought his day couldn't get more mad, his Dad had stepped into the lift.

Tension and relief had become so intermingled that he didn't know which he was feeling. For the smallest moment he had felt the childlike impulse to run up and hug his Dad, babbling about how fucked up everything was, to have his level-headed father fix it all. He'd know what to do about the Cattermoles, Yaxley, the Horcruxes— all of it!

It could have been the last time he ever saw his father. Between him, Harry and Hermione, Ron knew he was the one who would most likely die on their mission given his track record. If he could at least give his dad one last hug or find out the family was all ok… But there was no doing any of that. If he fucked up, he could get Harry and Hermione killed. He could doom everyone by being an overly emotional tit. He hadn't dared to look his father in the eye. If he had started, he didn't think he would have been able to stop from openly staring and trying to drink in one last look at his Dad. No, it had been be so much safer to just stare at his shoulder and get the fuck away as soon as he could. So Ron had avoided his father's gaze, gave his thanks for the Charm help, and darted off from the elevator, not sparing a backwards glance.

"We'll be going to the M.L.E. Court and Justice Center," his father said, bringing Ron back to the present.

With a shake of his head, he made himself focus up. The war was over. He didn't have to worry about any more 'this may be the last time I see you' moments. At least he hoped so. He had his Dad right at his side, in the same corridor, and he could say or do whatever he needed to. After all, Ron had survived all that stupid shit, somehow— others hadn't. He didn't even know if the Cattermoles were alive… and he hadn't thought of them in months. What a selfish sod he was.

Not far down the corridor was the 'Magical Law Enforcement Court and Justice Center', behind a large pair of oaken doors adorned in ostentatious carvings of medieval looking witches and wizards in various noble poses levitating scales of justice. It opened into an equally fine marbled room with many doors to courtrooms, offices and more, empty of everyone but a lonely old mustachioed guard nodding off in the corner.

Going through a door that read 'Prisoner Detention and Processing Center' the feeling was instantly different. The long arched dark-bricked room felt almost intentionally grubby, with rickety wooden seating screwed into the cheap tiled floors. At the back of the room were a series of formal wooden counters, all empty save a few exhausted-looking officials. Next to them sat a giant metal door that more resembled a Gringott's vault.

The rest of the sad-looking room looked like it could use a good scrubbing. Along the wooden rows of seats sat a few tired individuals filling out forms or listlessly staring at vault-like door for a loved one to finally be let free from jail. There was one young woman with three sleeping children piled around her as she filled out her form.

Ron accidentally caught her eye and gave a tight smile of acknowledgement. She gave a gasp and stared at him with wide eyes, seemingly recognizing him. For someone who barely was recognized by his own professors at school it was an odd sensation to have a stranger stare at him so. But then Ron realized he was with Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister of Magic. That must have been it, then. She was actually looking at Kingsley. Giving a wry smile at his own folly, he followed his father and Kingsley to the counter.

The surly paunchy woman sitting behind the counter sat up and gave a similar gasp as soon as she saw them.

"Mr Minister, sir!" she spluttered, sitting up high in her seat as a few purple forms flew out from around her. "H-how can I help you, sir?"

"We're here regarding a Mr. George Weasley. I'd like him processed for release as quickly as possible."

"Oh, yes, of course!" she said, gathering some forms and putting them on a clipboard with a little inkwell and quill at the top. She gave Kingsley a smile, but it had an unnatural set to it, as if she wasn't very used to smiling at all.

The packet of forms she'd gathered was formidable, and Ron could see his father looking at it with grim determination.

"Maybe I can help fill them out," said Ron, looking it over.

His dad shook his head and pointed to the top of the form— they had to be filled and signed by whoever was helping post the bail, and only them.

"Why don't Ron and I get us all some tea?" Kingsley offered. Having nothing better to do and feeling utterly useless, Ron nodded and followed Kingsley out of the processing center and down the hall to Auror Headquarters.

"I've been wanting to have a talk with you," said Kingsley as soon as they entered the hall.

Ron almost looked around him to see if Harry was there.

"We'll be needing your testimony soon for a few Death Eater trials, as well as Harry and Hermione's testimonies…"

"Oh yeah— yeah, whatever you need," Ron hastily said, putting his hands in his pockets to stop himself from swinging them at his side.

"Thank you, we all will appreciate that."

As far as talks go this one seemed rather benign. It was not like he couldn't have just said that on their way to the Detention Center.

They went past a number of cubicles to a small interview room with a cheery window displaying a sunny summer day outside the window, despite it being the middle of the night.

"I think we have a hangover potion somewhere here, too," Kingsley said, looking around the room in a few cabinets. "So, Ron, now that the war's over, do you have some plans for your future?"

Ron wasn't used to attention being on him like this and felt his ears go a bit red. The only thing he could picture in his future was Hermione, but he couldn't very well tell Kingsley that.

"I haven't been thinking much about the future, to be honest. Been more… just surviving, y'know?"

"I do, yes," Kingsley said before giving a low 'aha!' and taking out a small blue hexagonal potion bottle clearly labelled Hollace's Hangover Cure. "I imagine it will take a lot of time and rebuilding before that feeling of 'just surviving' goes away. Not just for us individuals, but our whole world. There's so much work we need to do to stabilize it, and give people faith in the institutions they once took for granted."

"Yeah, well it doesn't help the Ministry's been filled with a bunch of corrupt blood purists and puffed-up cowards," said Ron, going over to the tea station and beginning to make a pot. "At the beginning of the war I thought, 'people wouldn't let all that anti-Muggleborn stuff happen,' but they did. It all fell apart in days."

"The difference is that we now have a real chance to fundamentally improve our departments with better personnel. Most of the blood purists and corrupt individuals are in prison awaiting trial," said Kingsley, taking a seat on the edge of the sturdy oak table. "Of course, this means our government is gutted. The Auror department for example is very depleted, and we will be needing new Aurors to help round up all the loose Death Eaters, and other people who need to come to justice."

Ron nodded along, still a bit uncomfortable being alone with the Minister of Magic, even if it was just Kingsley.

"Making sure all our Aurors are honest men and women, aren't blood purists, and are able to put up with the rigors of the job… It's not easy to find good candidates."

"Yeah, I can imagine."

"A lot of young witches and wizards fancy becoming Aurors when they're young, but put them into battle simulations and they drop out rather quickly when faced with the reality of it. You've been living in those conditions for months on end, so you understand just how gruelling it can be."

''You mean barely making it to the end of the day with four limbs?" Ron said with a snort, giving his bad arm a bit of a stretch. "Yeah, not exactly something I'd recommend to most people."

"Well most people don't have your skill set. Tonks went on for days about your abilities at Harry's removal from his home last summer."

"She did, did she?" said Ron, a sad smile forming as he thought of Tonks and her infectious enthusiasm.

"She and Remus mentioned you'd shown interest in becoming an Auror."

"I… I have… I mean… I did."

Ron swallowed roughly. He didn't remember ever talking it over with them. Then again, most of the adults of the Order never had much to say to him. And he'd certainly never thought he was someone the adults ever discussed when he wasn't around. The only time they seemed to actually consider him was when they asked if he was willing to fly in that Seven Potters debacle the prior summer. Even then he was 'just another Weasley decoy.' Even Fred and George took the piss from him, saying he was just another spare Weasley for the mission.

"Given your experience and skills, I think you'd be a wonderful addition to the Aurors."

Ron's mouth gaped open. "Wha—? Me?"

"Of course."

"But they're… To be an Auror you have to be a true elite. You've got to be great at dueling, smart, a pro at defense," he rambled, going red when he realized he was explaining it to Kingsley, of all people.

Kingsley had an indulgent smile on his face.

"Sounds like your credentials, then. Plus you've probably participated in more battles than some of our current Aurors.''

At one point, not all that long ago, Ron would have beamed at such a comment. He found himself feeling more grim. He didn't like how many battles he'd been in. He wished he could have avoided them all, really.

"Now, I know you were interested in the Aurors before the war, but I wasn't sure if you were you wanting to join because Harry was, or is this a career you were seriously considering for yourself."

All the decisions Ron had made the last seven years seemed to be based around Harry or Hermione. He couldn't think of any of them that were just for him…

"A bit of both, I guess… It's always been Harry and me."

"But if it were just you, would this still be a career you'd want?"

No one had asked him what he wanted before. Not really. The only time he could think of was when he became Prefect and his mother had asked what he wanted as a gift. That had been overwhelming, and it was fairly trivial. This was a whole career!

In his career orientation with McGonagall she'd just sort of skimmed over it, her mouth going tight and an unimpressed look on her face when he said he was considering becoming an Auror. She'd gone off about what he'd need to qualify for it, and by the end of their meeting it seemed like insurmountable odds for him to ever become one. She was quick to let him know that should he fail to acquire high enough test scores, there were plenty of jobs other than Auror he could qualify for… He couldn't think of a single thing he was good at beyond chess, and last time he checked, that wasn't a career option. But here was the Minister of Magic, an ex-Auror, saying he was good enough.

He realized he'd been quiet a long time when the kettle began to whistle.

Kingsley seemed to sense Ron's mind had completely seized, and continued talking as Ron fumbled with the tea.

"So what do you say? You're as battle-ready as anyone and highly trusted— Of course the other side of it is, you've been through quite a lot in the past few years. To subject yourself to any more battles and duels... I'm not saying the Aurors are in non-stop battles, of course, but it can come with the job, and I'd understand if you'd want to steer clear of it."

Ron could walk away and odds were, he'd never have to participate in a duel to the death again. The idea was terribly tempting. He had no fucking clue what he'd do instead, or what he'd be any good for really— but he could take his time and figure it out.

"Are you…" Ron blanched and rephrased. "You're going to talk to Harry about this too."

"Yes. And a few others your age as well, such as Hermione and that Neville Longbottom. Really any of the of-age students who participated in the Battle of Hogwarts and survived it would be excellent candidates. But you, Harry and Hermione truly are the elite, in my opinion."

Harry he knew was destined for this, no matter how much Ron wished his friend would stay out of danger— that just wasn't him. Neville was never someone he'd have thought of for the Aurors, but he'd more than proved he had the grit for it. Hermione… Ron hated the idea of her stepping into danger ever again. She had just as much ability as anyone, and had been fighting right alongside Ron all those years— but he still thought of her as an innocent somehow who wasn't as hard and fucked up as him and Harry, or even Neville.

"Maybe you shouldn't ask Hermione," Ron found himself saying out loud.

Kindsley's eyebrows raised. "Oh?"

Ron flushed, knowing he'd overstepped. She'd hate him for saying something like that to Kingsley. "She's brilliant, of course, and could be an amazing Auror, but it's not what she's meant to do… She's meant to— to change the world or something. She could organize and set up the whole Ministry better than anyone, save house elves… You know, stuff like that."

"You'd prefer her safely behind a desk."

"Merlin's balls, yes!" Ron blurted before he could stop himself. "Sorry… Yes…"

"You can curse with impunity in my company," Kingsley said with a laugh, before sobering. "I'll still put forth an invitation to her for the Aurors, but I do agree— her particular skill set would do very well on the bureaucratic side of things."

"That's all I'm saying," Ron said, hand defensively raised. "I mean, of course I want to keep her away from all the action as much as I can. In the end she'll do what she wants and I'd never stop her, but really she'd be so much happier doing law-makery things and getting to use that big brain of hers. She's just not meant to be out there dodging curses and dealing with all that shit out there!"

"Are you?"

Ron hesitated.

He was so tired… but there was so much that needed to be done, so many people that needed to be hunted down so Muggleborns like Hermione could be safe. Harry would never stop, and Ron didn't think he could either, not yet at least. Thinking critically on his skill set, and not letting his insecurity rule the decision, he probably could hold his own as an Auror. Enough to watch Harry's back at least.

"Been doing my fair share of it for about seven years now… what's a few more?" he said with a shrug before his eyebrows shot up. "I haven't got any NEWTs though!"

"I'm temporarily relaxing those requirements."

"Then yeah… I'm in."

"You don't have to commit yourself now, of course. This is an important decision and I want you to take all the time you need."

Ron nodded, but his mind was already made up.

"We'd need to do just a bit of training so you're familiar with laws and everything before you're fully qualified. About seven months or so for those of you who qualify for the abbreviated training, but deputy Aurorship could start as soon as a week from now. I have some paperwork about it all to send to you, Harry and the others. You can expect it in the next day or so."

"Thanks."

With Ron's future decided, they made their way back to the Processing Center with hot tea in hand.

They found his Dad sitting where they'd left him, but he was missing the clipboard of paperwork.

"Almost done?" asked Ron.

"They're processing him. Should be done any minute," said his Dad with a wan mirthless smile. Everyone in Ron's family seemed to be a master of this smile: a 'things are fucked— what can I be but polite, and give you the worst shitty close mouthed grimace of an upturned mouth there is' smile.

"I'll see if I can hurry things along before I leave," said Kingsley, putting the hangover potion on the seat beside Ron.

His Dad thanked Kingsley, who gave a nod and went to talk to the same woman as before.

"You two were gone a while," said Dad, reaching a freckled hand over to take tea from Ron.

"Yeah, Kingsley wanted to talk to me…" Ron leaned over in his seat to put his elbows on his knees. "He asked me to join the Aurors."

His father's eyes widened a bit, but that was the only indication of surprise he showed as he took a long pull of tea.

"Did you give him an answer?" he hesitantly asked.

"I told him yes."

His Dad nodded before closing his eyes and sitting back to rub his fingers under his glasses.

"You think I should've turned him down?" Ron asked, suddenly uncertain.

"No… No, I wouldn't expect you to do that," said his Dad, giving a shake of his head.

"You wouldn't? Cause I considered it…"

"No," he said simply, taking another long sip of tea. That same tight smile was back on his Dad's face, making Ron's stomach feel cold and heavy.

"Why?"

"Because out of all my children, you are the one who always runs headfirst after danger if you think it might help someone."

Ron gave him an incredulous look. "All of us Weasleys are like that…"

"Well we all face danger head on when it comes at us, and do our part to help a righteous cause, but you? You're the one Weasley who's been chasing adventures down since the age of eleven."

"I've not!" Ron protested, feeling a rush of anger. He wasn't some adrenaline junky or glory hound. "Who the hell wants to do and see all the stupid bloody things I have? I'm not out there 'adventuring for fun' or whatever. If I never saw another bit of action again, it'd be fine by me!"

His dad had a rueful look on his face. "I should've phrased it better. It's not about you seeking out adventure to satisfy a selfish urge . It's about doing what's right. If there's the wildest hope some action of yours will help, you put your life on the line to do it. Sometimes I wish it was someone else's child who would step up instead, but…"

"Other people's children are stepping up," said Ron, thinking of people like Harry, Hermione and Neville.

His Dad gave a sigh and put a hand to the back of his neck. He looked so weary and aged, and so very tired.

Ron hated that he'd made his dad's night even worse. "M'sorry," he mumbled.

"Don't be sorry!" his Dad said with a small smile. "You should be proud of yourself! Being offered Aurorship when you haven't even graduated from school? It's quite an accomplishment."

He wasn't so sure. The bracing talk from Kingsley seemed to be fading, and the nerveless anxiety of not being enough wormed its way to the surface. After all, Kingsley was offering the position to tons of people.

"You've done so much," said Dad.

Ron gave a shake of his head and stared at his trainers. He'd barely scraped out of the war alive, and had a long list of failures: leaving the hunt, almost killing Harry, failing to save Hermione at the Manor, failing to save Fred. He failed so much and so many people.

"I'm very, very proud of you, Ron," said his father, hand clapping hard onto Ron's scarred forearm. Ron looked up from his hand to see his father had tears in his eyes.

Ron had never had his Dad look him in the eye and say something like that before. Sure, he'd congratulated him a couple of times, said he loved him and such. This was very different from those times. There were so many unsaid things in his father's look. There was a world-weary sadness shining in his father's eyes - fierce pride, fear for everything Ron had faced before, would face in the future, and so much fatherly love.

Ron felt his eyes prick with tears, and he had to look away to keep them from falling.

"Can't blame me for hoping you'd retire from danger, can you?" his Dad said, with a sniff.

Ron gave a short laugh.

"I'll be careful… I really will," Ron said, though he knew it wouldn't do anything to calm his Dad's worries.

"I know," his father said before slumping in his chair. "Oh, your mother is going to be a wreck…"

The two of them groaned at the thought.

Ron wasn't sure if she'd be proud or worried sick. Both? Either way he was fairly certain she'd be crying and screaming about it. He wasn't looking forward to that.

The sudden loud clanking of the metal door opening made them both stand up. A very scruffy looking George stumbled forward, not looking either of them in the eye as he approached, an M.L.E.S. officer at his side. He swayed a bit, and stank of alcohol and body odor. He'd looked awful coming through the door, but this was nothing compared to up close. Ron hadn't seen him in a week, and he doubted George had showered or shaved since he'd seen him last. Even at the end of the battle, completely encrusted in gunk and debris, George had looked better than this.

"Well, Mum always thought we'd end up in jail," George said with a humorless smile. Ron winced at his use of 'we.' George hadn't completely stopped using 'us' and 'we' since Fred died, and every time he slipped up it hurt.

"You two able to take him from here?" the officer asked, looking thoroughly done as George patted him on the shoulder and gave him a goofy smile.

"Yes, I signed the paperwork. We'll take him home," his Dad answered. The officer quickly extracted himself from George's grasp, straightened his uniform, and went back through the door. "Let's go home, son."

"Fat fucking chance," said George, before he let out a creaky wheezing laugh that sounded so foreign and callous, Ron couldn't believe it'd come from his brother. "Morning, Dad."

"Yes, what a wonderful morning it is," their Dad said, fixing George with a withering glare that made Ron step back.

George stupidly blinked at him, before giving another cackle.

"And Ron! You're here too! It's a fucking family re-nunion. Onion? Reooonion. That's it. How are you?"

"Spiffing," said Ron with a roll of his eyes. George reached up and put an arm around Ron's left shoulder. The sudden weight of his brother, along with the inches of height difference, made Ron stoop over in an uncomfortable lurch that made his shoulder throb in pain. "Merlin you reek, George."

"'S'no way to talk to your older brother!"

"Let's go," said Dad, putting a hand on George's elbow which he quickly shrugged off.

"D'rather sit in that cell!"

"George, I signed a surety bond that said we'd stay with you until you were sober. The bond keeps you from being able to Apparate or Floo, or even travel at more than five kilometers per hour on your own until you're sober. There's literally no way you can travel on your own right now, aside from walking."

An ugly mutinous look passed over George's face.

"M'not going to the Burrow."

"Then where do you want to go?" asked Dad with more patience than Ron could have managed.

George closed his eyes and swayed so far back that Ron thought he might fall over, but he miraculously kept his footing.

"Dunno," he said, letting out a big sigh. "I can't handle… I don't wanna be home, okay?"

"How about your hotel?" asked Ron.

George leaned back again, and Ron hissed with pain as his brother's weight twisted his arm at a funny angle a second time. The silence went on for a long time before George said, "I dunno…"

George gave another laugh and looked around as if he'd accomplished something.

Ron had to keep himself from throttling his brother.

"We're taking you to your hotel then," said Dad. They limped along with George until they were clear of the Anti-Apparition spells at the Department of Law Enforcement. They simultaneously side-alonged George to his hotel room, where he promptly threw up in the middle of the floor.

The smell of his sick was nothing compared to the smells hitting them from the room. Trays of food were growing mold and had flies surrounding them, molding towels and clothes were all over the room, and it smelled so awful Ron nearly was sick himself. Even half the bed had plates and other detritus on it.

"Oh George…" said Dad looking around the room. He gave a shake of his head and banished the filth from the bed so Ron could lay George down.

"Do you think we can get him into a new room?" Ron asked.

"It is a bit late in the night for that… Plus it's a Muggle hotel, so that complicates payments quite a lot."

Ron looked around the room, realizing how much work it would take to clear it of mess if he was to try and keep the various plates and towels instead of just banishing them all, when he saw the extra door in the room.

"George, where does that door go?"

"Wha'door?" his brother moaned, eyes closed tight.

"The one next to the-the shiny box thingy on the table."

"Telly."

"Yeah, tell me."

George gave a grunt and opened his eyes enough to roll them.

"Box thingy's a telly, sod!"

"Oh it's a tellyvision!" Dad enthused.

"Not now!" Ron gritted out. "The door next to the telly-thingy. It goes to another room, yeah?"

George gave an unhelpful shrug.

"What are you thinking, Ron?" asked Dad.

"I'm thinking we can break into the room next door and put George up there for tonight— meanwhile we can clean up his original room."

"When room service is available we can get some clean sheets and such for this room," Dad replied.

Ron gave a nod and did a Hominum Revelio on the room next door. It was thankfully empty. They unlocked the door and floated George over. Despite his weak protests, he was asleep and snoring away within minutes.

Cleaning the grotesque room was a task akin to the scrubbing of Grimmauld Place, but they found their rhythm, and by the time the sun was close to rising, the room was clean enough that Muggle housekeepers could easily see to clearing away the now spotless dishes and stack of still slightly mildewy, but folded, towels.

Out of anything to do, father and son sat on the end of the semi-clean bed that still needed new sheets.

"Well, that's about as done as we can do until the housekeeping staff is available," said Dad, giving his glasses a polish. "You should probably get back home. I can stay here and tend to George."

"No I'll stay," Ron volunteered. He didn't like the idea of returning to the house with nothing to occupy him, or worse, having to tell his mother what happened to George. "You have to work today, don't you? And I don't have anything."

"I suppose it's best I tell your mother anyways."

"Or maybe we could put off telling her?" Ron asked hopefully. "I mean, she's just now doing okay…"

"It'd be difficult for her to not find out in some way, though," said Dad with a shake of his head. "There's no way I can lie to her about something like this."

"Well, maybe we can put it off until everything with George is a bit more settled?"

Dad gave a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I... suppose. If she hasn't seen the note you left yet."

George chose that moment to stumble into the room, squinting at them.

"Well, I need to get a move on if I'm to retrieve that note before your mother sees it… Going to be a long day," Dad said, giving a low grunt as he stiffly rose.

"Sorry," George mumbled.

"Yes, well, we have a lot to discuss later, don't we?" said Dad, lips forming a tight line, before Disapparating from the room. Ron and George were alone, the latter pale and wincing at the lights of the room.

Ron got the hangover potion from his pocket and handed it to George, who downed it in one go and immediately regained the color in his face.

"Oh that's loads better," he said, standing tall, though still many inches shorter than Ron.

George looked around the room, embarrassed and most likely stunned to be able to see the floor.

"Thanks for cleaning up… getting me and all... "

Ron gave a nod, not quite able to bring himself to look his older brother in the eye. It was easy enough to just go through the motions and clean a room up, but now, just sitting still, it was a lot harder not to feel the dangerous stillness in the room, or to ignore how wrecked George looked.

He imagined his brother on top of the bridge, drunkenly swaying on the edge. His throat tightened until he could barely swallow. He wanted to ask George about it. Wanted to push him against the wall and tell him what a sorry sod of a brother he was, and drag him back to the Burrow. Or just hug him tight and beg him to be ok.

"You — you need some tea," Ron mumbled, looking about the room for a kettle, and willing his eyes to stay dry. Spying a plastic kettle in the corner, he waffled about with the unlabelled buttons on it, but nothing happened. It took a lot of prodding before he realized it wasn't plugged in. "And you need a shower. You smell like a troll."

"Of the two of us, at least I don't look like one," George replied with a frown.

"I can get us some food and tea while you're showering," he said, ignoring the dower look on George's face. "How do I do that room service thing?"

"With the phone— but I'm not wasting my time trying to teach someone thick as you how to use it."

"I know how!" Ron answered back, more curtly than he intended, taking the phone off the receiver. It had been years since he'd touched a phone, but all the loud sounds he'd detested then were the same with this phone. It made the familiar horrid tone in his ear. This one didn't have the dial of numbers like the one he'd used in Ottery St Catchpole, just plastic buttons. "What's the number?"

"Zero..." said George, looking at him with a scrutinizing look. He sat down heavily beside Ron. "When'd you learn to use a phone?"

Ron put his hand over the receiver. "Like four years ago. Hermione and I practiced using the phone every summer since third year."

Ron pressed the zero button, and the phone made a sound signaling a connection was in progress. A clipped female voice answered.

"Here at Crandon Inn, your comfort is our pleasure—"

George did a wanking gesture as the woman said pleasure. Ron worked hard to swallow a laugh and keep his composure.

"Er, yeah, I need to order— " Ron began, but the voice on the other line barged ahead.

"To speak with the front desk press 1. To speak with guest services press—"

"When did all this 'phone practice' take place?" George asked. "I know we would have taken the mickey for calling Hermione every summer. How'd you keep it from us?"

"You never paid attention to me," Ron said shortly, putting the phone back to his ear.

" — ning press five. For travel accommodation services press—"

"I've always paid very close attention," said George. "At least when there was something as juicy as 'phone practice with Hermione' to make fun of."

"To speak with billing press seven. To speak with maintenance press eight."

"What button do I press for food?" Ron stage whispered to his brother who was smirking.

"I thought you said you knew how to work a phone."

"I do! I missed the number because you've been talking nonstop! Which number?"

"Press nine."

Ron pressed nine.

"Here at Crandon Inn, your comfort is our pleasure. To speak with the front desk press 1. To speak with guest services press 2."

Ron pressed the button again, but all the menu did was repeat itself.

"Are you sure it's nine?"

"Yeah," George said with raised eyebrows. "At least I think it's nine for food."

"You had a million plates in here! How do you not know the number by now?" Ron groused.

"Press nine again. It should work."

"Here at Crandon Inn, your comfort is our pleasure. To speak with the front—"

"It's just repeating itself again."

"Are you sure you pressed nine?"

"Yes!"

Ron pressed nine a few times for emphasis.

"Here at Crandon — Here at Crandon — Here at Crandon — Here at Crandon Inn, your comfort is our pleasure. To speak with the front desk press one."

"Once more. With feeling!" George said wearing, a broad smile on his face, leaning over to press the button for Ron.

"Oh you arsehole! Fuck off before I hex you!"

Ron gave a scowl and aimed an ill-aimed punch at George. Even in his dehydrated state, George was able to easily dodge him and scamper to the bathroom, a grin on his face.

"You better be showering in there, because you've been making my eyes water!"

It wasn't until the water was running, and food was ordered, that Ron realized he'd seen his brother genuinely smile with mischief in his eyes for the first time in a month. It was irksome that George acting normal meant Ron was a target for teasing, but he'd much rather that than any alternatives.

The food arrived, as well as new sheets, by the time George had finished his long shower.

George had little to say as he began his meal at the desk, so Ron sat across from him on the bed and went off for a while about what he'd been up to at the Burrow as well as his and Kingsley's chat.

"So you're going to be an Auror?" George asked rather quietly.

Ron gave a shrug. "Yeah, looks like it."

"Well at least I have three years to get used to it... That's how long the training is, yeah?"

"Usually, but… He's cutting it all short. I'd be a Deputy Auror in a week or so as soon as I fill out all the paperwork. Full fledged Auror in like seven months."

"But— But you're only seventeen!" George spluttered, dropping his egg-laden fork.

"Eighteen," he replied, warily eyeing his brother.

George abruptly pushed his chair away from the desk and paced to the window. He wrenched open the curtains and stared at the view, his arms crossed.

"Why you?" George rasped out, before turning around to glare at Ron. "Like, why the fuck would Kingsley ASK you?"

Ron's fist clenched, and the cold uncertain feeling swam its way down from his stomach to his feet.

"You're only a kid! He can't be serious! You've only just barely survived this stupid bloody war, and he's trying to put you on the front-line again, and doesn't even have the decency to properly train you!"

"He said he reckoned I'm— I'm good enough given what all I've been up to…" Ron muttered, feeling his earlier confidence shattering under George's acerbic gaze.

"And you! You stupid wanker, you said yes!" George swore, kicking over a chair before giving the wall a hard punch that left a dent in it.

Ron didn't dare move from the bed as he watched his brother's furious reflection in the window. He wished his own senses would flood with anger at the insination he was basically curse fodder. He wished he had a ready defense of his abilities and that he could proudly state 'of course Kingsley chose me, I'm fucking amazing.' There was nothing but roiling uncertainty and hurt washing over him. He couldn't be mad and couldn't defend himself with conceit he didn't feel at all entitled to. Would it be this way with everyone he told of the Aurorship? Them mourning him as a lost cause or raging at him because they knew he'd fail?

"Do you want me to go?" Ron asked, carefully rising from the bed. George didn't make a sound, but turned and strode towards him, the same raging look on his face. Ron flinched, readying himself for a blow that never came. Instead he found his ribs crushed into an embrace. Shocked, it took a moment for Ron to free his arms enough to hug his brother back.

"You better keep yourself safe," George mumbled into his shoulder, his hold painfully tight.

"Course," Ron swallowed.

George finally broke the embrace, but kept a hand firmly clamped on Ron's shoulder, finally looking him in the eye. "I mean it."

"I know," Ron said, his voice tight.

"Blimey… An Auror… And you didn't even finish school!" George said, a small smile on his face. "Become Ronnie the War Hero and they just offer you the prestigious jobs, hmm? "

Ron looked to the ground, blanching at the title of hero.

George elbowed Ron in the side a bit. "I might not be as heroic as you, but maybe I can finagle an attaché position or something."

"Kingsley's offering it to anyone who fought at the Battle of Hogwarts and is of-age. I'm nothing special."

"Oh c'mon, Ron," said George, giving a roll of his eyes.

Ron just stared at him. There was nothing to say. They both knew it was true. Ron might have stood beside a lot of special people, but there was absolutely nothing special about him.

"Want to show me how this tellything works?" Ron asked, walking to the box and tapping on some of the buttons that didn't seem to do anything.

"Naw, I'm knackered," said George, taking his wand and spelling his fist print out of the wall. "I'm just going to sleep last night off. You should go home and get some sleep yourself."

"I'm fine, I can stay."

"To watch me sleep?" George asked, before crossing his arms. "Or are you just wanting to play babysitter?"

Ron didn't have a proper answer for that, and knew his worry was showing on his face.

"I'm fine, Ron."

"Then why'd you go to that bridge?" Ron hoarsely asked. He hadn't really meant to say it. He didn't want to push his brother too far.

"I dunno. I was pissed," said George in a hardy sort of voice. He tousled a hand through his hair before giving a forced smile. "Had a right nice view, didn't it?"

Ron didn't smile back, and his brother's expression faded into a hard look.

"You'd better get back to the Burrow, before Mum worries," said George. He sat on his bed and turned out the lights with a flick of his wand, leaving the open window curtain the only light in the room. "Get yourself some real food instead of this hotel muck."

"You could come round and have some real food too."

George bit his lip before giving an uttered, "Maybe…"

Ron stood frozen. "You won't do last night again, will you?"

"You mean get pissed as all fuck? Yeah I imagine I will," George bit out, but his expression softened when he looked at Ron again. "Not doing it anytime today, though. I'll… just be here."

That had to be good enough.

Ron leaned down to give his brother a hug that was lightly returned.

"Now fuck off, I need to sleep." said George, giving him a flash of teeth and a punch to the arm.

Ron closed the window curtain to enclose the room in darkness, and Apparated to his room at the Burrow.

The bed was still arranged to look like he was asleep in it with the snoring spell sawing away in a passable imitation. He stopped the snoring spell, put his wand on the bedside dresser, pushed the blankets out of the way, and stripped down to his boxers. As he laid down he felt his whole body sag with relief to finally rest a bit.

He had just begun to pull his covers into place when the door quietly opened.

"Oh good, you're awake!" Harry had a tenuous smile on his pale face. He was looking rather relieved and in need of cheering. As tired as Ron was, and as much as his body protested, he sat up and gave a squinty eyed smile in return.

"Yep, I'm awake!" Ron tried to enthuse.

"We put some breakfast aside for you with a warming charm," said Harry, sitting on the camp bed.

"Cheers," said Ron with a nod.

"I think this was the first time you've had a lie-in since last summer. Makes things feel a touch more normal."

Ron gave a distracted hum and grabbed the jeans he'd just been wearing moments ago, jerking them on to avoid Harry's gaze.

"Ginny thought it might do us some good to leave the house a bit today."

"Sounds good. You haven't been out of the house except for funerals and Hogwarts rebuilding," said Ron, looking about for the shirt he'd been wearing earlier.

"And you've not left here except to see George last week…" Harry added, speculatively eyeing him. "So maybe we could all go out somewhere."

"Yeah fine."

Ron finally spied his shirt. It was wadded up in the low-ceilinged corner just beyond Harry's camp bed and knelt down to retrieve it.

"Maybe we can all go down to the village?" asked Harry.

Ron's voice suddenly felt strangled. "The village?"

A skittering frenzy of fear lapped at him. His fists clenched and he rose so sharply he immediately bashed his head against the ceiling with a horrible crash that left him seeing stars.

"You okay?" Harry asked with a laugh, giving Ron's back a pat.

A chill went up his spine at the touch on his back. He quickly lurched away from it, nearly punching out at Harry, but covered the action by giving his head a rub.

"Yeah, I'm just..." Ron managed to let out, tightly gripping his shirt and willing himself not to freak out because he'd been touched. "Just too bloody tall for this room."

"You're too bloody tall in general," said Harry, a grin on his face. "If not the village, we could play Quidditch or see how the Lovegood's rebuild is coming?

"Quidditch sounds good," Ron answered, putting his shirt on and hoping he sounded casual. Harry idly chatted about what he'd been doing that morning, giving no mention of George or Ron's mum. Dad must have gotten back in time to get rid of the note. Even if he was entirely sleep deprived Ron felt immense relief that he wouldn't have to deal with that business anymore for the day. [NEXT CHAPTER]

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AN: Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed it please let me know w/ your words! :)

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Isolated and Insatiable

Summary: Belle and Gold aren’t going to let isolation get in the way of having some fun together. Skype is a wonderful invention after all…

Written for the @a-monthly-rumbelling prompt: “I want to watch.”

Rated: E

Isolated and Insatiable

This whole self-isolation business would have been all right, Belle reflected, if she hadn’t been so incredibly horny. Going for two weeks without seeing her lover would have been just about bearable had she not spent the previous three weeks on the other side of the world to him. 

It was the previous three weeks which were the cause of her isolation now, and Belle decided there and then that she was never going to go and see her family in Australia again if this was where it got her. She supposed she ought to count herself lucky that she’d been able to get home to Storybrooke at all now that the spreading pandemic was grounding flights and closing borders left, right and centre. She shuddered at the thought of being locked down in Melbourne with only her dad for company. She loved him, but there was a reason why she only saw him every two years, and it wasn’t the cost of the airfare. 

Belle sighed. Gold had been very understanding about the whole thing and had certainly taken very good care of her whilst she was in quarantine, dropping off supplies for her and calling her every day, even using his powers of persuasion with the town council to ensure that her librarian’s salary was still being paid even though the library was closed until she could leave her flat again. 

She couldn’t wait to see him in person again, and the six days that she had left to go felt like an eternity, even compared to the month that she had already been missing him. 

Belle grabbed her laptop and opened up Skype, clicking on Gold’s name in her contacts and biting her lip. Just because they couldn’t do anything in person yet didn’t mean that she couldn’t scratch this itch. Technology was a wonderful thing, after all. All she had to do now was hope that being able to see and speak to him would make the experience much more thrilling than her previous dalliances with her own fingers had been over the last few weeks. 

He was showing as available, but it still took him a long time to answer the call, and Belle was beginning to wonder what had happened to him. 

Finally, he spoke, and a couple of seconds later, the video feed started. 

“Hello, love. To what do I owe this great pleasure?”

“I miss you.” Belle missed him even more now that she could see him. He was in his study in the pink house, leaning back in his chair, a tumbler of whisky in one hand. His tie was gone, and the top few buttons of his shirt were undone, his waistcoat hanging open. He was practically naked, and Belle’s stomach flip-flopped at the sight. She’d seen him wearing a lot less, of course, but to see him in his half-undone state was rare and all the more alluring for it. 

“I miss you too. I’m counting down the hours until I can kiss you again.”

“You romantic fool.”

“Don’t tell me that you’re not doing the same.”

“I am, but people expect it of me. You’re supposed to be Mr Gold, hard-nosed businessman and loan shark.”

“Don’t go blowing my cover now.” Gold gave her a stern look, but the force of it was lost against the softness in his eyes. 

“Oh, your cover’s not the only thing I’ll be blowing when I get my hands on you.” Belle grinned. “I’ve been counting down the hours until I can do way more than just kiss you.”

Gold raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really? And what kind of thing did you have in mind?”

“You know, the usual. Riding you until I can’t walk, that kind of thing.”

“I’d be very amenable to that.” A smile crept over his face, a sultry smile that Belle had seen before in the bedroom, and she knew that they were both on the same page. “It’s been agony without you these past few weeks. There’s only so much comfort that one’s own hand can bring.”

“Tell me about it.” Belle adjusted the position of the laptop on the bed beside her so that Gold could get a better view. She was wearing her favourite silky nightdress, knowing that it was one of his favourites too, and if one strap happened to ride a little low and show a peek of nipple, then who was to know except them? “But maybe now we’re here, we can remedy that.” She licked her lips. “Will you show me how much you missed me, Cameron? I want to watch.”

“Oh Belle.” Gold put the whisky down, throwing his head back with a groan. “I’ll gladly show you.” He pushed the chair back a little way and Belle could see his cock beginning to stir in his trousers. She smiled, reaching up to play with her nipple as Gold palmed his crotch, rubbing roughly until the pressure became too much and he unzipped, taking out his cock and pumping a couple of times. Belle could see his other hand gripping the arm of the chair with white knuckles, and she wondered if he’d leave fingernail indents in the wood. 

“Looks like you missed me a lot,” she purred. 

“So much, Belle. God, I can’t wait to see you again.”

“You can’t wait to fuck me again, more like.”

Gold grunted, his grip on his cock tightening a little. He liked it when she talked dirty. 

“I missed you too,” she said. “Do you want to see just how much? Do you want to see what I’d want you to do to me if you were here with me right now?”

“Fuck, yes, Belle!”

She drew her knees up, pulling up the hem of her nightdress and letting her legs fall open so that Gold could see her. A light touch between her thighs found her already wet with anticipation, and she licked her fingertips, opening up her nether lips and rubbing slowly along her folds. She heard Gold’s strangled little gasp of arousal at the sight of her, and her toes curled into the sheets as she brushed over her clit, dancing little circles around the sensitive pearl. It wasn’t the same as Gold’s clever tongue, but for now she would have to make do with her imagination. 

“Oh Belle, you look divine. I want to eat you up.”

“I want to watch that, too.” Belle leaned back against the headboard, remembering the last time she had sat here, her thighs cradling Gold’s head as he worshipped her until she could only see stars. She kept the pressure on her clit, bringing her other hand down to ease a finger up inside, her walls clutching desperately with the need of touch. On the screen, she could see that Gold’s cock was flushed dark with blood, glistening precum already leaking from the tip. He wasn’t going to hold out much longer, and Belle only hoped that she would not miss that glorious moment by being too concerned with her own pleasure. Her hands stilled as Gold kept going, rubbing himself harder and faster as he got closer and closer to the edge. 

“Oh Belle, Belle my love.”

He spurted thick over his hand with a cry, head lolling back against his chair. Belle felt a fresh frisson of excitement roll over her at the sight, and she pinched her clit again, her hips twitching with the need for more. 

“You’re wonderful, my love,” he said breathlessly. “Even when you’re not here in person.”

He opened his eyes, looking at her with a sated, boneless expression. “I think it might be my turn to watch, now. Are you close, Belle? It doesn’t look like it will take much more to get you there.”

Belle couldn’t deny it. She pressed another finger up inside, pumping them in and out whilst her other hand rubbed at her clit, building up and up towards her orgasm. She was aware of Gold’s voice in her ears, whispering dirty sweet nothings to bring her over the edge, but as the dam broke and pleasure flooded through her veins, nothing registered except the blissful feeling of relief. 

For a long while, neither of them spoke, both coming down from the high and making a move to wipe messy fingers. 

“That was… intense,” Belle murmured eventually. “If that’s what we’re like apart, when we get together, it’s going to be mind-blowing.”

Gold smiled. “I’m counting on it. Not long now, my love.”

“No. Just a few more days.” Belle gave a little smirk. “Although, if I find myself missing you so much again, say, tomorrow, would you perhaps be up for a repeat call? I mean, you’ve been so good at attending to all my other needs whilst I’ve been quarantined…”

“This is one need that I am more than happy to fulfil however you wish.”

Belle blew him a kiss. It was good to know that even isolation couldn’t dampen their enthusiasm for each other, only make them even more insatiable.

[lenaandlinen-blog]

Linen Home Wear for Women

Today, most women choose linen because it is soft, cozy as well as easy to maintain. They also choose loungewear that are fully featured and can please every personality. Indeed, linen looks quite beautiful and attractive as well. Women often choose kimono-style robes to the light colored and extra light nightdresses. No doubt, people fall in love with linen. Modern women pick linen pajama trousers, palazzo pants or shorts or pajama sets to stay cozy.  Did you know? Linen is a durable natural fiber derived from the flax plant.

Designers understand the love of people towards linen 

Modern manufacturers and designers understand the love of people towards linen that is why they take a lot of care for producing that ideal piece of clothing. They make sure that the clothing will fit perfectly according to the size of the women. People can also make sure the size and color is amazing and can enhance their looks. 

Why women choose linen - 

• Linen reflects the natural softness

• It is very appealing and comfortable

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Besides all these features, linen is anti-fungal and anti-bacterial. Indeed, they become softer after every wash. They are ideal for vacationing because they never shrink. 

People can also consult about the size guide before ordering because standard sizes may vary from region to region. One of the best things is that if you need a small adjustment, then also you can talk to the designers. If you are in Australia, you can easily find stylish, high quality, unique, handmade or women's linen clothing in Australia. 

[cachiashop61]

Choose the Right Sleepwear Sets for Peaceful Sleep

These days, girls' nights out and pajama parties have become very popular. And for those special parties, you need a look that is not too casual but makes you look quirky. For this, you can choose from nightdresses in Australia that give you just the right kind of look. For more details, read the complete blog at: https://cachiashop61.wordpress.com/2022/06/23/choose-the-right-sleepwear-sets-for-peaceful-sleep/

[innerwearsofficial]

IW's pretty lace pajama set featuring a decent lace trim, a plunging v neck, and adjustable shoulder straps, shoes off your sexy body curves in a nice coverage way.

Shop Now: https://rb.gy/polrt

[softquietsteadylove]

Spicy 07 - First Time

Gil stared up at the ceiling, the wind absolutely howling outside. Windstorms were common in Australia, but this was the worst one in quite a while. They'd been settled out here for maybe a decade, by this point.

Thena was curled up beside him, actually sleeping through the storm for once. It was light, and she was still fragile after the episode from yesterday. But she was sleeping, and it was all Gilgamesh could ask, some days.

He had been sleeping too, and much more soundly than she did. They slept together semi-regularly. Sometimes Thena needed to feel that he was there, and he was happy to let her. Even before Australia, they had been no stranger to some cuddling here or there.

Not that she had ever called it cuddling. Or had been willing to bring it up in the light of day.

Tonight had been fine, despite the storm. She'd slithered into his bed silently, burrowing against his side like she tended to do as of late. They'd gone to sleep like normal. It was fine until he'd had some form of dream. He couldn't remember every detail, but he'd woken up...in a predicament.

Gil sighed, the tension between his legs still not easing. He dreaded to think that he would have to take care of it the old fashioned way.

This really hadn't been much of an issue. Mahd Wy'ry kept them plenty busy--plenty exhausted, for the most part. When he had left Tenochtitlan with her, they had left pieces of their old lives behind. Including whatever forms their relationship had taken in the safety of the Domo, or the city of Tenochtitlan or even the temple of Babylon. Their lives were taking on a new shape, and they had to worry about that before they could address whatever new conditions applied to their relationship.

Gil had more important things to worry about, like Thena. And nothing would ever be more important to him than Thena.

Thena sighed against him, her hand clenched a fistful of the front of his shirt, her head completely dead weight on his chest. She shimmied closer, and he was hyperaware of her breasts against his ribs.

Gil groaned as her hand released its grip on his shirt, only to slide down between his chest and over his belly. He had to get out of the bed.

Thena's strength collected in her arm, pushing him back down to the mattress as soon as he started to rise.

"Thena," he sighed, reaching slowly to untangle himself from her. He thought it was cute, how clingy she was in her sleep. Not that he could tell her that.

"Stay."

She was awake? For how long? Gil dreaded to think about it, the sheets tented around his lower half. He tried to escape again but she pushed down on him again, her hand travelling even lower. He gritted his teeth, reaching to stop her. "Thena, really, I have to-"

"Let me."

She was much more awake than he thought. Her hand continued, slipping into the loose trousers he'd worn to bed and easily grasping the still-hardening length of him.

Gil's eyes slipped closed, his hips already begging him to rock against her warm, soft touch and never stop. He groaned again as the wind outside provided some background noise. "Thena, please."

"That's it," she whispered, but everything sounded beautiful off her lips. She rose off his chest and leaned, kissing him as she stroked steadily. "Gil."

He winced, back arching and hips twitching as she coaxed it out of him, not that it had been difficult. He didn't know - didn't care - how long it had been. He ran a hand through his hair and then down over his face, which was burning hot. He was still at the mercy of her slightest touch, even after almost a hundred years since they'd so much as kissed.

When he opened his eyes again she was leaning over him, looking as beautiful as ever. He tended to let a single candle burn itself out for her, just to keep the dark at bay. She was softly lit, practically glowing from it. Her hair tumbled around her shoulders and her nightdress sat loose around her neck. He wondered if she had somehow become even more beautiful in the barren Australian wasteland.

Thena leaned over and kissed him again. Her lips were soft on his, and the kisses were slow and sweet.

He reached up, pulling her closer with a large hand at the back of her head. She let him pull her down to him, their chests moving together as their need for air increased. Her hand slid over his chest, all but caressing him as their tongues collided.

Gil shifted down on the bed and moved Thena's hands up to the headboard. She growled her complaints about his lips leaving hers. She watched as he slithered down until he disappeared under the skirt of her dress. He chuckled as her thighs squeezed his head. "Sit down, Thena."

She remained hovering over him, the headboard creaking from her grip on it. He let his breath hit her naked skin and she jerked just from the sensation of it.

"Sit," he grinned, reaching his arm up around her waist to force her hips down onto him. She let out a loud, long moan, and he could imagine her head rolling back as she did. She always used to.

Thena panted for breath, rolling her hips as Gilgamesh ran his tongue along every line and crease and fold of her. Her mind went blank, everything slipping away that wasn't Gilgamesh and that mouth of his. His tongue pushed into her and she ground her hips against him. His hands held her thighs, the only being in this galaxy strong enough to hold this position with her.

Gilgamesh held her tight, listening as closely as he could to her. But he could feel her breath, in the pulse of her veins, in the heat of her skin. He could feel every beat of her heart, inside of her. He pressed his tongue to her pearl of nerves, drinking her up like desert rain.

"Gil!" Thena cried out, cracking the headboard in her hands as she bore down on him. He held her steady as her hips quivered with her release. She panted, gasped for air as her body let go of months, maybe years of built up tension. It had been far too long since she'd felt this--let herself feel this.

Gil pulled her into his lap as he sat up, licking his lips loudly. She pushed two fingers against his mouth, intending to silence him. He took the fingers between his teeth, licking the pads of her fingers. Now the flush in her cheeks matched his from earlier.

Thena met his eyes as his hands slid up her back, under her dress. he wasn't done, but he was asking if she was. She shook her head, unwinding her hands from the back of his head so he could pull her dress off and toss it aside. He pushed her hair over her shoulder as he kissed her again.

Gil moaned into her mouth as she sank onto him slowly. Her legs wrapped around the back of him, her thighs held in his hands. She leaned on him heavily, her breasts against him, her arms looped around the back of his neck. He peppered kissing along her neck, her ear, her cheek.

It had been a long time since she'd taken him inside her. Thena held still, catching her breath as she adjusted to him. He was just as she remembered, in her mind and in her dreams. She inhaled, turning her head just enough to kiss below his ear. "Gil."

He knew what she was asking; he rocked his hips gently at first, pushing up into her lightly and keeping her close as he did. She kissed and suckled and nipped at his neck as they slowly sank back into the ecstasy of togetherness.

Gil picked up his pace as she sat up straighter, arching her back and moving so she could kiss his lips. The headboard would offer no further support but Thena stretched up, kissing him hard, running her hands over his shoulders and up into his hair. He pulled away for a breath. "Thena!"

"Gil," she responded, her voice tightened into a whimper as he moved faster and harder. She gripped his shoulders, dragged her nails through his hair (careful not to draw any blood). She moved her hands to his arms, bracing herself on their sturdy thickness.

He loved it when she held herself up by his arms. Her head rolled back with another moan and he took advantage of the opportunity to kiss under her jaw and down her neck. He felt her winding tighter around him the more he did.

Thena gripped his biceps as much as she could with only one hand. She gasped for air, swallowing it up. She buried her face in his neck again. He wasn't close enough.

"It's okay," he whispered as she whined against his shoulder, "let go, Sweetheart."

Thena's toes curled and she locked her ankles together as she came, squeezing around him in every sense as much as she could. Her head was tossed back and her hair floated around her freely. Gil kissed her neck, her clavicle, along her shoulders and as much of her breasts as he could reach. She dug her heels into the small of his back.

Gil grunted, squeezing his eyes shut as he followed, coming only seconds behind her and loosening instantly. He fell back against the pillows, broken headboard be damned. Thena went with him, slumped against his chest heavily and pressing her ear to his hammering heart. He spread his hands out over the bare skin of her back. "Thena."

She knew what he was asking, using all of her strength to pull herself up just enough to kiss him. They both sighed into it, melting together so completely that they didn't know where one ended and the other began.

Gil ran his fingers through her hair. "You okay?"

"Mm," she hummed at first, neither confirming nor denying. She took a few more minutes before she could pick herself up again. She managed, propping herself up on his chest just enough to look at him. He continued to run his fingers through her waves of ashen blond. "Quite good, I think."

He beamed at her, making the room seem brighter despite the storm outside. Their lips met again and Thena sighed against him.

"I missed you," she whispered against his lips.

"I'm right here," he promised.

"Still," she added, and it was both an apology and a request. But Gil kissed her again. He never accepted her apologies for being the way she was, because he had nothing to forgive.

"I missed this," he smiled back, toying with their interlocked fingers between them.

Thena's eyes sparked and she ran the other finger down his chest to where their skin met. "Have I been depriving you?"

He just laughed.

Thena leaned forward, and he very happily met her in the middle. Perhaps they had both been denied this closeness, purely by the circumstance in which they were living. But she was ready for more. "I could understand feeling...deprived."

"Oh?" Gil pulled away to look at her. But she had meant what she said, meeting his eyes with a mischievous twinkle in her own. His hands slid down her bare back to rest on her hips. "Well, I guess I could go again. If you would be so kind."

"I suppose," she laughed as they melted into another kiss.

They wouldn't even notice when the sun was finally out again, entangled for hours and hours. The only thing they would notice was that the headboard was well and truly broken by the end of it. But they had all the time in the world to carve a new one.

[rxseandscythe]

GET TO KNOW THE BLOGGER!

Can be used for RP and non-RP blogs to get to know a bit about the person behind the screen!

1.First name: Kasia

2.Strange fact about yourself: I am orchids psychofan (I have them around 150)

3.Top three physical things you find attractive on a person: eyes, hair, waist

4.A food you could eat forever and not get bored of: salmon

5.A food you hate: everything including coconut

6.Guilty pleasure: sleeping till the noon

7.What do you sleep in: nothing. I find nightdresses and pajamas uncomfortable

8.Serious relationships or flings: it's my private thing

9.If you could go back in the past and change one thing about your life, would you and what would it be: learn English harder

10.Are you an affectionate person: very!

11.A movie you could watch over and over again: Pirates of the Caribbean

12.Favorite book: "Gałęziste". It's a polish novel.

13.You have the opportunity to keep any animal as a pet, what do you choose: black panther

14.Top five fictional ships [if you are an RP blog, you can use your own ships as well]: 1. UndertakerxClaudia 2.ClaudiaxSebastian 3.RamsayxMyranda 4.MadHatterxKurai (Angel Sanctuary) 5 RocielxKatan (Angel Sanctuary)

15.Pie or cake: cake

16.Favourite scent: raspberry

17.Celebrity crush: Charlotte Hope, Iwan Rheon

18.If you could travel anywhere, where would you go: Australia

19.Introvert or extravert: Introvert

20.Do you scare easily? NO

21.iPhone or Android: Android

22.Do you play any video games? Rarely.lack of time.

23.Dream Job: Painter, 3d Artist, Illustrator

24.What would you do with a million dollars: probably spend on travelling

25.Fictional character you hate: Claude. He is weird.

26.Fandom that you were once a part of but aren’t any longer: Game of Thrones

Tagging: @rotcon @mirroredprodigies @sin-stained-soul @rha-egal @outside-eden @an-ordinary-roach @inquisitivewitchy @reapsickle and all the rest who wants :)

[bluesfortheredj]

Modern Romance Pt. 5

Two weeks, 14 whole days without seeing her, and I was starting to crumble. We’d been in contact the whole time, in fact not a day went by without a message or a phone call, but it wasn’t the same as seeing her and I still hadn’t moved those pyjamas she wore from the corner of the spare bed, just in case she came back.

-It’s on! I can do this weekend x

The text came through just at the right time, calming my racing mind as I wonder whether I could casually ask her address and turn up uninvited.

-Perfect! What time? Where would you like to meet? Xx

That doesn’t sound too desperate does it? Too late, it’s sent. Were two questions a little much?

-Well, I happen to be free all weekend, so it’s up to you. Whenever you can fit me in to your busy schedule x

She highlighted the word ‘all’… Does she want to stay again? Oh, please say she wants to stay again. And as for my busy schedule, it had quietened down a bit since my last job, so I was mostly free apart from a short tour of Australia coming up.

-Then may I be so bold as to suggest another stay at Hotel Lee? Breakfast in bed could be arranged this time, I’m sure xx

-Sounds perfect. Would the breakfast in bed be for you or me though? ;) xx

This woman!

-Us xx

-I like that word xx

Our messages had soon diverted into talk such as this, nothing crude or suggestive in any way of course, only sweet thoughts about being together or using terminology that suggested a partnership. It had certainly brightened my days, and I’m sure it had the same effect for her. She was a little reserved still, but when she opened up to me I knew it meant that there was a connection deeper than anything else either her or I had felt before, and it meant so much more.

All I wanted to do was skip the damn first dates and go straight to waking up next to her, peppering her body in kisses, holding her close enough to feel her heart beat, and talking about nothing in particular all night until the first light of dawn. I don’t know whether it was my age or not but I want to settle down and I know she is the one I want that with.

-I like it too, but not as much as I like you xx

-Dammit! I regretted not putting something similar at the end of my last message when I sent it xx

-You snooze, you lose xx

-Haha! Absolute cheek. Do you want me over Saturday morning then? Xx

I couldn’t love her any more right now, and I’m sure I wasn’t doing a great job of hiding my feelings either, but screw it, you only live once and I don’t want to waste a single second of letting her know just how much she’s loved.

-Friday night? I can pick you up from the station xx

-Friday night it is. Does this mean we get two breakfasts in bed? Xx

-Of course! Xx

By the time Friday comes around it’s the nineteenth day without seeing her and I’m at the station way too early but I don’t care, I just need to see her as soon as she’s here, I refuse to miss a beat. I tap my fingers on the steering wheel impatiently as I fidget in my seat, and after what seems like hours she finally appears from the escalator with a suitcase. I scramble out of my seat so fast that I forget I’m still strapped in, but as soon as that seat belt’s been discarded I’m out and waving like a damn fool. Here she comes in her slip on Vans trainers, ankle grazer jeans, leather jacket, and… Is that a Queen t-shirt? It is, it is a bloody Queen t-shirt. She looks incredible.

“Hey,” she grins as we walk towards one another.

“Oh, hello you. You’re a sight for sore eyes, I tell you,” I sigh as she lets go of her case and hugs me when I’m close enough.

“Are you okay?” she mumbles while pressed against my body.

“Oh, yes, I’m fine, I just… I’ve been looking forward to this day for a long time.”

“Since I had to leave last time?”

“Pretty much.”

“Well I’m glad I’m not the only one then,” she chuckles with relief.

I reluctantly let go of her then pick up her case before she can reach for it, and we walk to my car in a blissful silence. When we’re in the car, my left hand gets a little lazy and I end up resting it on my thigh during the drive as (Y/N) flicks through radio stations, and I’m a little taken aback when her fingers link through mine, brushing my jeans as she curls them around my hand. I grin like an idiot as I tighten my fingers around hers, but then she slips her hand out soon after.

“Sorry,” she says, “sorry, you’re driving. I wasn’t thinking.”

I reach over to her hand and take it in mine, then quickly bring it up to my lips to kiss her knuckles.

“Don’t be sorry,” I say as I place her hand back on her thigh, “I love it. I’ve been wanting to feel your touch for so long.”

I’m glad I’m driving so I can’t see her face at that absurdly bold sentence that flew past my lips before I could stop it.

“The feeling’s mutual,” she replies quietly.

I take a quick glance over at her and spot the shy smile caressing her lips softly, and my heart skips a beat at the sight. When we finally get to mine I carry her case once again, even though she tries to playfully take it from me, and we fall through the door laughing. This is how it should be, this is how our lives should be, this is what I want and I want it with her.

“Nice top,” I smirk as she shrugs off her jacket and hangs it up where her duster coat once rested.

“Oh!” she giggles, “thank you.”

“Seen the film yet?”

“No! I’ll get around to it one day, I’ve promised I’ll watch it with my mum; she loves Freddie.”

“Ah! Then she’ll love the film… Hopefully,” I chuckle, enjoying the fact she still doesn’t know my role, “right, so what do you want for dinner?”

“Would it be okay to decide after I’ve changed into my pyjamas? I’m just… It’s been a busy day at work and I’m so tired,” she says with a small yawn.

“Of course! Go on up, I’ll bring your case.”

When she gets to the top of the stairs I wonder if she’s going to go right instead of left, but she turns towards the spare room and my heart sinks a little, even though it shouldn’t. I ache to lay next to her, watch as she drifts off to sleep, feel her heart rate slow as she dreams, listen to her soft breathing as she stirs during the night and eventually turns to rest her head on my chest. I ache to do other things too, but there’s no rush for that because this is different, this is something more.

“Sorry, this isn’t rude is it?” she asks as she walk into the bedroom, “I mean, going to another person’s house who you’ve only met once before, and asking if you can get into your pyjamas straight away? It’s a little rude isn’t it?”

“No!” I laugh, “not at all. Would you mind if I got mine on as well?”

“Of course not! It’s your house!” she grins, taking her case from my hand, “meet you in the hallway in five, yeah?”

“You’ve got it,” I wink.

I hear the door close behind me as I walk towards my room and I worry about whether to put a top on with my joggers, as I usually don’t bother when I’m alone, but would she find it a bit much? Maybe she’ll think I’m expecting something I’m definitely not, I don’t want her to feel uncomfortable… Why is this so difficult? Shit, I can hear her on the creaky floorboard on the landing, fuck it, just joggers it is then.

“And here we have Miss. (Y/L/N) looking absolutely stunning in a slogan nightdress that reads ‘I’d rather be in bed’, and Mr. Lee in a minimalist outfit of plain black jogging bottoms,” I say, trying to distract her, or maybe myself, from the fact I’m half naked.

Fuck, I sound like an idiot, and the silence coming from her is killing me.

“Mr. Lee escorts Miss. (Y/L/N) down the red carpet to rapturous applause at such brave outfit choices for a premiere,” she finally says, linking her arm through mine as we take the stairs together side by side.

I jump down the last step before her after I unlink our arms, then turn to face her before she can step down and she shoots me confused smile as she comes to an abrupt stop. I’m not entirely sure why I’ve done this, I just need to see her, look into her eyes for a moment, and that’s when it happens; one of her hands lands softly on my shoulder and runs up to my neck where her fingers snake around to my hair, then the other rests on my chest as she leans forward. I nudge my nose against hers as I meet her in the middle and we smile before our lips meet.

There may as well be fireworks going off around us with the way I’m feeling as my hands glide around her waist and meet at the base of her back. Her touch is tentative and a little reserved on my bare skin, but she leaves a trail of fire as her fingers move across my chest and the sensation makes me light headed. I lift her off of the stair then place her slowly on the ground and we part with a giggle.

“That was nice,” she grins shyly, her lips plump and crimson.

“It was,” I exhale.

This was it, there was no going back to a life without this woman in it now.

@painthatiusedto @winnielinleigh @queenslandlover-93 @excellentbecca @ametaphorbrian @peachllobotomy @lovemarvelousfics @lovemelikeyou1997 @readinghorn @godohammers @timeandpixiedust @lv7867 @fuckyou-imspiderman @aynsleywalker @nina-sayerz @theborhapbois @wolfgirlxslytherin @the-baby-bookworm

[shakingalltheway]

basic stuff tag game

I was tagged by both Nat @puttheghostinwriting and Mia @sundayysunday (thank you loves <3)

Name: Ana Karenina (Just like the Tolstoy Novel, and people usually call me Ana, or AnaK BUT I HATE IT WHEN THEY DO THAT).

Star sign: Scorpio

Height: 170 cm.

Last film I saw: Almost Famous - extended (and I recomend every minute of those 3h)

Favourite musician: Graham Coxon, Billy Corgan, Matt Bellamy, from my emo stuff I would say Brendon Urie & Ryan Ross (the double), Peter Wentz (as a song writer), Taylor Swift (as a song writer as well), I used to dig a lot of Mark Hoppus bass lines and Travis Barker drums, but now I don’t consider that great... I’m more of a bass girl, but unfortunally I only listed guitarrists mainly lmao. Oh, honorable mention to Alex James because he is really underrated as a bassplayer. (and obvsly I had a Flea from RHCP phase).

Song stuck in my head: I’ve been cursed lately with “We’ve got the power” from Gorillaz thanks to that bloody french verse.

Other blogs: @millennialcryptid (side blog abandoned) and @wearetherantingcentre (side blog with nat abandoned as well) and I believe I already killed @chaoticwordart (nope, I just tagged it here, so...)...

Do I get asks: yes, not as much as I wanted to. For some reason my mutuals NEVER send me asks in those asks games... And sometimes I have horny crazy af anons (:

Blogs following: 264 (this tumblr is new, but I don’t like to follow too much people because I would lost the posts of people I like in my dash)... I’m not a person who cares abou numbers, I prefer to keep things simple and smol and build real stuff with it.

What am I wearing: A Cruella De Ville nightdress, is 17:14/5:14pm and I haven’t showered/woke up at 2pm... I’m having one of those days that I don’t care about myself lmao.

Dream job: Barbie doll fashion designer/Work with one of my favourite bands merch (doing t-shirts, posters, album covers and stuff)...

Dream trip: Gosh so many because I’m poor and haven’t travelled as much, I would like to know more states in my own country (Brazil), doing a South America trip, perhaps extend this to all Americas. Europe, mainly: UK, France - Paris (but some other places as well), Belgium, Switzerland, maybe Germany, Greece, Amsterdam... Also Egypt, and some other places in Africa, Japan, China, Australia... (Yeah I really want to see the world, lmao).

Play any instruments: Not yet, but I bought a melodica (named unknown because I can’t remember RIP) and an ukelele (named Coxy after Graham lmao).

Languages: Portuguese, Portuñol, English and I did one French semester but I failed due to my panic attacks lmao.

Favourite food: Strogonoff, this plate with rice and chicken that my mum does and I don’t know its name, lasagna, pasta, brigadeiro, chocolate cake...

Favourite songs: You’re so Great by Blur, Damn Girl by The All-American Rejects, She (For Liz) by Parachute, Enjoy The Silence by Depeche Mode, Only You by Cartel, Hard and Slow by Graham Coxon, and many many more (:

Random fact: I’m a 27yro with a 17yro mentality that still buys toys/board games and never finishes most of my projects lmao.