#ronnie wanted to leave. ronnie wanted to leave the whole time!!! she kept trying to get everyone to leave!!!

[ipatrichor]

OKAY SO. content warnings for near-drowning, injury, death, and eldritch horror stuff typical of a call of cthulu oneshot. (dw tho i promise no pets die)

in the back of the cabinet under the front counter, there's a tiny coraline door that leads nowhere- just a white wall. however, when you touch this wall you go right through it into an unknown space beyond. ronnie spots it first and decides to ignore it until the old man who works with us, van (yes we called him old man van) crawls through and disappears at which point we investigate.

the premise is that we all work at 7-11. no one schedules the shifts bc the manager doesn't fucking care, so we've all showed up today. our group is comprised of:

- ronnie, she/her, a herbo with a dog who shits on the floor of the 7-11

- morgs (short for morgan), she/they, a punk lesbian who used to date ronnie before things ended badly

- cody, they/them, an amateur ghost hunter who's always high and has more parkour skills than sense

- eide (pronounced eed), they/them, a mystery with a backpack they keep almost as close as they keep their secrets.

ronnie's dog, commander ozzy, goes through and eide ends up following to retrieve him. thankfully commander ozzy didn't go far, and all eide sees is a room with winding tunnels leading away from it and pipes along the walls. when they return they tell us not to go in, closing the cabinet and keeping watch. the group splits- cody and morgs smoke outside and discuss their curiosity, eide texts an unknown party, and ronnie waits behind the counter.

eide goes to the back to snack on inventory while leaving their phone behind. morgs and cody return while the coast is clear, and cody takes their backpack and sneaks inside. two men come looking for eide, but ronnie and morgs lie and say they don't know an eide so the men leave. eide comes back out, learns what happens, and goes out into the front parking lot but is too late to catch them.

around this time, the manager comes back and insists on going after old man van despite ronnie's protests. after sticking his head inside, though, his sanity is greatly damaged and he returns nearly catatonic, barely aware of the world around him. ronnie does her best to deal with this, but is left with no assistance.

meanwhile, cody records their trip and leaves a trail of pencils. they begin to explore the tunnels while morgs keeps watch back in the 7-11 with cody's beloved pet lizard, galcan (short for galactic cannibalism). morgs glances inside to take another look, and while she does ronnie returns from stuffing the manager in a closet and yanks her out despite her resistance.

they argue, bringing up their messy breakup. morgs reveals that cody is in the tunnels, and ronnie is horrified and insists on going to find them and bring them back. the two do so, following the pencil trail.

eide comes back inside, finds them gone, and frustratedly enters the tunnels to find them. ronnie and morgs argue again, and morgs ends up splitting off from the group while eide finds a sacrificial dagger and ronnie follows the pencil trail looking for cody, who is having just a lovely time filming things.

they all hear a loud banging noise and rush towards it, reconvening in a cafeteria-esque room. galcan is happily returned to cody’s pocket, and a child's ball bounces by itself from a hallway leading to a weird door with an old-fashioned padlock and a tray of food next to it. ronnie is desperate to leave, and morgs teases her for being scared while eide investigates the food and cody films the door.

morgs promises to leave if ronnie goes and touches the scary door, which she reluctantly does. on the way out, though, a curtain separating the cafeteria from the kitchen moves somewhat and morgs just has to investigate. she calls cody over and the two joke around about the meat grinder and the gross hair in the sink. cody pokes it with a pencil and it feels squishy, which grosses them out. the drain starts to bubble and flood, alarming the trio who quickly make up their minds to leave- much to ronnie’s relief.

meanwhile, eide has gone further down the hallway, past windows that reveal only flat blue, and finds the bridge of a submarine. there’s a radar with nothing showing up, and a parascope that reveals nothing but more blue. the other three follow, and are trying to all get their shit together and persuade everyone to leave when something shows up on the rader. it’s getting closer, and when ronnie looks through the parascope she sees huge, indescribable creatures heading toward the submarine at impossible speeds. they slam into the submarine, loud bangs sounding and pipes beginning to burst.

they start running, only to find that there are several inches of water and rising on the floor. the pencil trail has been washed away, but ronnie remembers the way back and runs that way, cody pulling morgs along after her while eide pauses to investigate the strange door that’s now unlocked. they find a book and some information in a car’s glove box, and then take off to try and catch up with the others.

the water is rising fast, and as they come to an intersection all three see something that gives them pause. off to the right, ronnie sees commander ozzy swimming and runs towards him. on the left, cody sees galcan swimming and checks their pocket, confused to find her still safely inside. directly ahead, morgs sees a horrifying disproportionate creature waiting for them.

when ronnie reaches commander ozzy, instead of her dog she finds a piece of broken off pipe floating in the water and takes it. further down the tunnel is a green sign that she hopes will lead to an exit, and she wades toward it. eide catches up as the others follow her, all panicked.

the sign says exeunt, but cody points out that they’re in a submarine- any exit here will likely lead to the ocean instead of to the 7-11. despairing and resigned to swimming back through the tunnels looking for the original passage, they turn back only to find space bending around them and the green sign in front of them again. out of options, ronnie opens the door next to it. water rushes out into the rooms beyond, and they follow and quickly work together to shut the heavy door behind them to trap the water out.

they find themselves in a room with a single table in the middle, and a pitch black doorway on the other end with a bloody handprint on the wall next to it. with nowhere else to go, the group ventures onward- ronnie in the lead with a phone flashlight and metal pipe, morgs next with two knives she doesn’t know how to use, eide following and keeping their backpack close, and cody bringing up the rear with galcan and a vape pen because there’s no way they’re dealing with any of this sober.

as they move, the walls around them become narrower. they move, remaining metal but rhythmically expanding and contracting as if breathing. this tunnel ends in another room, empty except for what looks like a person sitting in a chair with their back towards the entryway. they breathe oddly, in a way that moves their whole body, and it’s the same rhythm as the walls.

ronnie, pushed to her absolute limit, wastes no time attacking the figure. she gets in a few solid swings with the pipe, refusing to stop as the others stare. the creature rises and turns, revealing itself to be a twisted abomination, and roars- lashing out at ronnie, who ducks out of the way and hits it again. she keeps attacking it until it lashes out and grabs her with a massive hand, squeezing and doing a fair bit of damage.

cody is afraid enough that it turns to anger, shouting ‘hey! that’s my coworker!’ and lunging. they latch onto the wrist and stab it, causing pain but failing to make it let go of ronnie. she manages to struggle out of its grip, but its other hand lashes out and impales cody through the ribs- missing vital organs and galcan’s hoodie pocket, but now dangling them from its hand as it moves.

meanwhile, the sound of the roar reverberating through her head and now cursed with the knowledge that the submarine itself is alive and the creature is just part of it, morgs examines the walls and pipes and starts turning nozzles, hoping to hurt the entity in some way.

catching on to her plan, ronnie hefts her pipe and starts smashing the pipes on the walls. these attacks cause steam to fill the room and hallway, gradually reducing visibility but also seeming to hurt the creature as the submarine itself screams.

kept functioning by adrenaline, cody starts sawing at the three fingers impaling them, trying to cut themself loose without removing the objects to minimize blood loss. it’s slow going, however, because all they have to work with is their pocket knife.

with the hand not wearing cody as a decoration, the creature swings at ronnie and morgs. morgs manages to dodge, rolling and coming up with knives ready and a wildness in her eyes, but ronnie is less nimble and gets slammed into a wall. behind them, eide finally pulls the secret from their backpack- a double barrel shotgun- and fires, staggering the creature. they then move to help cut cody lose, using the sacrificial knife they found earlier.

ronnie continues to attack the pipes, more steam spilling out and greatly impacting visibility. morgs tries to escape but gets turned around, running into the creature and getting grabbed. it knocks her unconscious and tosses her aside as eide gets cody loose, dragging them away to relative safety and reloading their shotgun.

ronnie, meanwhile, can hear the cries and yelling of her coworkers. she has a moment, remembering their frequently shit interactions and all the things she calls them assholes for, and decides- fuck it, if she’s going to die for her shitty coworkers, then so be it. she keeps breaking the pipes, even as the steam spilling out keeps burning her, until she’s gone.

ronnie is dead. morgs lies on the floor unconscious. cody still has three giant fingers impaling their stomach, likely bleeding out. eide stands functionally alone, their shotgun and their determination against the creature. they stand their ground, take aim, fire-

and everything goes black.

when they’re aware again, they’re sitting in a chair next to two hospital beds. in one lies cody, asleep but on the road to healing. in the other is morgs, who still has yet to awaken. her heart moniter flatlines, and all eide can do is watch, barely aware of the world around them, as the hospital fights to keep her alive and manages to restart her heart. whether she’ll ever wake up again or not, there’s no way to know.

[aconflagrationofmyown]

but then…Gigi

a future forward one shot, circa 1979

Snuggle me Tender

Trust me I laughed and cringed every bit as hard as you over that title but after the strain of pushing this mushiness out of my brain in under twelve hours I haven’t got any sensible titles left in me, ok?

Requested: Yes / No

Warnings: next to none? complete fluff and no rancidity for once, just Big Daddy Elvis with a very young baby and a very young wife and tour life and mentions of his health concerns…so much baby talk which I do not apologize for, if you’ve never done it I suggest you do, it adds years to your life. To quote Alex Turner: “I’ve been feelin’ foolish, you should try it.”

Word count: 2,884 is my version of a blurb, ok?

Notes: this is dedicated to my baby Bri whose devastating prompts lead to this whole Gigi endeavor and whose sweetness lightens up my life

Blaring horns end the set with its iconic flourish, their brassy notes echoing in his ears as he exits. It was a good show, a lively audience and Ronnie kept the rhythm together this time and even the sound system was decent for such a packed out stadium. Elvis is satisfied as he takes his final farewell of the sea of glossy, enamored faces, the frenzied send off of their ovation thudding into his veins so thickly he thinks his pulse will jump straight outta his wrists.

He flicks his writs irritably and hooks his thumbs into his belt, hoisting it just that little bit from where his exertions made it creep down and down and ever down, keeping it where it’s not pinching him as he lets the boys hustle him off the stage and into the back hallways in a well worn maneuver. The clapping and roar of the crowd is still deafening and he’s still attuned to it, vibrating like a leaf and the shake, rattle and roll of it pounds along with his chest and more worrisome still is the way his vision flickers with it, like some damn techno scene. But it’s just the fluorescents, and this interminable hallway leading to his dressing room.

And to his girls.

He takes a deep breath and tries to begin the effort of steadying himself just a little before foisting himself on them. It’s easier, so much easier, with them here, but his blood pressure still skyrockets each time he performs and it doesn’t seem like there’s a pill or a regimen out there to prevent it. It might be the death of him one day and awhile back he might have flippantly hoped so.

Now he’s got his girls to live for

and he tries his hardest to moderate himself, to temper himself in between to be the man he wants so badly to learn he is, not just the icon he’s perceived to be. Every step takes him closer to the anecdote and he breathes easier, hiking his belt higher so he can really gulp in those belly expanding breaths and he feels Charlie patting his back, his boys murmuring in an affirmative babble that it was a good show.

Elvis knows it was. He doesn’t need them to tell him. There’s only one persons opinion he gives a shit about right now and she’s probably conked out asleep or at the tit. Both of which sound like damn good options to mimic, in Elvis’ opinion.

Little Miss Erin Love Presley.

She’s become his life and between her and Gigi and Yissa he is bombarded with the insistence that he is wanted to the point that he’s gradually had to assume that, well…that he is -wanted, that is.

He’s wanted. Not just needed.

And so he allows them to fret over his pulse and he agrees to less stimulants when possible and he endeavors to be a more cheerful bastard despite the persistent urge to bite heads off most days.

Ricky jogs ahead of him, opens the door that Sam’s been standing in front of and ushers Elvis inside hurriedly before closing the door behind him, leaving him alone with his little family. Nearly blinded by the change in lighting, Elvis staggers towards where he knows there's a couch in the gloomy dressing room Gigi so considerately dimmed for his sake.

“You were magnificent, daddy!” her soft praise registers more profoundly than all the applause out there and Elvis sinks into the couch utterly spent, yet entirely satisfied.

“Thanks darlin’.” He murmurs with his head tilted back, winded and a thousand miles away but he’s trying to come back down. His hand reaches out for her hip and the give of her soft flesh tethers him to earth.

Gigi doesn’t skip a beat before she’s bending down and unclamping the large buckle from his belly single-handedly with practiced ease, delighting in the relieved groan Elvis lets out as she removes the heavy ornament. She swings it away from him only to replace it with the soft weight of their baby girl.

“I’ll get your medicines, you hold tight.” Gigi soothes, her hand lovingly pushing his hair back from off his damp forehead before she bends to kiss it and he chases her wearily for a taste of her lips which she presses to his ardently before pulling away to go find his pills.

Baby girl is perched on his belly in her tiny sequined onesie, balancing like a Pilates teacher on a ball, her wobbly little neck doing its utmost to stay straight and fix him with her appealing stare. It’s devastatingly effective when paired with her pitifully frustrated little squeaks.

Elvis knows what Lovey wants and a few months ago he might’ve been appalled at the notion of it despite being an utter sap for his daughter. It had seemed too gross to subject her to the post-show sweat and musk that cling to him in moments like these. But like her mommy, the little girl wouldn’t take less than the deepest of intimacies and so he has learned that Lovey will continue her fussing until she feels the warmth of his skin beneath her.

The tiny wrist golden chain around her wrist jangles as she tries to pull herself up the ornate expanse of his jumpsuit front, clawing determinedly up the exquisite sundial motif towards the heaving expanse of his sweaty chest. ‘Return if found’ her bracelet reads and Elvis smirks at the notion of her being put down long enough by either of her parents to be misplaced.

“Hey cuddle bug, hey how’s it goin’, hmm?” he coos to her and finds his voice is fried and gravelly.

Without having to even reach he finds Gigi pressing a plastic cup into his hand that he ravenously accepts along with blood pressure regulators she presses into his palm, small and round and white. He throws them back with exhausted gusto and his baby nearly wobbles backwards in her arc to follow his movements with her big ole baby head.

They made a pretty baby, he and Gigi, how could they not? -but even the prettiest of babies have bowling balls for heads compared to the rest of their body and it still tickles Elvis immensely. He wheezes a laugh into the last of the water while catching her head with his other hand and crushes the cup with something bordering a burp and a groan.

Lovey’s bright little eyes expand just a fraction more at the vibrations against her belly. “ ‘scuse me, miss.” he teases, eyes still wavering blearily as he tries to focus on Gigi rummaging for something at the far end of the dim room. The water makes him feel at least partially alive again and he runs his hand beneath his nose to catch the sweat and what all that is collecting atop his lip.

Heaving in a big breath he feels his hands calm their shakes enough he looks down at Lovey’s valiant attempts to reach the apex of his unzipped suit, clammy baby hands snagging the hair on his belly and tugging. He’s gonna have bald patches down there at this rate, he’s told Gigi this and she just lathers more hippy oil on him and says he’ll be alright -so he guesses he will be.

“Look at you baby, so strong, yes you is, fightin’ gravity like a champ, got yo’self halfway up the sun, yes you has. Want daddy to help ya? Hmm? Yeah? You want a kiss, don’t ya? Me too, I want kisses from my bestest girl.”

He hooks his thumbs beneath the giving flesh of Lovey’s armpits and pulls the floppy length of her higher till she’s balanced on his broad chest, in between his gaping jumpsuit front, watching as she crows and grins the minute she feels his tacky skin beneath her palms. The swell of his belly keeps her high up and her little elbows dig into his soft chest, it’s a well worn ritual to spend her “belly time” on his chest, fascinated by her daddy’s face. It holds her interest more than any gaudy toy or tv show ever could.

Elvis pats her bottom gently with his ringed hand, careful not to pinch her delicate thighs as Lovey kicks and shudders in delight at getting her way. She’s a little masochist, his baby, she drools and coos even as she grips significant portions of his chest hair and tugs in glee as if it’s her own personal shag carpeting to aid her towards scooting up that last little bit needed for her to kiss him on the chin.

“Das it, das it almost there, gonna give daddy a kissy? Gonna gimme kissies? I wan’ ‘em so bad, yes I do!” Elvis pickers his lips and she strains every ounce of her little self to grab ahold of his sideburns. It’s all over then, Lovey is triumphant in her grip, a pack of wild horses can’t tear anythin’ that baby has once she’s grabbed ahold of it. With a gurgly little crow she scoots herself up till she’s able to devour his chin.

She’s quite coordinated when preening her angelic little face up to receive a kiss but upon dishing them out she goes about it like a starved man would a set of pork ribs, open mouthed and with the goal to slobber as much as possible on the recipient. Elvis can’t bear to turn her away ever and in his after-show state of permanent dampness he doesn’t even think twice as a sloppy, gummy and fervent baby adds to the sweat rolling down his throat.

“Fank you.” he murmurs, tilting his head to facilitate her attack, “Fank you so much, ooh, I love your kisses, ya know that? Favorite kisses in the world, yes ‘dey are! Better than any of those out there, Mhmm, way better. Yes, yes better gimmer another -aww thank ya!”

Gigi watches from the side as she finishes her breast pumping by the dimmed vanity as Elvis puckers his cherub lips and pecks at their baby’s matching glossy pink pair. In this moment with their bobbing heads and tender coos and the nearly identical soft forms of them both slouching in their matching jumpsuits -they could be twins. The thought makes her smile and right in this moment there’s a belonging she feels so strongly and richly that her eyes burn with it.

“I thought it went pretty well, mhmm, what’d ya think about the new song, hmm?” he always does this, consults Lovey’s side-of-stage perspective on his show and he swears to Gigi that her feedback is essential for the success of what has been a certainly well received comeback tour. “Yeah I thought so too, ‘could tinker with those background vocals but the bass was tight. Yeah, yeah man, I know, I told ‘em, but they don’t listen, no dey don’t! I know! I know I told ‘em! Can ya believe that, Lovey? Oh well.”

With each of his heavy breaths and remonstrances Elvis’ chest heaves and sends Lovey tilting further and further up to his face till she’s careening alarmingly into the crease of his neck, wedged between it and the couch back. The tip of her tiny body makes Elvis die laughing with a fit of those genuine, hiccuping laughs that their baby loves to mimic until they both end up dry coughing from their mirthful wheezes. He gets them both situated again, Lovey firmly back on the safe expanse of his tacky chest with his hands criss crossed over her tiny back. One of his hands can span the entire width of her little ribcage and folded over each other as his hands are now, they looks like a bejeweled turtle shell sheltering their Lovey’s delicate back.

Gigi packs up her kit and rummages through her sack for Elvis’ glasses before they’re needed for the camera-flash-lit trek back to the hotel.

Lovey lets out a vigorous yawn, suddenly utterly tuckered out from watching her daddy perform and waiting up to kiss him backstage. It catches Elvis’ attention and yet again he’s amazed by the fact he feels even remotely weary himself, like he’s able to tap into his girl’s calmer systems and regulate his own just a little to match them. Not so much a family as a trinity of souls so intertwined they’ve long since lost where one ends and the other begins.

“You sleepy, hmm?” Elvis hums to her and strokes over her head soothingly, “How bout we go back to that nice hotel then, we can eat somethin’ and yer mommy’ll call up Yissa to say goodnight. How’s that sound, hmm?”

Lovey rubs her face into his chest to emphasize how much she needs this sleep plan to be enacted speedily, the tired rub backfiring as his chest hairs tickle her sensitive little nose. Without fail it makes her sneeze violently and afterwards she’ll gaze up him dazedly as if asking for explanation as to her own bodily functions.

“Hutchooo, bwess you.” he thumbs at her sloberdy chin. “Dat was a big one, wasn’t it? Mhmm, daddy’s sorry he’s so fuzzy. Don’t got that problem when ya snugglin’ wif mommy, do ya? Nu-uh, smooth as marble, that pretty girl, ain’t she? Mhmm.” he ponders Gigi’s loveliness with a dreamy look of appreciation and his baby resignedly lays her head in the sweaty thatch of chest hair, wadding it away from her face with a tiny fist, Elvis stares over her head at Gigi who he knows has been playing at being busy to let him wind down.

They share a knowing little smile and Gigi shoves off from her perch on the vanity and clip clops over to him in her strappy heels, bending at the waist and offering him a lovely view down the neck of her dress as she gently fits his tinted glasses on his face. “There, all set.” she murmurs fondly while fiddling with his hair, dabbing at the mess of sweat and drool that the now sleeping baby has left in her wake.

Ricky cracks open the heavy metal door with great care but it’s not enough care to please Elvis who barks

“Gently, for God’s sake, there’s a baby sleepin’ in here!”

and Gigi smirks as she herself gets manhandled by her new husband to sit beside his bulky manspread, for no other reason perhaps than to keep her ass pointed away from Ricky. Gigi suspects that Elvis likes to bark at his traumatized entourage just because he enjoys getting to cite the baby’s needs. He has a baby again, and it’s turned him into more of a bear than a man on this tour. That thought makes Gigi sigh dreamily and she lays her head on Elvis’ shoulder and watches as Lovey’s sleeping breaths stay even and calm despite his outburst, utterly secure in her daddy’s love.

Gigi gets her thigh patted in recognition and she shudders as always from that promising touch, feeling how torn he is between winding down or thrumming off into the astral sphere. Only once they’re in the hotel and snug in the white sheets with Yissa on the phone will she know which way the night will go.

“Car’s all set.” Jerry quietly delivers the message that Ricky fled before he could finish delivering.

“Thanks man.” Elvis nods and after exchanging a look with Gigi asks her, “Ya ready, baby girl?”

“Yes.” she nods and gives him her arm as an aid to heft himself out of his burrow in the couch, his one arm still occupied cradling Lovey to his chest.

Gigi helps him drape his coat around his shoulders, flapping around him like one of his capes, allowing him to pull it over Lovey’s face in the ensuing glare of the photographer’s flashes as they speed down the hallways and into the parking lot, hand in hand.

Lovey is used to the racket, the screams and the pounding of an audience a natural backtrack to her young life. Nevertheless, Elvis moves gingerly, stays calculated in his movements lest he jostle her as he follows Gigi into the car, scooting into his seat as methodically as possible, his exhausted thighs quivering from this last ounce of endurance demanded of them. He succeeds though, Lovey still snoozing and drooling onto his chest by the time the Limo door shuts and they’re off in a streak of light and motion against the night sky.

He can feel Gigi slip her smaller hand into his own on the seat between them, tugging until he surfaces from his trance and turns his face towards her with a relieved sigh to find her always there beside him when he needs it.

“You alright, daddy?” she checks in with him and he watches as her features, so lovingly crafted by a generous God to make her appear young enough to be his baby much less have one herself, are gently lit by the occasional street lamp glowing into their speeding haven.

“Yeah darlin.” Elvis rumbles from deep in his chest, rubbing the back of his knuckles against her soft cheek, watching as Gigi leans into his affections as eagerly as that first night they met, “Never been better. I mean it, gonna need to make this the order of business. You and Lovey waitin’ for me, end of show -I could go on forever like this.”

TAGLIST: (drop a comment below if you’d like to be tagged in all installments for this universe)

@prompted-wordsmith

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[geminisecrets]

Left Me Like Summer Part II

Warnings:  18+ ONLY! explicit sexual content, oral sex (female receiving), smutty dirty sex, coarse language, a lot of angst, a lil fluff, mentions of alcohol, drug use.

Word Count: 8,000

If you haven't read Part I of this story, go check it out here :)

Summary: “I catch my mind wandering as he works on my knee; his face soft in the light of the flashlight. I’m not sure if it's the leftover effects of the mushrooms, the beer, or the flood of emotions I've been battling this weekend, but at this moment, I’m noticing things I haven't before. Like the crease in the tip of his nose. The length of his eyelashes as they swish up and down when he blinks. The hair in between his eyebrows that don’t quite meet but bunch together in concentration as he takes my left hand in his to inspect it for scrapes and dirt. I notice the sharp peaks in the cupid’s bow of his top lip and how plump and soft his lower one is."

Things with Jake have been rocky for a while now, but what’s to come isn’t even the half of it. aka “A How-To-Guide on The Best Worst Camping Trip of All Time” 

Authors Note: This is the second part of a three (?) part series we are working on for Jake and Sam. Let us know if you’re into it and what you think will happen next!

Sorry it took us a minute to post, we've really put our blood, sweat and tears into this story line and we hope you guys like it!

Y’all are so fuckin rad for following and leaving notes. 

Requests are open :) 

Join our tag list ✨

“Since when does having the slimmest hips in the car mean I have to take the hump seat? Poppy should have to sit back here, she’s tinier than all of us.” Sam whines from beside me. 

“Samuel, if I have to hear your voice one more time, I swear to God I will swerve into oncoming traffic.” Josh scolds, squinting a glare into the backseat through the rear view mirror. His hand goes to rest on the headrest of the passenger seat where his girlfriend’s head is tipped back, eyes closed, trying her very best not to vomit. “Just ignore the pest in the backseat Pops, he has no manners. We think he was raised by wolves.” 

Josh’s girlfriend, or ‘Poppy’ as we all know her, is the kind of partner you want your friend to have because they’re madly and deeply in love. (Josh introduced us to her as ‘Poppy’ because of the tattoo she has of her August birth month flower- and to tell you the complete truth, I couldn’t tell you her given name if you paid me). She also happens to be the kind of girlfriend you want your friend to break up with because she’s completely and wholeheartedly insufferable most of the time. But, I digress. She did plan this whole weekend and honestly does have the purest of intentions. 

It’s been two hours. Two hours into a five hour drive. Between Sam pissing his siblings off with his constant griping over seemingly everything, Poppy’s car sickness, and my anxiety ridden, borderline panic induced state, you could safely say we’ve all had better road trip experiences. I just thank whatever god will listen that Jake is in Danny’s truck. Sam, I can deal with. Sam, I’ve been dealing with even longer than Jake. I met Jake through Sam, in fact. 

“It’s not my fault Ronnie has the pointiest elbows known to man.” He mumbles low enough that only Ronnie and I can hear. 

“Maybe if you kept your knees on your section of the seat, I wouldn’t have to fucking fight for my life for some personal space over here.” Ronnie bites back, tiredly. 

“I’ve got long legs, Ron. I don't know where exactly you want me to put them.” He complains, yet again. 

Feeling like I’m one bicker away from punching the back window out and flinging myself onto the highway, I offer up a solution. “Here, Bambi.” I motion towards Sam’s legs, inviting him to drape them in my lap.

“Ahhh” He lets out a comfortable sigh, stretching himself out with his back to Ronnie’s shoulder. “Much better.” He smiles at me, reaching out to pat my head like a dog. I dodge his hand and slap it away. 

“Don’t push your luck.” I warn. Things settle down in the car after that and I finally let my head loll against the window. The last thing I hear before I nod off to sleep is Josh singing softly along to The Lumineers from the front seat. 

__________

“We’re here, pumpkin” I hear Sam croon softly as feel a finger poke into my cheek. I open my eyes and groan uncomfortably as I stretch the kinks out of my neck. As soon as I open the car door I'm immediately relieved. Nature has always been a solace for me. The smell of fresh air, the quiet restlessness of the woods, the sun peeking in through the leaves of the trees, shedding warmth and light on my skin. 

I step out of the car and close my eyes, tilting my head back to get a full deep breath in. Trying to focus my energy on the birds I hear chirping and the water I hear babbling, I barely notice the camp starting to get set up around me. I consider truly making the most of this moment or even sneaking away to take a walk and clear my head but I know I’m just procrastinating the inevitable. 

I try my best to help Ronnie stake our tent into the ground. We have three of them to set up. Josh and Poppy have their own. Jake and I were supposed to have our own as well, but given that our relationship recently imploded, we decided to break things up and have the rest of the boys in one tent, and the girls in another. At least I’ll have a separate tent with Ronnie to be able to decompress if things get to be too much. 

“My tent looks better than yours”, Sam taunts, interrupting my thoughts, sticking his tongue out at me. Mere seconds later, before I even have a chance to respond, the wind picks up and his rain tarp goes flying. 

“Hey, MacGyver, look alive” I point as it begins to blow into the woods between the trees. 

“Shit!” He takes off running after it. Taking pity on him, I start to help him chase after it. I swear to God I almost give up as we run further and further back into the woods, tripping on tree roots, getting eaten alive by mosquitos, but the tarp finally catches on a broken tree branch. 

“Oh thank god!” Sam yells out, grabbing the tarp and barking out a bellied laugh. I laugh along with him as I double over, hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath. I feel comfortable with Sam. He’s a safe person for me. Unfortunately all of the Kiszkas are, or, were. As safe as he feels, Sam and I have always had some kind of tension between us. I can never quite put my finger on what it is exactly–or maybe I would rather just not acknowledge it for the sake of our friendship. Sam finally breaks the silence in our gasps for air.

“So, how are you holding up? Like actually.” I panic immediately, the oxygen rushing to my brain from The Great Tarp Chase of 2022 has really proven to distract me from my own rambling thoughts but he’s snapped me right back into the present with one question. I don’t want to unload all of this on him and the way he’s looking at me makes me feel weak and pitiful. (Whether or not I am is not the point).

“I’ve been better. I’ve been worse.” I lie through my teeth, turning on my heel and heading back toward our campsite. He follows suit, striding beside me. He nods his head and gives me a weak smile. He knows I'm lying but I’m grateful he leaves it at that. Catching me completely off guard, he wraps his arm over my shoulder and pulls me in for a classic Sam bear-hug. “Thanks, Sammy.” I utter, the words muffled into the fleece of his pullover. Breaching past the point of the tree line, we see Danny’s truck pulled up next to Josh’s Jeep. Oh good. Just when I thought my anxiety couldn’t get any higher. 

“Savannah!” Sam yells out in excitement. I didn’t even think it was humanly possible for my head to swivel in the speed and angle it does because who in the fuck is Savannah? It feels like a scene out of a movie as I see a set of long, sleek, tanned legs materialize from the back seat, followed by a luscious head of perfectly shiny, honey toned hair being tossed from one shoulder to the other. 

Oh. That Savannah. 

“You’ve met Sav before, right?” Josh asks only to me, putting down the camping chair he was holding. 

“Um, actually no, I haven’t.” I try to play it cool. Try to act aloof but my blood pressure is absolutely through the roof and I feel like I’m going to pass out. 

“Sav is a close family friend of ours, we’ve known her for years. I can’t believe you guys have never met! Jake never mentioned her?” He asks. I force a smile and shake my head ‘no.’ “Poppy invited her after you and Jake ended things… we knew you were on the fence about coming.” I know he’s reading my body language and can tell I'm trying to keep it cool. He throws an arm around my shoulder and tugs me into his side. “Play nice, mama. And don't stress about it. You’re going to get wrinkles before you’re thirty.” 

“Hmph” I grumble. He pecks a platonic kiss to the top of my head, comfortingly and walks over to Poppy and Savannah.  

See, I’m not lying but I’m not being completely truthful either. I know who Savannah is. Her name has come up in conversations at family gatherings and I’ve seen her in pictures from Kiszka family vacations but I’ve never met her in person. In fact I remember a very specific argument Jake and I had a few months ago around why I’d never met the girl his mother claims is ‘like one of her own.’

I instantly have my guard up. Savannah doesn’t acknowledge my presence, instead catching Poppy in a hug; squealing out a hello. “Thanks for inviting me, Pops!” she says. Finally mustering up the courage to pry my eyes off of her, I look over to Jake who is walking towards me. 

“Hello, lo–”, Jake stops himself, “Uh, hey, glad to see you made it safely” He finishes. I feel my heart crack painfully. 

“Hey, yeah, you too…” I reply weakly. He wanders off, grabbing his bag to toss into his tent with Danny and Sam. Meanwhile, Ronnie shows Sav to my tent, making herself cozy instantly. 

“Haven't you heard that if you keep your face all scrunched up, it’ll get stuck like that?” I hear Sam’s voice in my ear. I didn’t even realize how furrowed my eyebrows were and how intense my stare was until his words hurled me back to reality. I relax my face immediately, closing my eyes. 

“I need a minute.” I breathe as I quickly and quietly shuffle down the path toward the creek.  

__________

“Shit, we really need more firewood.” Danny states from his camping chair. He’s been doing his very best to keep the dwindling flames alive. 

“Nose goes!” Sam shouts and instantly everyone touches their finger to their nose. 

Josh being the slowest to play along moseys back into the forest to fetch more wood. 

“Josh! Wait for me!” Poppy yells out, Josh gladly stops dead in his tracks and waits for her, turning around to smile, reaching his hand out to take hers. 

“If I were to light this joint… would anyone want to partake?” Sam asks, leaving half a grin on his face. 

“Dumb question, Sam. I call fresh greens!” Ronnie says, leaping over the pitiful smoking embers of what’s left of the fire to grab the joint from Sam’s fingers. 

“Next dibs!” I say, Jake huffing out a questionable groan from across the firepit. 

I am praying to whatever god is out there that this changes the tone for the night. We all pass the joint around, of course following the “puff-puff-pass” rule. 

By the cough Sav lets out, I'm going to assume this is her first time smoking. Odd, considering the group of people she’s so close with. 

“Now, everyone say ‘Thank you, Poppy’” Poppy sings, emerging from the treeline, hands full of kindling while Josh follows behind her, balancing full logs in his arms. 

“Thank you Poppy” We chorus back to her. As Sam stokes the fire, Josh and Poppy pour themselves drinks and we all gather around the flames, Danny pulling out his guitar, persuading us to start chanting our favorite songs. My mood has improved significantly from this morning and everyone else seems to be having a good time, too. 

As I go to grab a beer, I see Sav walk over to Danny’s truck, “Hey, Dan! Toss me your keys!” He hurls them over to her and she catches them in both hands. A beeping sound comes from the distance as the trunk opens and we see her rummaging around for something. I see a tiny glimmer of light flicker before I hear Savannah start to sing, “Happy birthday to you” the rest of the group follows suit and joins in. “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear twins, happy birthday to you!” Walking towards the boys, she places a cupcake in each of their hands before settling back into her seat, a little too close to Jake. She pats his back, “Now make a wish birthday boy” Their birthday isn’t even until tomorrow…

I can’t seem to tear my eyes away from the candle on his stupid cupcake as I spiral. I should be sitting next to him. I should be whispering a wish into his ear, promising to fulfill it after we tuck into our sleeping bags. I should be wearing his warm socks because I forgot mine. Sharing the flashlight on his phone while we brush our teeth in the dark. Reminding him to take a tylenol before bed because he’s been drinking and to make sure he gets a good night's sleep because we have a big day tomorrow. I should be there laying beside him on his birthday morning and kissing him awake. 

When I finally drag my eyes up to his, he’s already looking at me from across the fire. Responding to Savannah’s nudge for him to make a wish, he says “Oh, I have.” He lifts his cupcake in the air toward Josh and they blow their candles out in sync as we all cheer. I Immediately break his gaze and scoot closer to the fire as it starts getting a bit colder outside. To be fair, I think it's been cold, but we’ve all been a bit too intoxicated to really notice. 

“It’s getting a bit chilly out here,” Sav says, rubbing her arms with her palms trying to create friction. 

Without even blinking, Jake quickly starts slipping off his flannel and hands it to her. Fuck. It’s getting harder and harder to convince myself that Jake is just being the sweet, generous friend he is and not anything more. I see Sam visibly wince from beside me and I feel him reach over and firmly squeezes my knee. Sam has always seemed to know exactly what to say and when to say it –even if he isn't using words. 

Allow me to interject and say that this is not a love story; don’t get it twisted. I’ve never thought of Sam as anything more than a damn good friend and my boyfriend's brother. I can’t say the same thing for him, though. Jake drunkenly let it slip to me, ages ago, not even a month into dating, that Sam had a huge crush on me. Jake and I both vowed to forget about it despite knowing that Sam is just shameless enough to admit it outright, if given the opportunity.  

Feeling like it’s time to start winding down for the night, I walk over to the cooler to grab some water. I need to take a few deep breaths and suppress the primal urge I feel to rip Sav–and Jake– a new one. Josh follows me, so I reach in and pull out a bottle for him too.

“Should've known you’d be the first to quit tonight, grandma.” He teases. I’m notoriously the first to fall asleep or call it a night when we’re all together. 

I chuckle, the water in my mouth nearly dribbling out onto my shirt. “What can I say, sleep is my first love.

“Speaking of love-” Josh starts 

“Josh, you don’t have to-” I interject.

“I just wanted to reassure you that Sav is a close friend. But that’s all she is. A friend.” Josh smiles warmly. 

“Yeah, you guys keep saying that…” I feel that pit in my stomach again as Josh gives me a pity smirk in return. 

“Alright guys, I think I’m off to bed. I’m gonna need my sleep if we plan on hiking tomorrow” I announce to the group. I go around the fire giving everyone a hug goodnight, accepting their ribbing and teasing over going to bed ‘so early’. 

Trying to be nice, I include both Jake and Sav a weak hug. “Ronnie and I will try to be quiet when coming to bed later!” Sav offers. I shuffle my way back to the tent, crawling into my mattress made of nothing but blankets. The mental, physical, and emotional exhaustion of the day catches up to me immediately and the second my head hits the pillow, I’m out cold. 

—------------------

I wake up to the maddening sound of someone scratching on the outside of my tent. My eyes fly open, completely confused about what time it is, what day it is- even unsure of the year. Yesterday exhausted me. I don't even remember hearing Sav or Ronnie come to bed. I’m about to roll over and go back to sleep until I see a tall shadow moving around outside the tent. Pulling the covers over my head, begging for just a few more minutes alone, I try to pretend I’m asleep. 

I hear the tent slowly unzip. Please just go away. I pray silently, but I realize God hates me as I feel someone grab my big toe and squeeze. Sam. “Jeez, Pumpkin, are you gonna wake up anytime soon?” He teases, stumbling into the tent and crawling into my makeshift bed. He lays on his side, body right up against mine, head propped in his hand. Absolutely zero boundaries or personal space with Sam and that's just something you learn to accept about him after knowing him for years. 

“Where is everyone?” I ask, poking my head out from the covers once I realize it’s just the two of us in here. I keep the blanket over my mouth because I can taste my horrendous morning breath. 

“Well, we figured we’d let you sleep for as long as you needed, but, breakfast is almost ready.” He explains, eyes meeting mine. 

“I’m fasting today.” I lie. “Gonna do some soul searching and meditate in here.”

“Bullshit.” He calls me out, finally pulling the blanket from over my mouth. “You’re being a pussy because it’s Birthday Day.” 

I gasp; a mock horrified expression on my face. “I resent that, Samuel.”

“Resent it all you want, Pumpkin, you’re gonna have to face the music at some point today.” He rolls so that he's flat on his back next to me. It’s silent for a moment, both of us just staring up through the mesh window in the ceiling of the tent. 

“Sam?” I ask. He hums out an acknowledgement. “I am a pussy.” I confess. It’s quiet for another beat. 

“I disagree.” He finally says. “I think it’s pretty brave of you to come anyway. For Josh. And for the rest of us. Despite. Ya know...” 

“Yeah. I know.” I reply, rolling my head to the side to watch him. “Thanks.” His head rolls toward mine and his lips quirk up into a smile. 

“Alright!” He claps. “As they say, ‘wakey wakey, eggs and bakey’!” He jolts upright and shuffles to his feet, crouching in the small space. 

“Literally, no one says that Sam.” I groan, trying to find the will power to move my body. 

He turns to me once more after stepping out onto the dewey grass.“And if nothing else gets you up, maybe brushing your teeth will ‘cause your breath smells like ass.” I throw a pillow at him, shy by about two feet. “Come on! You’ve gotta come see this fancy stove that Danny has” 

“Trust me, I know all about that fucking stove”, I mutter under my breath as Sam walks out toward the picnic table. 

I give myself one more minute to prepare myself for the day. It’s a new day. It’s Jake's birthday. C’mon baby, let’s just keep things light and fun today. I hype myself up enough to throw my shoes and beanie on and stumble out of the tent. 

Immediately, I'm regretting waking up in the first place, coming on this trip, being born, all of it. The first thing I see is Jake sitting on the ground in front of Sav’s chair, her fingers crafting a braid into his hair. He looks completely blissed out. He loves getting his hair played with. Eyes closed. Smile on his face. I know that look. My fingers used to be the reason behind that look. 

“Oh shit, I don’t have an extra hair tie… Ronnie, do you have one you could spare?” Sav questions, locking eyes with me instantly. A flicker of panic washes over her features but she masks it with a feeble smile.  

“Actually, I have one right here”, Jake quickly interjects. I watch him slip the hair tie off of his wrist. It’s my fucking hair tie. He must still have it from the last time I braided his hair for him. I know it’s mine because I specifically have to buy ones for thick hair. They’re wider in size and flat. I walk over to the picnic table, taking a seat next to Ronnie. “Oh, I didn’t realize you were up yet”, Jake panics as soon as he opens his eyes and sees me.

“Yep, happy birthday boys”, I say cheerfully, remembering the pep talk I gave myself this morning. The tension in this open space is palpable. 

“Pancakes?” Danny asks the group and we all grab our plates. 

Jake is relatively hard to read, he’s shy and generally beats around the bush. But I know him. I know his expressions, mannerisms, body language, thought processes and behavior patterns and at this point, I think it’s clear that he’s moving on. So, I’m going to try my best to accept that for today. One day at a time. We can hash the rest out at a later time. We don’t need to do it here surrounded by all of our friends–and family. 

“Check out the stove! You guys picked out just the perfect one” Danny credits us. I look over to Jake who’s already looking at me. I can’t help but chuckle out a laugh. I don’t think I have ever seen someone so giddy over a damn stove. Jake returns my smile and laughs along, looking down at his shoes. 

—------------------

After cleaning up from breakfast, we get ready for the big birthday hike. Josh has not stopped talking about this hike since the day he and Poppy started planning this trip, months ago. This ought to be interesting. Josh, Lord help him, is arguably one of the worst people in the world to hike with. The man can turn a two-hour long hike into a six-hour long journey. Constantly stopping at every peak, landmark, field of flowers, even the gravel pits, for Christ’s sake. I’m all for taking in the beauty surrounding you, but even I have my limits. Let’s just get this show on the road, it was after all, the twins' one birthday request.

“Daniel, my good man, please bring forth the magic fungus for our trip into Mother Nature’s bosom.” Josh bellows, emerging from his tent. Danny smiles, pulling a baggie of mushrooms out of his backpack, shaking it with the biggest grin on his face.

“Fuck yeah!” Sam cheers as we all gather around, waiting like baby birds with our hands out for Danny to give us each our share.  

“Bajabule!” Josh chants out, tossing back his little handful.

‘Fuck it’ I mumble to Ronnie, hooking her arm in mine as we place the mushrooms on our tongues. 

“Jesus” Poppy scrunches up her face “I will never get used to that.” She gags. Josh bellows out a cackling laugh, pulling her in for a sloppy, smacking kiss. 

“Onward, brethren!” Josh exclaims, outstretching his hand toward the mouth of the trail. We all follow suit behind him. This should be interesting. Without tripping, a 2 hour hike with the Kiszka family takes upwards of 5 hours, so I’m anticipating this to be a whole day event. We walk for about half an hour or so before the water in the creek starts to look like glitter and the highlights in Danny’s hair start to glow. 

We make a pit stop in a flower field–courtesy of Josh–so we can eat the sandwiches that we brought along for lunch. By this hour, the bread is soggy, the deli meat is freakishly warm, and the lettuce is wilted. But, on the brightside… I’m too inebriated to really give a shit. 

“I wish we would have packed anything, but sandwiches”, Jake says, as he chokes down another bite. Everyone giggling in harmony. 

“Yeah, honestly… Who’s fucking idea was this?” Danny asks. 

“It was Josh’s idea, I wanted charcuterie, but the birthday boy haaaad to have sandwiches”, Ronnie says, nudging Josh’s arm, making sure he knows that she’s playing around. 

After we finish up lunch, we head back onto the trail. Josh acting as our tour guide, pointing out different flowers and moss patterns and birds. He makes us stop a few times to instruct us to: “Just close your eyes and breathe. What is the wind telling you?” He asks. What a loaded fucking question for eight people high off their asses on psychadelic mushrooms. It’s the middle of the afternoon so the sun is high in the sky, beating down ruthlessly on us as we break out of the trees and into the open air. 

“Josh, can you carry me?” Poppy whines, dragging her feet. 

“We’re almost to the river, lover– then we can take a break.” He presses a kiss to her cheek. One by one we all start to strip layers of clothing. Sam’s shirt is gone instantly, Josh’s scarf is now around his head, keeping his hair off of his forehead. Jake’s flannel is tied around his waist and I’m down to my sports bra and bike shorts. “See, there it is.” He points toward the water. 

With a squeal of excitement, Ronnie takes off running first and we all follow suit, shedding clothing as we go. The second my feet splash into the water, I feel euphoric. I look down and watch as the water ebbs and flows around my ankles, licking up my legs gloriously. I imagine the minnows in the river stopping by to kiss my toes and suddenly there they are. Dozens of them. Some whisper ‘hello’s to me. I’m completely lost in my hallucination when I feel a cold splash of water rain down on me. I squeal as I’m pulled back into real life. Sam watching me, waiting for me to retaliate. I rush forward, splashing him back as he runs through the waist deep water until he’s swimming away from me. Trying to catch up with him to properly get him back, I slip on a slimy, algae covered rock, sending me plummeting into the water. 

The pressure of the water around me is comforting, like a weighted blanket. I feel myself longing to slip lower and lower as the water gets colder, the further I fall. Before I can truly appreciate the weightless feeling of sinking deeper, I feel arms around me, pulling me up through the water. I gasp and inhale dramatically as soon as my head breaches the surface. When I open my eyes, it’s Jake whose arms are around me. I cough and sputter water out through my nose and mouth.

“Jesus, what are you doing? You scared the shit out of me.” He states, slight panic in his tone and features. I’m still huffing in and out, trying to fill my lungs with oxygen. 

“Sorry, sorry” I say, my head feeling light from the effects of the psilocybin in my system. My hands are still clutching his biceps and his are around my waist, supporting primarily all of my weight. To my left I see that our friends have all drifted much further away from me than I realized. “I got lost in the feeling.” I explain. My heart clenches in my chest as his eyes sweep over my face, trying to read me. 

“Are you okay?” He asks. I’m about to reassure him that yes, I’m fine– just swallowed a little too much river water when I decide that I’m not quite sure he was referring to the water at all. 

“Um.” I hesitate. His grip on me loosens a bit and he settles me back on the riverbed, stabilizing me before letting go. “Yes.” I finally respond, head clearing a bit now that we’re not so close. “I’m fine, I might've acquired a rare parasite from drinking too much river water, but I’ll live.” His expression softens at that and I even see a glimmer of a smile. 

“Well then come on, no more water for you.” He scolds, playfully. “You can’t be trusted.”  He gestures for me to accompany him back to the shore, everyone else seeing us and following along to start the trek back to the campsite. 

—--------------

After a solid seven hour hike, we finally make it back to camp, everyone winding down and getting ready to make dinner and gather around the fire for the night. As if we haven’t had an eventful day already, Poppy starts passing out beers to everyone. The annual birthday shotgun; lovely. 

“Cheers to a fantastic weekend!” Ronnie shouts, all of us raising our cans in the air, taking a knee and chugging the beer. 

“Jake, will you make me a s’more?” Sav asks, puppy dog eyes on full display. “Gonna need a fire first, love.” He teases back. Before he can even say it, everyone touches their finger to their nose. “Sam, you’re up.” Jake calls. Sam whips his head around from where he was–distracted, and quickly trying to change the subject so he’s not the one stuck rummaging around in the forest for wood.

“Who wants a shot?! Shots anyone?!” Sam asks, making a desperate attempt to change the subject.

“I’d love one– you got tequila?” Sav asks, practically leaping from her seat. 

“Yeah, I’ll take one too”, I say. I can feel Jake’s eyes darting towards me. He knows I hate taking shots of anything, unless I'm desperate for an escape from reality.

“Okay, yeah, I guess we’re all taking shots then…” Jake huffs out, sounding a tad concerned, his hand running through his hair like it always does when he gets uncomfortable.

“Yeah, yeah… let’s have a couple more shots, and thennnn Sam will go get firewood”, Ronnie says, letting Sam know he is not off the hook. 

“Alright fine, but I need someone to come with me and hold the flashlight.”

—--------------

“Sam, you have to point the flashlight where we’re walking, I can’t see shit.” I chide, laughing as I hear him curse, stumbling over a tree stump. We’ve been looking for dry wood for what feels like forever, but I’m sure it’s only been about 5 minutes. 

“Sorry, I can’t focus, I think the shrooms are still fucking with my head.” He laughs back. 

“Clearly” I shoot back. 

“Oh, coming from you!” He heckles. “10 bucks says you couldn't even tie your shoe right now after the four beers you shot gunned back there.” 

“Okay, okay you’ve got a point.” I laugh, knowing he’s right. We’re both fucked up and probably the last two they should’ve sent out on this mission. Trying to walk and laugh proves to be too much of an obstacle and I feel my foot hook on a tree root--sending me flying forward on my hands and knees.

“Oh, fuck!” Sam cries out, still laughing. “Are you okay?” He kneels next to me, reaching for my bicep to help me up.

“Flashlight. That was your job, Samuel. The flashlight.” I reprimand as I let him help me to my feet. 

“Shit, you’re bleeding.” His tone softens a bit. “Here, come here.” He takes my hand, guiding me to sit on a giant rock a few feet away. He kneels in front of me, taking my calf in his hand. He hands me the flashlight-- “here, your turn” and with the tip of his finger, he prods the scrape on my knee.”

“Ouch, you fuck!” I shove his shoulder, causing him to fall back on his ass, laughing. 

“Sorry, sorry, I’m trying to help.” He apologizes. “Here. Just needs to be cleaned up a bit.” He takes my calf in his hand again and analyzes the mark. He makes a guttural sound, signifying he’s about to spit on my knee. My hand flies to cover his mouth immediately.

“Don’t you dare!” I shriek, biting back a laugh. 

“I’m joking, I’m joking!” He protests even though I’m 110% positive he was not, in fact, joking. I thank God that we’re right next to the creek bank as he pulls his shirt off and dips the corner of it into the water. 

“Innovative” I praise as he gently dabs the cut on my knee. “If I didn’t know better, I’d assume this was all just a ploy for you to take your shirt off.”

His smirk widens, but his eyes stay focused on my leg as he says, “If this were about getting our clothes off, I’d have made sure you fell on your ass.” My heart skips a beat and it's unfamiliar; this feeling. It’s been weeks, an entire month and two weeks to be exact since I’ve had any physical attention and my body is reacting on primal instinct. 

I catch my mind wandering as he works on my knee; his face soft in the light of the flashlight. I’m not sure if it's the leftover effects of the mushrooms, the beer, or the flood of emotions I've been battling this weekend, but at this moment, I’m noticing things I haven't before. Like the crease in the tip of his nose. The length of his eyelashes as they swish up and down when he blinks. The hair in between his eyebrows that don’t quite meet but bunch together in concentration as he takes my left hand in his to inspect it for scrapes and dirt. I notice the sharp peaks in the cupid’s bow of his top lip and how plump and soft his lower one is. 

Getting lost in his features, I find myself reaching out to brush the loose hair that’s fallen into his face behind his ear. So quietly, I’m sure I could be mishearing, a low hum escapes his throat in approval. Chasing that approval further, I move the same hand from behind his ear up into his hair, scratching at his scalp gently with my blunt fingernails. The hum that comes out next is louder this time, unmistakable as his eyes flutter closed. 

“Sammy,” I begin. 

“Hmm?” His eyes open again, slowly, finally meeting mine. 

“Wanna hear a secret?” I ask, tugging my fingers from his scalp and brushing them through the strands on my way down to his shoulder. 

“I love secrets.” He smiles, shifting on his knees until his face is only about a foot from mine. 

I smile back at his eagerness, cupping my hand and bringing my lips close to his ear, I whisper, “I heard you used to have a crush on me.” His hands move to rest on my thighs as he draws back to look at my face.

“Is that so?” He asks. I nod back, confirming. “Didn’t know that was a secret.” His head cocking to the side. 

My eyebrows raise in surprise. “Really? Well it was news to me.” 

“What’s with all this past tense verbiage, here?” He asks, his fingers tightening playfully on my thighs. “‘Used to have a crush’, ‘it was a surprise’.” I feel the blood rush to my cheeks, the blush ruining my cover instantly. 

“What are you trying to say, Sammy?” I dare to prod, teasing lightly but there’s a bite to my tone. It’s not until his nose is nearly brushing mine that I realize we’ve been slowly inching magnetically closer to one another. “Sam?” I whisper, so close now that I feel the strands of his hair tickling my cheek. His eyes flicker from my lips back up to my eyes and I can taste his warm breath on my tongue. 

My mouth is watering in anticipation and my heart is pounding. I'm certain he can hear it. The birds in the trees can probably hear it. I feel his lower lip graze mine and we both flinch as if we’ve been electrocuted. He whispers my name into my mouth and I inhale it like a vapor. A beat passes where we just exchange shaky breaths, our lips brushing every so often, his hands moving up my thighs, grasping my hips, fists clenching the denim of my shorts. “Sam.” I say once again, this time more like a shallow moan.   

“Do you want to know a secret, too?” He asks, pecking a feather light kiss to my bottom lip. 

“Uh huh” I whimper pathetically. 

“I think you have a crush on me too.” He whispers. “I can feel it.” He breathes. “Right here.” His hand moves from my hip to my chest, pressing his palm over my heart. “Feels like hummingbird wings.”  

“Sam.” I blink slowly, feeling lightheaded and blinded by desire. I rest my forehead against his. My only thoughts are yes and touch me and please. 

“Tell me.” He pushes. “Tell me you want me to touch you. I need to hear you say it.”  

“I-” I swallow thickly, feeling my pulse in my temples now, face getting hotter as my fingers thread through his hair. “I want you to touch me. Please.” 

And then… 

Finally. Finally, his lips properly smash against mine. It’s messy and it’s hot and there are too many teeth involved but my body reacts instantly. He presses his naked chest to mine, wrapping his arms around me, squeezing. Our lips make a smacking sound as we part. I lean away to tug my shirt over my head and pull him back into me. As soon as our lips meet again, his hands are on my chest, tugging the cups of my bra down. His hands squeeze my breasts roughly, making me cry out. I reach behind myself and unhook the clasp, giving him full access to my chest. 

He’s gripping my hip so tightly with his left hand that I can feel his pinky ring digging into me. It feels like it’s striking right through to my bone, but I can only hope that he squeezes harder. 

“Fuck” he groans, his lips darting kisses down my neck straight to the buds of my nipples. The expletives that tumble out of my mouth would make my mother blush as he bites down and rolls the hardened nub between his teeth and tongue. “Yeah?” He asks, completely and entirely sure of himself. 

“Yeah.” I answer. With one hand gripping the life out of my hip, his other goes down to play with the torn shreds on the hem of my cut off denim shorts, teasing his fingertips up the inside of my thigh slowly. “Do it.” I encourage him. His lips pop off my breast and his eyes meet mine. 

“Do what, exactly?” He asks, his fingers brushing the skin between my core and my thigh. So close. “Tell me how you like it, baby” he brings his cheek to mine, his lips to my ear. “You want my fingers?” His lips kiss wetly down the column of my neck to my collar bone and my hips roll against the rock I’m still sitting on, trying to get some friction. His tongue swipes a hot line from my clavicle to my ear and he bites the lobe, “Or my tongue?” I can’t help the whine that squeaks past my lips. Before I can respond he says “I want to taste you. I need to know if you taste better than I imagine you do.” 

“Fuck” I whisper.

“When I’m in the shower.” He adds, his fingers slipping past the cotton of my panties and feeling me properly. “Touching myself.” He presses a kiss to my cheek. 

“Thinking about me?” I ask. Instead of answering, he curves his finger inside of me, sliding it against my walls. I gasp when he hits the spot behind my clit. 

“There she is.” He smirks. “‘Course I’m thinkin’ about you, pumpkin.” His finger starts moving relentlessly inside me. “You get me so hot.” His other hand grabs mine from where it’s tangled in the hair at the base of his neck and he brings it down to press against the bulge in his shorts. These goddamn purple short shorts… 

My hand starts moving on its own accord and I palm him, squeezing around where I feel the head of his cock. Feeling brave, I ask “this for me?” He huffs out a breath, eyes closing briefly. “Jesus, Sammy you’re so fucking pretty.” His lips press against mine once before he pulls his fingers out of me and stands up, guiding me with him. Instantly settling back onto his knees, he pulls my shorts and panties down in one swift motion. 

“Sit.” He commands. I obey, my ass pressing uncomfortably onto the rock again. “Up.” He taps his shoulders with his hands. Getting the picture, I lift my legs up and bend my knees over his shoulders. Without any other warning, he dips his tongue into my slit. 

His cold lips meet my lower half and the stubble on his upper lip causes the slightest, yet most arousing sensation to my clit. The prickle makes me squirm in the best way. I flutter my eyes open to look down at him. Both of his hands are gripping onto my hips, pulling me as close to him as humanly possible. 

“Fuck, you taste so good”, he says, briefly coming up for air and then quickly heading back down, hands reaching up to feel my chest. 

He moves his right hand away from my hip and before I can process what's about to come next, he’s pumping two fingers in and out of me. “So wet for me.” He grins cockily. I respond by arching my back, pressing myself further up into his mouth. 

“So close Sammy– just a little more” I pant out. 

“Cum for me, doll”, Sam responds, replacing his two fingers with his tongue again. Softly suckling on my clit, and before I know it, my release is washing over me but he’s not letting up. He continues to tease my entrance with his tongue and lips, making sure to brush my clit with the stubble on his upper lip. 

“I have to admit, I didn’t think you had it in you, Sammy”, I poke at him, sitting up slightly. 

“There’s a lot you don't know about me” He responds, lightly biting on my clit, hands scratching down my thighs like rakes.

“You ready for me?” he asks, wiping his mouth and popping his two fingers past his lips to taste me again. Sam stands in front of me, brushing his hair out of his face. He grabs my hands and pulls me up to him, grabbing me by the small of my back and kissing me deeply. 

“How do you want me, Sammy?” I ask. He answers by spinning me around and pinning me over the boulder, my chest flat on the smooth stone. 

I feel him bend over me, his lips coming close to my ear as he brushes the hair out of my face. “I’ll try and go easy on ya, Pumpkin”, I can hear his shorts hitting the dirt below him as he kicks them off to the side. 

He nudges my right foot with his, signaling for me to spread my legs a little wider. My fingers grip on to the edge of the boulder as I anticipate what's to come. 

Taking his cock and dragging it up and down through my folds, I finally feel him slip inside of me and fuck. He feels so good. My entire body sings out in relief as my walls contract around him instantly. I hear him trying to keep his breathing even as he stills inside me. 

“Just how I imagined it, God, you feel so fucking good”, he breathes out, starting to move a little as I get used to the size of him. 

“Okay.” I breathe once the stretch starts to make my heart pound. “Fuck me, Sam.” I beg and I’d be embarrassed about just how desperate I sound if I weren’t so completely blissed out. 

Once he starts moving, he’s going at a fast pace. I swear I can feel every nerve ending in my body and it feels like tiny fireworks being set off all at once. I could break a rib on this rock by the way he’s pounding into me and could not possibly care any less. 

“Wish I could see your face.” I breathe. “I bet you look so pretty fucking me.” I say, feeling close to climax again. Already. 

“Next time.” he responds and I can feel myself tensing around him. 

“I’m gonna…” I begin to say.

That’s when I hear it. Tree branches snapping and footsteps in the distance. Before I know it, there’s a flashlight in our faces. Still bent over this fucking rock, Sam still pounding in to me, moaning. Eyes closed, completely oblivious. 

Jake. 

I reach behind me and grab Sam’s wrist, alerting him to the presence of his brother. He opens his eyes and pulls out of me immediately, searching for his shorts. An impressive string of expletives leave his mouth. I follow his example, reaching down for my clothes and haphazardly pulling them on. 

Jake is standing before us, clapping his hands, shaking his head. 

“Wow.” He jeers. 

I feel like a deer in the headlights. What the fuck were we thinking?

“Happy birthday to me, I guess?” He snidely remarks, making a pause to collect his thoughts. “Well, Sam- got what you always wanted, I take it? How was she? Good, right?” Neither of us are able to say a word, just completely shocked and caught off guard. 

“Jake, let me explain, please-” I’m finally able to find my voice. 

“Let me guess. It’s not like that? Because from the looks of it, my little brother was just railing you from behind in the middle of the fucking woods. Try and tell me that I was seeing things; try.” I can tell by the tone of his voice that he’s both irate as well as deeply disappointed. 

“Please, just let me talk to you. Jake, can we please go somewhere to talk?” I ask. 

“Jake, I swear, we just got caught up in the moment.” Sam admits, eyes darting to me, to the ground, anywhere but Jake’s eyes. 

“No, fuck this. I’ll talk to you about this some other time. Perhaps when we all get home from this God forsaken fucking trip.” Jake says, turning on his heel and heading back toward camp. 

We follow after him, trying to get him to turn around and talk to us but he just picks up his speed. Unspokenly, we decide to give him some space. Upon reaching our camp, Jake instantly shouts, “night everyone” and storms into his tent. The group turns their heads in confusion, I don’t think they would've ever seen this one coming. 

“Wait, where’s the firewood?” Josh questions. 

“Couldn’t find any.” Sam responds curtly, opening up the back door of Josh’s Jeep to crawl into the backseat.

“Is everything okay?” Sav asks him. 

“Yeah, the tent just gets a little warm, so I’m gonna sleep here tonight”, He responds, closing the Jeep door. 

All eyes dart toward me, looking for answers. 

“Um- Okay, well…” Yeah fuck that. “See you guys in the morning.” I nearly whisper; crawling into my tent.

What the fuck just happened. 

To be continued...

Part III

Masterlist

[druidgroves]

Chapter 10: So Much to Do and So Little Time

Fandom: Fallout 4 Words: 7,556 Characters: Georgia Tate (Canon Divergent Sole Survivor), RJ MacCready, Preston Garvey, Original Characters Notes: finally in the double digits of chapters ! also say hello to even More minutemen ocs <3 pls enjoy ! read on ao3 ch. 1 / ch. 2 / ch. 3 / ch. 4 / ch. 5 / ch. 6 / ch. 7 / ch. 8 / ch. 9

The next three days had gone by in a blur.

Mac had spent most of his time hanging around Curtis after the impromptu meeting with Georgia, despite the man’s somewhat unsettling personality. He also had quick, passing introductions to the friends Curtis had mentioned, as well as a few other Minutemen he was amiable with, but they kept quiet about their plans around them. A lot of them did seem like the “see something, say something” types Curtis had described to him, but they proved to be good people just trying to do right. Even if Mac couldn’t quite put his heart into it the way Georgia did, he could see the organization for what it was trying to be: change.

For all his newly established friendship with her, Georgia’s goal with the Minutemen—the whole Commonwealth, working together to protect itself in some semblance of unity—was ambitious any way you split it. Ranks appeared to be growing like weeds only when compared to the waning numbers before the betrayal at Quincy, but they were still so much smaller than they were in their heyday, or so he heard Ronnie say. For the members the Minutemen did have, most were recruited by Preston and Georgia during their early days giving aid to settlements, who in turn spread their involvement by word of mouth and so on. They must’ve been doing something right, Mac thought, if the life teaming and walking around the once abandoned fort was anything to go by.

During one of the mealtimes Mac and Curtis had with his friends, they got to offer them the opportunity to join them at the interchange. As promised, the four of them—Collins, Hollow, Gonzalez, and Buckley—were very receptive to the idea. Like Curtis, they all seemed to have some sort of beef with them, so that only made greasing the wheels of their operation easier.

Collins didn’t have much to say other than she was happy to wipe out another stain on the Commonwealth, while Gonzalez and Hollow had quickly started chatting between themselves before the conversation was even over. Buckley had listened to the proposal intently and had appeared to seriously consider his options before finally agreeing.

That very day, they all put in various leave requests, staggering the dates as they did.

While grateful and a little bit surprised by their willingness to help and not wanting to look a gift brahmin in the mouth, Mac did have his own reservations about the militia’s fighting prowess.

“I thought the Minutemen were just a bunch of backwoods farmers and stuff?” he asked Curtis afterwards.

“Well, yeah, some of us are. Actually, a lot of us are, but not everyone on board is from an allied settlement, or anywhere, really. The General likes to pick up strays, it seems,” he said, giving Mac a pointed look. “Besides Colonel Garvey and Ronnie, we’re basically taking two thirds of the Castle’s trained soldiers for this stunt, but we’ll make it work.”

While hanging around Curtis over the intervening days, Mac got to know him a little better as well. He talked about as much as Georgia did, which given their back and forth the other day, he could see how the two could get along. Even if Curtis was possibly the most unhinged man he’d ever met.

They talked a lot about the Gunners and their time with them whenever there weren’t many people around. Mac told him he only joined because he was new to the Commonwealth and hard up for caps (didn’t have to explain himself further than that, and Curtis didn’t ask). Curtis had told him he followed a friend in, but the friend didn’t get to follow him out. Mac knew not to broach that subject.

“Since you’re trailing behind General T these days, how’d you leave?” Curtis asked him during breakfast the next day, in between bites of his mirelurk stew. Unfortunately for Mac, with the Castle’s proximity to the sea, mirelurk seemed to be an ever-present menu option.

“Told them I wanted out and negotiated the rest of my contract down to three more jobs before they let me leave. I did my part, then they cut me loose. It was a clean break, but obviously they’re still not happy about it. You?” Mac explained with a lazy shrug, pushing around the bits of mirelurk in his bowl.

“Faked my death,” Curtis replied with an equally lazy shrug, like it was a normal thing to say.

“What.”

“Yeah, real easy to dress up any random corpse those fuckers made in your old clothes and then drop a molotov on it,” he said, then pointed his fork towards Mac’s bowl. “You gonna eat that?”

As for Georgia, the two didn’t get to see much of her in those few days. Ronnie and Preston had kept her busy in spite of her foot with updates on the armory, the rebuilding progress of the Castle, and trying to make heads or tails of the artillery schematics they’d found. In the brief moments Mac had caught her without something to do, she’d told him she honestly didn’t think there’d be so much paperwork involved in being General. Despite it, she seemed to be putting her nose to the grindstone with everything she did.

She had started by alphabetizing the armory write ups Ronnie had given her, typing up everything on an old typewriter that first day after her injury (“If no one organizes it now, it’s never gettin’ done, and then where would we be?”). She identified a group of Minutemen with advanced technical skills and temporarily pulled them from the fort’s repair crew to assist herself and Ronnie with the artillery. When she got too “stir crazy” as she called it, sitting in her quarters hunched over papers full of lists and diagrams, she sat in a chair and helped Preston run training drills in the courtyard. They held them in the early morning, the two working as a team in their efforts to fashion the newer recruits into model Minutemen. At some point early on, someone had even put together a crutch for her when they noticed she’d been hopping along on one foot around the Castle, using its crumbling walls as support in pursuit of her next task. If Georgia was one thing, it was stubborn.

At one point, Curtis and Mac had managed to find her as she was making her way in the direction of the bathrooms, crutch under one arm with her pack hanging off the other. They had wanted to keep her apprised of any updates to their personal mission, but ran into the issue of her free time getting taken up by Being the General of the Minutemen. As such, they’d found her in the one spare moment she could steal for a shower.

She looked between the currently vacant bathrooms and the two of them before saying, “I don’t have a lot of time right now, so either it can wait or we’re about to get real comfortable with each other.”

Which was how they ended up holding council in the bathroom, Curtis and Mac sitting outside her shower stall to “maximize time efficiency”, as she put it. Curtis was posted up in front of the door to make sure no one walked in on their scheming, while Mac had pulled up a chair, the both of them pointedly facing away from Georgia’s stall at her request. Something about “still having manners” and something called “decorum.”

On their way to the bathrooms, she’d made a point to tell them that once they’d found the showers, her first priority had been getting the pipes fixed. They had a whole pump system and everything, plus a few old water heaters pulled from apartment buildings further inland. It meant the bathrooms were buzzing with the sound of a generator and steaming pipes whenever it was in use, but it aided them in their need for privacy.

The shower stalls had rickety patchwork doors and rose up above Georgia’s shoulders, and if Mac turned his head even the slightest amount, he could see her soapy head peeking over the walls as they conversed. He made a concentrated effort to keep from reflexively turning back whenever she talked. They’d only just defined themselves as friends, so Mac was in no rush to get that personal with her, even with the stall between them.

Meanwhile, Curtis had been relaying information about his friends to Georgia, talking up their talents and specialities.

“Lieutenant Collins has a fondness for explosives, she can make things go boom if necessary. She’s on your little artillery team, so whether or not that’s done by the time we head out, she’s coming with,” Curtis said. He was completely unbothered by their choice in location, in contrast to Mac who had been anxiously tapping his foot on the ground the moment they got there. “She’s also useful in a pinch if we find ourselves in a tight spot.”

“And Corporal Hollow?”

Mac stopped himself from looking back at Georgia as Curtis replied, “Crackshot specializing in mid-range combat. Used to be a merc like your guy MacCready here. He’s not afraid to get in there, but he’s good for covering fire, too.”

“Sounds like he’ll be with me,” Georgia said as she rinsed her hair, the smell of homemade hubflower-scented soap wafting over the shower stall. “Since you and Mac have long range covered, I mean. Who else?”

“That leaves us with Privates Gonzalez and Buckley. They’re new, but show a lot of promise. Gonzalez’s got light feet and her own silencer, so I figure she could be our scout. Buckley is a big, versatile son of a bitch, so if we run into any problems we can usually throw him at ‘em,” Curtis finished. “How’s that sound?”

“Conveniently well-rounded,” Georgia supplied with a laugh. “What about you, Mac? What’re your thoughts? …Mac? Hellooo?”

“Huh? Oh,” Mac started, turning his head automatically to see Georgia peeking at him over the shower stall, wet hair plastered to her forehead. Water dripped down her freckled nose, and he could better make out the scar running through her left eyebrow, and the other, smaller one marring her chin. She squinted at him a little bit, waiting for him to respond.

“Uh, yeah. Well-rounded,” he agreed hastily, turning back around only to meet Curtis’ shit-eating grin.

He’d been distracted, and not only because he was trying hard not to focus on the physical space of the conversation at hand. He had started having trouble believing that this was actually happening—the whole operation, that was. Things never fell into place like this for Mac, that was just a general rule he’d learned in life. With not one, but two willing hands and a squad of volunteers, the winds seemed to be favoring him for once. It felt…strange. Like taking a shot and not hearing the bullet casing hit the ground, waiting for it to fall.

“Great listenin’ skills,” Georgia laughed, flicking water at him. “I’ll take a look at those leave requests on my desk later. In the meantime, Mac, d’you think you could find somewhere nearby for them to hole up in for a day or two while they wait? And take Dogmeat with you, he’ll help you scout a place out.”

He ended up finding an abandoned house outside of the Minutemen patrols by that afternoon, stashing a bag of food Curtis had pilfered from the kitchens for the rest of the now formed squad. Hollow and Buckley would be there that night, followed by Collins the next morning, and Gonzalez and Curtis the day after. Once the squad was out, Mac and Georgia would follow—she just had to come up with a good cover.

From what Georgia had told him as he was sticking her with another stimpak for her foot, she had been trying to stagger the leave requests quickly, but still have them spread out enough for people not to notice much out of the ordinary. She mentioned something about Preston and Ronnie and “plausible deniability.” Even so, Mac had caught the Minuteman’s eye more than once around the Castle, like he knew something was afoot. Every time Mac would just duck his head and make to avoid him.

Mac had waved off Curtis and Gonzalez when they left, Curtis dragging out the entire affair by going around and shaking the hands of everyone in the courtyard. Georgia and himself would follow suit the next morning after testing the newly constructed artillery she, Ronnie, and their little team had been busy with. Even with her still-healing foot, Georgia insisted on following Ronnie around like a student following their teacher, looking for the older woman’s approval wherever she could.

Once Curtis had finally left, Mac turned to go find Georgia to let her know, only to be met with Preston himself walking up. The man carried himself with purpose, taking long strides in his direction, indicating he was heading for absolutely no one else. Mac couldn’t even pretend he didn’t notice the Minuteman before he was standing in front of him.

“MacCready,” he said, nodding his head in greeting and Mac froze. Preston took notice, because his next words came out softer, “Can we talk for a minute? It won’t take long.”

“Uh…sure, Garvey. What do you need?” he replied with no small amount of hesitation.

“Just follow me,” Preston said, gesturing over his shoulder where his laser rifle was strapped. Curious and the tiniest bit suspicious, Mac followed.

Preston led him through the Castle’s halls and up a set of stairs to one of the bastions. An artillery piece sat completed before them as they came up, ready for testing the next morning. A Minuteman tipped their hair to Preston, walking past them to go down the stairs, and Preston mirrored the gesture. Once they were alone, he turned to Mac.

“Now,” he started, voice quiet and even enough that it calmed Mac’s nerves somewhat, “I don’t claim to know whatever it is you, the General, and Captain Campbell seem to be doing, and I don’t want to know. I trust the General’s judgment, and Campbell is a good captain. You, on the other hand, are an unknown.”

Preston already knew too much for him to try lying his way out of it, but he didn’t seem angry, so that was a win. Mac arched an eyebrow at him, unsure of where this was going.

“But the General said she trusts you, and I want to believe her trust isn’t misplaced. She told me you saved her life,” Preston continued, and met him with a speaking look. “Is that correct?”

Images of Georgia falling flashed through Mac’s mind for a moment, making a chill run up his spine. He nodded.

“So, once this secret operation of yours is complete, the Minutemen will still have their General afterwards, right?” Preston pressed, and Mac could see what he was getting at.

After spending a few days within the Minuteman HQ, he’d picked up a bit of their history, and they didn’t have the best luck when it came to the longevity of their leaders. He couldn’t blame Preston for getting worried, especially considering how familiar he and Georgia seemed to be with one another.

“Don’t worry so much, Garvey. She watches my back as much as I watch hers,” Mac conceded. “Plus, she’s able to take care of herself. You wouldn’t have made her General otherwise, right?”

“You got me there,” Preston agreed, but he didn’t seem quite finished. “But I’m also worried about how this will affect more than just the General. I saw the leave requests. She’s not the only one we want back safe.”

“The goal is to get everyone back in one piece,” Mac said, but he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about what would happen if their little mission went sideways. He didn’t want to be responsible for the deaths of more innocent people.

“Good. I’m glad to see she’s been traveling with someone like you that’s able to watch her back in my place. Someone with a good head,” Preston nodded, and Mac had the sinking feeling he wouldn’t be saying that if he really knew anything about him.

“She told me she used to run around with you before she hired me,” he said, then suddenly remembered something. “Wait, question: has she always been bad at using stimpaks?”

A smile cracked through Preston’s serious expression, obvious fondness coming through as he nodded, “Ever since I’ve known her. When it comes to that, she’s not as gentle as you’d expect her to be.”

“I’ve learned not to make many assumptions about her,” Mac told him with a slight laugh. “She’s too full of surprises.”

“More than either of us knows for sure,” Preston agreed, smile faltering somewhat, then sighed. “For whatever it is you’re doing, good luck. I hope it’s worth it.”

With that, he reached out to pat Mac on the shoulder, giving a firm nod before going back the way they came. Mac let go of a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He hoped it would be worth it, too.

-----

Later that night, after palling around with a few of the other Minutemen that Curtis had introduced him to over the last few days, Mac had gone in search of Georgia. He debated over whether or not to tell her about his conversation with Preston as he walked around trying to find her, and couldn’t help but speculate on the relationship between the two.

Despite Preston’s worries fixating around the Minutemen, Mac picked up the vibe that even if that weren’t the case, if Georgia were just some regular person and not the General, he’d still be upset if something happened to her. Mac had to remember that by helping him, Georgia was being pulled into danger, and that she had friends that would hold him responsible if that danger proved fatal.

After checking her quarters, the common area, and then finally the kitchens, a Minuteman with a pair of dark shades that he had passed by several times figured he must have been looking for the General, and pointed him up the stairs to the bastion. Mac nodded his thanks and walked up, greeted by the smell of salty air and a wind strong enough to make him pull his scarf tighter around him. Along with the sea, a minty, smoky scent blew over him.

Sitting near the edge of the bastion was Georgia and a pack of cigarettes, staring out onto the water. Her hair was loose, blowing freely in the wind around her head, and she had the thick blanket from her quarters wrapped around her. She hadn’t noticed him coming up the stairs, and Mac hesitated in the stairwell for a moment, wondering if she had purposefully wanted to be left alone. Then, he wondered why he’d even come to find her in the first place. He hadn’t even had a reason, he realized, just followed the urge.

In his hesitation, a stiff breeze blew over the bastion, knocking over the crutch Georgia had left leaning against the stairs.

She whipped back when it clattered to the ground, cursing into the wind as she jumped with a start. When she saw him standing there, however, she visibly relaxed.

“Jesus, you about gave me a heart attack,” she called out, putting the hand that wasn’t holding her cigarette to her chest.

“Sorry, sorry,” Mac replied as he righted her crutch, then crossed the length of the bastion to meet her.

As he got closer, he could see several other cigarette butts and matching ash stains on the stone next to her, her open cigarette carton half gone. She patted the space to her left for him to sit upwind from her smoke. He leaned back to rest on his palms, looking at her from an odd angle. As he got comfortable, Georgia picked up the carton beside her, offering him a single cigarette poking out amongst the rest. He took it with a nod and she flicked open her lighter, attempting to light it before the wind put out the flame. She leaned in close to him to block the breeze, her blanketed shoulder bumping gently against his. When it finally caught, she took her lighter away and didn’t make to move back.

Mac brought the cigarette up to his mouth and inhaled, mint coating the inside of his throat and making him cough.

“Didn’t take you for a chain smoker,” he said as he cleared his throat, leaning back to let his smoke be carried away on the wind behind her.

“Neither did I, at first,” she shrugged after a long drag. “I didn’t start smokin’ until I was a teacher, actually. I got real good at findin’ the right time to sneak off and light up.”

Mac was caught off guard with how freely the fact of her past left her mouth. He didn’t say anything for a moment, wondering if she was going to keep talking. When she didn’t, he realized she was waiting for him to respond, almost like asking for permission to keep going. He shifted next to her, putting his cigarette back to his lips and inhaling.

“You were a teacher?” he asked, gently trying to prompt more out of her.

“In another life, yeah. Twenty-eight seven to eight year olds versus me,” Georgia nodded, and he could feel the tenderness in her voice. “They could’ve eaten me alive and ran that classroom if they wanted. Surprisingly, they didn’t.”

Mac nearly balked. The tunnels in Little Lamplight were expansive, but they’d never had more than fifteen to twenty kids at a time, at least when he was there. There had been about seventeen when he left. Even when he was young, he knew adding any number of kids to an already sizable group of children became even harder to manage, much less twenty-eight of them. He knew from experience.

“I do not pity you there. Back in Little Lamplight, I kept up with about twenty, more or less,” Mac said, shaking his head. Sure, it was a revolving door of children within that range, but with the way he ran things, it never flew too far off the handle.

“Twenty? Oh, that’s child’s play. Beginner shit,” she teased with a breath of a laugh. “I would have loved to have a classroom that small when I started. But those extra eight were always sweet.” She paused, taking another drag and letting it out with a heavy sigh. “I remember each of their names and faces. I think about them a lot.”

Mac had to wonder where she had taught. Where had she been that she had a classroom of twenty-eight children, all of whom survived the first few years of life in the wasteland with no accidents of birth or disease preventing them from attending altogether. There had been plenty of epidemics that swept through their little cave system, leaving most Lamplighters with the side effects. Lucy and the others had done their best to keep everyone healthy, but there was only so much they could do by themselves.

“What I’m tryin’ to say is this,” Georgia said, turning to face him, “in case it isn’t obvious, I have a soft spot for kids. Always have. When you told me about Little Lamplight, I guess I got a little upset imaginin’ you and all those kids livin’ like that. I mean, underground? By yourselves? Really?”

Mac breathed a sharp laugh through his nose, “I didn’t pick it, I just grew up there.”

“And I guess you turned out alright,” she said, and he saw a grin ease its way back onto her face, “for the most part.”

“Hey, watch it, now,” he warned, wagging a finger at her, “you’re talking to the former mayor.”

Georgia’s eyes went wide and a startled expression came over her. “Mayor? So not only were you in charge, you were the mayor?”

“Crazy, I know, but can’t say it didn’t do me some good,” Mac shrugged, putting his cigarette between his teeth to mimic looking down the scope of an imaginary rifle. “I’m completely self-taught, y’know. Picked up a sniper rifle at age ten and never looked back. Impressed yet?”

“Impressed and maybe just the tiniest bit concerned about your childhood development,” she laughed. “So did the other kids just…vote for you?”

At that, Mac felt the back of his neck flush with heat. He let his eyes dart out over the sea as he took another drag.

“Well, it didn’t go exactly like that…”

“Oh god, Mac, what did you do?”

“Listen,” he started, holding his hands up in defense, “if Angela hadn’t appointed herself mayor and insisted everyone call her ‘Princess’, I…wouldn’thavehadtopunchher.”

Georgia pushed a few pieces of hair behind her ear, cupping her hand around it, “Come again?”

“I wouldn’t have had to punch her in her stupid nose!” Mac relented, throwing his hands up as she descended into a fit of laughter. “Seriously, I mean, she would have run that place into the ground. Everyone should’ve been grateful I took over when I did–there was an issue with rickets again not long after, and I don’t think—”

“Wait, wait, wait, hold on, rickets?!” Georgia balked, eyebrows quickly furrowing in disbelief.

“Not a lot of fresh food in a cave,” he pointed out and she seemed to collapse under her blanket, burying her head into her hands. “If I hadn’t been in charge and put Lu—” He choked on her name, then cleared his throat. “If I hadn’t put our best doctor on rickets research, that could’ve been it for Lamplight.”

“Jesus, Mac,” came her muffled reply. “You can’t tell me stuff like this–you’re takin’ years off my life with the stress. Pullin’ at my heartstrings like a guitar.”

He couldn’t help but shrug, “It was tough, but we pulled through. I’ve made it this far, haven’t I?”

Georgia turned to look at him, taking in the entirety of him in one quick glance before nodding, “You certainly have. I’m glad you did.”

Mac wasn’t sure how to respond to that, her habit of being far too earnest during moments like these. Where he was quick to laugh off a serious moment, she seemed to cherish them, make them last longer than they should’ve with a bigger impact than expected. It made his insides feel like a molerat was burrowing inside his chest.

Quiet fell between them for a moment, save for the waves washing against the shore and the faint sounds of Radio Freedom carried over by the wind. They smoked in silent tandem until the ends of their cigarettes flickered out into ash.

“So, you ready to head out tomorrow?” Georgia asked after a while, putting her cigarette butt with the rest of them while he flicked his off the side of the bastion. She tutted at him as he did, “Litterbug.”

“Don’t think littering has mattered in about two hundred years,” he shrugged to her pursed expression. “But yeah, all my stuff’s ready. What’s the plan for tomorrow?”

“Ronnie wants me to stay long enough to test the artillery, so that’s gotta happen first. After that, we’ll head out and meet Curtis and the others, then go on down to the interchange,” she explained. “If we stick to the main roads, we can make it there in about a day and a half, I think. I suppose we’ll come up with a plan of attack when we’re closer.”

“You know, when you lay it all out like that, it almost seems reasonable, and not the craziest idea in the fu—freaking world,” Mac said, shaking his head in disbelief. “I still can’t believe we’re doing this. I didn’t think one person would agree to help, let alone six. We might actually stand a chance.”

“Hey, if you need my help, I’m there,” she said, reassuring in a way that came easy to her. “You can ask for help, you know. We’re friends now. That’s what friends do.”

“And I still don’t know what to say to that,” he replied, unable to hide his exasperation. “Truth is, I haven’t been able to rely on anyone since I was a kid. Everyone has either tried to rip me off or plant a knife in my back. But you…you’re different. We see eye-to-eye on almost everything.”

“Except you still won’t admit that the Silver Shroud could beat Grognak in a fight.”

“Okay, first of all, that’s why I said almost, and second, I can’t believe how dedicated you are to being wrong.”

“On the contrary, your argument makes it so easy to be right—”

They went on until they covered every feasible argument they could manage on the subject. When Mac helped her limp back to her quarters later, he still wasn’t sure who won, or if one of them even did. The discussion was tabled until they could gather more evidence for their respective sides. He’d have to find more issues of Grognak soon.

-----

The next morning, after helping Georgia administer one last stimpak, Mac opted to hit the showers before they had to leave, finally able to take advantage of the Castle’s facilities. He cleaned and sharpened his boot knife as well, finding a quiet corner and a cracked mirror to clean up the scruff that had begun to get a little out of control in the past few weeks. It had started coming in patchy on the sides and made him look younger than he was, so it had to go. His hair would have to wait—he didn’t have the scissors nor the skill to fix it up just then.

As he was shaving around the curve of his jaw, however, a second, less muffled explosion than the one from a few days before sounded from the other side of the Castle.

“Shit.” Mac let a string of curses out under his breath as his knife slipped across his jawline, a small cut now bleeding freely.

He sighed, wiping away the blood with the cuff of his sleeve before finishing the rest of the job. At least the artillery seemed to be working. He held his sleeve to the cut until it stopped bleeding, then picked up his knife again. After he was done, he cleaned and slid his knife back into the holster on his boot and made his way to the courtyard. Over by the entrance to the armory, he saw Georgia talking with Preston, all geared up with Dogmeat sitting patiently beside her.

“—back to the city for…personal business. With Mr. Valentine,” he heard her say as he quietly approached. “I don’t know when we’ll be back this way, but you know how to get in contact if you need me. I’ll try to keep you updated on how it goes.”

“Please do,” Preston said with a serious nod.

So that’s the cover we’re using, Mac thought, stopping just short of the two of them as they talked. Considering she had let the detective know when she’d be back in town, he figured she had some sort of business with him. Mac just wasn’t sure exactly what kind of business. Still, he’d always heard the best lies had a little bit of truth in them.

“And would you mind keepin’ Dogmeat for a few more days? I think he deserves a little bit of a rest since he’s been with me for a few weeks straight,” Georgia said, and Dogmeat whimpered, looking up at her with the closest thing to a pout Mac had ever seen come from a dog. It was more likely she didn’t want to risk him getting hurt or in the way with a plan as delicate as theirs was. “Oh, c’mon, boy, don’t be like that. Put those puppy-dog eyes away!”

Preston laughed and grinned down at the hound, “I’ll watch over him. He can help train the recruits with me in your absence.”

“Thanks, hun. At the very least he can chase ‘em around while they’re runnin’ laps,” Georgia laughed, crouching down to give the dog a good scratch before looking back up at Preston. “I’ll try to swing around when I can. Might make a trip back to the old neighborhood soon, see how things are holdin’ up there, but I gotta head out in a bit. I’ll see you later, Preston.”

“Maybe I’ll see you there. Until next time,” Preston nodded. “Good luck, General, and stay safe out there.”

The Minuteman caught Mac’s eye over Georgia’s shoulder as she pulled him in for a hug, giving him a speaking look that said all he needed to know before they pulled apart. If it came down to it, Mac would make sure Georgia made it back at least, as harsh as it sounded. He knew how to spot the big players, and as General, she was the biggest piece on the board.

Preston tipped his hat to the two of them before leaving with Dogmeat at his side, and Georgia turned around, only to be surprised to see him standing behind her.

“Jesus, Mac, I’m gonna have to put a bell on you,” she said, startled, then she paused, eyes darting around his face. “Oh. You shaved.”

He reflexively reached up to itch at his remaining facial hair, arching an eyebrow at her, “What, did I miss a spot?”

“...No, just noticin’,” she said, shaking her head quickly and letting her fingers drum against the straps of her pack. “Ready to head out?”

“Yeah, but how’s your foot feeling after that last stimpak?” Mac asked, gesturing to her feet. It had been an hour or two since he’d administered the stim, but she’d been so eager to test the artillery that he didn’t get to completely check her over.

“Feels good as new thanks to you,” she said, sticking out her boot and rolling her ankle around. “Let’s go.”

“Now hold on a minute.” Mac moved to stand in front of her, stopping her from walking off. “No aches or pains? Sharp stabbing feelings?”

She rolled her eyes and let out an exaggerated sigh, “I’m fine, Mac. I’ve been able to walk on it alright, I promise.”

Mac bit the inside of his cheek, “I’m just saying, it wouldn’t hurt to take one more day if you need it—”

She reached out, her hand falling to squeeze his arm through the sleeve of his duster, cold as every other time she’d done it despite the warmth of her words, “We’ve got people waitin’ on us, Mac. People that wanna help, so it’s probably best not to keep them waitin’.”

He sighed as she took her hand away, “Fine. But if you start slowing down, I’m not carrying you.”

She smirked, leading them out of the Castle, “You would if there were enough caps in it.”

“Okay, yeah, sure, but that’d be a stupid waste of caps on your part.”

She laughed as the Minutemen on gate duty closed it behind them, waving their goodbyes to their General. She waved back and threw him a smile before turning to the road ahead of them.

They got to the house Mac had scouted out about an hour later, the sun high in the sky above them.

“This one here,” he said as they came close. Its faded yellow siding and once vibrant red door had been an easy identifying feature when relaying directions to the rest of the group.

“How quaint,” Georgia said as she walked up the steps.

She held up her hand to knock on the door, only for it to swing open to Curtis’ wide grin before she could.

“Nice of you to join us,” he greeted them as Georgia jumped back with a small yelp. “Welcome to our humble abode.”

“That’s not how you greet people at the door,” Georgia muttered as Curtis moved back to let them both through the door.

Inside, the rest of the team were sprawled about the remains of the house’s living room. Collins sat on a sagging couch and was bent over something in her lap, while Hollow and Gonzalez were playing cards in the middle of the floor, Buckley sat in a chair across from them just watching them play. When Georgia entered the room, Mac watched all of them scramble to present themselves for their General.

“Oh, please, you don’t have to do all that,” Georgia said, holding her hands up and going a bit pink in the cheeks. “Technically we’re all off duty, anyways.”

“Oh, thank god you’re cool,” Gonzalez said, relaxing back into the slouched posture she’d had before. She had short, shaggy black hair and seemed to positively ooze cool from every pore.

Collins, a tall, gangly woman with dark red hair and freckles, snorted but didn’t look up from whatever she was tinkering with, “Told you.”

From behind them, Curtis clapped his hands together, “So, General T, what’s our first move?”

Georgia slung her pack off her shoulders, sitting it on a nearby chair to fish out her Pip-Boy.

“I’ve mapped out a route for us to take, and we could be there sometime tomorrow afternoon if we keep pace,” she started, tapping her nails against the screen. “We can follow the Turnpike for a while, but I was thinkin’ about turnin’ off once we’re closer so we can come at the Interchange sideways. From what I know about ‘em, the Gunners probably have the roads covered, right? When we get there, we can scope the place out before we decide how we wanna play it. How’s that sound?”

“Good thing I put on my walking boots today,” Hollow muttered, gathering the deck of cards off the floor. He was a stocky man with dark, tawny skin and broad shoulders, and wore his Minuteman hat tilted back on his head. Mac half wished he had nabbed one of the ridiculous hats before they left the Castle.

“Sounds like a plan,” Buckley said, speaking up for the first time since they’d entered the house. Curtis hadn’t been lying when he said the man was big—he had to duck his shaved head to avoid bumping it on the low ceiling. “Hopefully one that means we come back alive.”

Georgia smiled, a hint of uncertainty in the slight waver of her voice, “Well, that’s the goal.”

“It’s a good plan,” Mac nodded, catching her eye and watching her smile grow more confident. “For now at least. The rest can come later. Now, are we ready to head out?”

-----

They made camp when the last rays of sunlight faded over the horizon, the first leg of their journey done. Georgia showed Mac whereabouts they were on her Pip-Boy map, somewhere near where the railroad tracks crossed with the Turnpike’s main road. With her skill in sneaking through the city by way of old shops and side alleys, they were apparently right on time with whatever schedule she had come up with in her head. The Interchange wasn’t too far down the way.

After a collective vote proposed by Georgia, the group took to settling down for the night in a house near the river. It was a suitable shelter after clearing out a small host of rad roaches that Georgia hadn’t been too pleased to encounter. Most of the living room was largely intact save for a wall of broken windows facing the water and a few pieces of barely damaged furniture scattered about the room. Once inside and settled, everyone began to claim their spots. With seven people, they decided to do the night watch in groups.

Before everyone else turned in—Georgia had offered to be part of the first watch group and Mac had volunteered right after—Mac made an attempt to get their attention by standing up from the chair he’d claimed and clearing his throat. He felt nervous, and not from having everyone’s eyes on him. When you grew up trying to wrangle a colony of kids your age who knew exactly how to bust your balls, public speaking wasn’t something Mac had issue with. It was what the group before him was going to help him do that he was anxious about.

“I’ll try to make this quick,” he started, clasping his hands together to stop them from fidgeting. He spared a glance at Georgia, who had been studying the map on her Pip-Boy but was now listening with rapt attention. “This is anyone’s last chance to back out. If you’re having second thoughts or feel like this isn’t something you wanna risk your life for, I get it. Won’t hold it against you. You’re, uh, free to go, I guess.”

The first person to react was Collins, who snorted, “Like hell I’m missing out on giving those Gunner bastards their due. You’ve got your reasons for going after them, and so do we.”

“Plus, it’s one hell of a hike back to the Castle,” Curtis chuckled, pulling snatches of laughter from the room.

Gonzalez huffed out a breath from where she’d been cleaning her gun, the silencer next to her kit. “The Gunners don’t care about finding a reason for half the shit they do. What’s a better reason than just wanting to knock a group of assholes down a few pegs?”

“Having your brother caught in their crossfire might be a better one,” Collins said with a shrug that belied hidden bitterness. “Not to one up you or anything.”

Gonzalez made a face while Hollow gave a shaky laugh and pointed toward her, “I don’t have a much better reason than this one does. When I was still a merc, I had more than a few contracts taken from me in favor of the Gunners. Maybe it counts for something when you need the money, I dunno.”

Mac agreed with the man there; he knew that feeling all too well. He had remained quiet, however, not wanting any of them to start further prodding him for his own justification—no need to get into the nitty gritty of it, of why the Gunners were after him. They had simply told them that the Gunners wanted Mac, who was now apparently a “good friend” of Curtis’, gone. Curtis had almost made it sound like an unjust bounty the way he’d explained it, Mac letting him take the lead and half hoping the man’s mystifying charisma would be enough to carry them through the rest. It had worked well enough to get the group to agree to help, and for that Mac was grateful.

“I’m with you, Cath,” Buckley spoke up, staring at Collins across the room. He took up the whole door frame he’d been leaning on, a wall of muscle between the wood. “Lost some friends in Quincy. I’m here because of them.”

All eyes then turned to Georgia, who had remained quiet in a room full of people for the longest amount of time Mac had noticed since he’d met her.

“What about you, General?” Gonzalez asked, hands still working over her weapon. “Can’t say I wasn’t a little surprised that you signed off on this whole thing.”

Georgia looked up at Mac from where she had been sitting on her sleeping bag and Mac had to fight himself from looking away from the sincerity in her expression.

“My friend Mac here saved my life,” she said simply and he swallowed thickly, “least I could do is help him out, y’know? Only coincidence we found others with a similar goal.”

“Pays to be a friend of the General then, huh?” Collins piped up with a pointed look towards Mac. “Good to have someone like that at your back.”

“It has its perks,” he shrugged, and held Georgia in his gaze for a moment longer than necessary.

“What can I say? I’m useful like that,” she laughed, then stood up from her sleeping bag and stretched. “We should start turnin’ in soon, get an early start tomorrow so we have some time to scope the Interchange out.”

The rest of the group called out their various agreements. As they began to get settled for the night, she picked up her shotgun and slung it over her shoulder. Attached to it was the leather strip that had previously been on the rifle that now stayed strapped to the side of her pack. Her new weapon was covered in scuffs and dings from the various altercations they’d been in since Mac had given it to her.

Once she was ready, she came to stand next to Mac, and put a hand on his arm, cold as ever despite the fabric between them. “You and I have a hot date with first watch, can’t keep her waitin’.”

Mac breathed a laugh through his nose as she led them out to the porch, their only plan for the rest of the night to keep an eye out for any perceived threat that would come to harm them. Compared to what they had hoped to do the next day, he could manage as much. They had numbers and strategy on their side and for a moment, he dared to hope it was enough.

[stardustbarbarians]

I'll Just Wipe Off My Neck

Chapter 3 (ch. 1 | ch. 2 | ch. 4)

A Jake Kiszka/Daniel Wagner & Samuel Kiszka/Daniel Wagner Fic

Summary: Nothing can come between brothers. Except when your older brother steals the person he knows you have feelings for.

Tags: pining, unrequited love (maybe), angst

Trigger Warnings: brief mentions of drowning

A/N: Sorry this took me months to update! But, I updated the cover! Title taken from Drop the Guillotine by Peach Pit. Also this chapter is dedicated to @dannythedog as she encouraged me to update this fic. As always, enjoy!

Words: 4.6 k

+++

After his talk with his siblings, he attempted to talk to Jake. However, it had seemed to become increasingly impossible. With each passing hour, Jake and Danny were becoming closer and closer. One place Jake went, Danny would follow and vice versa. It was one of the most infuriating yet painful things for Sam to watch. The pitying looks he kept receiving from Ronnie and Josh weren’t helping at all. 

On top of it being practically a hopeless venture, the activities that occurred that day proved to be Sam’s bane. Right after breakfast, Sam’s mom sent her children to the grocery store to get fresh produce for that night’s dinner and Danny tagged along with them. Sam liked to think that it wasn’t intentional, but almost immediately Jake and Daniel split off by themselves to try and find the tomatoes and whatever else they needed while the other three were left to search for the other items. 

Sam could hear Danny’s boisterous laugh from aisles over, cackling at whatever Jake was doing. Each time it happened, Sammy just looked over at where the sound came from forlornly, pining after the warm feeling that usually took residence in his chest when he made Danny laugh in such a way. It was replaced with a bitter yet empty remorse.

“Jake has the dullest sense of humor, how can he even be laughing that much?” Sam spat, his grip on the shopping basket so tight, he could actually feel the plastic buckling under his grasp. 

Ronnie looked over from checking over the list she was given, scanning her little brother’s body language and feeling the heavy sympathy sinking within her like an anchor in the ocean. “I don’t know how to tell you this, Sammy.” 

“I got it,” Josh said to his sister, “usually someone only laughs that much or that loudly when they’re attracted to them,” Josh explained insensitively. The look Sam shot his brother was enough to slaughter ten people. 

“Oh, I had no fucking idea! Thank you so much, Joshua!” Sam hissed, trying his absolute hardest not to clock Josh with the basket in his hand. Seemingly guessing Sam’s intentions, Ronnie stepped between her brothers, arms out and facing the youngest. 

“Ok, that’s enough. Sam, give me the basket and go wait in the car. I know that this whole thing with Jake is shitty, but you can’t take it out on Josh,” she delegated, holding her palm out so Sam could place the plastic grocery basket into her hand. He did so, the black plastic leaving a dust on his hand as well as angry red marks from how hard he was clutching it earlier. 

Without any further words to his siblings, Sam followed his sister’s order and went to go sit in the car. Except, he was locked out. And Jake had the keys. 

Angrily kicking the tire, Sam decided to just sit on the roof of the car and wait for everyone there. The metal was burning the skin of his legs that he had crossed in order to fit them comfortably on the car, but it was a far cry from the boiling rage festering under his skin. He truly loathed the way he was reacting to the whole situation, but he just couldn’t help it. He was just so fucking mad. Even though it felt justified, it was only a hollow victory. 

All he wanted was for Daniel’s happiness. And even with his hunch that Jake didn’t actually like Danny and was just using him, the evidence disproved that. Sam hung his head, looking at his hands fidgeting in his lap. The only time he had felt this conflicted in his entire life was the moment he realized he was bisexual. 

Strangely enough, he was watching Pirates of the Caribbean for about the thousandth time because Jake was able to pick the movie that night. As per usual, he thought Elizabeth was absolutely stunning; who didn’t find Kiera Knightly attractive? Also as was usual for a viewing of this film, Sam admired Will and his dedication to Elizabeth. It was only meant to be a passing joke to get maybe a few laughs from Ronnie or the twins, but it ended up shattering his entire world view. 

“If he asked me to, I’d totally go gay for Will.” It was only meant as a joke.

“Y’know, if you say you’d go gay for someone, it typically means that you are gay,” Ronnie piped up while flipping the page of the magazine she was reading. She had said it so casually and unbothered just as if she would have talked about school work she needed to get done. Despite her tone, she had just completely shattered Sam’s world view with one sentence. 

Sam had felt the ground shift beneath his feet as that sentence sank its claws into his conscious brain. He couldn’t see his own appearance, but if he had been told that he looked as though all the blood had been drained from his body, he would’ve believed it. His hands felt like TV static, his feet following soon after. He felt cold suddenly, his eyes unable to move from the spot they’d been in since Ronnie had spoken. He didn’t know how long he stayed like that. 

“Sam? You ok?” Josh asked, shaking his little brother’s shoulder. That finally roused him from his trance. He looked over at Josh, seeing concern written all over his face. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” Before anyone could stop him, Sam got up and shakily ran outside. He needed some air; he felt as if he was suffocating. 

Am I gay??

The grass was cold underneath his bare feet, the September night air chilling his lungs as his long legs carried him deeper into the wilderness that surrounded his house. 

I can’t be- I like girls…

He finally stopped when his arm caught a tree, leaning against it to catch his breath and to support his unstable legs. His hair was hanging down into his eyes, his panting breath visible in the chill of the night. 

…right?

Turning over so that he gazed up into the sky, he contemplated why he felt so completely gutted; why he felt like Ronnie was able to see something in his soul that Sam couldn’t even see himself. He’d hoped that the stars would be able to calm him down, but it was cloudy. Regardless, he watched the clouds float across the sky, swirling and dancing into different shapes before his very eyes. He felt his breathing slow as he continued to gaze upon the swelling and dissipating shapes thousands of feet above him. His mind was still racing, but he at least no longer felt like he was going to faint. 

Sam had no idea why he was freaking out so much. His parents weren’t the type to kick him out for being gay and his siblings wouldn’t think of him any different, but there was something eating away at the back of his mind that told him he should be worried. But… he didn’t even know if he was gay, so there’s no reason for him to be so worried… right? 

“Jesus, there you are! We’ve been calling you for half an hour!” Jake reprimanded, approaching his brother while trying not to trip over any loose sticks that were covered by the vibrant autumn leaves burning with orange and yellow color. His footsteps crashed through the leaves, the loud crunching reminiscent of static. 

“Sorry, I just-” 

“You can’t just run off like that, you little bastard! We were all worried about you!” Before Sam could answer, Jake pulled him into a tight hug, his head being crushed underneath his big brother’s arms as they embraced. Out of all his family members, Sam expected to be missed the least by Jake. He didn’t know why, it was just what he thought. 

“I’m fine! Goddamn; I won’t be for much longer if you keep suffocating me!” Sammy yelled, lightly smacking Jake on the arm. He was finally released, dramatically gasping for air as he pulled away. Jake gave him a look that told him to stop being such a drama queen, but there was a smile threatening to break out on his lips. 

“What got you so spooked that you felt the need to run away and live a life of solitude in the woods?” Jake crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against a tree near Sam. 

Sam froze up, not wanting to answer that question. How do you casually tell someone that you’re questioning your sexuality?? “Oh. Well-” 

“Was it what Ronnie said?” 

Once again, Sam froze. 

Noticing his brother’s defensive posture, Jake sighed. “I told her not to say anything to you and let you figure it out yourself.” 

That caught Sam’s attention. It made about a thousand warning bells go off in his head. 

“You… You what?” 

Jake’s gaze darted away from Sam’s when he tried to make eye contact. He knew that what he had just admitted was a huge bombshell and implied a lot more than Jake even understood. 

“You guys knew?! You-” 

Suddenly, Sam was both flabbergasted and angry at his family. He found himself looking at the clouds once again, measuring out his breaths so that he wouldn’t explode on his older brother and say something he regretted. It took a moment, he eventually got to a spot that was calm enough. Jake waited Sammy out; he had no other choice. 

“Do mom and dad know?” the youngest eventually asked, refusing to take his eyes off the clouds swelling above him. 

Jake made a noise that could’ve been the start to a word, but it sounded as if it got tangled inside his vocal cords. Trying again after clearing his throat and taking a breath, he answered. “Yes. They know.” 

It was only three words. They shouldn’t have made tears come to his eyes. Despite all the logic in his brain telling him that crying was irrational, his emotions stubbornly refused to pay attention. He felt ridiculous as the hot tears rolled down his cold cheeks. 

“Sam, you know nobody gives a shit, right?” 

That was what finally snapped Sam’s restraint. He whipped his head around, his hair nearly whipping his own face as he faced his brother. He felt a rage on his blood that was unfettered, his hands readying for violence as they balled into fists. He clenched his jaw so hard, he was afraid of shattering his teeth. 

“Yeah? Well, guess what, asshole?! I DO! I fucking care that you guys have been discussing my sexuality behind my fucking back! Am I nobody now??” 

The older brother went to open his mouth thinking that Sam had finished, but he didn’t get to even take a breath before Sam cut him off. 

“Do you understand how invasive that is?? Or did you not even care? No, I bet you all played a little game over it. Did you bet money?? Who won? Veronica? Is that why she ‘pushed’ me along?? So she could win the prize?!” 

“Samuel!” Jake cried, reminding Sam of how Josh would sound when screaming. “Just calm down, alright? We didn’t bet on your sexuality.”

Jake was holding out his arms in a placiting manner. It was as if he was trying to calm a startled horse; acting calmly but afraid of being violently struck if something went wrong. He tried walking closer to Sam, but he approached very slowly. 

“Ok, I’ll admit that we did talk about you behind your back, but it was for a good reason.” Sam felt the disgust and self-preservation surging in his veins as he watched Jake get closer, but he didn’t move. 

“Are you gonna start talking?” Sam impatiently snapped after Jake remained quiet for a moment. 

“We talked about you because we were trying to discuss how to be supportive of you when you do come out,” he finally explained, running his fingers through his hair with a sigh. 

Immediately, that struck Sammy in the heart. He’d gotten mad over them talking about his sexuality when it was for a wholesome reason. Suddenly, he felt awful. Tears pricked his eyes once again and he looked away from his brother. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, hiding his face in his hair. He felt ashamed. How could he think so horribly of his family like that? 

“Sam, it’s ok. You don’t-” 

“No, you don’t understand! I thought the worst of you guys when all you did was be supportive,” Sam cried into the darkened forest around him. The only response he got was that of the trees shivering from the cold September wind. 

It was clear Jake didn’t know how to handle seeing his baby brother cry, so he just stood there awkwardly. He eventually put a hand on Sam’s shoulder as a way of comforting him. 

“You’re right; I don’t understand. But I don’t have to understand. My job is just to support you and be there for you,” Jake reassured, the hand on Sam’s shoulder sliding across his back so that he was able to hug Sam. 

Knowing neither of them had any appearances to uphold, Sam leaned into his older brother and just let his tears fall. They both stood that way for a moment, the night air causing goosebumps to form on both of their skin. It was Jake who broke the silence. 

“We’ll catch a cold out here, let’s go inside.” 

Sam tensed up. He didn’t want to face the rest family yet. He himself wasn’t 100% sure that he wasn’t straight. He wasn’t aware that he was actively shaking and he couldn’t blame the temperature. 

“You don’t have to see everyone just yet; I’ll handle them,” Jake offered, pulling his brother just that bit closer to him to reassure him. 

“But-”

“I won’t mention anything about why you ran. You have my word,” he promised, making sure to look Sam in the eyes. 

Sam was reluctant. He knew that Jake was telling the truth, but there also was a part of him that didn’t know who he could trust anymore. He looked deep into his older brother’s eyes, gaging how genuine he was being. Finally, he decided to put his faith in Jake. Maybe he wouldn’t have to go through this by himself after all. 

Jake had kept his word. He guided Sam back into their house and dealt with their family as the youngest curled up under his covers in an attempt to rid himself of that dangerous chill that had seeped deep within his body from being outside improperly dressed for the weather. The younger twin managed to deflect all questions about why Sam had run and the subject wasn’t brought up again. Sammy didn’t officially come out to anyone in his family until he told Ronnie a few months later. 

Where did that Jake go?

“Hey, princess! Are you deaf?!” 

Sam was jolted out of his own thoughts as Jake banged on the hood of the car. There was an amused smile faintly pulling at his mouth when Sam nearly jumped out of his skin and almost fell off the roof of the car. 

“What, Jacob?” Sam snapped, annoyance in his veins at the sight of Jake’s smirk. He could feel his hands involuntarily clench into fists; there was also a death glare aimed right at Jake but he didn’t know that.

“Unless you wanna be strapped to the hood like a deer, get the fuck off the car so we can leave.” He looked at Daniel to see his reaction, a smile on Jake’s face at the expense of Sam. To his dismay, Danny was giggling along with Jake. 

The anger simmering in his blood intensified tenfold. Underneath it all was a feeling of betrayal. 

Without saying a word, Sam climbed off the car and slid into the back. He stayed silent the entire car ride. No one acknowledged him. 

+++

The water of the lake glimmered like glitter as the waves caught the blistering sunlight in their undulating waves. They weren’t big enough to have any white caps by any means, but the waves were just enough to rock you and make you feel the need to hold onto anything you could inside the boat. The boat cut through those sparkling mounds like a sharp knife through paper; gliding right across the surface and leaving a white trail behind it like it was leaving bread crumbs in the forest in case it would get lost. The wind was a welcome feeling as it hit Sam’s Sunkissed skin, the watercraft moving too fast for the sluggish heat to touch him. Even though he knew it would be nothing but a fight for him later, he left his hair down and allowed it to get tangled into all kinds of snarls and knots. He faced the bow of the ship, watching as trees and land would approach as they reach a bend in the lake. He wasn’t driving, his mother was. She was watching the water as well as her husband for any direction he might give her. 

Danny was attached to the back of the speedboat, grinning widely. He was enjoying himself but he was also gripping onto the handles of the inner tube with a white knuckle grip. Jake was watching with a smile on his face, waving at him and encouraging Daniel to let go of the handles. He had already had his turn on the tube, a towel wrapped around his shoulders and his long hair haphazardly twisted up in a bun. 

Danny just kept laughing at Jake’s attempts, shaking his head. The smile never left his face and he was laughing for his entire ride. After about five minutes he signaled Mr. Kiszka to cut the engine so he could get back aboard the boat. 

“Alright Sam, do you wanna go next?” Ronnie asked him. There was something she was trying to tell him something with her eyes, but he couldn’t tell what. 

“Uhh,” he stalled, still scanning her eyes for her subliminal message, “sure,” he eventually answered.

It was the one she was looking for, apparently. Her eyes glimmered and her smile grew. “Get on, then. What are you waiting for?” 

Sam, more than a little confused, climbed into the innertube while Josh held onto the rope to keep the tube from slipping out from under him. Once he was secure, Sam signaled for Josh to shove him off away from the boat and its propeller.

“Danny, why don’t you watch Sam for us?” Ronnie asked. Sam saw Josh look at his sister over her shoulder, a smile on his lips. They had something planned and Sam was suddenly very afraid of being on the water. Danny nodded, his blinding smile gracing his lips and making Sam’s heart stutter momentarily. 

“You hear that, Sam? Your life is in my hands!” Daniel yelled across the water, cupping one hand close to his mouth so his voice would project. 

“No safer place for it!” Sam called back. He didn’t even realize he had a dopey look to his face, but Josh and Ronnie noticed it. 

“Are you good to start?” 

Sam sent his best friend a thumbs up. A spike of fear lanced through his chest as he realized that Daniel turned to Ronnie who then told their mother to start. That meant that Ronnie was essentially controlling his mother’s every move. The engine kicked up, the propellers beginning to spin once again. Sammy would never forget the devious look in his sister’s eyes as she waved at him. 

He had the right to be nervous. As the ride continued, Sam realized that Josh would periodically distract their father at the same time that Danny would look away to talk to either Jake or Ronnie. He wouldn’t know why until he realized the speed increased all on its own accord. He looked up just in time to see his sister lower her hand from making their signal to speed up at their mother. It was getting harder to hold onto the raft, the waves rocking Sam a considerable amount. He made the signal to slow down, but the only person who saw him was Ronnie. Daniel and Jake were engaged in their own conversation the same as Josh and their dad. The youngest was really starting to get nervous as they approached the bend in the lake, his grip tightening even further as the watercraft began to turn. 

It all happened so fast. 

Sam slammed into the side of a particularly large wave, sending the tube flying into the air. In a panic, Sam made the vital mistake of letting go of the handles and was launched into the air. He only had a brief second to gasp before he was violently plunged into the rocky waters of the lake. He was disoriented while submerged, unable to find where the surface was. That only made his panic spike as he struggled to emerge his head from the water to breathe. He somehow managed to surface, taking in a huge gasp and removing his hair from his face and eyes. He saw the boat stopped a few yards ahead of him as he tread water, looking around for the innertube that would pull him to the boat. He was able to find it to the left of him, grabbing onto it as he coughed. 

Daniel jumped up, pulling the slack rope in and by proxy his best friend. He wore a face of pure concern that Sam noticed as he approached. His hand was warm as Daniel heaved him into the boat, his arms wrapping around Sam and pulling him into a tight hug. Sam wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth and he returned the hug. Maybe he closed his eyes and let himself divulge in the intimacy of the moment, but you can’t fault him for that. Daniel was warm and welcoming; and hell, they were both shirtless so Sam also got to enjoy knowing what Daniel’s bare chest felt like against his own. 

“Sammy, I’m so sorry,” Danny rushed, his arms tightening around Sam as he buried his face into the crook of Sam’s neck. “I should’ve been watching.” 

Sam’s own arms pulled Daniel in closer, his heart clenching at the wavering voice of his best friend. Despite wanting to tell Danny that yes, he should’ve been watching Sam instead of flirting with his older brother, he bit his tongue. It was a conversation to have after all the high emotions of the moment subsided. 

“Sam, are you alright?” Sam heard his father ask. He went to look at his dad and let go of Danny, but the man wouldn’t let go of him. 

“I’m alright, I wasn’t under that long. I’m just shaken up, is all,” he answered. He didn’t think it was possible, but he felt Danny’s arms get even tighter around him. 

“You were under for nearly half a minute,” Daniel informed him, whispering it into his ear. 

At the information, Sam felt his blood turn cold. It hadn’t felt like that long, but in retrospect, maybe it was. He was going to kill Josh and Ronnie for this. They endangered his life all for a stupid fucking-

“Daniel, you take care of him. Let’s go back to shore,” Josh posited, his hand landing on Sam’s shoulder as a way of comfort. 

Oh, that’s why they did it

Danny nodded his head, finally detaching from Sam. He felt cold when his best friend let go. Daniel led Sam over to the spot where he was sitting, urging him to sit down and even wrapped his own towel around Sam’s shoulders. He pulled Sam into him, tucking Sam’s head beneath his chin. He kept rubbing his hands up and down Sammy’s arms, occasionally squeezing his arms around his best friend. Sam didn’t do anything, just breathed as Daniel held him. 

In fact, no one spoke as Mrs. Kiszka drove the boat to the shore. 

Sam would open his eyes every once and a while to check his surroundings, his eyes always landing on Jake. He wasn’t looking at Sam and Danny, instead out at the water behind them. The way his jaw was set tipped Sam off that he was annoyed; more than annoyed. Reveling in the vindication of seeing Jake so sour, Sam smiled and snuggled into Danny a little more. He was so warm and solid. To Sam, he was the very embodiment of summer. 

Daniel never left Sam’s side for the rest of the day. Everywhere he turned, his best friend was always within sight. He’d never felt more content in his whole life, his heart feeling ready to burst each time he took in the sight of Daniel’s smile. His mind supplied him with the thought that this is what it would be like if he was dating Daniel. Suddenly, there was a consistent thrumming of pain in his chest each time he shared a look with his roommate. 

Jake had tried to get Danny away from Sam on multiple occasions, but it never worked. Daniel was attached to Sam’s hip. Sam guessed he had Josh and Ronnie to thank for that and they both knew. Each time they passed the two best friends, they each gave Sam this look that made him want to shiver. And while he was thoroughly enjoying all this attention from Danny, he still needed to talk to Jake. 

While they were out in the hammock, laying side-by-side as they gently swayed back and forth on the temperate summer breeze, that’s when Sam talked to Daniel. “Hey, Daniel.” 

Danny lazily hummed in response, shifting his head up to gaze at Sam with an easy smile on his lips. Sammy’s heart thundered in his chest as he lost the ability to breathe momentarily. 

“I-I really appreciate you hanging around me and all, but if you don’t mind I gotta talk to Jake about something,” Sam hesitantly hinted, tripping up his words as his brain was filled with thoughts of Daniel and how soft his lips would be if he kissed them. 

Sammy felt awful as he watched Danny’s smile falter. “Oh.” 

“I’m sorry, but it’s really important,” Sam rushed, a hand coming up to Danny’s curls and petting them absently. 

“No, it’s alright. I understand,” Danny reassured, sending Sam a smile as he sat up in the hammock, “I'll go get him for you.”

“Tell him to meet me on the dock please,” Sammy requested, fighting the urge to wrap his arms around Daniel and pull him in for a kiss on the cheek. 

Daniel nodded, the hammock shifting as his weight was removed. Sam, watching his best friend enter the house, sighed both out of weariness and contentedness. Shaking his head, he climbed out of the hammock and made the trip down to the dock, captivated by the burning vibrance of the sunset on the water. Mentally, he was preparing to relinquish Daniel over to Jake. he was severing all the ties he could so that it wouldn’t hurt quite so much when he would tell Jake that Daniel was all his and that Sam wouldn’t make any moves. 

As he dipped his toes into the water, he waited for his older brother to show. Tears painfully burned his eyes as he prepared his speech. On the breeze, he whispered his goodbye to his best friend, his chest aching Sam he spoke his name. And that was how Jake found him, ready to break some hearts. 

+++

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[plentyoffandoms]

Santana x f/Reader

Main Masterlist ♡ AEW Masterlist ♡ Santana Masterlist

Warnings: Some swearing.

Just like all my other stories, this has not been proofread, but please enjoy.

Gifs & photos do not belong to me.

Hope you like it.

Summary: f/Reader is Eddie's baby sister. She worked backstage for AEW & is friends with almost everyone. One night when everyone goes out for some fun, MJF won't take the hint & leave her alone. Santana steps in.

Miguel - Ortiz ☆ Mike - Santana ☆ Ronnie- Shawn Spears

YN's POV:

Mike and I never ment to keep seeing one another behind my brothers back. After that night he saved me from Max, we agreed that it was going to be a one time thing.

But then I found myself in his bed again and we agreed to stop this time for good and that agreement only worked for two days before I found myself in the back of my rented car, Mike between my thighs and his hand gripping my throat as he had me screaming his name.

So the two of us decided that try out a relationship and see how it goes. We kept it to ourselves of course, not wanting to have anyone but their noses into our business.

But that only worked for so long until Max figured he would try again and kept asking me out.

I turned him down every single time but he was getting more and more persistent with it. So much so that I didn't want to go into work.

I called in sick one day, knowing my crew will be just fine without me for once. I was sitting on the bed, watching Spice World when I heard a knock on the door.

I looked through the little peephole and saw that it was Mike. I opened the door and let him in.

"You doing okay sweetheart?" He asked me as he looked me over.

"Yeah I am fine, just needed a break from work is all."

"You needed a break from Max. I know he has been asking you out again."

"Well he isn't taking the hint. I even told him that I am seeing someone and he doesn't believe me."

"I think it is time for our relationship to come out YN."

"I know and I agree with you." I knew how important this was to not only him, but for his daughter Maria to meet me as well.

I mean, she knows who I am but to meet me as her dad's girlfriend is a big step and I know her opinion matters to him as it should.

~

We decoded to tell her first because it just made the most sense. So the next weekend he had her, I flew down to meet the two of them.

Maria already knew me as a friend of her Dad, so when she saw me, she ran to me and gave me a hug.

The three of us spent the whole day together, doing whatever she wanted and that night at dinner, that is when we told her about us.

"Does Uncle Eddie know?" Was her first question.

"No, not yet. We wanted to tell you first." I said to her.

"Well I like you and I know you are not with him just because he is famous." I could of laughed at that but she was being so serious.

It is very sweet how protective she is of her Dad.

~

Mike and I were going to tell my brother after the show tonight. It has been a few months and Mike has actually asked me to move in with him and Maria.

This was a massive step in our relationship and I was excited to start a whole chapter with the two of them.

But nothing ever seems to go the way we want it too. I was double checking that we had everything packed and be ready to be sent to the new location when I heard his music play.

I was so loud that even if the TV wasn't playing the show, I would of heard it.

"Cut my music, cut my music."

I then remembered that Eddie, Mike, and Miguel were out in the ring with Blackpool Combat Club.

Santana's POV:

I groaned when I heard his music and saw his smug face.

"Cut my music, cut my music." The crowd booed him of course and Max just continued to smile as he sauntered down the ramp towards us.

"Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. I'm so glad you took my advice and started to take care of yourself and go to the gym."

Eddie just looked bored of him already.

"I only said that because I wanted to compliment you before I give you so news that I am sure will ruin not only your day, but a few friendships as well."

Max was now in the ring with Ronnie, who is just standing next to him with that stupid ass chair.

Eddie just looked confused and looked at us and then back at Max.

"You see Eddie, I know how important your sister is to you." I heard say for Max to keep her name out of her mouth.

I didn't even realise I took a few steps forward and I am standing right infront of Max.

"Well well well, if it isn't the man I was just going to mention. You see Eddie, your long-time friend here has even seeing your sister behind your back."

I didn't even think, I just reacted. I pushed Max back and brought my hand back and punched him in the face. Miguel and Jon pulled me off of him before I could do anymore damage.

"Stay the fuck away from her you piece of shit." I spat at him. Security came rushing to the ring and escorted us all to the back.

Eddie left the group and went down the hall that led to catering. Shit, he was going to see YN. I was going to follow but I had to talk to Tony first.

~

After the talk with the boss, I found Eddie and YN talking. He didn't look angry and she was actually laughing at something he just said.

"Hey." Eddie said when he noticed me. "Thanks for sticking up for her. I know Max has been a real pain in her side."

"You're not mad?"

"Nah. If she had to be with someone, atleast it is someone I know and trust. I know you will take care of her."

As he talked, YN came to my side and I pulled her into my arms. Kissing her temple and not fully believing that Eddie is okay with all of this.

~

YN was finally moved into my apartment, but as I looked around, I knew that we would need a bigger space eventually.

I wanted to stay in New York, but not in the city and she was fine with that, but she also wanted us to wait for a bit.

But only after a few months of living together, YN ended up pregnant with our first child together.

She was at home when she called me and told me the good news. I could of cried but her Eddie beat me to it as he was there when I got the call.

"My sister is having a baby." Was all Eddie kept saying.

Now the search for a house was on. The school year was up for Maria and she wanted to live with YN and I full time.

Her mom agreed to it as she was moving out of state for work and Maria didn't want to go.

So after only searching for a week, we found a home in Staten Island.

Wasn't New York City, but we were excited about actually having some property and it was close a goof school district for Maria.

Anytime I was home, I was packing up and the three of us would bring what we could to our new home until it was finally moving day.

YN was about five months now and I just had her sit in a chair on the front porch as I didn't want her lift a single box.

Maria stayed with her and would grab YN whatever she needed. It made me happy to see the two of them so close.

So close in fact that not even three days later, the three of us were in Las Vegas as I had a couple of shows to do.

We were walking past some chapels and YN joked about us getting married in one of them.

"Okay. Let's get married."

"I was kidding Mike."

"I'm not. Let's get married. We both don't want a big wedding and you know how our families would get."

"I atleast want a pretty dress and my brother here."

"I want a pretty dress too."

"Okay, go shopping. I will call everyone up and have them meet us." YN and I picked one and I handed her my credit card.

~

Eddie was yelling at me through the phone as I told him what YN and I are doing.

"You're invited Eddie. Just get your ass down here so you can walk her down the aisle." He then started freaking out about that.

"We will be there Mike." Good ol' Miguel. Always the calm on in these type of situations.

Miguel stood next to me as I watched my daughter walk towards me with a huge smile on her face.

Next was Eddie and YN. Eddie looked so proud to be the one to walk her down the aisle.

He kissed her cheek as he took his seat in the front row.

Our ceremony was short and sweet, and even looking back on it now, I would not have it any other way.

Were our families mad that we didn't have the big wedding? Yes.

Did we end up having a huge celebration a couple of months later? Oh fuck yes.

But that was the day our son was born. He came into the world screaming at 2:52 in the afternoon.

We named him after some of the most important men in our lives, Jose Edward. A fitting name for our first born son.

Our second son was born two years later and we named him Gabriel Miguel.

Our home was filled with so much love and joy and just think. If it wasn't for Max being a creep, we probable wouldn't be here today.

Finished.

Tag List: if you would like to be added, please let me know. @lghockey @wwenhlimagines @hungmanhorsecarriagge @anaeve @ecarroll1978 @crowleysqueenofhell @thenerdybaker523 @eddiekingstonsgirl89

[sixofravens-reads]

Okay, some post-shower thoughts about Hummingbird Salamander (spoilers under the cut):

Overall, a solid thriller-mystery. Jane was an excellent anti-hero, smart and strong but still not so much that she could easily defeat any obstacle. A thrill-seeking office worker who's torn between boredom at her normal suburban life and a deep love for her family (though she tries to downplay it).

The mystery is complex, full of twists and dead-ends and doubling-back, but not so much so that it stops making sense. I love the settings - Vandermeer is very good at the urban-fantasy thing of making ordinary buildings or businesses into more than what they are. The backstory that's revealed throughout is heartbreaking as much as it is informative - telling us more about Jane as a person than anything she writes about the present.

I did feel like this book could've been about 50 pages shorter - maybe ending after Jack abandons her on the mountain, instead of her going to live in the woods for 5 years. Maybe she doesn't meet Silvina anyway, but after that climactic fight there's a bit of an unnecessary lull in the story. Or maybe after meeting Silvina she leaves for a few years, but either way it just seems like the ending is very delayed and a little anticlimactic.

I do wish we got more of the backstory of Silvina, Langer, and Jack's entanglement, because for a lot of the book even after we learn more about them, it still just seems like Jane's unwittingly stepped in some lover's quarrel. A lover's quarrel where everyone thinks one person built a bioweapon and therefore must never be found in case the finder somehow detonates said weapon.

Also, Silvina. She doesn't quite hit right for me. She's not mysterious enough to play the revered cult leader, or tangible enough to truly impact the story. Often I wondered why Jane kept going when there seemed little motivation to - there never seems to be any goal, even a vague one, especially since Jane thinks Silvina is dead for most of the book. Also, I understand the author wanted to ride the line of showing Slivina as a revered environmentalist and also showing her failures - she's a billionaire's daughter who, while her goals were good, did a whole lot of evil to get there - but at times it didn't seem like Jane even revered her enough to be following her. She was mysterious, but not intriguing enough to understand why Jane kept searching for her clues after the Larry incident.

I think since we know Jane is writing all of this, it would make more sense if she played up Silvina's mystery and goodness even more and the bad things were more subtly told to the reader (just like with Ned in the backstory).

Also, strangely for a book about climate change, it doesn't seem to make any huge statements about that. Like, yes, the earth does get very bad over the course of the book, but it's the same scenario we've seen a dozen times before in eco-apocalypse tales. Jane seems concerned by it, but also not. Silvina was definitely concerned by it, but for 75% of the book she's thought to be either an eco-terrorist trying to kill all humans or an animal-smuggling fake who gave up when the going got too tough and only managed to build a glorified strip mall.

At the end, instead of trying to save the world, she attempts to change herself (and Ronnie and Jane) and release a pathogen that will somehow make humans...care about the environment more because otherwise they'll be very uncomfortable? I think? I'm unclear on what the goal was there, or how it can stop this ball from rolling downhill. Either way, she most likely failed.

Actually, thinking back to Annihilation and Borne, Vandermeer's climate themes always seem to lean towards "humanity cannot save earth, we have to go through the apocalypse and be reborn for the world to be cleansed." Which...not something I personally agree with but definitely interesting to read.

All in all: a solid book, not one of my favourite Vandermeers (probably third from the bottom, I think, just above Dead Astronauts and Ambergris), but still intriguing and worth a read!

[artificialqueens]

🏳️‍🌈 Euphoria, 2/10 (Greentia) - Juno

Summary: After receiving some surprising news from Divina, Veronica teams up with Tia to do some songwriting.

A/N: Part 2 of Eurovision au!! Big thanks to everyone who has let me annoy them about this fic, and there is more content on my blog!!

“Good morning everyone, it’s twelve minutes past nine and you’re listening to Kofi Mornings with me, Tia Kofi, looking to get you caffeinated and ready for the day! You’ve just heard two hits from …”

The second time that Veronica joined Tia on the radio went much better. Helped by the fact that this time she knew where she was going, and that she’d actually already met Tia this time, the whole process was smoother.

Veronica let Tia do their usual speech, looking around to see what had changed, but nothing had - just another photo added to those next to their computer, this one with their arm around the tv host Lawrence Chaney and a few of their friends, including two people who had been in the band, Vanity and Victoria. 

They must all hang out together frequently still, even though they split up ages ago -

“… Veronica Green, then you can after this number!” Her thoughts were interrupted by her own name in Tia’s voice again. They flicked the button and the dial on the computer, adding some flair to their movements this time, and then sat back, exhaling with a contented sigh.

“And we’re good,” Tia muttered, picking up their mug of coffee and taking a long draught. “That’s better. Hi again, Ronnie! You alright, babe?”

Veronica smiled at them. “Think I’ll be better when I’m not using annual leave to take half days in the morning and come and do promotional interviews. Not - not that I don’t want to do it!”

“Yeah, that’s rough.” Tia nodded. 

It was, they were right. Veronica was trying not to think about her boss calling her into his office yesterday morning to talk about the amount of half days she’d had to take the last couple of months to go and do interviews with people. This one in particular, the third this week due to what would be her second number one, must have been the straw that broke the camel’s back.

“My boss said I now have to give him a week’s notice of any leave. And no Fridays.” She huffed, leaning her head on the heel of her hand. “It’s bollocks.”

“God. Tell me about it. When I first did X Factor, Tescos said I had to dedicate myself to my job more than being on that stupid show and that I couldn’t keep taking holiday just because I was on TV now.“ 

Tia wasn’t looking at her any more, rolling the drawstring of their hoodie around one finger. Veronica shook her head in sympathy.

“So shit. It’s like they don’t want people to fulfil their dreams. And he knows why I’m taking leave! He knows about my singing! I told him when I signed the contract that my singing career might be picking up and it wasn’t a problem for him then!”

“He probably just didn’t think you were serious. Most of them don’t.”

There was a little too much bitterness in Tia’s words for Veronica to believe there wasn’t something behind them. But when Tia looked back up at her, their expression shifted into a small smile.

“Honestly, Vee, from the way your singles keep going up the charts, you may not be going to a day job much longer.”

But a shiver of anxiety went down her back. In a way, Veronica liked having a day job. It was stable and kept her bills running regularly from the joint account she and Joe had set up. Knowing that she would be paid a certain amount for a certain number of hours worked was … safe. Secure. The thought of not having that? Of maybe giving up her job and relying on money from her singing? The idea was so surreal … but the more she thought about it, the more it was growing like a little amoeba chewing its way through her thoughts, getting large and lazy and lingering longer and longer.

Would she ever be able to do that? 

But before she could think any more, the song was fading, and Tia was leaning back to their mic.

“We’re back on the studio, and as promised we have the lovely Veronica Green with us again this morning, I’m sure you’re all familiar by now with …”

She watched Tia put on the same cheery voice they used on air. Completely different to the one they spoke to her with. 

“… hands together! Hi, nice to see you again!”

That was her cue. Tia was playing the applause effect and she had to start talking now. “Nice to be back, Tia!”

This time, there was no issue with the mic, the sound perfect. Tia gave her a grin and a thumbs up sign.

“So Ronnie - can I call you Ronnie?”

“Yeah, all my friends do!” Veronica laughed, this time easily, and the smile Tia gave her in return was something Veronica wished she could print from her memory and put in a frame. 

“Stunning. So Ronnie, last time we spoke you had been at the number one spot for two weeks, and now you’ve just been announced as this week’s number one for your new single, Just Once More - why don’t you tell us a bit about that?”

Veronica uncrossed and crossed her legs again. “It’s a really personal song, but when we wrote it, we wanted to make it really fun and dancey but not in a normal way. It’s really about how much we all love to express ourselves, and about letting ourselves be free and let go just once more, so I’m so happy that the public love it as much as we loved creating it.”

Tia’s eyes flickered, and then they renewed their smile. “It’s so great when you get to create stuff that you love and you get that response. It’s so validating. And - you say we, who is your muse for songwriting?”

“Oh - my friend Joe. I play guitar and he plays piano and we just like to mess around and write music.“

“Interesting. So how did you both start writing together?” Tia unfurled their legs from the chair and crossed their ankles. “Did you meet through a music group?”

“No, we,” Veronica paused, realising that she probably shouldn’t say the real reason she and Joe had started playing music together, as this show was pre-watershed. But Tia blinked at her, waved their hand, and she realised she’d have to paint over the truth a little. “We played music together when we were at uni, and then we both ended up in London together, so we just … carried on.”

“Oh, I see. Amazing. Do you two have similar taste, did you go to gigs together?”

“Well,” Veronica couldn’t help but laugh, it simply spilled from her mouth, “we don’t have too similar a music taste to be honest; he’d probably be more comfortable in either a mosh pit or a cabaret, but we make it work.”

For a moment, when she looked at Tia, she saw their expression glaze over, but they shifted their weight and quickly got over that.

“A - oh okay!” Tia laughed. “That’s great, that’s great. Okay, well we’ll play your single now, and when we get back after, we’ll go through some questions our listeners have brought for you!”

Tia pushed the buttons up, playing the opening bars of the song, and then shut off the microphones. “We’re good. That was so good! You did loads better than the first show! Have you had more practice now?”

Veronica nodded. “Had a couple of magazines, a newspaper, and two radios. One back home, I went home! First time I’d been on the radio there in two years. Felt weird! I feel like I’m getting a bit of a platform now!” Veronica put her hands to her mouth at the realisation. “God, I’ve come a long way since I won Rochdale’s Got Talent!”

“Wait, what was that?” Tia asked. “Is that something Rochdale made or was that official? Did you get Amanda Holden visiting?”

“God no, it was a contest held in Rochdale, and there were a few people who entered, and I made it to the final and I won! Good thing really, I almost lost to a tiny old man and his dancing dog!”

“Dancing dog? I’d have had to leave, I’m scared of dogs.”

“Oh, this one was alright,” Veronica said, “it was a tiny little fluffy thing. Dead friendly.”

“What did you sing?”

“At the final I sang this song I wrote ages ago, but at the start I - I sang -“

Her mouth went slowly dry and her face was turning hot, but Tia’s face flooded with realisation, their eyes widening.

“Did you sing one of my songs?”

“Yeah. I sang … Real To Me.” Veronica put her face in her hands, skin burning her palms, but Tia’s voice echoed around her.

“Oh, god, that one was … Wow. I wrote that one in like, twenty minutes one night at like 2am.”

Veronica looked up through her fingertips in time to see Tia gazing at some point in the distance before they turned back to her with a small smile.

“Look - feel free to say no,” Tia murmured, scratching at their chin, “but would you be up for a session together? At mine? I have some stuff and we could do a bit of a jam together if you want?”

——

“Wait, what did you say?” Veronica looked up from her phone. Joe, one eyebrow quirking up towards his hair, adjusted the blanket around himself where he lay on the sofa, and gave her a wry look.

“I said, you sounded so much happier this time on radio, Rodney,” Joe said again. “So relaxed. Nice one. Did you feel better? You look like you did; you haven’t stopped smiling at your phone for the last five minutes.”

“Oh.” She fought to make her face neutral again, but an echo of the smile stayed etched there. She glanced down once more at the string of messages Tia had sent her and locked her phone, putting it down and curling herself towards Joe instead.

“Yeah, yeah I did. Much better.”

“Good. And what’s his name - Nathan?”

“Neil.”

Joe waved a dismissive hand, rolling his eyes. “Whatever - he didn’t give you too much hassle when you got back to the office, did he?”

Veronica chewed her lip, twisted the hem of her shirt into a ball.

“Oh, Rodney.” He sighed and opened his arms, and she drifted into them like always, rested her chin on his shoulder and started to unwind while he rubbed circles into her shoulder blades. 

“He just doesn’t get it.” Veronica thought she sounded like a petulant child, but her words kept coming. “I told him I was singing as well, and looking to get into the industry, and he said it was alright then! But now that it’s happening he’s suddenly got a problem! And he even listens to Kofi Mornings. And he said he liked me on it! And he … he’s a dick.”

“I know.“ Joe murmured absently. He’d heard most of this plenty of times before, and he just continued to rub her back, and she could feel the knot of anger at her gut loosen and fade out of her body. 

“Once my album comes out,” she said firmly, “I’m quitting.”

“Well,” Joe said, raising his head, “even now you might want to take a look at reducing your hours. Maybe look at working four days with two mornings free to get yourself time to go to interviews. Because I can’t see it slowing down for you from here.”

Veronica shut her eyes, opened her mouth to say that it wasn’t that easy. She had to have stable income. 

But he was right about one thing. She definitely wasn’t slowing down. 

She silently ran through everything else she’d been booked on for summer. Divina had booked her for a magazine interview next weekend, three radio interviews for July and one for August so far; plus an interview with Sunday Brunch on Channel 4 in September. Along with a slot singing at a festival in the middle of nowhere in Oxfordshire, a monthly upcoming talent night somewhere in Vauxhall for the end of June, and potential for a singing place at Pride in London over the bank holiday in August. On top of that, she had some studio time booked during October and November to work on an album, and had been writing songs with Joe every spare moment. 

All while holding down an office job, to keep the roof of the flat she shared with Joe over her head. 

He let her go, rubbing her biceps. “Have a think about it.”

She huffed. “Alright.”

“Good.” He swung his legs from the sofa and made his way to the kitchen, putting the kettle on. “You want a cup of tea?”

But Veronica didn’t hear him; her attention was on her phone, buzzing against her hand in her pocket. 

The message from her agent was strange. Veronica rubbed her eyes once or twice to see if she’d misread it, but there it was in black and white on her screen. 

Divina @18.44: Spoken to the execs on the label, and thanks to your new single’s success they said they are going to put you forward as one of the candidates for sponsorship for Eurovision. Congrats! xx

Veronica blinked, and blinked again. Eurovision? Me? Why?

She scrolled back a little further up the messages to Divina. 

And then she saw it. A message from the party she’d gone to back in May, or just after it, that she must have sent just before falling asleep, because she had no memory of it whatsoever. 

Her chest was cold, and she put a hand to her forehead.

I got drunk at that party and told Divina I wanted to go on Eurovision! Oh, god. Never drinking again.

Scrolling back to the foot of the screen, she started tapping words on there to send to them now and stop this. 

Changed my mind, not sure I’m up for doing it any

But she hesitated on the last word, not sure if she was going to type any more. It was a silly idea, just a silly thought she’d had, but something in the air seemed to hold her hand still, unable to type anything else. She didn’t hit send, didn’t go any further, but she deleted the words she’d typed.

“Joe,” she whispered, and when he looked over at her, she showed him the message on her phone. 

“Oh, that’s tiny, I’m going to have to find my …” and he paused, patting himself and then the flat surfaces until he found his monocle and put it to his eye, his eyebrows furrowing.

Veronica couldn’t help but laugh. “I always just want to sketch you or something when you wear that thing. You look like a caricature.”

“Thanks, darling, that’s because I am one.” He leaned a little nearer, and then the monocle dropped from his face as his mouth dropped open with an emphatic gasp. “You’re going on Eurovision? The queer Olympics? That’s wonderful news, absolutely excellent!”

“Well, not quite Joe, I’m just being put forwards -“

“Oh, don’t be silly my love, they’d be mad not to pick you.” Joe shook his head as if the mere idea was absurd, then paused, running his fingers over his chin. “How do you actually apply?”

“No idea -“

“Is it like applying for a driving licence? Do you get a form? Or is it more … y’know, up in the air, mystical? Do you need to do a personality test? An MBTI? Do they need a sample of blood? Your star sign? I mean, do you even need a song?”

“Yes, I definitely need a song.” Veronica rolled her eyes. “That’s kind of the point of the contest.”

“Well, do you have one?”

Veronica opened her mouth and closed it again.

“We’ll have to write you one then - when does it have to be done by?” Joe grabbed the diary he still insisted on keeping and flipped it open to the month ahead. “Shall we schedule some times when we’re both in and we can have a piss about with the piano and your guitar and see if we can’t -“

“Joe,” Veronica held up her hand, “I was thinking …”

But there was no easy way to say it. He was watching her expectantly, but she didn’t know what he’d say. Would he be offended?

Joe, for his part, nodded with a face that was the picture of solemnity. “Thinking. That’s a dangerous activity, darling.”

Veronica snorted. “Joe! I mean … I was thinking. About … about writing. Writing this song.”

“That’s good. You do need to think about it in order to write it -”

“No, I mean - when I was on the radio with Tia, they said they’d like us to write together. Me and them. As well. So.” Veronica gave a cough as her throat seemed to close up a little. “I said I would write with them at some point.”

For a moment, Joe’s face didn’t change.

Then it split into a grin. 

“Rodney! That’s an excellent idea! They’re already an established pop star, they’ve written most of the things on their solo albums, they did lots of writing collaborations with other people too! You should see their writing credits. Did you know they wrote with -“

“How d’you know all this?” Veronica giggled. “I didn’t know that!”

“Well.” Joe shrugged, arranging his face into some overt nonchalance. “You pick things up. Here and there. Don’t you?”

Veronica stared at him for a moment, as he diverted his attention to polishing the monocle with the hem of his shirt, peering at it over and over again and re-polishing.

“Yeah, yeah I guess,” she said finally. 

And then her phone buzzed again. 

This is a dream. I’ve gone off into la la land.

@officialtiakofi: Hey hun, let me know if you want to do any brainstorming ideas or writing or anything. Will have to be in the afternoon but probably after this month as i’ve got some things on. Want me to ping you a few dates? 

Veronica sighed. 

Tia Kofi is in my dms. Not my shoes - no, my actual dms. 

She looked up at Joe, staring at her curiously, holding the mug of tea in one hand and stirring with the other. “Rodney, why are you holding the phone against yourself like some damsel in a Jane Austen novel?”

Veronica realised, hastily bringing the phone away from her chest. “Just - it’s - the light was hurting my eyes.”

She arranged her expression into what she hoped was the same overt nonchalance as he had just done, although her face was growing hot and her heart thumping. Joe just raised his eyebrows with a smile.

“Alright, alright - I’ll leave you to it. Eurovision star.”

Joe left to his room, taking his tea to his piano he’d somehow crammed into his room, filling the house up with gentle nocturnes as he did several times a week. Veronica took to Google, tapping into the search bar applying for Eurovision and drinking in every article she could find on it. 

There were so many rules for each entry. She scanned down them all, wondering how anyone could get a song through them all. The most annoying rule was the three-minute allowance on the song. That would seriously limit her length of singing and her creativity. But, she thought to herself, it would make her think in ways she wouldn’t have before.

@officialtiakofi: I have a couple of engagements the next weekends but how about 5th July? 1pm? I can’t do any earlier I always need to nap after my morning shows lmao

@callmeronniex: OK sounds good :) x

She mentally slapped herself. A kiss? That is not your best friend Veronica, that is -

@officialtiakofi: Great :) I’ll send an uber to the tube to get you x

Oh. They’d sent one back.

——

The rest of June, Veronica’s weekdays were exhausting. Daytimes were spent in the thick-walled office in what seemed like a never-ending heatwave, and nighttimes in bars and venues underneath the city, strumming her guitar and singing covers for a few quid here and there. She’d find Joe in the same place at the end of the night, grinning at her through the shadows, always wanting to meet her after his own shift and take the Tube back with her, and they’d stroll the last few yards to their home, fanning each other with copies of the day's Metro.

Other weeknights were spent sitting in Joe’s room, writing a line or two to a song and then spending an hour too tired to continue, descending into conversations about aliens or clouds or whatever other things seemed to plague Joe’s mind when he was meant to be at work.

All of it kept the roof of the flat over their heads. And really, it was comfortable. But as summer drew on, having sessions writing music in their own flat, the balmy air with Joe’s previously invigorating piano sounded more and more like a swamp, pulling her down.

A change of scenery would do her the world of good.

Early in July, she went to Tia’s house for the first time. She was alone - Tia hadn’t met Joe yet, and it seemed rude to ask to bring him. 

Bright sunshine greeted Veronica off the tube at Sloane Square, still far too hot. Her shirt stuck to her and her hair was wet at the back of her neck, but she didn’t worry about that now; she could sort that when she got there.

Tia’s home was not a block of flats like hers, but a pretty row of terraced houses that Veronica had seen pictures of but had never dreamt she’d be going into. They were all painted beautiful and different pastel colours, reminding Veronica of bunting, and spring flowers, and afternoon tea. They were all covered by high fences, plants weaving along and through them.

Once she was buzzed in - buzzed in! By a guard! - she was led inside, through the iron gate and into the house.

Inside, she found herself alone in a single large reception room, much cooler than outside even while bright from sunlight streaming in through the blinds. The guard pulled the door closed behind her, but Veronica didn’t move, twisting her fingers and looking around.

The room was as large as the living room at her flat, decorated with lemon-coloured walls and a wooden floor polished so brightly it looked like the still waters of a lake. The sofa and coffee table were both soft white, and the beautiful rug underneath them a marbled grey. A few shelves were embedded into the opposite wall, the same pale yellow as the wall, with eucalyptus plants and tiny cacti and a huge pot of bright orange and purple flowers in the centre. 

Otherwise, it was dawning on Veronica how sterile it was.

There’s no books. No records. No tv! What is this?

Tia finally entered, pushing the door open. Veronica immediately once again felt too overdressed. She could feel her eyeliner smudging on her face, the foundation running with rivulets of sweat on her forehead. Tia was fresh as always; another shorts and shirt and converse combo, their hair cropped a little shorter than the last time she’d seen them at the radio station, rubbing their free hand on the back of their neck. 

“Afternoon.” Tia rubbed their forehead and let out a huge yawn. “Sorry. I always have a quick nap after the show and it overran.”

“‘S okay.” Veronica stifled her own yawn behind her hand. “I was running a bit early anyway.”

“Sorry. Anyway,” Tia motioned towards her, “come on through, you’re not staying in here all day.”

Veronica blinked at the slight derision dripping from their words, but followed them through the door, along to the back rooms, and her mouth dropped. 

She got the distinct impression Tia was a tornado and she herself was Dorothy, whisked away to Oz. The kitchen-diner area was much larger than the room she had just been in, decorated in a sunset orange, and through the arch and into the living room, it was more cluttered, more lived in. Silk flowers sat at each corner, a tall pile of books leant precariously next to a deep red loveseat, pictures and mirrors adorned the walls like sparkling jewels, and a plethora of personal items and decorations ran along the shelves, in shades of pinks and burnt yellows and signs of life, of having been lived in. Beyond that were french doors leading into a small garden, teeming with grass and rose bushes along the edges. 

Tia stopped at the kitchen area, a huge space, and opened a cupboard, filled with cups and glasses.

“What do you normally drink when you’re songwriting then?” Veronica couldn’t help herself. “Tea or coffee?”

“Oh - G&T.” They cocked their head to the left and gave Veronica an ironic smile, before reaching into the cupboard. “D’you want a drink? Tea? Coffee? Something else?”

“Tea is fine.”

“You sure?” That smile was back on their lips and Veronica’s chest fluttered with words that for some reason didn’t rise to her mouth this time. Tia took the pause with a chuckle. “I’ll get you a G&T as well if you want.” 

Veronica opened her mouth, then gave a little laugh and closed it again.

“G&Ts, for Tee and Vee,” Tia nodded, grabbing two tall glasses, then turning back to Veronica with a frown. "You - you don’t mind being called Vee?”

“No, that’s fine.”

“Okay stunning. Well, I’ll bring you to the music room while I get these sorted.”

Tia led her through the kitchen, up the staircase and along to the back of the house, where one of what was obviously meant to be a bedroom was converted into a music room. It was painted a beautiful deep indigo, stark contrast to the white shelves. 

“Back in a minute,” Tia waved, heading back to the stairs. “Make yourself comfy.”

She listened to their footsteps on the staircase fade, turning to take her guitar off her shoulder and remove it from the case. 

Most of the room was filled with accolades. Veronica didn’t want to move too much, didn’t want to disrupt anything, but she carefully walked up to the shelves as if worried it would wake up if she disturbed it. The first shelves were a little newer, and the ones closer to the door had older items - the earliest awards from their career, things from the line of merchandise from when they had been in the band and all the accolades, all lined with a sheen of dust. 

The band merchandise was the strangest to see now that the band hadn’t existed for almost five years, but it came with a warm nostalgia for Veronica, who had watched her sister get into the band as a child and teenager. Keyrings, badges, patches, books, cds, posters. Merch in colours that would come to define their entire careers - magenta for Vic, royal blue for Vanity, orange for Tia and emerald green for Krystal. 

She got to the Barbie doll set that had been made of them all, and remembered with a jolt of warmth her younger sister wanting one (Krystal, of course; all the kids in her class had wanted Krystal), but that would have been a toy, while these had been handled like collectors items. All still in their boxes, they’d been arranged alphabetically, Krystal on the left, then Tia, Vanity, and Victoria on the right. 

She couldn’t help smiling. Krystal probably wouldn’t be seen dead in that green jumpsuit now. And god, the backlash this set got for making Victoria look nothing like herself -

“I miss the dolls.”

Veronica leapt backwards at their voice. “Sorry, I -”

“It’s fine. It’s nice to remember.” Tia chuckled at the dolls. “Funny that we have a reminder of the people we were ten years ago. Or at least, the people we thought we were.”

Veronica held her tongue at that last statement, watched as Tia sat down at the keyboard, putting their fingers down to no sound, before rolling their eyes and flicking the power on. “That would help, wouldn’t it. So. What sort of things do you already have lined up for your album? Is there something in particular you want to write? Do you have some lyrics already and you want to put them to a tune, or do you want to go full into just …” They played a chord with each hand, “just into some music and see where it takes you?”

“There is something I’m working on at the moment,” Veronica began slowly, “or that I need to be working on, anyway. A side project.”

“A side quest?” They chuckled to themself, picking up their tablet and putting it on the keyboard stand. “Okay well, we can have a play with that if you want. Any theme to the side quest?”

“Well, I’m not sure, but it can’t - it can’t be political,” Veronica counted off her fingers, “and it can’t be over three minutes, and it needs to be … like, clean, no swearing or anything in it - ”

“Wait, hold on.” Tia interrupted her, jaw slackening. “Are you entering Eurovision?”

Veronica nodded fervently. “Yeah, actually! Are you a mind reader, how did you guess!”

"Oh, just - ” they shrugged. “But that’s great news. Who’s your label again?”

“Meridian." 

"Oh.” Tia extended their mouth around the sound a little more than necessary, giving a nod. “Right. Okay, well what do you want to write to send to Eurovision then, do you want to something fun and poppy, do you want a dance tune -”

“I don’t know to be honest, I just know I can’t say fuck!”

Veronica laughed at her own remark, and Tia smiled, not joining in.

“Okay, stunning. Do you want a particular key?”

Working with Tia was very different to working with Joe. She was used to playing her guitar while he played his piano, and working with him was slow, but always fun; full of breaks for cups of tea or cigarettes, and never short of innuendo and rude rhymes to her lyrics that didn’t make the final cut but were fun to think of nonetheless. 

But Tia was obviously a professional. Completely focused, tapping things into the screen as they went along, trying out lots of different sounds and suggesting things she hadn’t thought of - key changes, effects, timings that she wouldn’t have used.

Even singing in front of them - something that always worried her when she’d never done it before - today the notes were looser, more fluid with every strum of her plectrum. The nerves that always overgrew her ribcage like weeds in a garden had shrivelled away, her voice ringing out in the small room, while the afternoon faded into a golden evening.

Before they realised, it was half past eight, and Tia put their hand to their mouth.

“Oh, god, I’m sorry, think we lost track of time -“

“No it’s been great, really.” Veronica put the guitar down and dropped her hands into her lap. “We’ve done loads!”

Tia’s smile was stiff. “I’m - sorry, I think I’m a bit rusty, I haven’t written in so long -“

“It’s great, are you joking! We’ve done so much! I’m sorry we’ve overrun, I just got really into it and kept on going!”

“Alright.” Tia linked their hands and stretched them over their head. “It’s been great. But I think it’s time for a bit of a wind-down now.”

“What did you always do after you’ve written a song?” Veronica asked Tia.

“I’ll show you what I’ve done since I came here.” They held out their hand to her. “Come on. I’ll show you.”

She tried to ignore the vague tingle in the palm of their hand when Tia led her out the room and up the stairs to a tiny attic room, decorated in the same sunset orange but with a projector screen on one wall and a few scattered chairs. But they didn’t stop there, leading her out the door there to the rooftop.

“I come out here.” They gestured with a wide sweep of their arm, and Veronica looked all around the view. 

The sun was behind them both, and a cool breeze lifted Veronica’s hair from this height. She could see the river from here, glistening with sunlight, the sky turning pale and the first stars appearing from behind the buildings along the horizon.

She sighed. “I can see why.”

——

Summer went fast with a project. 

Hot, sticky days blasted through London for all of July, and getting the Tube was like walking into a furnace, but Tia’s whole house had air conditioning, and all the free afternoons were much more comfortable inside their wonderful peach-tinted haven. She’d take her guitar to their house - normally Saturdays, but sometimes Sundays - and practise with them until the sun dipped low against the skyscrapers on the horizon, and then rest on the rooftop, relaxing with one of the books from Tia’s pile.

The contrast to working with Tia, having spent so long working with Joe, was striking. Tia saw music as a construct, a mathematical formula, something that working within rules could produce a beautiful and carefully detailed result; while Joe saw it as pure art, as a voice of the soul, that defied regulations. 

Veronica continued to write with Joe as well, mostly weeknights, things for her album; but his relaxed method of working was totally different from Tia’s focused attitude. It was always so free with Joe, just two friends - or maybe more - playing from the heart, making something self-indulgent. But Joe had never worked professionally in the music industry, unless getting hired to play at schools and drama clubs for panto season counted, right now in the middle of summer.

By the end of July, it was time to bring her two worlds together. 

Joe had raised his eyebrows at the guard outside the gate of Tia’s home, more in amusement than anything else, but when he was inside he looked in awe at the lounge, gazing around at the plain and sterile environment of the fake home as Tia called it. 

And when they came out to greet them both, Veronica saw him swallow, and a tendon in his neck pulse, before he smiled his award-winning smile and accepted their handshake. 

"The pleasure is all mine,” he said with a tiny wink, and Veronica could have sworn she saw the muscles in Tia’s face straining, holding back a smile.

Veronica led him up to the music room while Tia stayed downstairs to grab some drinks, and like a moth to a lightbulb Joe wasted no time upon entering to leap onto the stool next to the keyboard, straighten his back, and play a solemn but slightly tinny Clair de Lune. Veronica shook her head with a laugh at his doleful expression as he stroked the keys, and once she’d put her guitar down, she headed back down the stairs to the kitchen to help Tia. 

She found them next to a tray with three tumblers, standing at the sink with their hand on the tap, letting the water run, but not moving to put the jug they held in the other hand under it, frozen like a statue. They had tilted their head upwards, glassy-eyed, to listen to Joe’s playing through the ceiling, and Veronica watched a little smile start, and spread across their cheeks, and her heart melted like the ice cubes in the long-forgotten jug in Tia’s hand.

“Tia.”

They blinked rapidly, putting the jug under the water and looking at her.

“Oh. Hi. Is that …” they pointed upwards, and she nodded. 

“He does this all the time at home.”

“Oh, gorgeous.” Their voice was so quiet it was hard to hear over the water, now overflowing from the jug, and Veronica picked up the tray herself and headed up the stairs.

Part of her stomach was still knotted with nerves, unsure how this would work. After all, Joe and Tia were very very different on the surface with how they approached music and writing songs.

In reality though, Veronica had rarely seen Joe laugh as much as when Tia was up in the room, and Veronica loved how freely Tia danced around, spinning in circles, hooking arms with Veronica and laughing while Joe freestyled melodies for them both. Writing came so easily, so completely with the three of them together, as if they’d already been in a band together and were re-forming. Music flowed, words embraced the notes, song formed itself in a neat parcel.

By eight in the evening, they were exhausted, but not too exhausted to climb to the top floor, go out onto Tia’s rooftop balcony. It was still warm, July turning to August like day turned to night, and the humid air  

Joe stood at the far side, his lighter clicking and clicking as he tried and failed to light his cigarette he’d held off smoking until now. Tia and Veronica stayed at the front, gazed out at the river, tinted orange and blue by the waning sunlight in the sky, breathing in the warm air. 

“It was good, today, wasn’t it.”

She turned to Tia at their words, finding a solemn expression facing the horizon still, their teeth taking their bottom lip into their mouth. 

For one bizarre moment, Veronica pictured herself doing that to them, too. 

“It was … really lovely. Thank you.” She smiled, pushed the thought down. “I’m really happy with how well we all worked together.”

She glanced at Joe, still clicking his lighter, rapid frustrated noises.

“God, I wish we could do this more.”

“We could do this all the time. If you lived closer.”

Veronica snorted. “I can’t see myself being able to afford to live here any time soon.”

Tia made a noise in their throat. “Course you will. Once your career takes off. And it will.”

They didn’t look at her while they spoke, staring straight through the horizon as if seeing something in another universe that Veronica had yet to know.

She could guess though.

Eurovision was something that was watched by millions - no, hundreds of millions of people. It was more than a concert. It was a spectacle, an event, a religious experience for everyone watching. 

And because of that, it had the power to make her or break her. 

One wrong step, one flat note, one fall, one protester hurling eggs at her - and her entirely fragile career could be over before the clock struck midnight like some warped retelling of Cinderella. She’d probably lose her contract with the music label, she’d lose Divina, she’d lose any hope of signing somewhere else. Everything she was building upon, her singing career demolished from the very cornerstones.

But if she got it right …

Pride Challenge Points: 2285

[pureimaginefic]

Dmitri and Vinnie dragged Bradley from his room, their big hands tightly clamped around his arms. He struggled against them.

"Don't make this harder than it already is kid" Dmitri growled at him, he opened a door to another room and opened it.

They pitched Bradley inside "What does crazy papa Winchester want with me now?" he asked angrily.

"Let me go!" Neilson said struggling again Paulie and Ronnie "Let go of me!" he said still trying to wriggle himself free.

"Neilson" Bradley said, Neilson looked up at him.

"Bradley" he said as Ronnie and Paulie let go of him "Oh thank god" Neilson said throwing his arms around Bradley and squeezing him tightly, Bradley hugging him back."What'd they do to you?" Neilson asked noticing the bandage wrapped around his arm.

"They sliced my arm open" Bradley said to him.

"What? Why?" Neilson asked.

"Probably for his own sick amusement" Bradley said bitterly.

"You okay?" Neilson asked.

"It hurts like hell" Bradley said to him.

"Damien's dad gave me a piece of your shirt with blood all over it, I thought he killed you" Neilson said.

"What about you? He kept threatening to kill you if I didn't do what he wanted" Bradley asked.

"No, I'm alright" Neilson said to him.

"Thank you gentlemen, I can take it from here" Derek said coming into the room.

"No problem boss" Dmitri said as he and Vinnie left.

"Well well Bradley J. and Neilson...best friends together again" he said.

"What the hell do you want?" Neilson asked him "Why are we still here?" he asked.

“Oh I think I can answer that, uh it seems Damien’s whole ‘my daddy doesn’t love me’ act in court really got to his old man here” Bradley said to Neilson.

"So this is part of some stupid revenge plot?” Neilson asked.

“As annoying as he may be…Bradley’s right” Derek said to Neilson “This whole project is a gift to my son...I'm finally giving him what he's always wanted" Derek said to him. “You know Neilson I was moved by your testimony in court about how Bradley urged you to leave him to die but you wouldn’t” Derek said “Let's discuss that shall we?"

"What's to talk about? Damien raised the gun towards Neilson and fired, I pushed him out of the way and got shot" Bradley said to him.

"Are you all caught up now or do you need a minute?" Neilson asked.

Derek turned to look at him “You know you often hear the concept of taking a bullet for someone you love but you don't actually see it happen."

"Will you please just stop talking in riddles already and just tell us what you want?!" Bradley said to him irritated.

"I know one person who probably appreciated Bradley's act of greatness dearly...a pretty young girl named Natalie" he said as he moved behind them, they looked at each other nervously. "I see that got your attention…maybe I should send for her as well."

"NO!" they yelled at him.

“No you’re right I don’t need the extra trouble” he said. “So…Bradley…how close are you and Natalie exactly?” Derek asked.

“What?” Bradley asked.

"It’s a simple question.”

“I don’t know…we’re friends…what does that have to do with anything?” Bradley asked irritated.

“So you’ve never had any romantic feelings towards Miss Cappel?” Derek asked.

“What? No! She’s like my sister!”

"Oh you are such a wonderful liar."

"It's the truth!" Bradley said to him.

“What are you getting at here?” Neilson asked.

"You know Bradley last I checked best friends didn't keep secrets from each other" Derek said to him.

"Bradley…what is he talking about?" Neilson asked him.

"You want to tell him or should I? or better yet, I'll get my men to bring Natalie down here and she can sort all of this out..."

"No! Alright, fine, you win" Bradley said to him. Bradley groaned and took a deep breath “Okay” he said "It was a few months ago, before the shooting , you guys were going through a rough patch, you were fighting all the time" Bradley said. "You went out I guess to cool off or something and Nat came over looking for you"

"...and?" Neilson asked.

"I told her you weren't home and asked if she wanted to hang out until you got home, so we went upstairs to my room."

"Go on" Derek said in amusement.

“Shut up! I want to hear this” Neilson said to him angrily.

"It's not as bad as he's making it sound" Bradley said to him.

"What else happened?!” Neilson asked.

"We were sitting on the floor playing cards...we had a couple drinks and..."

"Oh my god...you slept with Nat?!" Neilson asked in disbelief.

"No! no! it didn't go that far!" Bradley said to him “It was one kiss that got a little physical…as soon as I realized what was happening I stopped it and told her to leave, that’s all!” Bradley said to him.

"So let me see if I understand this...my girlfriend and I are fighting, I go out to let off some steam and you decide it's a good time to invite her up to your room and make out with her?" Neilson asked.

"No!" Bradley said to him "No, it wasn't like that".

"Why didn't you tell me about this before?!"

"Because it was nothing!” Bradley said to him “It wasn’t worth upsetting you over!” he said.

“Oh Neilson…poor poor Neilson“ Derek sighed “Don’t you get it yet? You're just an obstacle in the way to what Bradley really wants, and that...is your girlfriend" Derek said.

"That is not true and you know it!" Bradley said to him "Neilson, don't listen to him! don't you see what he's doing? he's trying to turn us against each other" Bradley said to him.

"I don't...I don't know what to think right now" Neilson said.

A loud pounding came from outside "Boss, we got a problem" Dmitri said to Derek.

"Can this wait?" Derek asked.

"Your wife is outside" Dmitri said as Derek looked at him fearfully.

“Well boys, I had fun…Dmitri please see to it that Mr. Littrell and Mr. Carter get back to their rooms."

"Yes sir" he said as he left the room.

“Let’s go” Dmitri said pulling on Bradley’s arm.

“Wait” Bradley said.

“Neilson…please do not let that bastard into your head” Bradley said.

“Alright, that’s enough” he said pulling Bradley from the room.- "Shout at The Devil"; cn.10

[george-fabian-weasley]

Harry Potter — The One That Got Away

Summary: You died in the Battle of Hogwarts after pushing off Fred away from the wall, and Harry was beyond devastated. You were his First Love, and will always be.

Words: 7,440 words

Warnings: Angst, My best angst yet, Altered Storyline, Pure form of pain, I just wanna hug Harry in this one, neutral!reader, Death, Mentions of panic attack, Tissues Are Recommended

Disclaimer: This is my longest fic yet! 7.4K words of pure pain, wow. I’ve worked on this one for like idk 5 days? I recommend listening to The One That Got Away by Katy Perry, the lyrics inspired me so much for this one. Also, can you believe this is my first time writing a Harry fic? Crazy, I know! Enjoy the painful ride, fellas <3

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“Harry?”

Your voice echoed the room, making everyone’s heads turn to you. You heard the news of Harry, Ron, and Hermione returning to Hogwarts after months of disappearances, and the news was right. The group of people opened, and there he was, the boy you loved for almost three years now.

“Oh my god,” You muttered under your breath as you ran to him, Harry scooped you up easily as he dug his head on the crook of your neck instantly. You hugged him so tight, the tears in your eyes were starting to well, you never thought you would see him alive and well in front of you, but there he is right now, hugging you as if you were his last reason to live.

“I thought I would never see you again, wh-where have you been?!” You frantically ran your mouth, arms still wrapped tight on his body. “It doesn’t matter, oh Godric, I missed you so much.” Harry sighed out; his tense body relaxed immediately as you held him. You pulled away, hands cupping his face, “Are you alright, a-are you hurt?”

Harry smiled fondly at you, his hands cupping your face as well, “I’m fine, darling.”

“This is adorable and all, but we sort of having a situation now, if you mind?” Neville voiced out awkwardly. Harry quickly kissed your forehead and sent a glance to the crowd around you, “Right.”

Harry was quiet.

He couldn’t think of anything else than the moment he had arrived at Hogwarts a few hours ago. That was the first time he had seen you after months of hiding in the woods to find the Horcruxes.

He heard the news. And he refused to believe it. Being in denial, he ran to the Great Hall, his heart begging nonstop for the rumor to be false. Harry ran, and ran, and ran. He didn’t care that his legs were exhausted, he didn’t care about his heartbeat constantly increasing, all he cared about as of that moment was you.

Right at the end of the Great Hall, a group of dusty gingers huddled together, seemingly crying. The little voice in his heart now screaming for its life; not ready to know what were the Weasleys crying for.

His feet felt heavy, it felt like he has rocks tied with his shoes, but Harry forced himself to walk closer to them. Closer and closer, he found familiar faces contorted as they cry. From a distance he could make up George who was holding back Fred; the older twin was fighting to be let go, sobbing as he does so, begging to be near that someone laying on the floor.

Harry had never seen Fred cry before, the tall ginger always had a smile on his lips or a laugh of mischief, but never a frown, never tears rolling down his face. And that’s when Harry arrived, and Molly; Ron’s mum, hugged him tight, sobbing onto his shoulders, whimpering ‘I’m so sorry’s. He couldn’t hug her back, no, not when his eyes were frozen on the vision of you.

Laying on the ground, lifeless.

Instantly, his knees were weak. He kneeled beside you, the screaming of his heart had never sounded so deafening. Harry was beyond shocked; he couldn’t comprehend the vision in front of him.

All of this was too sudden for him to understand.

When Hermione let out a strangled cry of pain, Harry felt his heart was stabbed. “I shouldn’t have been near that wall! Y/N pushed me away and-and the wall started to fall, I’m-I’m sorry, Harry this is all my fault-“

Harry could hear Fred’s pained sobs saying the words, but he couldn’t digest it. His eyes were still trained to you. For a moment, he thought you looked angelic. As if you were just sleeping and, at any moment now, you would blink your eyes open and smile at him, saying, “Good morning, love.”

But you didn’t. And that’s when the dagger in his heart turns.

“Y/N.” The way your name rolls down his tongue felt weird. It felt strange because you would never respond to him calling you again. Harry’s trembling hands went down to cup your face, brushing away the specks of dust from your face.

“You’re- You’re cold, darling.” His voice was calm, but Harry knew that was the only thing that was at the moment. His whole body was trembling, his breaths were heavy, his eyes struggling to blink; as if… if he blinked, then you would vanish from his eyesight forever.

At that moment, Harry cared no longer about his environment, he didn’t hear Ron’s sobbing mess as he was hugging George, he didn’t hear Hermione’s screams of denial of her best friend’s death, he didn’t hear Fred’s cries of overbearing guilt.

Harry only heard his quivering breathing. He hadn’t noticed the tears welling up his eyes until a drop of his own tear fell onto your soft skin.

That’s when Harry Potter breaks.

“Wh-Why are you so cold?” Harry’s whimper silenced everyone. Hermione froze from her frantic breakdown, Ron looked to Harry with the sudden realization that he’s the one most hurting at the moment, and Fred minimized his cries to look at the pair.

“Why are you so cold, darling?” He cried again. Harry was breaking down, he was exhausted, the very people who loved him dead one by one, and you were his last straw. “Why are you leaving me, Y/N?” He whimpered against your stomach, clutching your clothes tightly as he tried his best to find your warmth. The shirt you were wearing started to get wet with his tears, it took Harry everything inside of him not to crumble right there and then.

His stomach hollowed as he realized, even in death, you were beautiful.

Harry didn’t know how much time he spent there, but as he opened his eyes, he realized he was standing in front of Dumbledore’s office. Numbly, he went inside. His thoughts were still preoccupied with you, but he has other matters in hand. No matter how much he wanted to stay there and lay beside you, the war was far from over. And the one-hour duration Voldemort gave them was running short.

When he walked out of the room, he was shaken. Not as shaken as he was of your death, but he was still shaken. Snape… was protecting him this whole time? Harry was snapped from his thoughts when he recognized two figures sitting on the end of the stairs. He took a deep breath as he walked closer to Ron and Hermione, who huddled together, hand in hand. Hermione looked to her back as she heard footsteps, quickly standing up as she realized it was Harry.

“Where you’ve been?” Her quiet voice echoed through the silent castle. “We thought you went to the forest,” Ron breathed out, worried. Harry walked past them, trying to look calm and stoic as he replied, “I’m going there now.”

“Are you mad?” Ron said in disbelief, his eyes followed the back of Harry. “No!” He said, desperation visible in his voice, “You can’t give yourself up to him.”

Ron’s words made Harry stop on his tracks. He looked down to the flights of staircases before him; exhaustion evident on his face. Upon looking at Harry’s back stiff, Hermione asked, “What is it, Harry? What is it that you know?”

Harry slowly turned around, looking at Hermione, his eyes silently begging her to give him a rest. “… There’s a reason I can hear them. The Horcruxes.”

He watched Hermione’s face dawned upon realization, “I think I’ve known for a while, and I think you have too.”

Hermione frowned, tears started to well up in her eyes, she didn’t want to lose another best friend, yet she knew, she had no choice. “I’ll go with you,” “No, kill the snake.” Harry was quick to object.

“Kill the snake and then it’s just him.” He said, watching Hermione silently cried.

She quickly came forward and embraced Harry into a hug, crying on his shoulders as she did. Harry hugged her back just as tight, he needed it. No one hugged him when he was crying at the Great Hall, everyone was fairly shaken at your loss. Harry connected eyes with Ron, who was silently protesting him on going to the forest alone, even if he knew nothing is stopping Harry now.

Harry pulled away, took one last look at Hermione before turning away, and walked down the stairs to the forest. During his way to the Forbidden Forest, nothing but you clouded his mind.

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“Heads up!” Harry heard someone shouted behind him and felt a body jumping on him, he oof-ed as he quickly grabbed the person’s legs, feeling their arms wrapping around his neck. He tilted his head and laughed as he saw you, giggling tremendously.

“Hello to you too, Y/N,” Ron said as he playfully rolled his eyes. Harry and Ron were walking in the hallways to their next class when you had spotted them from afar. Being the ball of energy you are, you hopped on Harry’s back to surprise him. He was definitely surprised, pleasantly even. “Good morning, Ronny!” You chirped as you ruffled the ginger’s hair, receiving a whine of disagreement from the Weasley. They kept on walking, Harry casually giving you a piggyback ride as he walked.

“Hello, handsome,” You whispered to his ear and kissed his cheek, making Harry chuckle with a blush on his cheeks, “Morning, love.”

“Where’s Hermione?” You asked, comfortably resting as Harry carried you, feeling the warmth of his body. Ron glanced at you snuggling on Harry’s shoulders and scoffed, “She’s at the library, studying as always.” You playfully rolled your eyes, “Oh, don’t say you’re jealous of us, Ron! Even so, I wouldn’t mind you being jealous, we are simply very sweet together, isn’t that right, Harry?”

“Yeah, Ron, maybe you can give Hermione a piggyback sometimes if you want it so terribly,” Harry remarked as you two laughed, and Ron flushed a deep red with a quiet, “Sod off, you two.”

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“Harry?” You said as you knocked on the door, worried. As you heard no response, you opened the door, seeing Harry laying on his bed, distressed. You quietly sighed as you walked closer until he noticed you and instantly groaned.

“If you’re here just to be mad at me, then Ron’s already doing it for you, Y/N.” He weakly said, feeling absolutely terrible. Just half an hour ago, he was forced to enter the Triwizard’s Tournament because of that stupid Goblet of Fire choking out his name at the last minute. “No, I’m not mad at you, Harry- why would I be? I’m just… worried about you.” You said quietly, sitting on the corner of his bed just beside his laying state.

Harry tilted his head to you, pursing his lips, “How did you get in here?” You shrugged, “The twins gave a hand if I’m being honest.” He huffed a small smile, “Of course they did.”

“But I’m not here to talk about the twins, Harry. I’m here to talk about you. Are you okay?” You spoke, slowly laying on his bed horizontally with your legs still touching the ground. Harry watched you lay down on his bed across him, he was also laying on his bed horizontally with his legs touching the ground, but in the opposite direction of you. He felt the position was very intimate and close, but Harry didn’t mind.

“… I don’t know, honestly. I didn’t put my name inside that bloody Goblet, and even if I did, I shouldn’t have been accepted, for Merlin’s sake, I’m underage! But Ron here thinks I’m out there hunting for fame again, which I absolutely do not want in the first place! Believe it or not-“

“I believe you, Harry.” Your soft voice took his ramblings to a halt. As he stared into your eyes, he could see the sincerity in your words, and he suddenly realized how pretty your eyes were.

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You were breath-taking. The whole world that was moving around Harry came to a halt as he watched you walked down the stairs in your beautiful outfit. The mustard yellow resembling the color of a sunflower made your skin glowing and if he’s being honest, he had never seen anyone more stunning in his life.

You were smiling at him, and he had never felt gladder asking you out as his date to the Yule Ball. “Hello, Potter.” You said, amused by his bewitched expression. Harry blinked and gave you a baffled smile, “Y-You look great, Y/N.” You shrugged, eyeing his black and white outfit playfully, “Not too bad yourself, Harry.”

He offered you his arm, suddenly remembering what McGonagall taught him a few days prior, “Shall we?” You chuckled at the sudden chivalry, and linked your arm with his, “Lead the way, kind sir.”

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“No, Y/N, I won’t let you!”

Harry had pulled you away from the room full of people to talk to you alone. You sighed as you cupped his face, “Harry, darling, my love, we don’t have much time. The Order needs me to help you.” He shook his head, adamant with his decision, “You don’t know how many Death Eaters are out there, Y/N. What- What if you get hurt? What if you die, just like Sirius? I-I can’t-“

“Harry!” You said loudly, snapping him out of his overthinking rambles. He was looking down, trying hard to control his tears, frowning. “Harry, look at me.” You said softly, he kept his head down.

“Look at me, darling.” You said again, tilting his head so he can see you. His eyes were glassy, he was terrified, and your heart sunk for your lover. He had never wanted all of this attention, yet he had it, and the burden on his shoulders was terribly heavy.

“I am going nowhere. I promise you; I will come home to you safe and sound. I love you, Harry, and I will never, ever leave you.” You pressed word by word slowly, letting him hear every syllable coming out of your mouth.  You engulfed him in a hug, and Harry quietly cried on your shoulders, holding the back of your head tightly. Your body had always managed to keep him warm, and Harry calmed down soon after.

He pressed a kiss on your forehead, lingering there for a minute, muttering only loud enough for you to hear, “You better come back to me safely, darling. I love you so much.”

“And I will, Harry.”

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“Hello, handsome.” Harry turned around to see you with a casual, but still pretty outfit. The lilac color looks amazing on you and he smiled fondly, pecking your lips, “Hello, beautiful.”

You smiled brightly at him, “Come on.” He raised his eyebrows at you suddenly pulling him to the dance floor, from a distance, Harry could see Bill and Fleur enjoying their wedding reception, both have a large smile on their faces.

He chuckled at your bright demeanor, “You know I can’t dance, Y/N.” You scrunched your nose and adorably shook your head, “Nonsense, everyone can dance.” He let himself be dragged to the dance floor, glancing at his surrounding, his smile widening at the sight of his two best friends dancing with each other, obvious lovestruck expression hits both of their faces.

“Remember the steps, darling?” Your sweet voice made him turn his attention back to you, his heartwarming and his stiff body eases at the sight of you having a good time. You guided his hand to place itself at your waist, and his other hand intertwined to yours lightly.

“I may have forgotten some steps,” Harry warned, and you laughed loudly making Harry’s heart soar to the sky at the sound of your laugh. As you calmed down, you locked eyes with him, your wide smile reduced to a soft one, “Nothing I couldn’t handle before.”

As you two danced to the slow, elegant beat, Harry had never felt more at peace. With his life constantly on the run, this very moment was worth more than gold to him. “Y/N,” he whispered, his eyes never ran away from you.

“Yes, Harry?” You replied, a smile still plastered on your face. “I know we’re in a middle of a mess right now, and while it doesn’t look like it’s getting any better, I was- uhm- wondering, after all of this, and given the opportunity that we both will still be alive-“ “Which we will,” You interjected, and he huffed a smile, “Which we will,” He repeated, looking bashful.

“Would you like to marry me?”

He watched you scoff in disbelief, your expression etched shock all over. “Oh my goodness, are you literally proposing right now?” You whispered at him, and Harry rolled his eyes playfully, “Obviously, if not I wouldn’t have said that.”

Harry chuckled at your scoffing again, this time it felt playful. Before you could say anything, Harry continued,  “I know we’re both still young and we literally haven’t finished school yet, but I just… I can’t really see myself marrying anyone else but you. You… You light up my life like no other and your hugs are the best and you make me smile whenever you look at me and-“

Harry halted on his ramblings when he realized your eyes were slowly turning glassy. His smile softens and his hand reached to cup your face, “And with you by my side, I have nothing else to wish for. I love you, Y/N, even more than you love me.”

You sniffed, leaning on to his calloused hand and pressed a kiss on it, “You’re not being fair, you know?”

“How so, darling?”

“You’re proposing without a ring, you doofus.” You both chuckled, and Harry leaned in kissing you. You kissed back passionately. The kiss was slow and sensual, both of you wanted to savor this moment. And the moment you pulled away; you gave him a beautiful smile.

“And even without a ring, I would say yes.”

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Harry had arrived. Already deep inside the forest, his expression was solemn. Harry was numb, he couldn’t feel anything, nothing at all.

Nothing, but the hollowing in his stomach whenever he was reminded of you. He halted on his steps, breathing through his mouth as he looked to his back, the view of almost destroyed Hogwarts was hazy. He looked back to the front, knowing that just a few steps forward, will be Voldemort and his clan, waiting for his arrival.

Harry was reminded of the Snitch inside his pocket, and so he fished it out and watched as the golden carving on the Snitch magically appeared.

‘I Open at the Close’

Harry held out a breath, now understanding the riddle completely. In his mind were flashes of his memories with you, with Ron and Hermione, with the Weasleys, with his family.

And so, with a somehow light heart, Harry said, “I’m ready to die.”

‘If it means that’s what it takes to see you again, then I’m ready, my love.’ Sang his heart quietly. Harry slowly placed the snitch on his lips, closing his eyes as he felt the cold surface touched his skin. As he inched away, the Snitch opens slowly one layer, then two layers, revealing a small diamond-shaped stone.

The small stone was hanging around the air, levitating itself. Harry recognized it; he hadn’t realized he had his breath paused.

“The Resurrection Stone.” He whispered under his breath as he slowly put his open palm under the floating object. He grasped it, and instantly closing his eyes, his mind was fast to imagine several people without him realizing it.

And when he opened his eyes, there they were.

James, Lily, Sirius, and Remus.

Lily was right in front of him. As soon as she reached her arm out, Harry walked closer to her, with his own arm reaching out, desperate to touch his mother he hadn’t seen for many years.

When his own hand went through hers, Harry felt his heart crack for the nth time of the day.

“You’ve been so brave, sweetheart,” Lily’s melodic voice traveled to his ears, and Harry had never realized how much he missed her until he heard her voice. “Why are you here?” He asked, feeling breathless.

“All of you.” Harry turned to his father, James for a moment before turning back to Lily, whose gentle smile never left her lips, “We never left.”

Harry found himself nodding, gulping at the sudden new emotions he had never thought he would feel again once he had seen you at the Hall. His eyes darted to Sirius; his godfather he had tragically lost, and with a shaky voice Harry asked, “Does it… Does it hurt?”

“Dying?”

Sirius’s face was calm. With a casual voice, Harry’s godfather replied with a whisper, “Quicker than falling asleep.”

“You’re nearly there, son,” James voiced out, making Harry turn to him. “I’m sorry. I never wanted any of you to die for me.” Harry spoke heavily, his heart heavy; drenched with overbearing guilt.

“And Remus, your son-“ Harry’s words were cut off by the former professor, “Others will tell him what his mother and father died for. One day, he’ll understand.” Remus’ comforting voice was somber in Harry’s ears. Having nothing to say, Harry turned his attention back to his dear mother, whose smile never left.

And he turned to his father, “You’ll stay with me?”

James looked endearingly to his grown-up son, his smile gently etched on his lips, “Until the end.”

“And he won’t be able to see you?” Harry asked again, the desperate tone in his voice were visible.

“No,” Sirius said, “We’re here, you see,” His hand ghostly reached to Harry’s left chest; his heart. And Harry remembered his words a few years ago, “The ones that love us never really leave us.”

Harry gulped, there was a question itching at the back of his throat. As if knowing what he meant, Lily voiced out, “You’ll see them soon, Harry.”

His head whipped to her, his heartbeat quickening at the mention of you, “What’s that supposed to mean? Where is Y/N? Why aren’t they here?”

“Soon, Harry, soon,” Sirius said, and Harry calmed down. He was aching to see you, even if it was his imagination of you and he couldn’t touch you. He heaved a deep breath, “Stay close to me.”

“Always.”

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“Harry Potter,” Harry heard the voice of Voldemort saying his name. He had come forward to Voldemort and his clan of Death Eaters, not forgetting to glance at a disheveled Hagrid, who was heartbroken to see the boy he once saved from the Dursleys six years ago had shown up.

“The Boy Who Lived… Come to die.”

Harry was silent, he knew he had no choice as of this moment. The giant snake, Nagini had slithered closer to its master. And Harry watched as Voldemort raised the Elder Wand, aiming at him, and the boy closed his eyes. His lips curled into a little smile, for the last image he saw as he closed his eyes… was you. Smiling.

And with the shout of an Unforgivable Curse recited, coming along with it were glowing colors of green, everything was white.

And Sirius was right.

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

Harry woke up breathing heavily. His first vision was a white ceiling. He quickly stood up and looked at his surroundings.

Everything was white. Everything looks clean and… bright.

Harry turned to his back, suddenly noticing a bench a few steps away from him. It was white and there was something beneath it and-

There was something beneath it.

Without much thinking, Harry walked closer to the creature, his mind running a million questions that had yet to be answered. Harry couldn’t quite see what the creature was, so he crouched down to see and when he did, he flinched away rather quickly.

There, under the bench, was a small human-like creature, hugging itself as if it was shivering from the cold. It’s almost like seeing a small skeleton with just skin, no meat at all, and Harry was baffled as he recognized who the creature resembled like.

Voldemort.

“You can’t help, Harry…“

Harry instantly looked up at the sudden voice. His mouth gaped open at the sight of Professor Dumbledore walking closer to him. “… You wonderful boy, you brave, brave man.” Dumbledore said, a small prideful smile on his lips.

For a moment, Harry was astonished. He had seen this very man before him, get thrown off the Astronomy Tower by none other than Snape himself, and now he’s here, standing before him.

“Let us walk,” Dumbledore said, turning his back to Harry and started walking. Instinctively, Harry followed him with so many questions itching on his throat. He walked as he tilted his head to the bench with the questionable creature underneath.  “Professor, what is that?” He asked, his eyes trained on the creature. Dumbledore turned back too, only to reply, “Something beyond either of our help. A part of Voldemort sent here to die.”

“And exactly where are we?” Harry asked again, and they continued walking. “I was gonna ask you that,” Dumbledore nonchalantly said as he continued, “Where would you say where we are?”

Harry looked around, “Well, it looks like King’s Cross station. Only cleaner,” He paused, ‘So much cleaner it has no color,’ he thought. “… And without all the trains.”

“King’s Cross, is that right?” Dumbledore chimed, “This is, as they say, your party.”

“I expect you now realize that you and Voldemort,” Harry looked up to the tall man, “Have been connected to something other than fate. Since that night at Godric’s Hollow all those years ago.” Dumbledore said solemnly.

“… So it’s true then, sir.”

“A part of him lives within me, doesn’t it?” Harry questioned, and Dumbledore chuckled, “Did.”

“It’s been just destroyed many moments ago by none other than Voldemort himself. You,” Dumbledore paused, looking at the 17-year-old beside him, “Were the Horcrux he never meant to make, Harry.”

As they walked, they came across another bench and Dumbledore decided to sit on it, and Harry followed suit.

“I have to go back, haven’t I?” Harry asked, and Dumbledore quickly replied, “Oh, that’s up to you.”

“I’ve a choice?” “Oh yeah!” The old man chirped, looking around, “We’re in King’s Cross, you say?”

“I think if so decide, you’ll be able to board a train.”

“And where will it take me?” Harry asked again. Dumbledore only chuckles, he turned to look at the young boy before him, “On.”

Dumbledore stood up and began to walk away. Harry was baffled, “Professor!” The man turned around, “Yes?” “Where are you going?” He said, and Dumbledore chuckled yet again, “My time with you is over, boy. That lovely fellow wants to talk to you now. Very impatient, they were.”

Dumbledore nodded to something behind him, and Harry had never turned around so quickly. He was breathless, he had never thought he would feel his heartbeat increasing again, but it did.

Because it was you.

You were wearing a simple white outfit, if anything it was the simplest outfit he had seen you in. But you managed to look ethereal to him, never less resembling an angel from the Heaven itself. If so, more beautiful than an angel.

“Missed me, Potter?” You said with a bright smile. Harry couldn’t say anything, he was dumbfounded and he couldn’t even utter a word.

So he engulfed you in a hug tightly.

“Oof! Now that’s a bit sudden, isn’t it?” You teased, chuckling at your boyfriend hugging the life out of you. Well, if you had any more to spend anyway. Regardless of the tease, you hugged him back just as tight. Just when you hugged him back, Harry’s knees turned weak and you slowly guided him down to sit on the floor, still hugging the boy you love with all your heart.

Just then, Harry who had been quiet for a moment broke a sob.

You etched a sad smile on your lips, caressing the back of his head the way he liked it, “… I shook you too much, didn’t I?”

Harry couldn’t say anything, he dug his face into the crook of your neck, crying loudly without any embarrassment now, “I’m- I’m sorry, Y/N… This-This is all my fault you shouldn’t- you shouldn’t have to-“

“Hey, hey… “ You cooed, softly pulling away from him so you could wipe away his tears. “Shh… Stop blaming yourself, darling. It’s a war, and a war isn’t your fault, Harry.” You softly said, reaching in to kiss both of his eyes.

“I’m so tired, Y/N… I’m so tired…” Harry whimpered, more tears rolling down like a broken dam. He had lost you a few hours ago, but he felt like he had lost you for years.

“Let-Let me stay with you, Y/N, please…” Harry softly begged, his face was cupped with your hands. You felt your heartbreak at the vulnerability he shown you. While it wasn’t the first time Harry had been vulnerable in front of you, this time it was completely different.

“While that isn’t such a bad offer, the war isn’t over, Harry. If there’s anyone who could kill Voldemort, then it’s you, darling.” Despite your tries on convincing him, Harry shook his head, “I don’t want to be the Chosen One anymore! I’m so tired… of everything… I lost my parents, I lost Sirius and now I lost you! I have no one else to live for, Y/N…”

He leaned his head into the crook of your neck, and you two sat there quietly, your fingers playing softly with his neat brown locks.

You shook your head, “You know that’s not true, Harry. Ron and Hermione are still out there, waiting for you. Fred and George too, once they’ve stopped crying over me, that is,” You chuckled, and Harry felt his lips curled up a bit, his eyes slowly closing at the sound of your voice gently lullabying him to sleep.

“And Molly and Arthur… And Ginny, and you know, the rest of Hogwarts.” Harry softly kissed your neck, snuggling a bit further into your neck, your head gently leaning on his, “But I’ve got nothing to kill him with… Voldemort has the Elder Wand… and the snake is still alive.” He softly said, his urge to cry had lessened as he found warmth and comfort being with you, as always.

It pained him a bit that, this could be the last time he could feel you.

“You saw Professor Dumbledore just now, right?” You felt him nod and you smiled, “Well, he told me this before we went to meet you, just in case you’re feeling helpless. Which you are,” You both chuckled.

“Help will always be given at Hogwarts, to those who deserve it. And he said…” You trailed off, noticing Harry’s breaths got gentler and his head felt heavy on your crook of neck. You smiled sadly, kissing his forehead softly, lingering there for a while to cherish the moment.

“And he said what..?” Harry asked slowly, his eyes slowly felt heavy, your heartbeat was gentle, and he felt so calm. He smiled softly at the feeling of your lips on his forehead, “And he said… Do not pity the dead. Pity the living… And above all, all those who live without love.” You finished, your voice was slowly volumed down to a whisper.

“Y/N…” Harry mumbled with his eyes closed, feeling his consciousness slowly slipping away, “Is this all real? Or is it just happening inside my head?”

You chuckled at his question, “Why, of course, it’s happening inside your head, Harry…”  You trailed off, feeling that your short time with Harry is about to end by the looks of him slowly slipping into sleep, “Why should that mean, that it’s not real?”

Harry was asleep now, and right before he went unconscious, his ears heard the last words you said to him, “In another life, I would be your love, Harry. We’d keep all our promises, and it’ll only be us against the world…”

“I love you, always and forever, my darling.”

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

The rest came out as a blur. Harry had killed Voldemort, with the help from Neville who slashed the giant snake with the sword of Gryffindor, and the war was finally… over.

While Harry was glad that the war was over, he couldn’t feel happy. He still lost you. He had lost a lot of people, and sometimes Harry wondered if their deaths were even worth it.

Two weeks after the Second Wizarding War had ended, was your funeral. Everyone was there, the professors, your friends, your family, even some house elves to pay their respects. Harry was- unfortunately- in charge of doing a speech at your funeral, and he despised it, even when he felt the need to do so, nevertheless.

There he was, standing on a podium, looking to the crowd who had come for you. “Hello everyone, thank you so much for coming today.” He started, the nervousness inside of him was astounding.

“As you all know, Y/N and I have a very special relationship. Almost everyone in Hogwarts knows how close we were, platonically and romantically. Y/N was my best friend, my lover, and I could bravely say, the one who I could see spending the rest of my life with.”

Sad smiles spread across the room, and Harry couldn’t help but etch a sad smile to himself.

“Y/N died saving lives and defeating the bad, and the fact that they did it with no hesitation speaks volumes of their personality. Y/N was brave, kind-hearted, humorous, and humble. They were fierce, and they knew when to stand up for what’s right and say what was wrong. Y/N was simply… amazing.”

Hermione was already crying on Ron’s shoulder and Fred was looking down guiltily. Harry sighed quietly, he had told Fred it was none of his fault that Y/N died, but he still blamed himself for it.

“And being the amazing person they are, they wouldn’t want us to blame ourselves. They wouldn’t want us to feel bad for them, they would want us to smile whenever we remember our moments with them.” Harry said, trying to calm himself down as he felt a lump on his throat starting to grow.

“I remember a quote from my late godfather, Sirius Black, a few years ago. He said,” Harry paused, clearing his throat to ease the dull aching in his heart.

“The ones that love us never really leave us. And you can always find them…” Harry brought his hand to his heart, smiling with glassy eyes, “In here.”

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

It was hard.

It was hard to live without you.

He would wake up screaming during the middle of the night, the memories of him finding you in the Great Hall had rewinded inside his dreams every single night. While staying together with the Weasleys at the Burrow helped him a lot with his recovery, the nightmares had become so constant that Ron had to cast a ‘Muffliato’ charm to their shared bedroom every night to not disturb anyone else.

And being the great friend he is, Ron would always wake up and comfort Harry, lending him his shoulder when Harry needed to cry. He would accompany Harry to the kitchen, to get a mug of warm tea and talk about the dream, or in some days, just sit together quietly at the patio, watching the sun rises as it does every day.

Every morning as Molly walked down to the kitchen to prepare breakfast, she wouldn’t forget to see Harry and Ron already being there, talking to each other quietly. And she wouldn’t forget to kiss their heads along with a motherly ‘Good Morning’ each time before she started. They would accompany her while she cooks, sometimes Harry would lend her a hand to make himself busy.

A few weeks into their routine, Fred slowly joins them in.

The first time Molly walked down and expected two heads already in the kitchen but came to see three, Molly had engulfed Fred in a tight hug as she cried on his chest. She kissed his cheeks repeatedly afterward, receiving a playful groan from Fred and chuckles from her two other sons.

A day at the Burrow was never dull. There was always something to do. Cleaning the house, de-gnoming the garden, feeding the pigs and cows, cleaning the barn, watering the flowers, fixing the leaking ceilings, and Harry’s favorite, playing Quidditch at the front yard.

Sometimes he would join the twins and Ginny, sometimes he would sit back and watch the game, and sometimes he would just stay in his room, watching the game from the window.

When those days came, he would spend the entire time reliving his memories with you. Harry could remember the first few weeks when he stayed at the Burrow; he went into a panic attack when he realized he had forgotten some of his memories with you. He felt like he couldn’t breathe then, he felt his chest constricting his lungs. Molly had to brew him a heavy calming potion to stop him from wailing your name with tears strolling down his face.

Ever since that incident, Harry had kept every single memory he had with you into tubes, his memories forming into glowing blue strings with the help of his wand. He had the tubes labeled, every single one of them.

‘Y/N riding a broom at First Year’

‘First Hogsmeade Date’

‘Yule Ball’

‘Christmas at the Burrow’

‘First Kiss’

‘Our Last Hug’

Harry had thought the action was too much, but he couldn’t help it. Even if his lips were smiling and his eyes were crinkling in laughter, he found himself missing you at every second. The Weasleys had become his family for years at this point, and the Burrow had become his home.

But somehow, only you and he knew your true homes are each other.

During Christmas, Andromeda Tonks would come by with little Teddy, Harry’s godson. While Andromeda would spend time with Arthur and Molly, Harry would spend as much time as he could with Teddy. He finds himself and Teddy to be very similar, losing their parents at a young age.

And Harry had sworn to himself not to let Teddy relive the life he once had before Hogwarts. In some way, he had seen Teddy as your honorary replacement. While nothing could ever replace you in his life; he had sworn the first and last person he’d propose to be you, Teddy filled his heart like no other.

Before he knew it, Harry had reached his 20s. He had grown significantly better from mourning you every second to smiling gently whenever your name was mentioned. He moved away from the Burrow, purchasing a cottage at Godric’s Hollow with the money he was inherited, with Ron as his housemate.

“Uncle Harry! Wake up, wake up, wake up!” Harry groaned as a tiny body jumped on his bed, disrupting his sleep. He sleepily looked at the alarm clock, groaning once again at the little child he had agreed to stay with him over the summer, “Teddy, it’s 8 am, let Uncle Harry sleep…”

He heard the five-year-old whine in disagreement, “But Uncle Harry! You promised me we could go to Uncle Fred and Uncle George’s shop today!” Harry oof-ed as Teddy jumped on his body, sprawling on him, the little’s tousled hair glowed bright ginger.

Harry couldn’t help but chuckle, hugging the child on his chest playfully, “What I promised was we’ll go to the shop after we visited St. Mungos to visit Uncle Fred’s new-born baby, Teddy.”

The boy pouted, “The same thing… Ooh! Can we have pancakes?” Teddy was fast to change the subject, and Harry laughed in amusement. He sat up, still hugging the little boy, and kissed him on the cheek, “Alright, alright. Let me shower first. Wait- Where’s Uncle Ron?”

“Aunt Hermione had come over early to steal him away. She said she wants to have a breakfast date with him.” Teddy said innocently and Harry rolled his eyes, “Of course she did.”

“Oh, Uncle Harry?” Teddy chirped, following Harry here and there across the cottage like a baby duck. “Yes, Teddy?” Harry replied, drinking from a bottle of water stored in the fridge.

“I tinkled the bed again.”

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

“Oh Harry, it’s so nice to see you after so long!” Molly gushed and gave him a warm hug as Harry and Teddy arrived in St. Mungos by the Floo Powder. Harry smiled warmly at the woman, “I’ve missed you too, Molly.”

Everyone was there, even Ron and Hermione. “Really, Mione? The least you could do is tell me.” Harry chuckled as he came over to hug the girl who laughed slightly. “Well I did, I told Teddy to tell you.” She said, hugging the little boy hello afterward.

George then appeared from the ward, “Come on lads, the baby’s awake now.”

The group walked into the private ward Fred had arranged for his wife. He had met her when she first moved into Diagon Alley, with her flower shop just across the Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes about a year ago. Fred found comfort in her immediately, you could say it was love at first sight for both of them.

In an instant, there were coos and awes spreading across the ward. In Fred’s arm, was a baby bundled up in purple cloth with a beanie on its head, eyes were blinking slowly, and a tiny hand was holding Fred’s index finger. Right beside him, was his wife sitting up on the bed, looking rightfully exhausted.

“Oh, Fred, the baby’s lovely!” Fleur gushed as she hugged Fred’s wife hello. The woman was beautiful, black long hair with a striking pair of hazel eyes. If Harry had remembered correctly, her name was Lara.

“Is it a boy or a girl?” Ron asked, and Fred gently smiled, his eyes never left his precious child, “It’s a girl.”

Fred softly removed the beanie from his daughter’s head, and the crowd’s smile widened at the sight of the famous ginger hair. “At least we know she’s really a Weasley now,” George joked, and they chuckled.

“Uncle Harry, up, up,” Teddy said as he lifted his arms to Harry, and Harry lifted him to let him see. Teddy saw the baby, and her striking orange hair, he giggled and without him knowing, his hair turned to ginger as well.

They laughed again, and Harry playfully gasped, “Teddy’s a Weasley? Oh my,” He said, tickling the child’s belly, and Teddy giggled.

“Wanna know what her name is?” Fred asked, and attention went to him again. “Hurry up then, don’t leave us hanging,” Ginny remarked playfully, expecting Fred to roll his eyes but instead, his smile widened.

“Everybody, please welcome, my daughter; Charlotte Y/N Weasley.”

Harry snapped his eyes from the baby to Fred, and the tall ginger sent him a knowing smile with tear-filled eyes. “Fred had wanted to name her Y/N for a while now, he said they saved his life.” Lara softly said, speaking for her husband.

The crowd was quiet until Molly came forward and hugged her son, “I love it,” She whispered, fearing if her voice got any louder, the trembling in it would sound so loud.

“This way, they’ll be with us, always.” Fred huffed laughter, trying so hard not to cry. Harry had mirrored his expression; tears were starting to fill his eyes. “I feel like Charlotte’s not going to be her name around the house now,” Hermione said, chuckling as she wiped the happy tears away.

Ron snickered, “Bet Charlotte’s her middle name now,” And the crowd erupted in laughter. Harry couldn’t laugh, his eyes were trained to the new-born whose name is now after you.

“What do you think, Harry?” Fred asked, smiling knowingly at the longing expression Harry had.

Harry was feeling a lot of things. It has been more than 3 years since you passed, and he hadn’t forgotten you ever since. He had told Teddy fun facts about you ever since the summer started, and he had seen you in his dreams smiling lately. For some reason, he didn’t feel sad at all, he was elated at the sight of young Charlotte Y/N in front of him.

Already knowing that she’s going to grow up as an amazing person, he gave Fred a bright smile as he said,

“She’s wonderful.”

[hillnerd]

Waking up- Chapter 6 - Touch

AO3     FFN       Beginning of story | Previous Chapter   word count 9064

Here is the second part of chapter 5- I split them because it was going LONG. So it's still Hermione's POV. Previously in ‘Waking Up’:

Hermione gets ready for going out to a club & is anxious

She got ready w/ Fleur, Ginny, Angelina - Bonds w/ Fleur

Ron's not up for club either, but he does not reveal why

The entire group consists of the Weasley siblings (minus Percy), Lee, Angelina, Hermione, harry

It's a jolly good time despite  ptsd acting up for Hermione- Until it's NOT a good time, and George grabs a mic and is threatening people with his wand.

Chapter warnings: cursing, intense emotions, drunkenness', fighting, reference to a dead character, somewhat explicit sex scene

CHAPTER 6- TOUCH

Panic seared through every nerve in her body. Ron was willfully standing in front of a sparking wand, and no one could do a thing to stop it - not legally anyway. 

Ron stared the wand down, saying something she couldn’t hear from across the crowded bar, and the mic couldn’t pick up. She clawed her way out from the corner booth, waking Harry in the process, but by the time she’d crawled out from behind the table George’s wand arm had slowly fallen to his side. 

“Fine... Fucking fine…” George’s voice echoed across the bar. “You’re all a bunch of useless arseholes.” 

With that, George handed over the mic, escorted away with a bunch of people applauding as the music resumed. Ron, Angelina and Lee followed as the bouncer manhandled George then bodily dropped him off in a chair next to Ginny. 

“When the tab is paid, get his arse out of here,” the bouncer growled at Ron before pointing a meaty finger at George. “He’s fucking banned.”

George handed over a wad of cash to Lee, who went to pay the tab.

All eyes turned to George.

“What?” He had a grin on his face, but his tone was sharp and eyes dead. “Did I say something that wasn’t true?”

“You said a lot, alright,” Angelina muttered. “You’re lucky Ron convinced them not to call Muggle law enforcement on you.”

George shot Ron a vicious scowl, but didn’t say anything. Ron had a carefully blank look on his face.

Lee returned from the bar, the bouncer behind him.

“Time we get going.”

They began their journey back to the hotel, pairing off, with the more sober partners keeping the more inebriated of their group from walking into traffic. Harry was ridiculously unsteady on his feet. Ginny couldn’t keep him upright and he nearly tripped over a passerby. Ron took over for Ginny, and Harry was very maudlin in his drunkenness.

“You’re my best friend,” he pronounced to Ron. “In the whole world, you know that?”

“Yep, thanks Harry.”

“You’re special. I know you sometimes don’t think you are, but you are. That locket didn’t know a thing.”

Hermione nearly tripped over, hearing the locket mentioned. She wasn’t sure what Harry meant, though. How could the locket have known anything? It was just an evil locket that drained people’s happiness and made them angry. It hadn’t shown any signs of sentience. Neither had the cup.

“Shut up, Harry” warned Ron, giving Harry a jostle. 

“And sorry I love your sister. I couldn’t help it!” 

She supposed the mention of the locket was just as nonsensical as everything else Harry was saying. She pulled Ron’s jacket that went nearly to her knees closer around herself, trying to ignore the ringing in her ears.

Ginny gave a laugh at Harry’s antics. She had drunk significantly more than Hermione, but somehow she wasn’t unsteady on her feet at all. Despite her amusement over Harry, Ginny’s eyes kept darting to George. 

“Maybe we could dart into that corner shop, they’ll have booze,” George said, making a beeline that was curtailed by Ron leaving Harry at a lamppost and standing in his way.

“Let’s just get back to your hotel.”

“Fuck off, Ron! No one asked you!”

George had enough to drink to make him mean, and enough to nearly trip into the gutter. Ron caught him before he fell.

George bodily shrugged him off.

Hermione kept attempting to catch eyes with Ron, but he was too busy determinedly watching George and keeping Harry from walking into drainpipes. 

They finally reached George’s hotel. He keyed them into his room then immediately sat on the bed, arms crossed as he glared out the window. 

Ron deposited the unsteady Harry at the table, and Hermione happily took the other seat, her headache now piercing.

“I want to get out of here,” said Ginny as she leaned against a wall.

“Anyone sober enough to Apparate?” asked Angelina.

“I’m sober. I can side-along each of you where you need to go” said Ron, though he looked a bit peaky. “Then I can come back to stay with George.”

“I can stay here a bit longer to hang with George,” Lee said, a genial smile on his face that ignored the series of blanches after his comment. Not even the most drunk of them was under the impression he was staying just to hang out instead of monitor. 

“I can stay too,” volunteered Angelina.

Ron shook his head. “You don’t have to. I know you both have work tomorrow.”

“That’s kind of you, Ron,” Angelina answered for them.

“Oh yeah, Ronnie the fucking hero” George groused, a mean look on his face. 

“Damn, George,” said Lee with a shake of his head. 

“I don’t need tending, and I don’t need you lot talking about me like I’m not here! I’m fine!”

“Look,” Ron began. “We both know—”

“Just what is it we both know?” asked George, rising from his bed.

“That you’re being an arsehole,” Ginny supplied, and no one corrected her.

“Well sorry I’m not all fun and fucking rainbows, everyone!” spat George, throwing his hands in the air.

“No one’s asking for that!” Ron protested. “We just don’t want you pissed and getting in trouble.” “Oh give it a fucking rest,” George snapped, poking Ron in the chest.  Tents and rain and friends fighting filled Hermione’s mind. Her wand. She needed her wand! Hermione rifled through her beaded bag trying to find it.

 “I’m tired of having you in my face all the time! I’ve never wanted you around before, so why the fuck would you think I want you around now? It’s like you enjoy being an annoying arsehole.”

“Oh yeah. I’m here for the enjoyment of it,” Ron said with a snort. “I get to keep my drunk older brother from getting arrested, keep him from eating shit in the gutter, and get treated like shit for it. A perfect evening, really.”

“I never asked for your help! I don’t want it!”  

“Well someone has to pick up the pieces when you keep fucking up.” 

“For fuck’s sake, get out of my room!” George bellowed, looking perilously close to punching Ron. 

“No! I’m not letting you fuck up again!” Ron yelled back, red in the face. “After everything, it doesn’t matter if you’re an arse, family’s—”

Hermione’s hands shook as she scraped through the contents of her bag, unable to find her wand in the cavernous space. Useless. She was useless.

“Fuck off!” George seethed, looking like a cornered animal.

“No! After everything, family’s all we have and we have to be there for one another!” 

“Like you were for Fred when he got fucking crushed to death?” George jeered. An explosion of protestations burst forth, but he ignored them all, eyes glinting in a mix of anger and anguish. He let out a horrible rough sound that bordered between laughter and crying. 

Hermione desperately scrabbled in her bag, fingers grazing everything but her damned wand! 

“Why couldn’t that wall have fallen a few feet to the left and taken you out instead of Fred?”

There was a crash and Harry’s chair was on the floor he had stood up so abruptly.

“Don’t you talk to him like that!’ Harry cried out, moving toward George, his wand pulled. Angelina and Lee quickly got in his way, as Ron stood still, and his expression shuddered. 

Something like regret flickered across George’s face. He took a step towards his brother, but gave a yell as an orange curse hit him and he stumbled back into the bathroom. 

All faces turned to the source of the spell. There stood Ginny, cold fury burning in her eyes. She gave another wave of her wand that slammed the door shut.

“Ginny, you can’t do magic outside of school yet!” Hermione squealed, fingers finally grasping her wand, though far too late to be of any help. 

“Worth it,” replied Ginny.  Hermione couldn’t very well disagree. She’d never thought she could dislike George Weasley so much. “Let’s get out of here. I can’t stand to look at him.”

Ron gave a sigh, and leaned his head against the bathroom door frame. “I guess I need to get you all home, then I’ll come back and— ”

“No, I’ll stay here.” Angelina put a staying hand up. “He’s been a right bastard to you and you don’t have to put up with it.”

“But—”

“We’ve got him,” said Lee, putting a hand on Ron’s shoulder. Ron opened his mouth as if to argue, then gave a sigh.

“And you’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything?”

They nodded.

“Then… Then I’ll get everyone home.”

One by one Ron apparated Harry, Ginny and Hermione home - he was too tired to apparate multiple people at a time reliably. They silently walked from their apparition point to the Burrow’s living room.

Ron busied himself pouring glasses of water for them, while the rest of them watched. Harry looked baleful, but was unable to say anything and Ginny was silently crying. This left Hermione, and she felt woefully underqualified to even begin to breach the hurt Ron had faced. The one solace was that Harry and Ginny seemed equally unable to come up with comforting words to say to Ron.

Ron saved Harry and Ginny the trouble by dismissing them to bed.  Harry tottled over to Ron and gave him a long-lasting hug mumbling something about him being Harry’s brother. Ginny gave him a hug about the middle as well, before helping the still wobbly Harry up the stairs to bed.

Ron let out a sigh and collapsed on the couch.

“Next time I’m tempted to go out, remind me of tonight,” he muttered, throwing an arm across his face. “Especially if there’s George and drinking involved…”

His breathing shook the tiniest bit. 

She’d never been very good at emotions. Her own would take over and she’d let her temper turn her into a veritable harpy. Other people’s emotions were just as difficult for her to handle. She worked so hard to learn to say the right thing, find what could soothe others, to apply logic and repeat the process. It never seemed to work, though. She couldn’t think of anyone she’d successfully talked down or comforted in her life. Not really… 

She settled beside him and put her head on his chest.

“I know you’re upset…” she began. Acknowledging feelings was usually a good place to begin. That’s the sort of thing Ron might say, right? “But you have to know George didn’t mean any of that.”

He ruefully shook his head. “He did… It’s fine, though. Nothing I didn’t know.”

“He was just trying to get rid of you by being cruel. He was drunk and being spiteful,” she said with certainty. 

“Doesn’t mean he was lying.” 

“You handled this all really well, you know.”

“Huh?” he asked, removing his arm from over his eyes.

“You deescalated things really well, watched after us, and kept your calm… It was rather impressive.”

“Yeah, well I’ve had my fair share of dealing with dramatic wizards and witches,” he said with a hint of a smile, giving her a bit of a nudge. 

“Oh we’ve never been that bad!” she said with a laugh. 

He cocked his head at her. “The birds.”

“Well… Well, you were being a right arse,” she said, poking him in the middle.

“See? I’m quite used to the drama,” he said with a chuckle, draping his arm around her.

She bit her lip. “I wasn’t that bad was I?”

“You were pretty terrible,” he said with a laugh. “But that’s alright. I like how fierce and crazy you are.”

“Crazy?!” 

“Oh sorry, I mean how calm and undramatic you are.” He schooled his face into mock solemnity.

“You’re terrible,” she huffed.

“Yeah, but you love it,” he said, shooting her that boyish grin of his. It was her favorite feature of his. Well, that and his blue eyes. And his bright hair. And his freckles. And his wide shoulders. And his long legs. And his big hands. And his arse.

With that thought, she sat up and put a hand to his face and his eyebrows shot up into his fringe. 

“I can’t help it, but I really do,” she said, leaning in to give him a quick kiss on the nose. “You know… Harry pointed out that you fancy me.”

“He’s a terrible drunk.”

“I told him I quite fancy you as well.”

“I would hope so, seeing as you’re my girlfriend.” His arm hugged her close to his side. “And even if he’s a terrible drunk, he’s right. I do fancy you. Rather hard not to, what with you being all brilliant and beautiful.”

Her eyes fell to his lips. This wasn’t the ideal place to kiss, in his family’s living room where anyone could walk in on them… but he’d called her beautiful and he was being so perfect. She didn’t want him to think about George again either. 

She maneuvered herself until she was on top of him, knees on either side of his hips. One of his hands wove through her curls, the other doing a little trail down her side, a gesture that was growing more and more familiar each time they snogged. A hot neediness fed her movements. She moaned and leaned into him when she was stopped. His hands cupped her cheeks and slowly moved her face away from his.

“We’re in the living room,” he murmured. 

“It’s late - so late that no one will know. Just snog me!” she whispered.

“Are you still sauced?” he laughed.

“Do I have to be ‘sauced’ to want to kiss you with a tiny bit of tongue?” 

“Well I’d hope not, but any sober person should know this house always has someone up and in our business…”

“I’m sober now,” she told him frankly, feeling the slightest tinges of a hangover, but otherwise feeling very much herself. She gave a sigh and extricated herself from him. “You have a point about the lack of privacy, but I’ll have you know it’s highly unfair to call me beautiful and not allow me to snog you a bit.”

“Oh is that all it takes?” He had a pleased grin on his face. 

“Well it’s definitely not your stellar personality,” she said with a teasing smile of her own. 

“Of course not. It’s my gentlemanly ways.”

He bowed very low and she gave a much-too-loud laugh as he took her hand. He leaned down, blue eyes gleaming into hers, then gave her knuckle a lick. 

“You’re disgusting!”

“You wanted a tiny bit of tongue, so I gave you tongue!” he grinned, before dimming the lights and leading her up the stairs.

They stopped in front of Ginny’s bedroom and touched foreheads.

“I know tonight was… was difficult,” she said in a low voice, “but when it wasn’t… I really did have a good time with you.”

He shifted his head and kissed her forehead. 

“I did too,” he murmured, giving her a soft smile. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” she whispered, putting her hand on the handle to turn it when it slipped in her grasp. She tried again, but it wouldn’t budge. “She must have forgotten and locked it...”

She gave a light knock on the door, and Ginny didn’t answer. There was nothing but silence.

 “Oh you’ve got to be kidding…” 

“What?” Hermione asked, trying the door again.

Ron did a few spells and gave a huff.

“Harry’s in there,” he said, disgusted.

“What? No… They wouldn’t… Would they?”

“I’d bet fifty galleons Harry’s in that bloody room.”

“Oh…” she replied, putting her fingers to her pursed lips. “I suppose I’ll stay in Percy’s room then?”

“Nah, you can come to bed with me.” 

He walked towards the stairs before coming to a stop. 

“Okay…” he said, turning on his heels, a panicked look on his face. “I didn’t mean to assume— You definitely don’t need to—”

“Yes!” she whispered back.

Ron looked only mildly less panicked at her answer.

“Yes like you’re agreeing you don’t need to come with, or yes like—”

“Yes, like I’ll stay with you.”   

A thrill ran through her as they smiled at one another, the bit of moonlight shining through the window illuminating them. As they went up the stairs together excitement flooded her thoughts of sharing a room overnight with Ron. She’d shared the tent with him, but they’d never truly been alone all night, and they definitely hadn’t been under the scrutiny of Mr and Mrs Weasley. 

She’d never been one for rule breaking. Well, that wasn’t quite true. Okay, she had to admit she broke rules rather regularly. She might have broken about a thousand rules in the last year alone, but that was different— it was for a just cause that would help everyone. In this case it was purely breaking rules for her own happiness. The rush of it made her feel the same peace she’d had at the club. 

The moment they got to Ron’s room and saw Harry’s empty camp bed she approached Ron to kiss him. Only a meter away, he let out a large yawn before going to his drawers.

“Here you go,” he said, handing her an oversized orange shirt. It had the Cannons logo on it and was soft to the touch from so many wearings. She’d seen him wear it probably a thousand times. It was rather sweet that he’d thought of pajamas for her, but disappointment began to well in her. She wasn’t sure what she’d hoped for, but something closer to their activities at the shed was what she’d imagined. “Do you need some shorts or something for the bottoms?”

“No, I think your shirt will do,” she said as she held it up and realized it went halfway down her legs.

“Right,” he said with a grin, “Well, I can step out while you change.”

“You can stay here,” she said. She felt a fluttering in her stomach as his eyes shot back to hers.

“Oh, erm… Alright,” he said, his pink tongue darting out to lick his lips. “Right! Yeah…”

He turned about, head pointed up towards the low ceiling. 

She let out a nervous giggle and changed out of her dress into the dress-length shirt. She did a silencing charm on the room, for good measure.

“You can turn around now.”

He turned around and looked at her with a soft smile.

“Nice to see you supporting the Cannons!” His eyes fasted on the logo with a growing grin before his eyes went wide and met hers. She looked down and realized it was very apparent she wasn’t wearing a bra in the thin shirt. He went back to his drawers and found a pair of pajama trousers for himself.

“Do you need me to turn around for you to change?” she asked. 

“Up to you, really,” he said with a shrug, beginning to unbutton his shirt. She chose to watch him from the bed, enjoying how a tinge of red blossomed across his cheeks and ears. As he finally got to his belt and jeans he turned himself around.

She liked watching him like this. She’d never had the chance to unabashedly watch him before. They’d changed clothes on the run, but it had always been practical fast movements. She liked looking at his shoulders that were rather wide despite his thinness, and the glorious spattering of freckles that were most concentrated across his shoulders. He pulled the pajama trousers up over his plaid boxers then did a cute little hop to arrange himself. She liked the taper of his waist, and wanted to see if it was as enticing from the front. Watching him made her forget to breathe; forget to do much of anything.

She wasn’t sure when she’d stood from the bed, but her feet made a beeline to him. As soon as he turned she surged forth, that same neediness from the sofa fueling her movements. She jumped straight up into his arms making him let out a deep ‘oompf!’ She worried for a moment that she might have hurt him, jumping on him as she did, but reassurance came as he sighed into their kiss. They moved against each other in the middle of the room, the lamp casting shadows across the orange room creating the effect it was on fire.

It was a bit of a messy snog, but she didn’t care as he pulled her into a hard embrace. His tongue traced the inside of her mouth, and she slid both of her hands into his hair, enjoying the feel of his soft strands running through her fingers. They continued to kiss as their feet stumbled back until Ron’s legs hit the bed and the two fell to it with a laugh. The spell she’d done on the bed to widen the bed earlier that day had held up, giving them plenty of room to twine around one another and kiss. She reminded herself to reinforce the hastily done spell later, otherwise they might end up with one of them on the floor— but she decided it was better to put it off and not interrupt a perfect series of kisses.

Since she was about thirteen she’d wondered what kissing Ron Weasley would be like. Her earliest fantasies were delicate and chaste like she’d seen in movies. Later they became more heated and sensuous, but she’d had so little experience with kissing she wasn’t sure what she preferred their kisses to be, really, as long as it was with Ron. 

Their first kiss had seared through her as he lifted her up off the ground. The second time he’d been tender and unhurried. She’d stopped counting their kisses, but each time it was perfect, whatever surprise he brought her way.

Now that they were on the bed his lips were soft. He’d started slow, lazily exploring her as if savoring each moment, his kiss a gentle caress that reeled her in, peppering in a tiny nibble here or there. 

“Wait,” he murmured sitting up. “You’re sure you’re sober?”

“Yes,” she answered. Her fingers grazed down him, savoring the lean muscles, how very smooth his skin was until the lines she drew reached an errant scar he’d earned over the years. One of his hands began to trail up her hip, just managing to skim underneath the overly large shirt. The pad of his thumb was drawing slow circles that just tickled the bottom of her ribs.

Soft, hungry kisses were travelling down her neck. She moaned as he met the juncture between her shoulder and neck. Through half closed eyes she watched the lamplight make his hair spark with amber and copper and gold. Her fingers played with his hair as that thumb of his kept its path up her shirt, and she felt a molten heat forming within her at the sensation. 

Then the hand travelled low again, fingers just skimming the side of her hips and then the elastic of her pants. She let out a sigh and adjusted her hips towards him.

“You can touch me,” she breathed. 

He let out a low moan. His long fingers ghosted over her pants until one gave a hesitant stroke over the warmth between her legs. One finger became two as he stroked against her, and arousal began to pool for her in a way she’d never felt before. It was such a small amount of friction, but it made her head spin.

Ron was touching her. She always revered the little touches they shared— his hand on her hip, his forehead touching hers, his hand around her wrist— but this was something wholly new.

The fingers moving against her, combined with his lips sucking on neck, made the heat deliciously build. As he curled his fingers she found the need to pull him in closer. It wasn’t enough! She wanted to feel him on her, not through a wet scrap of fabric.

She let her hands travel from his silky hair down to the elastic of her pants and began to push them down. 

He stopped and looked into her eyes with a questioning look. She nodded and he hooked his fingers on them and trailed them down her legs before discarding them.

He gave an appreciative hiss before smiling up at her. 

“Fuck me, you’re pretty,” he said under his breath. Her cheeks burned, but not as much as the heat growing inside her as his hands trailed their way back to her. His fingers traced up her legs, just barely pressing their way into her flesh, before resting directly between her legs. He seemed to be looking at her with fascination, and the idea of him looking at her down there suddenly made her nervous. She gently guided his head up to her so they could kiss while his hand continued to explore. She gave a gasp as he managed to find her clit.

He held himself above her with one hand as the other brushed inside her, teasing wetness from her and making her feel light-headed. She guided his hand back up her shirt, to feel his hand graze her breast.

She wanted more of him. She wanted him against her. In a daring move, she hooked her feet behind his hips and crashed his hips into hers. 

He let out a startled yell before the bed gave a large lurch and Ron’s left hand that had been bracing him above her went clear through the mattress, sending him rolling off her and crashing to the ground.

The bed gave another shutter, and the bed, which Hermione had spelled to a queen size mattress, gave a spasm before shrinking to its normal twin size.

“Sorry! I should have reinforced that spell! I’m sorry!” she cried out, sitting up to check on Ron. He let out a series of ‘fuck fuck fuck’s under his breath as he slowly got to a crawling position, though not putting much weight on the left hand that had gone through the bed. 

“Are you okay?” she asked, putting a hand to his back. 

His whole back tensed and he scrunched his eyes closed.

“Ron?” she asked, rubbing his back a bit. “You okay?”

“Don’t,” he said, jerking away and giving a shake of his head.

He gave a hiss as he slowly rotated his left arm and flexed his hand. His shoulders were drawn so high they almost touched his ears before they slumped.

“Is your wrist hurt?”

“Huh?” he dazedly asked, blinking a few times and sitting up. “‘M okay.”

She nodded before grabbing her wand from the nightstand.

“Let me see your wrist.”

He held it to his chest. “Why?” 

She gave a roll of her eyes. “To fix it, of course.”

He gave a flex of his hand before sitting up on his feet and slowly extending his wrist to her.

She took hold of it and gingerly weighed it back and forth. “So you landed on it?”

“I guess,” he said unhelpfully. 

He held his breath as she held up her wand and did an ‘Episkey’ charm on it. 

“Better?” she asked, knowing she’d done it perfectly. 

He flexed his wrist and gave her a tight smile. “Yeah, I imagine that did it.”

She felt a flicker of doubt. “It’s better, isn’t it?”

“Course it is. You always do spells perfectly,” he said with a roll of his eyes. She began to frown. He hadn’t answered the question. “Hermione, I’m fine. I just feel a bit off after falling face first onto my manky floor. Who knows what filth I might have landed in. At least it wasn’t Harry’s old pants or something.”

She gave a laugh.

“You should come back to bed.”

“It’ll be a tight fit,” he said, eyeing the small twin. 

“Oh yes… Wait! Bring Harry’s camp bed over. I think the spell will last better if we’re merely transforming two beds into one, instead of extending one.”

He grabbed the bed, and removed all the sheets. With a few flicks of her wand she was again in a large queen bed. She realized she was still nude underneath his large shirt, and the lingering arousal hadn’t fully been chased away by his fall.

“Where were we?” she said, rather seductively she thought, which both impressed and surprised her. She’d never been very good at anything remotely close to sexiness, but she’d managed a rather saucy husky tone. 

He gave a bit of a gulp and turned off the lamp before joining her in the bed. As her eyes adjusted, the moonlight illuminated them well enough to just be able to make out his features. 

 She began to kiss him again, trying to rekindle the fire they’d had a moment ago, but he felt stiff and unresponsive. 

“Is your wrist still hurting?” she whispered.

“No, I’m fine,” he said, taking a breath before their kiss resumed. He began trailing kisses down her neck and skimming her sides as before, and she tried to feel that same fire. His hands were touching her in the same places, but there was a forced quality to every move and every kiss. Their bodies no longer coaxed and set pace with one another. 

His fingers went back to between her legs and poked at all the wrong angles. It felt like he was trying to pick a lock with a pair of chicken drumsticks. He’d always had very short nails, so she was surprised when they seemed to be poking her instead of the pads of his fingers. 

Then he stopped kissing her altogether and went lower until his head was even with her pelvis.

She wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea of him looking down there. She’d barely ever looked down there, but didn’t imagine this could be a very flattering angle. At least it was dark in the room now?

He poked and prodded and she felt thoroughly turned off when one digit poked far too hard to the side of her labia.

“Erm… Maybe a little higher?” she asked, hoping he’d go back to her clit. 

She gave a jolt as his nails showed up again. That was even worse! And how was that even possible when they were so short?

She accidentally let out a huff and he gave a sigh.

“This isn’t doing anything for you, is it?” 

“It was…” The silence carried on, and she found herself entirely without words. 

“It was rubbish,” he supplied.

“No?” she squeaked, biting her lip. He gave a withering look up through his eyebrows. “I’m sorry! It was really good earlier, though!” 

He gave a snort. “Yeah I could tell it wasn’t going well when you weren’t as wet anymore…” 

She pressed her face into the crook of her elbow to hide her eyes. It had seemed sexy at the time, but him actually saying out loud that she was ‘wet’ was absolutely mortifying.

“It really isn’t a problem,” she mumbled.

“Yeah it is,” he said, laying beside her, elbow on her pillow. He slowly turned her face towards his, blue eyes boring into hers. His eyebrows lifted and a small smile twitched, but not enough to bring out his dimple. “Let’s start again.”

“I don’t know…” she said, not sure she wanted to have him poke at her like that again.

“Let’s try again. If you want me to stop at any point I will.”

She looked into his eyes and saw a glint of determination in them she’d seen before. He made that face when he made the right move in chess, when he was about to save a goal, and when he was about to pull off a powerful spell. When he looked like that, nothing much could go wrong. 

She gave a nod. It seemed too absurd to be shy, but she felt it burn through her as his hand cupped her cheek and brought her in for a languorous kiss.

 A chasm of intimacy burst open as his lips burned against hers. As she surrendered to his kisses, she became increasingly conscious of his body, hot and hard against hers. His fingers slowly slid down the narrow of her waist, then edged behind and found her bare backside. He moaned into their kiss as he massaged it, almost as if testing the globe in his hand. Whatever awkwardness that had descended on them was gone, and her body molded to his.

With every kiss she felt marked as his, and she grasped his hair again. Only moonlight lit him, but she imagined the riotous color of his hair sunning her as she basked in his attention. 

He stroked her between her legs again, this time finding a rhythm that made her hips jolt to meet him. The oversized shirt had ridden up past her breasts, uncomfortably bunching until she impatiently tore the shirt off over her head. He let out a rough groan and his hands and mouth stopped.

He pulled back a bit and stared at her nakedness.

She had the overwhelming impulse to reach for the sheet and cover herself, but resisted it. She held her breath as he silently stared, expression annoyingly enigmatic.

“W-well?” she let out, nerves making her voice pitch up. She was skinny, but still managed to have a bit of a tummy, and her breasts weren’t all that much to talk about, and her hips were too wide, and—

“Hermione,” he breathes out her name. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

She turned her head away. She wasn’t. Then his mouth was on hers again, and hands were exploring her breasts. His kisses trailed to the crook of her neck, to her clavicle then finally down her chest.

“Christ, you’re perfect. Fuck…” he said, almost to himself as he leaned down and took one of her nipples into his mouth, the other hand squeezing and kneading her breast.

He backed away to look at her again. The way he beheld her, she could almost believe she was beautiful and perfect. He had nothing but adoration in his eyes as his lips fell to her body. He trailed down her, as fingers grazed a hot trail, and made desire pool in her.

He went further down and her legs fell open to him. His fingers explored her, but this time they easily found a path that made her moan. He set a rhythm, and experimented with angles. She glanced down to see he was avidly watching her face, like he would a chess board. Eyes on her, he leaned forward. 

It began with a tentative lick while a pair of knuckles just grazed her in the right spot. He continued to do this and she threw her head back in a gasp. Then his lips dipped between her legs and began to suck at her clit. She let out a long whimper as he continued to alternate between lapping at her and sucking at her like she was a final meal. Heat and slickness built in her, making her tilt her hips into him, punctuating her gasps with jerks of her hips.

She was on the edge of falling, when he found the perfect rhythm and stayed there. Quick susurrations on her clit, and his fingers just barely grazing inside her, teasing and nearly fucking into her, made the coil inside her finally spring. 

A heady ‘don’t stop!’ barely made it out of her lips before she let out a sound like a sob as she came. She felt the spasm of it rip through her, and she clutched the pillow around her as her hips stuttered and followed his mouth, continuing to twist as his fingers slowed down.

She panted and shook her head as her thighs wobbled and finally relaxed, dropping her hips further into the mattress.

“Oh God…” she whimpered. “Fuck… Oh god…”

Her mind had never been more of a void. She was utterly shattered. There was nothing but sensation, still floating in aftershocks.

“You alright?” came a hoarse voice from between her legs.

She let out a rough laugh, then managed to open an eye from between her curls. 

“I’m… I just…” she gasped and shuddered a bit.

“Better?” he asked, knowing perfectly well that he’d done amazing.

“Yeah, I imagine that did it,” she panted, mirroring his words from earlier. “I think we ought to thank Harry in the morning.”

“Do you really need to bring up that specky git right now?” he moaned, kissing the inside of her thigh.

“Well, if it weren’t for him taking up Ginny’s room, I wouldn’t have gotten to experience… That!” she said with a shaky gesture.

“Took a bit, but I think I did alright in the end,” he said, a tired grin on his face as he wiped his mouth.

“More than alright!” she proclaimed. She looked further down the bed and saw he was still hard. She was so flushed and buzzing she wasn’t sure she had the ability to blush. “If you want, I can try to return the favor?”

Ron blanched and shifted his hips.

“It’ll go away on its own,” he said with another kiss to her thigh. She didn’t bother masking her confusion. Didn’t teenage boys always want to ‘get off’? Was he so disgusted from going down on her that he didn’t want her touching him? 

As if reading her thoughts, he continued. “It’s late and I want to be able to dream about that look on your face when you came. Fuck me, that was the hottest thing ever.”

He kissed her stomach right below her belly button then finally, wobblingly, crawled further up her body before collapsing beside her and kissing her. “I’ll definitely take a rain check though.”

“You sure?”

“I’m knackered. Dreams of me making Hermione Granger cum are all I need,” he hummed as he nuzzled up behind her. “I could get used to this.”

“So could I!” she said with a laugh. “I should clean up.”

“Nooo, just stay a little longer,” he whined, wrapping an arm around her middle and bringing the blankets onto them. Minutes passed. She wiggled in place as his breathing slowed.

“Just need to grab my wand.”

“Hmnnn,” he grunted into her side as she pulled her wand from the side table and did a quick clean up. She Accioed her shirt over, but had no way of putting it on without moving Ron. 

“Ron?” she whispered. A small snore erupted in her ear and she sighed. 

Dressing in the morning wasn’t the worst thing. Plus, she was draped in Ron, cozied up more intimately than she’d ever imagined she could be. His whole body radiated a comforting warmth, and in that one moment she felt more safe and contented than she had in years. Suddenly words she’d been achingly trying to keep at bay began to bubble up to the surface.

“Ron?”

He continued to snore.

In the safety of the darkness, in his arms, and without having to worry about his reaction, she whispered, “I love you.” 

She only got snores in return, but there was a sort of relief in having said it out loud. Any tension left in her body dissipated, and he felt so nice spooned up against her that she felt her eyes drift close for just a moment. 

* * *

She woke to the sound of apparition and a, “Ron, your mum is— oh shit! Sorry! Shit!” 

Dazedly she shook her head at Harry’s cursing then, horrified, remembered her state of undress. Ron hadn’t forgotten and quickly yanked the quilt up to her nose.

“Shut it, Harry! Do you want Mum to hear you?” Ron hissed.

“Right, sorry!” he said, turning around with his back to them. He stood in only his boxers, hands clutching his clothes from the night before. “Erm… So, your Mum was waking everyone since it’s a bit late, and I fell asleep in Ginny’s room, and your Mum didn’t catch me, but I wanted to let you know in case… Well, in case of this, I guess.”

As he explained, a currant-faced Hermione yanked the Cannons shirt on and looked for her pants. 

“And the best way to warn us was to Apparate directly in here to the foot of my bed?” Ron exclaimed, before reaching down to the foot of the bed and handing Hermione her pants. 

“Yeah, well I am a mite bit hungover…” 

“I’d tell you where some hangover potion is, but I don’t think you deserve it,” Ron replied, giving Hermione a peck on the cheek. “Alright we’re all decent now.”

“I’m really sorry!” said Harry, rubbing at his head. At first it looked like a tick of embarrassment, but he looked haggard enough that a hangover seemed the bigger culprit. “Er, where’s my bed?”

“It’ll be in the chicken coop if you do that again,” answered Ron.

Hermione finally gathered enough wits to grab her dress and say “I’ll meet you later,” and Apparated as silently as she could to Ginny’s room.

“There you are!” Ginny said, pulling on a pair of jeans. “Mum’s trying to get everyone up since it’s so late, and she almost put together where everyone stayed. Did Harry warn you?”

“If by warn me, you mean Apparate into the room and catch me completely starkers, then yes, he did an admirable job!”

“He did what?” Ginny roared with laughter. “Well I’m glad someone had a good time last night!”

“Didn’t you?”

“I mostly kept Harry from getting sick down the side of my bed. Though he did say he loved me, which was quite nice,” she said, a love-sick smile on her face.

Oh. 

Hermione still hadn’t heard anything like that from Ron. He hadn’t even wanted her to touch him.

“I can’t believe he Apparated in there,” Ginny continued. “I told him to do it outside the door! We heard Mum bustling about and he was rather panicked at the idea of her being mad with him.”

Hermione nodded.

“So… Starkers?” 

“Ginnyyy,” Hermione moaned and hid her face behind her hair.

“You know what? I don’t want to know,” said Ginny, running a brush through her long red hair. “Actually I do, but I think you’ve been through enough embarrassment for one morning. I’m going to go play some Quidditch, if Harry can get his act together. Want to come?”

Avoiding the house seemed a pleasant application of her time, but a quick glance to her book bag shuttered any thought of having a lark. She’d had her fun the night before, though she hadn’t earned it. She’d had enough avoiding. She needed to make plans for her parents.

* * *

It was arduous and barely fruitful, but at least she could say she’d put some thought into it, creating a schedule of places to visit over the next week to gather all the information she might need and who to glean it from. When she looked at the clock it was well past one in the afternoon. 

At the Burrow it was unusual to go so late in the day and not be disturbed. She also hadn’t seen Ron since the fiasco that morning. The embarrassment seemed a perfect punishment for being so self indulgent. It was hard to believe she’d let herself fall asleep nude in his bed. She’d been so relaxed and…

“Oh!” Hermione gasped.

She hadn’t remembered to put up her silencing spell. Had she needed it? Had she woken up in the night? Perhaps there was a way to subtly ferret the information from Ron. Maybe she could bring it up at lunch. It was a bit late for it, but people always poked their head in when a meal was being served, so it must not have happened yet.

Despite having much more to do, she had to admit she needed food, or at least some strong tea, if she was to continue. 

She went down the stairs to find the kitchen in uncharacteristic disarray. Bowls, trays and cutting boards littered every surface, but at the dining table was a very delicious looking feast of jacket potatoes with every sort of topping one could imagine all arranged in little ramekins.

“I bet there’ll be something to eat,” she heard Ginny’s voice carrying in from outside. She and a windblown Harry came in through the garden door. Her hair hung in an enviable curtain of beachy waves Hermione could never manage without bottles of Sleekeazy's. 

“This looks a treat, doesn’t it?” said Ginny, going to sit at the table. “Well, let’s get Mum and Ron here so we can dig in!”

Just then Ron came down the stairs wearing one of Mrs Weasley’s patterned aprons that was dwarfed by his tall frame. 

“Did you cook this?” Harry asked, looking impressed.

“Yeah… Mum’s been in her bedroom again,” he replied. 

They all knew that meant she was distressed and had holed herself in her bedroom. Those had been coming with fewer and fewer days between them, and Hermione had to wonder what had caused it this morning.

“Why’d you go to such trouble? We have stuff for sandwiches,” Ginny asked, mood forcibly upbeat.

“I was hoping to tempt Mum out of her bedroom.” Ron sat out napkins and cutlery, slapping the metalware onto the table with more force than was necessary. 

Harry and Hermione’s eyes met.

“We might want to clean off the kitchen counters, then,” said Ginny with a grin. “Looks a bit like a mad potion maker's laboratory.”

“You clean ‘em off, then, I’m famished.” 

“I can clean them off,” Hermione volunteered, hoping to cut the tension, and Harry joined her in the effort, saying, “I’ll help.”

“The food’s all ready now— just leave it!” Ron protested.

“It’ll only take a moment,” said Hermione.

“Plus you didn’t make the mess, Ron did,” Ginny unhelpfully added.

“Oh fine!” growled Ron, and with a swish of his wand the items on the counter rushed their way to the sink with a great clatter, the metal cooking sheets causing a crash that reverberated around the room making everyone jump, and give small yells in succession.  “There! Happy? It’s in the sink! Now will you all sit?”

“Merlin, Ron! Did you have to be so loud with it?” Ginny hollered, getting from her seat to get the rest of the dishes by hand. “What's gotten into you?”

“I just want people to eat the bleeding food! It took forever to make and it’s like herding a bramble of gnomes getting you lot to sit down and eat it all at once. No wonder Mum was always upset with us!” Ron groused. “I’m going to get her from upstairs, and when I get back, you lot better be seated at the table and piling up your potatoes!”

He stormed up the stairs, rattling the framed photos on the walls.

“You know, I always thought if one of us was to turn into Mum it’d be me, but I think Ron’s got it cornered. Did you see him, hands on his hip just like her!” Ginny snorted, miming Ron’s akimbo stance, and Hermione gave a reluctant laugh in turn. 

As much as his dark mood made her worry, she did enjoy watching Ron doing little domestic things around the house. There was something rather charming seeing the overgrown young man in a flowery apron in a tither about everyone sitting down to eat. 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he takes up knitting soon. What do you think, Harry?”

Ginny looked beyond Hermione and her face fell. Hermione turned to see Harry was sitting stock-still, wand tightly gripped in his hand. Hermione instinctively grabbed her wand. A shiver spread up the back of her head. 

“You okay?” Ginny asked.

“Trays were loud, that’s all.” Harry’s eyes weren’t trained on any of them and he gave a stiff sort of shrug.

“Harry…” Ginny began, coming near him, but Harry shook his head. 

“M’going outside,” he muttered before bolting out the door. 

“Where’s he going?” Ron asked as he emerged from the stairs, looking cross. 

“Your banging about with the trays set him off,” Ginny spat, going for the door. 

Ron cursed before running ahead of her to the door.

“I’m the one who messed up, I’ll fix it,” he said, taking off his apron. “You two eat up. And Mum was asleep still, so I left her to it. Put some food aside for her and Harry with a warming charm, would you?” 

He didn’t wait for a response before going out the door. Ginny silently gathered together full plates for Harry and her mother, getting a third one for Ron, though he hadn’t asked her to. 

“I— I can’t do the warming charm… Still sixteen... Hermione would you?” 

Hermione dutifully did so, making sure not to look as Ginny wiped at her eyes and gave a sniff. The redhead went to the sink and started furiously scrubbing at some trays. 

“Shouldn’t we eat?” 

“What’s the point?” Ginny sniped, slamming a dirty set of tongs into the sink. “Ron wants us to all sit down and eat like things are normal, but they aren’t and I don’t know when they will be. Mum’s only up for a few hours at a time, Ron’s the one making food, Harry’s going off from loud noises, and George…” Ginny shook her head. “I just want… I thought after everything we could find some happiness, but it’s just impossible.”

“You did find some happiness earlier, though, didn’t you? Playing Quidditch a bit with Harry?” said Hermione, feeling every inch a fraud trying to buoy anyone's spirits. 

Ginny blushed a bit as she began scrubbing a pan. “We didn’t exactly get to the Quidditch part…” 

Hermione nodded.

“I suppose that’s all we can do right now, little pieces of happiness like that.”

The two girls cleaned the kitchen in silence until it gleamed. They dutifully ate their lunches, looking to the door every few minutes for the boys to return. Hermione was able to get away with eating very little thanks to Ginny’s distraction, and managed to vanish the contents of her plate before Harry and Ron returned, both looking rather pale, but Harry no longer had a vacant stare on his face. Ginny quickly got him a plate and the two sat to eat their meal while Ron took a plate up to his mother’s room. Hermione waited for him to come back to the table to eat his own meal. He didn’t.

After twenty or so minutes she went up the stairs to find him outside his parent’s bedroom. He sat on the steps to the fifth landing, head on his knees and arms wrapped around his legs. The meal still sat outside his mother’s door, untouched. Hermione made sure to step on every squeaky board to alert him to her presence before sitting down beside him.

“Was your Mum still asleep?”

Ron shook his head before sitting up and rubbing his hands over his face. 

“She’s crying and I can’t get her to stop…”

She desperately wanted to know what prompted his mother’s backslide, but didn’t want to push him. Pushing Harry had been disastrous the other day, and she hadn’t the energy to face it from Ron as well. Ron wasn’t like Harry, though. He didn’t bottle things up the same way, and she knew he’d open up and tell her without her having to harangue him for answers. 

“George got arrested for breaking his parole,” he said in a low voice, eyes not meeting hers. 

“What?! What parole?” 

“Night before last he Apparated right on top of the London Tower Bridge. I was up when Kingsley called, so me and Dad went to get George from the Ministry. He got parole. Last night he broke it by pointing his wand in public and someone saw and reported him.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

"I wasn’t going to tell anyone. George gets enough looks, doesn’t he? He’s been such a mess, and Dad and I thought it’d be best Mum knew when things were all settled, but Kingsley Flooed the house to check on George about an hour ago, and well…”

“What a terrible way to find out.”

“Mum’s been holed up in her bedroom since. Harry took Ginny for a fly, so neither of ‘em know yet... I just thought maybe some food and tea would work to coax Mum out, but of course it didn’t.”

“Where’s George now?”

“With Bill, I think. Bill took it on this time.” Ron just shook his head. He stared down at his hand and gave a loud swear. 

“Is that the time?” he launched off the steps, barreling past Hermione.

“Where are you going?” 

“To finish this fucking buggering pissing piece of shit day!”

She scurried after him, but ended up a floor behind him as his long legs skipped steps with ease. She could hear his mutters all the way down the stairs.

“Need to get some wellies, clean the kitchen…” 

“Ginny and I saw to the kitchen” she called after him, hoping to slow him down.

“Oh, fuck me! The paperwork!” he moaned as he reached the last flight of stairs and Apparated with a loud crack. A few seconds later she heard another crack outside the house. 

She went to the window and saw Ron sprinting away, paper in one hand, wellies in another, not bothering to look back or give a hint of an explanation. 

For a terrible instant she was back next to that riverbank in Wales, rain pummeling her as she begged Ron not to leave her. 

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

Little pieces of happiness… She supposed she’d have to live on the little pieces of happiness from the night before, because there weren’t any to be found today.

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

Next chapter is Ron's POV again. Thanks for reading! If you like this and want to see more please review! :)

I've been terrible at responding, but please know I read them and EVENTUALLY I respond to everyone. :P

BIG THANKS TO @abradystrix FOR BETA-ING!

[featherwriterweather]

The speakeasy “Le bonne nuit” Riverdale season 3/smut

It was hot autumnal night. It felt more like a summer. The night breeze was whispering tales of the teenage love that was experienced in the past months. We all had our summer flings. Some of them blossomed into relationships, others had to stay hidden because of love that was said to be unfit or unworthy in front of the messed up society of the small town of Riverdale that we called home. 

That night was much different then the rest of the nights we had ever since the new school year had started. Our friends, our brothers, all of which Serpents, had gathered in the tent park to discuss a matter that couldn’t be kept in the waiting. The Goolies were back and, as far as we knew, their leader, the former Serpent, or more like a black mamba as I liked to call her, Penny Peabody, were back in town and they wanted the taste of fresh blood. Their strings were pulled by the much higher standing persona of the man in black. And, as Ronnie had infromed us, this man was her father, the one and only Hiram Lodge.

I was an honorary Serpent and I still didn’t have my jacket on my back, but as the night was getting older and so was my bravery. I was sitting on the ground, near the fire, next to Tony and Cheryl. Sweet pea and Fangs were pressing their bags to the nearest tree. Fp was pacing back and forth in front of the fire, while Jug was sitting in his throne, an old chair with crown drawn on its leather, and his queen,Betty, who was also my editor in the Blue and Gold, was standing right by his side.

“We gotta do something, man. We can’t just let them go round our land free. If they want blood, we should give them some.” Sweet pea said as he pushed himself off the tree. His face was death serious, something I wasn’t used to see, at least not when we were alone. Nobody knew that him and I had a secret. After my parents fled on me during riot night, Tony had offered me shelter with the Serpents. Every single night since then, when I was feeling down, scared or had a nightmare, I would go to Sweet pea’s trailer and I would stay the night with him. At first, nothing really was happening between us. But the more I was seeking the comfort of his warm bed, the more we wanted to push it forward. And so during the last days of summer, after Josy ditched him, we finally laid the cards down and did it. We’ve been hooking up for quite some time but decided to keep it down low so it was only between me and him. But the others got a little suspicious of his protectivness over me, which found its way to the surface again that night. 

As he was talking to Jug, going on how we should defend our last piece of land, he took off his jacket and wrapped it around me so I was warm. He prefered to be cold but to keep me warm. That act alone, of having his Serpent jacket on my back, gave me the voice I’ve been trying to find all along.

“No, Sweet pea! We will not attack first. That will give them a reason to kill us all. We have to get more information. If Hiram is helping them, we have to get into his deepest deals to get the game. Then we will attack and free ourselves once and for all of them.” Jug said while tapping with his leg nervously on the ground.

“That’s a very good idea, Jug. There is only one problem. My father never speaks to any of us about that. So we have to go to the people he trusts to get what we need.” Ronnie declared standing behind Jug. Nobody had seen her come to us but she was our strongest ally so we were happy whenever she could offer us a good piece of information.

“What do you have in mind, V?” Betty asked. She had that gift inside herself to read people’s mind just by looking into their eyes. Whenever an idea was forming in our head, she knew we were up to something. I wonder how she haven’t found out about me and Sweet pea yet.

“All I am saying is that his gorillas, Leo, James and whatever the hell were the names of the other, know more than I would ever know.”

“That’s easy. We will get them, fix up their faces and they will sing like birds.” Fangs said from his place next to the tree.

“Not everything is solved with fists, Fangs.” Fp blurted out with his nervous voice looking straight into Fangs as he was trying to tame a little tiger with the power of his eyesight.

“That’s at least an idea, Fangs. But these neanderthals don’t go anywhere without daddy. We would have to think of something else.” she answered him never cheating to her habit of gesturing with her hands.

“Don’t we forget something here, guys?” I said. All of a sudden everyone turned to me. “ They are men before everything else. And what usually makes a man go crazy and spill everything? Think about it.”

“A woman ready to play. I like how you’re thinking. If we could get those idiots drunk and hard, they will tell us all.” Tony finished for me beaming with pride at my idea.

“No! I am not putting you in danger. All of you. We would figure it all out.” Jug said shaking his head.

“Don’t shut us down just that quick, Jug. We are women, we know how to lure men into doing what we want.” Betty took the initiative. “I would go with my girls as a true queen, to help V please her dad and his gorillas. Meanwhile, you and the boys will be inside as security guards. The moment we get them to leave the Speakeasy, you can handle them as you want to. It’s a plan worth trying.”

“I am in. I got just the dress for that.” I said.

“No, Y/N! I am not keen on the idea of using our women for target.’‘ I was surprised by the sudden outburst of Sweet pea but I knew he was saying it because this plan involved me.

“It’s a good plan! We’ll do it. Tomorrow night. Veronica will invite her dad for a casual talk while the girls take care of the bodyguards as we are there to secure the Speakeasy.” Jug said approvingly.

The same night I went into Sweet pea’s trailer again. I knew he wasn’t happy for the plan but it was our best shot.

“Hey, Pea! Would you let me stay the night again?”

“You’re always welcome!” he said openning the sheets of his bed for me. “But I don’t know how I feel about the seduction thing you came up with. I don’t want to look how some asshole will touch you and look at you as you are an item he can claim”

“You don’t have a say here, Pea. I want to deserve my jacket and I think the idea is damn good. And you would be there to keep an eye on me and the gorilla. But I can do my best to assure you that it’s just work and nothing more to me.” I said as I kissed him and got on top of him. 

Slowly I started moving all the while kissing him. I pulled away from him and took off my shirt. He was always in the mood for a middle of the night fun. His hand were tracing paths between my hips and my buttcheeks. He was squeezing tightly at the skin, kissing me with all the passion he got. I could feel how hard he was underneath me. In one swift motion he turned us over so now he was on top of me. I took the hem of his shirt in my fingers and lifted it towards his head. He took it off himself to easy me. Next his pants and boxers followed as well as my own bottom and lacy underwear. He trailed kissed down my neck and colar bone, slowly kissing his way down south to the place that craved him the most. I was already wet and he knew it well enought. 

His kisses and touches sent chills through my whole body. Kissing all his way to my very core, he started drawing circles with his tongue. I buried my hands in his hair and left myself be completely absorbed in the sensation of him eating me out. It was something I loved to be given and he was giving it to me everytime. His hands found their way to my breast, squeezing them, claiming that they were made for his touch. My body was waving on its own under the sweet pressure of the extasy that was builing in me.

Soon enough he kissed his way back up and I felt a pure bliss when he entered me in one painfully slow but extremely good motion. He started moving slowly at first, kissing my neck. With each moan he was picking up the pace, making me go completely lost under his touch.

“You’re a mess right now, babe. So wet for me and so tight. Do you know how hard that makes me? How crazy I am about every part of you?” he hissed in my ear, biting it softly

“Dammit, Pea! You’re gonna make me scream if you continue to talk to me like that. And I am not sure I want to muffle this scream.”

“Scream for me, baby. I want to make you scream. You’re going to let go! So soon!” he was feeling how close I was. My walls were tightening agains him. I simply nodded and gave myself fully to the sensation of riding out my orgasm. 

I knew he wasn’t finished yet, so I pushed him on his back and got to business.Just like he did, I kissed my way down to his still hard dick and slowly licked it all up from the core to the head. His deep moan made me go wet all over again. I took it deep into my mouth, giving him a firm stroke as I was sucking it. He hands got a hold of my hair making me go a little faster. His deep voice moans were making me eager to go faster and faster untill I felt him twich and realese the tention in my hand.  His smile said it all to me as I went up to kiss his lips and then rest my head on his shoulder.

The morning came and so did the night. We all got dressed in our sexiest dresses and went to the Speakeasy waiting for Hiram to arrive with his gorillas for the casual talk with his daughter. The boys, who were all wearing black, stood by the bar playing their role of security guards for the night.

“Daddy, welcome!” Ronnie said as her dad walked inside.

“Mija, you wanted to talk to me, so here I am.” He said sitting at one of the tables.

“Let my girls take care of your fellas here, daddy, while we have some quility father-daughter time.” she said as she waved at us.

“Let’s do this girls!” Tony said as we all finished our drinks and went to the gorillas. They were three and so were we. Betty, Tony and I went up to them and sat in their laps. I could sense how mad Jug and Sweet pea were just by this sight. We started talking, whispering sweet nothings in their ears as we were handing them drink after drink after drink. Leo, the one that I took, was moving his hand up and down my leg that was peeking through the slit of the dress. I looked behind his shoulder and saw how Sweet pea squeezed his hand into a fist and slammed in on the bar. Jug put his hand on his chest and said word for I am pretty sure was “Not now, give them some more time!”

Soon the alcohol did its magic. The tree almost middle aged gorillas Hiram had hired were completely under our spell. All three of us stood up and took them by the hand taking them towards the back room with smile on our faces all the while biting our lips knowing that in a few second the boys would take care of them.

We took them back without Hiram seeing anything. Ronnie was doing amazing job at keeping him distracted.The boys slipped into the back room after us while Reggie and Pops were holding the forth at the bar. 

“Ladies, you can step aside. We advice you not to see what will happen next.” Jug said telling us to leave.

“No, we’re staying. My girls and I want to see these scumbags singing like lovebirds.” Betty said with a certain dark beam in her eyes. We moved to the side of the room and waited the Serpents to work their own kind of magic to make them talk and spill all about Hiram’s plans with the Goolies and the drug dealing.

“Sweet pea, do you wanna show this one here how to act around a lady?” Jug said.

“My pleasure, Jones!” He said as he arched up his back and slammed his right fist in Leo’s face so hard that it broke his nose. “This is for touching my girl! Now let’s talk business. Speak! What has Hiram with the Goolies?”

I was weirdly proud of his eagerness to protect me, that he called me his girl and of his honor. But also I was a little scared of his force and thirst for punishing these scancs.

Not long after the first fists, all three of Hiram’s gorillas started singing all the information we need. We pulled it off as an incident of some drugged men trying to take us away from the gorillas. Hiram acted like he didn’t suspect anything and called them idiots. “You can’t even hold one teenage girl for the night without getting into a fight. Why did I even hire you? Let’s go! We’re done here, Mija! When you have a better deal, call me!”

“Oh, I will, daddy! I’ll make sure.” Ronnie said as she turned to us smiling. Our job for the night was done. Once more we proved that teenagers and especially the Serpents can trick the big bad men in black without them even noticing. But little did we know that the war between father and daughter had just begun.

[multimetaverse]

Riverdale 5x04 Recap

Reggie getting lines is the first sign this must be a dream sequence

The Saving Private Archie sequence was well done. The twist where Hiram shoots Archie was a good one I’ll give RAS that

When discussing Archie in the army with some friends last week I said that they would only refer to Archie having been in a war and would only refer to the enemy as the enemy and lo and behold

Archie reading a book is already the most unrealistic thing abut this ep

Archie reading a Farewell to Arms is in keeping with the writer’s usual subtlety 

The Second World War style army uniforms work great with the show’s aesthetic 

Toni’s pregnant! And the White Wyrm is Pop’s basement!

RAS said we’d probably find out who Toni’s baby daddy is in 5x08. Presumably it’s someone we know which doesn’t leave a long list of potential father: Reggie or Sweetpea would be at the top of the list

Pop Tate better not be dead

Trash bag killer sounds nice!

A Fargo name drop

Is Betty sleeping with her instructor? That’s so unethical

Oh god they’re going full Silence of the Lambs with Betty having been kept in a pit by the trash bag killer

So the Trash bag killer captured an FBI agent and instead of killing her he held her captive for 2 weeks until she either escaped or was rescued or was let go? Unless there’s gonna be some big twist that really doesn’t sound likely to me

That serial killer brother (along with her serial killer dad) is exactly why Betty would never have been let into the real FBI

Chadwick is such a douchey name ( and he lowkey dresses like Hiram). He wants kids after just a year of marriage and wants Veronica to work less? Lotta red flags already

I’m going to quote an interview RAS did with E News regarding the timeline:

"Yeah, we're definitely in a time paradox," he says. "I think it would have been less jarring if we'd had the organic season break. But yes...the show's timeless so that's what we're hanging on to, to be honest. Like yes if you if you really, if you really analyze it it's like we're either in 2028, or we've been seven years in the past...there's a discrepancy there for sure." And yes, he also acknowledges that Veronica claimed post-jump that it is still 2021."Yes, she says it's 2021," he agrees. "But I think in the graduation episode it was also 2020...there's a discrepancy there for sure."

I have extremely low expectations for the Riverdale writers but fucking around with the timeline you’ve already established is just a slap in the face to the audience. Better shows than Riverdale have botched their timelines and it’s always a symptom of big problems in the writers room when they can’t even handle that basic task. Not to mention the contempt it shows to the audience 

Graduation was in 2020 so it should be 2027 now. Even if they didn’t graduate in 2020, Fred’s tombstone said he died in 2019 so how does that math add up? If  it’s now 2021 and the kids graduated back in 2014 then that would mean that Riverdale High’s first graduating class was in 1939 rather than 1945 which would mean that those classmates who inspired Archie to join the army were enlisting months before the Second World War broke out and two and a half years before the attack on Pearl Harbour caused the USA to enter to war

All strong marriages are built on deception (was that a reference to Katy Keene from the now cancelled Katy Keene show?). This accident better have really been serious if they keep bringing it up

Nice to see Hermione again

They look fine for surviving a helicopter crash

Chadwick collects faberge eggs just like Hiram... and Veronica decided to sell it... methinks Chadronica is not gonna last

Ah yes Fitzgerald and Hemmingway, two writers known for their happy lives and  peaceful deaths of old age, really good examples to live by Jughead

Lmao! Only Jughead would be seduced by a chick wanting him to read her book

Good on Kangs for staying together this whole time

Cheryl is straight up living in the 19th century and I’m here for it. Thank god Nana Rose is alive

Reggie working for Hiram is an interesting twist

Kinda weird that Toni is trying to get back together with Cheryl when she’s pregnant with some dude’s kid. Honestly it makes perfect sense that Cheryl would believe that she’s cursed

Omg is Cheryl gonna get into art forgery?? That would actually be so great

Of fucking course we’re circling back to Hiram’s real estate deals

Thank god Pop Tate is alive

Man how stupid do you have to be to hitch hike nowadays especially when the truck that pulls up has a fucking skeleton on the front!

Once more I’ll quote RAS on the serial killer plot:

"As that mystery unfolds, it starts enveloping all of our characters," Aguirre-Sacasa says. "And in some ways tragically, including a character we've known and loved since season one."

That’s a vague statement that something bad will happen but if he means that a character we’ve known and loved since S1 is dying then it won’t be any of the mains. Sheriff Keller would be a good tragic death, the last of the good dads left in Riverdale

In another interview focusing on the ships RAS mentioned that Bughead would still have a lot of trauma from the Barchie kiss to work through, that Barchie would have a deep connection, and that Varchie still have a spark but Archie wouldn’t make a move on Ronnie while she’s still married

I would be surprised if Chadwick doesn’t meet a violent death at some point so I don’t think he’s a long term obstacle. If Hiram is the big bad for the remainder of the series then there’s a path to get Varchie back together as they team up to take him down

RAS also mentioned how nice it was to not always have to write couple scenes, to be able to have Betty scenes without Jughead and Veronica scenes without Archie and vice versa. An odd statement to make as no one was forcing him to keep those couples together. The writers could easily have broken up Varchie after Hiram’s numerous attempts to kill Archie or used the fact that Bughead had a shared half brother and their parents were living together in a romantic relationship to sink them

Well until next Riverdalers

[mediocre--writing]

this hc is sad but whenever neil gets too rough and billy’s injuries are too severe to heal on their own, neil will do his own version of “first aid” since he can’t risk a hospital. stuff like holding billy down while doing stitches, stuffing a belt in his mouth and telling him to shut up and stop crying like a pussy. maybe billy views it as a form of love in some warped way, all “he wouldn’t patch me up himself if he didn’t love me, right? he could have left me or had me do it myself but he didn’t” and he doesn’t realise for a long time how not OK it is until he either causally mentions it to someone or someone witnesses it and tells him how fucked up it is

the first time it happens is when neil yanks on billy’s arm when he tries to walk away. dislodges his shoulder from its socket.

billy is already crying and neil huffs like it’s some inconvenience. grabs two wash clothes from a kitchen drawer and tells billy to bite down.

has him lay on the floor and shoves his arm back in (it took three tries). billy swears that he’s never felt pain that bad.

neil goes to the corner store and grabs a cheap sling for billy, just so the shoulder heals right and doesn’t get overextended or anything.

billy’s grateful that neil cared to help him. even gave him ice packs to make sure it didn’t ache too bad.

billy was 11.

it gets worse after that, if you can believe it.

neils a mans man. he expects billy to be as well.

neil knows when a cut is just a scrape and when a cut needs stitches.

he’s neared the line many times, but it’s never reached the stitches level yet.

but it does now.

neil had shoved billy into a wall, right under a cross that was hanging there (can you sense the irony?) and the cross fell and slammed onto billy’s face.

didn’t break his nose or anything, but there’s a deep deep deep cut right by his eye.

there’s blood in his face, but what freaks out billy the most is that there’s blood in his eye, and he fears that’s where the edge of the cross hit him.

neil, again, grabs two wash clothes and tells billy to hush, grabbing an ice cube to ‘numb’ the area (though it does nothing) and sticks the needle into billy’s cheek.

once too scared to open his eyes, billy is now writhing away because there’s a needle in his face and neil looks way too calm to be doing this. shouldn’t a parent be worried?

but neil forces billy back where he was before, holding down on his arm. says something along the lines of “do you wanna bleed out? i’m trying to help you, boy.” and billy just waits it out.

he cries like a baby.

neil let’s him take the day off of school the next day. let’s billy lay with an ice pack on his swollen face and bruised eye for most of the day. even apologizes, in his own, twisted way.

billy was 13.

once, when billy’s being whipped with neils belt for whatever godforsaken reason neil pulled out of his ass, he hits the same spot too much.

then the belt buckle grabs the skin and pulls.

billy’s screaming in pain. can’t describe how unbearable it was to have the raw skin of his back yanked by a dull belt buckle.

but, it turns out, he needs stitches. not wasting a clean washcloth, neil just shoves the belt into billy’s mouth, going to grab the first aid kit.

billy is laying on his stomach, holding his hands in front of his face so he doesn’t lash out and he bites onto the belt as neil stitches the skin back.

but neil doesn’t reprimand billy for leaving teethmarks on his nice leather belt, so billy thinks it could have been worse.

billy was 15.

the first time susan has to witness one of their bad arguments, billy had snuck a boy into his room.

they weren’t even doing anything. barely even flirting. and they were alone.

billy leaned in, but so did the boy, and they met in the middle and billy felt like an inexperienced virgin while kissing his first boy.

it was a life altering experience.

on many levels.

neil comes home early. or maybe not, maybe billy wasn’t watching the clock. either way, billy’s got a boy in top of him, though fully clothed, but making out nonetheless, when neil slams in.

billy’s life flashes before his eyes that night.

he barely even remembers what neil did. what he said.

billy knows at one point he thought about how much he missed his mom. and, apparently, he said it out loud. spurring his dad on with maximum fury.

it was past 3am when billy woke up from his unconscious state to unbearable pain. neil was stitching him up, had already done so on his face and neck. had moved on to his leg (a line of stitches worked all the way up the back of his calf).

billy could feel the bruising on his torso (from numerous kicks and pushes that rolled him into furniture and walls) and around the crown of his head (the result of a plate being smashed over his head).

he didn’t move. he didn’t have the energy.

but he could hear susan. she was yelling at neil, whispering, but scolding him.

“the hell is wrong with you!? he could have died? this is too far, neil, he’s your son! you should love hi—“

“i’m doing this because i love him, su, you know that! you want a faggot in this house? huh? no, you don’t! and do you really think i’d let my son bleed out on the floor? you think that little of me?”

and billy gets it. gets his dads side. because neil could just leave him to bleed all over the carpet. but he didn’t. he helped.

he had good intentions and only did what was best for billy. who was billy to say what his life should be when he wasn’t even smart enough to learn from his mistakes?

that was the reason for their move to hawkins.

billy, during their first week there, didn’t attend school on behalf of all the still healing stitches and bruises, though he was spotted around town a time or two (already instilling his bad reputation)

and once he gets there rumors fly around the school.

apparently, billy had to move from cali because he beat up a biker gang and they kicked him out of the state.

but, then, the night happens. the one where billy beats up steve and comes out looking pretty clean.

hopper drives his half unconscious body home, along with max, so he can ‘explain the situation.’

that night, for many reasons, is a night max will never forget. ever.

she’s seen demo dogs and tunnels from other dimensions, a possessed kid, and a girl who can move things with her mind.

but she also got her first taste of what it looks like when billy gets beat by his father.

it’s like a car crash, you know you should look away, but you just can’t.

and billy, still drowsy from the sedative, is getting in thrown around the living room and kitchen like a rag doll, being shoved into shelves and cabinets, even dislocated his left elbow and there was a loud crack from billy’s ankle.

and, though she’d wanted billy dead mere hours before, this seemed more torturous.

at least when it was billy and steve, they were both conscious. this was just twisted.

neil, for whatever strange reason his mind came up with, made max and susan watch the lesson: this is what happens when you don’t follow rules.

max could barely make out the rising and falling of billy’s chest at the end.

there was blood splattered on billy’s chest and neck, on his jeans and in his hair, on neils hands.

“grab me the first aid kit and a towel, su,” she scurried to the bathroom and back and max wanted to bolt. run. sprint. just get away from whatever was happening.

neil bent down and used the towel to press down on billy’s bleeding wounds, stopping the blood flow. he then disinfected and wrapped what he could, bandaged everything else.

then he rolled billy on his side, grabbed his forearm and upper arm then snapped them together, fixing the dislocation with practiced ease.

this was also when billy woke up. screaming.

“hush,” is was quiet, but stern, and billy knew to listen.

the towel, one side inked in blood splatters, had the other side shoved into billy’s mouth before neil got out the needle and thread, stitching billy’s larger wounds.

if max thought the most scarring part of her night was going to be anything that happened before this, she was wrong.

she knew. she knew that billy got smacked around sometimes. and he kinda deserved it. he was a jackass.

but this. this was a whole new thing. this was downright madness and max didn’t think she’d ever be able to sleep peacefully in her own bed again.

the tears were rolling down her face when she made eye contact with billy, who had equally red and teary eyes, but his held more pain. more suffering. more knowledge.

“see what you did? you made your sister cry,” neil told billy as he pulled especially hard on a stitch on billy’s tender stomach, making billy scream in agony, in more pain than before.

after that night, max listens to billy more. blames herself for being out and getting billy into trouble.

billy is just glad he was able to find the old sling he had years ago and that it still fit. he’s grateful that his dad stitched him up and made sure nothing would get infected.

knew he should have kept a closer eye on max and this is what needed to happen for him to see that. he knew that now.

a week later, the boys were talking about how some guy named (ronnie? maybe lonnie?) had called the byers asking about will. they talked about how joyce chased him out of the house with his own shotgun.

will told her, when they were leaving lunch, that joyce was so mad because lonnie, his dad, had hit his bother, jonathan.

max thinks about that. thinks about how susan would never, not in a million years, chase neil off with his shotgun for hitting billy.

she stood and watched when neil almost killed billy.

she didn’t know what to think. she wondered if billy knew what was happening wasn’t right. wondered if he’d ever tried to run away or was too scared of getting found if he did.

wondered if there was any scenario in which billy would take her harsh criticism of his dad well.

and it takes years.

billy moves out for college, somewhere good where he can focus on being smart, like he’s always been, and gets out from under neils thumb.

he discovers who he is a little better and still comes to hawkins every holiday and break, gets closer with jonathan and steve and robin and even nancy.

the first person he tells about it is jonathan. he hears the lonnie stories for himself and chimes in with his own anecdote. apparently, it’s not as light hearted as jonathan’s.

but he opens up. it takes the night and a little alcohol and weed, but billy has successfully told jonathan everything his dad has done to him. every stitch and relocation.

jonathan tells nancy and nancy tells steve. steve coddles billy and (because they were already close and in that ‘talking stage’) eventually gets some of the truth out.

jonathan, even though he told people, never exposed everything. there’s some things steve will never know about because they’re just too much and billy found comfort and a commonality in jon that he didn’t know he needed.

(joyce would also totally from that point on have adopted billy, doesn’t matter if he’s already like 22, he’s now her child)

[jamilelucato]

could u do one where the reader has had a rlly bad day and then ron comforts her with cuddles and then they fall asleep tgt but the reader has nightmares and wakes up to ron shaking her while she’s crying in his arms 👉🏻👈🏻 while he tells her everyth is gg to be okay

Home [Ron Weasley]

Pairing: Ron Weasley x reader

Summary: reader (any house) spends the summer in the Burrow because she’s running from where she thought was her home. But she’ll soon find out she has a new home.

A/N: thanks for the request! I’ve never written for Ron before, so I’m sorry if he feels out of character. Anyway, it’s a bit sad but also very cute, it has a somehow happy ending. Kinda inspired by Home (Edith Whiskers) because I was listening to it nonstop while writing.

PS: if you’re waiting for the rest of the fics from the HP Musical, it’s coming, guys, be patient. Gotta say the same for those waiting for their requests. 

Harry Potter Masterlist ||  Musical Hogwarts Series

One of the best things about being Ronald Weasley’s best friend was the chance to spend summers at the Burrow. In your opinion, there was no more beautiful sunset than the one you, Harry, Ron and Hermione would watch from the top of the hill.

When you stayed at the Burrow, nothing could bother you. Not even Fred and George’s pranks, nor Percy complaining you all were too loud. Not even having to help Mrs Weasley out was a problem.

Last week, before you came to stay with Ron, you and your mom got into a big fight. She had got herself in a deal that you could not forgive her for. Your mom was now the newest Death Eater in town, and you could not believe she would side with the Dark Lord.

It wasn’t like you hated your own house.

Well, perhaps you weren’t very fond of your mother — that was one of the reasons you were “hiding” at the Weasleys.

But she did, and so that meant that your house was no longer your home. You couldn’t stay one more day there, living with such a dark witch, so you asked Ron if you could crash there for the rest of the summer. You didn’t tell him why, though.

Somehow the Weasley’s place was your only home left. Deep down, you knew why, but you didn’t want to admit — it wasn’t just the Burrow that made you feel like home. It was Ron.

“I think you kids should go to bed,” Mrs Weasley said, speaking in that way that only she knew how. It could sound like a suggesting for inattentive ears, but the truth was it was a command.

The boys complained, slowly getting out of the couch, scared of what their mom could do to them. Hermione looked at you with a tired smile, and without a good-bye, she and Ginny headed to the room you three were sharing.

You careless delayed your leaving, too scared to let go of Ron. Sure, it was not the first time he was laying on you tummy, but, every time he left, it felt like he wouldn’t come back.

He finally got up, stretching his arms up and fixing his jumper, letting you take a quick glimpse of the abdomen. He is taking his Quidditch practice way too serious, you thought, analysing marks that weren’t there before.

Ron looked back at you, still laying on the couch and offered you a hand you gladly accepted.

You two walked up the stairs, side by side, which was quite hard, but neither wanted to say good-night yet.

Ron stared at Ginny’s door room, which was closed. You followed his glance, breathing hard. Fred and George passed you two, and for the first time that week, they didn’t comment on it.

“Well, good night, y/N,” Ron said, pressing his lips together.

You stared from the door to him, scared to say something you would regret.

“Can I...” you swallowed hard, moaning already but Ron eagerly waited for you to finish your sentence, “...sleep with you tonight? I promise not to make a sound.”

Ron quickly smiled, and he had to tell himself to stop being so happy. It was a habit of you two to sleep in the same bed since you were eleven, so he had to remind himself that for you that probably was just a simple request.

But, by Merlin, for Ron, your request was practically his salvation.

“Sure, follow me before mum catches us,” he said, and you giggled, immediately reaching for his hand. When you touched, both felt something like an electric shock running through each nerve ending, dissipating heat throughout their bodies.

Harry was already there, and upon seeing his two best friends walking in and holding hands, he smiled before hiding himself under the covers.

Harry knew that you two fancied each other and he thought it was pretty stupid that none of you had the balls to confess it. But he wasn’t gonna be the one to ruin the moment.

Since you two were in your pyjamas already, there was not much more to do then to get under the covers yourselves and sleep. But who could warn your heart to slow its beats? It felt like you were in a bloody party!

Ron wasn’t doing much better either, squeezing himself in his bed so it could fit both of you. It was supposedly a single bed, only larger — a magic trick that the twins cast that went wrong, but for Ron, the spell had gone very very well.

“Hm, y/N?” Ron whispered in the darkness.

“Yes?” you were wondering if he could hear your heartbeat.

“Can I hug you with an arm? I’m too close to the edge,” he muttered.

You smiled in the dark, happy that he wouldn’t be able to see how much glad you were that he was about to squeeze you in his chest. His hot, callused hands found your waist with such delicacy that you never imagined Ron would have.

In a second, your face was on his chest, and you could feel his heartbeat as fast as yours. But both were slowly coming to a less quick rhythm.

“Sleep well,” you whispered to him, moving your head slightly just so your voice could find his ears better.

“I will,” he whispered a minute later, hoping that you would be too sleepy to remember.

Your last memory before giving in to the dream was Ron running his fingers through your scalp, and all you could think was how nice it was.

***

“Shhh, y/N, it’s okay!” Ron kinda whispered-shouted in your ear, holding your arms. “Please, wake up, you’re safe!”

You could feel his hands grasping your arms, but you couldn’t manage to open your eyes.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” he whispered again, kissing your forehead.

It was finally then when you woke up — scared, confused, sweaty.

Ron saw your eyes spark in the dark and he hugged you, placing a hand in your scalp and bringing you close to your chest.

“You scared me,” he said.

“What-what happened?”

“You had a bad dream, I guess. I woke up to you screaming ‘mum, it’s me, please don’t hurt me’ or something like that,” he informed, pulling you away to see your face. “Crazy nightmare, huh? Scared of your own mother,” his tone suggested he could be siling, but in the dim, you just couldn’t tell.

Ron noticed how quiet you were after his comment.

“y/N? Are you and your mom okay?” he asked, placing a hand in your cheek at the exact same time a tear fell from your eyes and wetted his hand. “What is it, princess? You can tell me.”

You tried to fight the tears, and Ron helped, trying to clean them up.

“My mum and I... the reason I came here without days’ notice—”

“—you never need to give a notice,” he interrupted.

“— is because my mum told me what she had done,” you kept going, scared that if you stopped whispering, you would give up. “She’s with the Death Eaters, Ron. She’s one of them now.”

Ron tried hard to keep himself together for you and not to scream because of Harry. “She what?”

“She said she wanted to protect our family, going to the winner side,” you kept telling. “Winner side, can you believe that? That woman is bloody stupid.”

He revived when you came in, a couple of days ago, with a big smile in your face, no sign of sadness. How you hugged him — yes, this time a bit longer, but he thought he was imagining it.

Ron didn’t know what to say.

Really, what do you say to someone who had a death eater for a mom? If Molly told Ron she was a Death Eater, what would he do? He had no idea, but he would be probably way more freaked out than you.

The fact that you were having just some nightmares about the whole thing and not running around, cursing everyone, only made Ron realise how much special and strong and brave the girl he was in love with was.

By Merlin, did he have to realise it now?

“It’s gonna be okay, y/N,” he said, not sure if it was the right thing to say, but pulling you close anyway. “We’re gonna find a way to save her. Talk some sense into her.”

“She has the mark, Ronnie. She showed it to me,” you sighed, hugging him tighter. You needed it — you would, and you have always needed it, but now you had an excuse for it.

“Doesn’t matter, princess. She’s gonna realise the mistake she’s made, and she’ll come around, and the Order will help protect her,” he whispered, running his fingers through her hair. “And if she doesn’t come to her senses... we’re not gonna hurt her, I promise. I’ll make sure of it.”

You faced up, meeting his sparkling eyes in the dark.

“But, Ronnie, what if she hurts me?” your question was barely audible, you were scared to even say something like that.

“She won’t. I won’t let her,” Ron muttered, kissing your forehead. “She’ll have to kill me first.”

Still looking into his eyes, you finally smiled. Not happy, but hopeful. You had Ron, and he was all you ever needed. He was your home, your best friend.

“I love you, Ronnie,” you whispered in a quick moment of bravery. You were not worried he wouldn’t feel the same, you weren’t worried if you were dumb to say such a thing.

But, as your home, he had the right to know. If it came to you, you could spend whole days telling him how much you loved him.

His eyebrows shot up, surprised at what he had heard. Somehow, Ron knew that you meant that you loved him as a woman loves a man, not as simple friends. He knew because of your hearts beating in the same rhythm, the exchanged looks causing goosebumps and colouring the cheeks, and the touches leaving trails on the body.

“I love you too, princess,” he whispered back, and all your worries suddenly disappeared.

Ron was in a sudden peace. He knew you weren’t going anywhere. You were his and he was home too.

[impala666]

The One With The Boobies Part Four (The Real Reason)

Here we are! Another part and another finished episode!!! Hope you all enjoy!!!!! I love all of you!

Last Part (Part 3), Series Masterlist 

After you had talked and confided in Monica and Rachel about what happened between you and Joey, you had ended up passing out on their couch. So when you woke up you couldn’t help but feel groggy, you had work to go to but you were so grateful that Monica had called off for you without even asking. You knew that you should have gone to work but you had basically stayed up all night crying your eyes out, and now that you were awake after finally sleeping. You still didn’t feel rested, you just felt sad and numb. But a knock on Monica and Rachel’s door caused you to escape your thoughts and sit up to see who was at the door when Monica got up from the table ro get it. “Hi.” Ronnie greeted Monica before she smiled and waved at you to which you responded with a halfhearted wave as you walked to the kitchen to get some coffee. 

“Hi.” Monica smiled at the woman who was a stranger to her. “May I help you?” Monica politely asked the woman. 

“Yeah. Joey said I could use your shower since Chandler’s in ours.” Ronnie told her, but Monica still had no idea who she was. But she guessed that any friend of Joey’s was a friend of hers. 

“Okay.” Monica agreed but still needed to know. “Who are you?”

“Oh! I’m Ronnie. Ronnie Rappelano” She introduced herself as she reached out to shake Monica’s hand. Which Monica took and shook, but the name meant absolutely nothing to her. But Ronnie must have noticed Monica’s confusion, so she clarified. “The mistress.” That was what got Monica when she let out an ‘oh’ of recognition. Monica turned back to share a surprised look at you and Rachel to which you both shared. 

“Um, come on in.” Monica waved the woman in.

“Hi, I’m Rachel.” Rachel introduced herself to the older woman. Ronnie greeted Rachel as she walked into the apartment. “Bathroom’s up there.” Rachel directed her as she pointed up the step. “Hey, listen Ronnie.” She quickly stopped her on her way to the bathroom, when an idea popped into Rachel’s head. “How long would you say Chandler’s been in the shower?” 

“Oh, like uh, five minutes.” Ronnie answered Rachel.

“Perfect.” Rachel smiled at her in thanks before Ronnie made her way into the bathroom. “Fasten your seatbelts. It’s pee-pee time.” Rachel announced with a look of evil on her face as she walked over to the door. Rachel walked out and across the hall when Monica held it open, then closed it and walked over to sit in the kitchen chair next to you. You sat at the table just staring down into your mug of coffee, but you could feel Monica’s concerned eyes burning into you. When you finally looked up at her she flashed you a sympathetic smile and reached forward and placed a comforting hand on your arm. 

“How’re you feeling?” She asked. 

“I don’t know. I’ve been better I guess.” You shrugged, not wanting to get to into how you were feeling, which she nodded in understanding. “It’s almost weird,” you told her as you rubbed your hands down your face. “I still love him and still want to rip his heart out.” Monica chuckled.

“That’s how you know he’s a good one. But I still can’t believe that he couldn’t say that he loved you! He always seems to be showing it to you in different ways.” Monica let out her own feelings on the situation, feeling frustrated. Joey almost always could never keep his hands off of you, and it just made no sense to her. 

“Then I don’t know what to tell you.” You let out a sigh. You heard the door open as you rubbed your hands over your eyes, but jumped when you heard it slam shut. “What happened?” You asked in concern when you saw Rachel out of breath and he face as white as a sheet. 

“I saw the wrong pee-pee.” Rachel said out of breath still surprised. 

“Who’s did you see?” Monica couldn’t help but ask out of curiosity.

“Joey’s.” Rachel carefully looked at you, and so did Monica when they mentioned his name.

“You can say his name.” You told them, now annoyed at how they walked on eggshells around you. “He is still in our friend group.” Monica and Rachel gave each other a look when they realized what they had been doing to you, they had been trying to be protective of you because they love you. Which they knew you appreciated, but it just wasn’t something you needed right now.

“Well, regardless. You can hide out here for the day while we’re at work. So you can get over your break up, since I’m sure you aren’t ready to go back across the hall.” Monica offered, when you flashed your first small smile she knew that that’s what you needed. You looked at her to see if she was serious and once you saw that she was, you looked over to Rachel who smiled in agreement.

“Thanks, you guys.” Your voice started shaking when you realized that you still had a safe place to feel your emotions. 

“Oh, of course.” Rachel told you as she walked over to you and leaned down to give you another hug.

“Believe us, we get it.” Monica told you she also hugged you before her and Rachel made their way to the door so that they could start their day. Leaving you in the silent apartment all by yourself, you felt another tear roll down your face. You got up and made your way over to the couch and flopped down onto it, you always hated being so emotional over men like this. But what could you say, this one really got to you.

******

Joey kept trying his best to put the pull out bed back into the couch but he just couldn’t do it, but he had his mind on other things, like his dad cheating on his mind. Chandler knowing why Joey broke up with you, you still not talking to him, and the fact that he knew that you were hiding away from him across the hall at Monica’s and Rachel’s. He had finally almost gotten the bed back in, but of course there had to be a knock at the door. But he had to answer it just in case it was you for whatever reason. It wasn’t you on the other side of the door, but the person made him smile just as big. “Ma! What’re you doing here?” 

“I came to give you this,” she told him as she handed him a paper bag of groceries, “and this!” But then gave her son a smack upside the head after Joey had taken the bag from her. 

“Ow! Big ring.” Joey reacted as he held the spot on his head that had just gotten hit and closed the door. 

“Why did you have to fill your father’s head with all that garbage about making things right? Things were fine the way they were.” Mrs. Tribbiani yelled at her son. “There’s chicken in there, put it away.” Joey quickly listened to his mother and quickly put the whole bag into the refrigerator. “For God’s sake, Joey.” She threw her hands up when she saw that the bed was only half put away, as well as the women’s clothes and suitcase that was in the corner, but she would have to get back to that in a moment. But the best she did for that second was put the bed back into its couch position without a problem. 

“Hold on. You knew?” Joey asked her. 

“Of course I knew! What do you think?” She turned to face Joey. “Your father is no James Bond. You should have heard some of his cover stories.” Mrs. Tribbiani decided to give one as an example. “‘I’m sleeping over at my accountant.’ I mean what is that?” She explained, Joey knew that if you were here you would be laughing like crazy at the horrible and clearly lie that his father gave his mother. But Joey still didn’t understand how his mother could just be okay with it, and when he tried to ask questions he got cut off again. “Do you remember how your father used to be?” She asked her son, to which he nodded. “Always yelling. Always yelling. Nothing made him happy. Nothing. Not that wood shop, not those stupid little ships in the bottle, nothing. I mean it’s nice he has a hobby.” Mrs. Tribbiani told Joey, now looking on what she thought was the bright side. Joey took a seat at the stool next to his mothers when he knew she was about to start speaking seriously. 

“Ma, I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but… what the hell are you talking about?” He asked his mother, baffled by her reaction. If he ever even tried to do what his father did to you, you wouldn’t take it. He knew you would be gone. “What about you?” He asked in surprise and concern. 

“Me? I’m fine.” She reassured her little boy. “Look, honey. In an ideal world, there’d be no her, and your father would look like Sting. And I’ll tell you something else, ever since that poodle stuffer came along he’s been so ashamed of himself.” She said, letting her son in on a little secret. “He’s been more attentive. He’s been more loving. It’s like every day’s our anniversary.” She shrugged when she finally told her son the truth, but it felt so good to have it off her chest.

“I’m happy for you?” Joey stilled tried to be supportive, but he was still son confused about the life choices that his parents were making. 

“Well, don’t be!” She yelled at him again, making Joey look down at his shoes. “Because now everything is screwed up. I just want it the way it was.” She yearned as she walked her way around the counter and into the kitchen. 

“Ma, I’m sorry. I..I just did what I thought you’d want.” Joey stood up on the other side of the counter as he told his mother that he thought his intentions were honest for her. 

“I know you did, cookie.” His mom chuckled. “Oh, I know you did.” She reached over and lovingly ran her hands down Joey’s face. “So, tell me. Did you see her?” Mrs. Tribbiani couldn’t help herself but asked, and also be scared of the answer.  

“Yeah, You’re ten times prettier than she is.” Joey smiled when he saw his moms smile grow.

“That’s sweet,” she smiled brighter and chuckled as Joey kissed her knuckles. “Could I take her?” She asked, her voice growing serious. 

“Oh, with this ring,” Joey lifted her left hand that he was holding and smiled brightly at his mother. “No contest.” He reassured her. 

“Alright, now more importantly, tell me about this girl you’ve been seeing?” Mrs. Tribbiani told him, apparently her son broke up with this girl Y/N because he didn’t love her, but when they first got together Joey wouldn’t shut up about her. So she knew that something was going on, and she needed her son to figure that out. She wanted grandkids soon. 

******

After talking to his mom about you and walking her downstairs, Joey knew that it was time to talk to you about what was really going on. He didn’t want you to be sad and heart broken. Plus after his talk with his mother, he knew that it was now or never and he wanted to be honest with you. Not lie like his dad did with his mom, because if you love someone then you don’t lie to them, period. Joey lifted his hand up to knock, but he knew that you would most likely slam the door in his face so he just barged his way in to see you sitting on the couch, in your pajamas from last night, and watching Disney movies. Which you always watched when you needed to be cheered up. 

You turned your head to see who it was, but your jaw dropped as you stood up. You weren’t sure what you were supposed to be feeling though. “What’re you doing here?”

“We need to talk.” Joey told you as he walked over to the couch and stood in front of you.

“About what?” You asked, tensing up. Which Joey couldn’t stand, he liked it when you felt good about yourself and he took that way from you. 

“About the real reason we broke up,” Joey told you as he reached down for the remote to turn off the tv. 

“Yeah, because you don’t love me.” You protectively crossed your arms over your chest. “I think you’ve already made your feelings perfectly clear already.” You couldn’t believe that he was trying to bring this up again, but clearly Joey wasn’t done. When you tried to walk away, Joey quickly took your wrist and pulled you to sit on the couch next to him. 

“That’s not why, please believe me that that is not why.” Joey begged. “Just please, please let me explain and make this right?” He asked, hoping you would take it well. Joey didn’t think that he would be able to stand not being able to see you every day.

“Fine, 5 minutes.” You mumbled, you never really were ever able to say no to him anyway.

******

It was way more than five minutes but Joey had finally told you, but he could not read the expression on your face. “Can you say something now? You’re kind of starting to freak me out.” Joey spoke after a few minutes of silence. 

“So, you do love me?” Was the first thing you said.

“Yes, Y/N, more than anything. I just want you to be able to get comfortable with everything else. You just got to the city, you should get to explore it. Plus you just started school and a new path, and I want you to have no distractions.” Joey said, but you went quiet again. 

“I think I love you even more.” You whispered in frustration under your breath. “I think that is the sweetest and nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.” You looked at Joey and you just felt your heart melting for the man. “Thank you,” you mumbled as you leaned forward to give him a hug as you tried to keep yourself from crying happy tears. Joey let out a sigh of relief as he wrapped his arms around your waist, hugging you back. 

“Thank God. This means I still get to see you every day.” Joey sighed again. 

“Joey, come on. We still would have seen each other.” You told him, not believing that he thought that you would leave that soon. 

“Yeah, I know. But this way you won’t hate me.” Joey blushed as he spoke his fear as he pulled away from the hug. 

“I don’t think I could ever ever hate you, Joey.” You smiled and blushed at him as you took his hand.

******

“So you talked to your dad, huh?” Monica asked Joey as she reached over for another slice of pizza out of the box and you all sat and ate dinner together in her living room. 

“Yeah. He’s going to keep cheating on my Ma like she wanted. My Ma’s going to keep pretending she doesn’t know. And my little sister, Tina, can’t see her husband anymore ‘cause he got a restraining order.” Joey ended with, but you weren’t sure what it had to do with what happened with his parents. “Which has nothing to do with anything, except that I just found out today.” Joey added when he looked at your face as he sat on the arm of that chair that Chandler was sitting on. 

“Things sure have changed here on Walton’s Mountain.” Chandler joked as Joey finished on his family drama. 

“So, Joe. Are you okay?” Ross asked his friend. 

“Yeah, I guess. It’s just...you know, they’re parents. After a certain point, you gotta let go.” Joey said to him. “Even if you know better you gotta let them make their own mistakes.” 

“And just think, in a couple years we get to turn into them.” Rachel just had to point out that fact to all of you. 

“If I turn into my parents, I’ll either be an alcoholic blonde chick, chasing after 20 year old boys or...I’ll end up like my mom.” Chandler automatically decided.

“So I get to have a sex change and have a headlining show in Vegas?” You couldn’t help but ask as a joke.

“I’d pay to see that.” Joey laughed his comment to you.

“So, how are you two doing?” Chandler asked, to make sure after learning that Joey told you everything. 

“I think we’re fine.” You answered making eye contact with Joey. “But I think I’m going to have to start looking for my own place now, which I really can’t afford.”

“How about you just come stay with me,” Ross quickly offered.

“Really?” You asked, perking up all excited. 

“Sure,” Ross shared your smile.

“Thank you so much, Ross!” You quickly got up and bent over to give him a big hug. 

“Hey,” Phoebe announced as she quickly walked into the room after closing the door, and you all greeted her as you took a new spot on the couch in between Ross and Monica. 

“How’s it going?” Rachel genuinely asked her.

“Oh, okay, except I broke up with Roger.” Phoebe told all of you, which explained why she seemed to be a little down. 

“Oh,” you all somewhat reacted.  

“Yeah, right.” Phoebe sat next to Chandler calling all of you out on how fake you sounded. 

“Ohhh,” you all tried again. Putting in more effort. “What happened?” Rachel asked her. 

“I don’t know. I mean, he’s a good person and he can be really sweet and in some ways, i think he is so right for me.” Phoebe wondered. “It’s just...I hate that guy.” Phoebe said angrily, to which you all agreed. Happy that she finally saw Roger in the creepy light that he truly lived in. 

*****

“Hey, Joey.” Phoebe greeted as she saw the man walk into the apartment as she steeped her tea.

“Here for the boobie payback express. Next stop Rachel Greene.” Joey smirked an evil smirk as he went  to the bathroom door. But when he opened the shower curtain he was in for a surprise.

“Joey, what are you doing!?” Monica ordered the man as she chased him out of the bathroom. 

“Sorry, wrong boobies.” Joey tried to apologize as he opened the door to leave the apartment, but he just couldn’t help himself when a smirk came to his lips as he looked over at Monica, casually checking her out.