#Any George struggling to walk in his boots

[harrisonsbabygirl]

[bitch-butter]

tagged by @hellofanidea

WIP Ask Game

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three unclear vignettes reside below

damn fool kids

“Joe, please,” George shuddered, breath catching even as he kept one hand on the camera and let the other reach to clasp onto Joe’s own shoulder, his fingers tight and knuckles pale. “Please, please, please…” he continued, voice falling away until it was simply a pale ghost of itself as Joe moved them, their boots sticking and sucking through the mud until finally, inevitably, Joe felt his foot sink through a thin patina of water and hit the soft membrane of the bridge beneath. 

“It’s alright,” Joe said, barely above a whisper, the shadow still far off but approaching enough that he began to create height, width, the distinct impression that whoever - whatever - it was, they were not walking but - 

An old woman whose feet never touched the ground.

George’s grasp on him tightened even further as his own feet hit the water and sank down to the bridge, his eyes clamping shut like the lens over a camera. The water itself was cold, soaking through even the thick lacing of his boot to bite at the freezing skin of his ankle, soaking his socks and lapping at the cuffs of his pants, but Joe couldn’t bring himself to care. He moved backward, eyes set upon the path beyond George’s face, holding him surely in his rigid, unyielding grasp, afraid that if he loosened them even the littlest bit his hands would shake badly enough that he’d come apart before them. 

He moved blind along the path behind them, the bridge sagging beneath their weight and making him gasp, catching himself on pits and peaks he didn’t dare look down to see. George breathed heavily, hand shaking around the camera and eyes shut tight as he seemed to sink into himself, letting himself be guided forward by a man moving backward.

“I can’t,” he rasped as the trees closed in around the bridge, their fingers ghosting close to their shoulders, the tops of their hands and snuffing out the sun until together they moved through a long, half-shadowed corridor, their steps wet in the cold air. “I can’t, Joe, I’m…” he struggled, breath labored and fast, brow furrowed and agonized over his still closed eyes. “I’m going to pass out, I can’t -”

“You can,” Joe urged, throat closing in around his voice. “You can do it, I have you.”

miss world (OFC Canon Era Comedy)

She let her mother send in the picture of her at the office counter, perched daintily on the ladder wearing just a trace of lipstick, catching the mid-afternoon light like a mirror out to the whole rest of the world. Cherie personally had thought she looked washed out, but then apparently nobody else had agreed as she made the sought-after Short List. And lo and behold, Mr. D’Agostino had come to Gaylord, population: 900. 

He had been shorter than she thought he would be, but still sturdy with hairy forearms, a California tan spread across his skin. He had smoked incessantly, shaking apart beneath his downy coat in the Minnesota chill, never mind that it had been all of 20 degrees, which to Cherie’s mind qualified as practically Springtime. Nevertheless, he had let her lead him out to the field, out to the fence that bordered the Worldessen’s Egg and Dairy.

“Christ, you live like this?” he griped, trudging through the modest two inches of snow along the roadside. “I ate butter on my toast, butter on my potatoes, and I swear there was butter in my coffee, how do you all manage it and still walk this far?”

“This is the Midwest, Mr. D’Agostino,” she had tossed over her shoulder, curls bouncing in the chill, the white winter light glancing off them. “Butter is a spice and gravy is a beverage!”

Huffing and puffing, he halted near the fence as she stood before it, the cartoonish painting of a pinup holding jugs of milk up beside her ample bosom plastered on the wall just behind her. “Yeah, alright, honey,” he sighed, shaking his head tiredly, adjusting the camera around his neck. “Let’s test.”

She had felt rosy with excitement, with that feeling that sweeps over you and tells you maybe you have this, maybe you have this. “Well, alright,” she had chirped in the wintery air, her voice a puff of vapor.

“Ok,” he said, widening his stance in the snow to crouch into an almost battle-ready position, his camera at the ready. “Say your name for me again, sweetie.”

Cherie had smiled coquettishly, hands flying to the bottom of her coat to undo it. “Cherie Koch, like ‘coke’!” she had cried, slipping her coat from her shoulders and revealing the thin, almost transparent silkiness of her blouse in the chilled air, throwing herself back in a pose against the fence. “No relation!”

This is where fate had intervened on her behalf. 

pretty on the inside (pretty from the back) (Unnamed Disaster Gays AU)

He only had eyes for the window, opened up against the warm steam of the summer night, the smell of cigarettes both thick and light at the same time. Pulling in a deep sigh, he breathed it out smoothly and reminded himself that at one time he could have had anybody he wanted, could have asked for anything from anyone. 

All at once his heart vibrated with sudden proximity, and Joe crouched into view on the window ledge, getting halfway through before spotting David standing before him. 

They regarded each other for what felt like the first time, and David found that the pale, sinewy ghost he had remembered was in fact beautiful, a work of light and shadows, saturated with pink along the apples of his cheeks and the lilt of his mouth. His breath trembled in the center of his chest like a beehive at the way Joe’s eyes lingered over his face, their depths inscrutable and dark as his face creased with something like trepidation. Perhaps he had misremembered David as well, maybe this whole dark impulse would be nothing more than an evil thought he could use to prove to himself at the end of the day he was wrong, wrong, wrong in the heat of the night - 

Swallowing his doubt, he lifted his chin and stepped forward until his thigh met the jut of the other man’s knee where he still sat half perched in the window, one hand braced upwards against the frame and the other braced against the sill with a cigarette dying between his fingers.

“Can I have a sip?” he asked, voice low, as he nodded down towards the cigarette.

For once, Joe was quiet as he considered it, blinking momentarily as though ensuring he had heard correctly, but then his hand was lifting the cig up to him, still carefully balanced between two fingers for David to take hold of. Instead, he bent his head in towards it, sealing his lips over the filter and taking a long drag as Joe held it for him, the sound of a breath quivering in the air that seemed to chill all around them without explanation. Eyes lowered, he gazed up towards Joe as he pulled on the smoke, withdrawing smoothly to breath out a long sigh of it, refusing to release the other man’s stunned gaze from his own, feeling powerful and malevolent and entirely victorious. 

He gave himself one second more to relish the look on Joe’s face as he dropped the hand holding the cigarette down to the sill once more, the butt slipping from his fingers to fall down into nothingness beyond the frame and down to the faraway ground. Joe’s throat bobbed heavily, his dark eyes hot, and David could barely help the breathless smile that crossed his own lips. 

“Can I have a kiss?” he spoke again, his voice quiet, cut with the burn of smoke and the urgent push of his want.

The moment before it happened was brief, electric, terrifying as Joe reached out for him, took hold of his neck with hungry eyes, but then his mouth was on David’s, his breath a burst over his lips before -

This wasn’t the way that two human beings kissed, this was the way that asteroids crashed into the Earth.

thank you for the tag 🖤~

[harrisonstories]

Hey I've been thinking about this a lot and I wanted to ask you, do you think George was on the autistic spectrum?

Hi there, I apologise for such a late response.

You know, I've thought about that as well. A lot actually. I've been told I could be autistic but haven't been officially diagnosed, so I won't speak on that, but I am neurodivergent. One of the things which drew me to George in the first place was the fact I could relate to certain qualities he had which point in that direction. Namely the way he became obsessive about his interests -- immersing himself in research, watching the same films and tv shows over and over again, losing track of time, using them as a way of connecting with people, etc. and a strong desire for perfection in himself.

Examples of what I'm referring to:

"The thing about George -- and we all feel it strongly now that he’s gone off us -- is that he plunged into things. Whatever he got into, whether it was the sitar and Ravi Shankar or the Maharishi, he walked right in and never looked back." — Marianne Faithfull, Memories, Dreams and Reflections (2007)

"George had a really curious mind, and when he got into something he wanted to know everything." — Olivia Harrison, Rolling Stone (2011)

"When [Olivia] first met George she didn't know what George was talking about half the time, he was always quoting Python or ‘The Producers’. He used to say to Olivia ‘Ah my little Swedish bombshell’ which she explained she obviously didn’t look Swedish, but it was a line from the movie The Producers." — Olivia Harrison in Sydney, Australia (2005)

"Maybe there was just too much to do, but the house and the garden became an obsession with George. He found out everything there was to know about Sir Frank Crisp, how and why he built that extraordinary house and garden, why he wanted to re-create the Blue Grotto of Capri and build a mini Matterhorn in the Oxfordshire countryside. He wanted to get inside Sir Frank’s mind and fit into his old boots, and he seemed to want to do it alone. I can be obsessive, but then I get bored and need a change." — Pattie Boyd, Wonderful Tonight

Whether any of this actually means George was neurodivergent I don't know. It's always made me wonder though. It's difficult because not only do we not know George personally, the concept of there being a wide spectrum didn't become mainstream until after he died. There's such a lot of information nowadays which wouldn't have been available to him.

What you also have to consider is the influence of other factors such as experiencing extreme fame at a young age, growing up in post-war Liverpool, his family, and his introverted personality. He was often said to be very sensitive about his privacy and personal space, but I think most introverted people would struggle with that and being secretive was a common Harrison trait. He struggled to succeed within the school system even though he was smart, but he also grew up in a free-thinking household which would've made the rigidity of the outside world harder.

On the other hand you have quotes like this one from Olivia:

Q: Did George separate his private life from his life as a musician? OLIVIA: He didn’t separate anything, he knew no boundaries and was very open about everything, sometimes excessively so. Sometimes he said very funny, but rude things, and when I pointed it out to him, he just said, ‘I don’t have a private life, I just don’t know when you can say something.’ — Süddeutsche Zeitung (translated by Andrea of harrisonarchive) (2011)

What interests me about this is the last line where George says he "doesn't know when you can say something" and that he attributes this quality to being famous. The thing is, we know from various anecdotes he acted this way long before he was famous, and therefore it's unlikely to be the reason he had trouble knowing what was socially appropriate. His mum, Louise, had a reputation for her bluntness as well, so you could argue he got it from her, but I'm not sure that would hold up long into adulthood and after engaging in as many circles as George did. You also can't rule out the possibility of Louise being neurodivergent.

I've noticed all these parts of George come up repeatedly when his friends and family talk about him in every stage of life, and the suggestion he couldn't control it is mentioned several times as well, mostly by Olivia.

"When he opened up to you, he opened up completely. He didn’t know how to do things in half-measures -- which was really positive and sometimes really detrimental to himself." — Olivia Harrison, Mojo (2011)

"George really said everything that crossed his mind. I used to say, 'You really can’t get a thought to your brain without it slipping out your mouth.’ And he was painfully honest. It was an endearing trait, but sometimes you hoped that he wouldn’t be quite as honest as he was going to be." — Tom Petty, Rolling Stone (2002)

To reiterate what I said before, I'm by no means qualified to diagnose anybody and don't claim this to be concrete evidence. However, I hope it might encourage people to take a deeper look into understanding George's behaviour. I find that because there isn't a traumatic childhood to point to, he's not given the benefit of the doubt or afforded the same sensitivity as the other Beatles. People are much quicker to assume he acted out of spite and analysis of him is shallow.

Thank you for the question and giving me a chance to pull my thoughts on this together! If anyone would like to add their thoughts please feel free to share.

[snappleapple]

their favorite types of kisses

people in this - dream, georgenotfound, sapnap, wilbur, punz, jschlatt, awesamdude, quackity

headcanon!

the most disgusting fluff i’ve ever written

warning - cursing, i think that’s all but if there is more please do not hesitate to tell me :)

word count - 2k

a/n: okay okay, i might’ve lied earlier about that being my last post but this was short and easy to make which is why i would like to feed my readers this early haha. anyways, enjoy and please disregard the errors in this post, i hate proof reading anything lol. also, i’ve been very indecisive on the title and i might change it later and ooh, my masterlist will be made soon. i’ve just been feeling very unproductive these days. also, please put in requests, i am so bored and dumb therefore there are no ideas in this brain. and if you’d like a part 2, i might add more people for the part 2!anyways, peace!

dream -

i get the feeling that dream’s favorite type of kisses would be cheek kisses

he just likes to watch as you struggle to reach his height

“aw look at those little legs do their thing.”

ends up with you not giving him his kiss

and mans becomes SO pouty

“y/n…come on. don’t be this way.” :(

if you don’t kiss him on the cheek, will also become SO clingy and whiny

“why won’t you KISS ME!”

clenches his fists and stomps away like a teenage girl during puberty

slamming the door to your room

so then you have to go and give him all the kisses he wants

his face is slammed into your pillow

you sit on the side of the bed and pet his hair

leading him to stare up at you with puppy dog eyes

“i will give you all the kisses you want. so stop being so pouty, you big baby.”

will literally leave zero feet of space between you and him

taps his cheek to tell you he wants kisses

when you go on dates, will literally make you stand on your tippy toes to get his kisses

does not bend down at all and actually lifts his head higher to tease you

in other words, clingy but rude hoe

george -

george is a classic romantic

he loves just lip kisses

pecks or lingering ones

he doesn’t care

mans don’t need too many kisses

nor does he need to be too clingy

total opposite of dream and sapnap *ahem clingy ahem*

if he wants a kiss,

he will come over to you and get it

doesn’t get pouty if you’re busy

just waits patiently

doesn’t enjoy it when you interrupt him when he’s streaming so you do your own thing

when you’re watching a movie with him,

he will literally only stare at you with his cute smile

and listen to your every criticism of the movie

he likes to just peck your lips whenever he feels like it

and you’re just not surprised anymore

just likes to stare at your lips whenever you talk

overall, is very sweet but not to an extent with showing affection

sapnap -

omg

sapnap just vibes with neck kisses

it tickles his neck and he loves them

giggles when you pepper kisses along his neck and flushes a deep red

“y/n. stop.” giggles between each word

but when you do, becomes the saddest person in the whole world

“i was joking.” :(

when he’s streaming and he begins to miss you

would leave his room and find you just to get a kiss

just like dream, would get angry if you give him no kisses

“GIVE ME KISSIES!”

very amusing for you

and you love to tease him

“i don’t want to give you kissies.”

continues to stare at you with a large frown until you give in and give him kissies

lsg supremacy but i’ll get into this later hehe

you better give him kisses or you’ll be dealing with a very sad sapnap

sadnap :(

wilbur -

wilbur, wilbur, wilbur

what can i even say

total nose kiss guy

i bet he’ll boop your nose twenty four seven

asks stupid questions just to get your attention

“y/n?”

“yes wilbur?”

“is a hotdog a sandwich?”

“why-“

“boop.”

“did you just say boop while you booped my nose?”

if he’s streaming and you bring him a snack

he will hold your face still and leave kisses on your nose

not too clingy but not too distant

likes to be just right with you

if its snowy outside and your noses get red

makes dumb jokes about he is rudolph and you’re mrs. rudolph

just a lot of smooches from wilby

takes you to a lot of hidden cafes in the city

and while you read, he balances his head on his palm, staring at you in admiration

if you’re insecure about your nose, you legit can’t be around wilbur because he will go on a tangent about how beautiful it is

substantially, soft boy hours all day bro, besides when he gets mad then you leave the hormonal man tf alone

punz -

i don’t see a lot of punz on tumblr so here we go

punz loves hand kisses

not to an extent where he has a hand fetish

god no but just like

when your holding hands, he’ll occasionally pull your hand up to his lips and leave a kiss

lots of hand holding

and i mean lots

constantly gets mad fun of for being a simp but ignores those comments because he genuinely loves you so much

likes it when you play with his hair and messing it up

also likes to compare hand sizes with you

always has a hand on your thigh or your hand in his whenever he is driving somewhere with you

even when you go on dates, always holding hands

no matter how sweaty your hand gets, he will hold on

sometimes if he holds on for too long, you have to tell him to let go

“punz, my hand is super sweaty. lets take a break from the hand holding.”

would flat out decline so you would have to pry your hand out of his

he would also love it when you would kiss his hand

makes him feel all polite and precious LOL

would also wrap his pinky along yours when you walk together

he once came with you to a family gathering for christmas and was so SHY

shy boy held your hand for security while your younger siblings made fun of you

afterwards, when you were under a mistletoe, he kisses you on the lips before kissing you on his favorite part of your body,

your hand

c!jschlatt -

jschlatt is a whole mess

the first time you met, he confessed that he would hate you for as long as you lived because you made fun of his boots

now he says he still strongly dislikes you but you’re more tolerable

doesn’t like it when you make him soft and HATES it when he blushes

“why must you do this to me, mother nature?”

also “hates” it when you even touch him because he “hates” you

when he actually confessed to you that he liked you with his grumpy usual grandpa voice,

you kissed him on his forehead, after he bent down of course

he is an actual giant and threatens to squash you like an ant if he feels the need to

is an absolute monster to you but loves it when you kiss his forehead because it makes him feel secure and loved

likes to watch the wind blow through your hair and mess it up but gives you his hat because he like you being “all pretty and shit”

gets SUPER jealous when you hug children

like for example, when you went over to a family gathering at his house, his cousins came up to hug you

and when you let go of the child, the man child comes and lugs you over his shoulder

gets yelled at by his mom and gives her a sheepish smile before rolling his eyes and throwing you down on the sofa set next to him

his mom doesn’t approve of the way he treats you but you tell her its fine because he’s cute

when you are far from any type of civilization or in the safety and solitude of your own home, he wants kisses on the forehead

pointing up to it and bending down so you could reach it

“y/n, i only love you because of your forehead kisses.”

“you only love me for my kisses?” :(

“mhm.”

actually feels slightly bad

“and because of your personality.”

“thank you-“

“shut up. we don’t talk about this.”

in conclusion, give him his forehead kisses or perish

awesamdude -

sam just adores it when you give him jawline kisses

not because it’s basically the only place you could reach but because it’s a sweet gesture

sam is all about sweetness

i mean have you even seen this man on his stream

he likes to watch you while you have conversations with your friends

not in a creepy way but more like an adoring way

cause man does he love you

i mean not only does he love you but his whole family does

and when you’re alone with sam, you love to bury him underneath all of your love

“i love you sam!”

“no i love you more y/n!”

“NO i LOVE you more!”

“NO i LOVE you MORE!”

“SAM NO. I LOVE YOU MORE!”

“okay thank you sweet pea.”

leaving you a bit confused but happy that he accepts your love

when you cuddle, omg

he never stops peppering kisses all over your face and vice versa because your relationship is disgustingly fluffy

when he lends you one of his sweatshirts, you sure as hell better wear that shit out or else (i am leaving a blank threat here)

sam loves technology but you guys sort of have a system

a system that involves mailing each other love letters rather than texting them

you guys also go on a ton of walks just about anywhere

hand holding is mandatory even though you probably look like a child compared to him

just give sam lots of love and in return, you’ll receive lots of love

quackity -

mans cannot leave you tf alone

likes to do ANYTHING freaky around you

“i will follow you to the ends of the earth, mi amor.” or

“ayy, back off.” if anyone gets too close to you

messes with you twenty four seven and makes it his job to drive you insane

plays horror games at two in the morning for fun

and when he gets scared, hides in the safety of your arms

“mi amor. i’m scared.”

“shut the fuck up and sleep, alex.”

“okay.” shuts up quickly and snuggles deeper into the crook of your neck

loves you so deeply but HATES your cat

“look at that little dumb thing stare at me. you got a problem bro?”

your cat also HATES alex

scratches him all the time and hisses at him

if you think sapnap is babie, wait till you meet alex

“y/n he bit me!”

when you glance down, you don’t even see a scratch

“kiss my boo boo.”

wtf

“what boo boo? there’s nothing there.”

gasps as if you offended him

“this boo boo that your el demonio did to me.”

this man will do anything to get boo boo kisses

istg, you once found him provoking your cat to get some scratches

in alex’s mind, ouchies = kisses from y/n

always has ouchies from god knows where and shows it to you

even though you find it annoying at first, you grow used to it and it sorta becomes your thing with alex

alex is babie and you need to take good care of him :)

[weelittleweasley]

love affair (g.w.)

prompt: a relationship with george weasley was all you wanted. but it seemed as though the two of you had two different ideas of what a relationship meant.

pairing: george weasley x fem!reader, fred weasley x fem!platonic reader

warnings: cheating relationships, physical violence, tiny blood warning (literally one sentence), lots of angst, language

word count: 7.5k

author note: this is an amalgamation of me getting out of a very strange relationship six months ago, driver’s license by olivia rodrigo, and two ghosts by harry styles, so take that as you will. this made me sad to write. im so sorry. i also wrote this half tired so if it doesn't make sense, IM SO SORRY LMAO

Knees curled up to your chest, you wrapped your arms around your legs, forcing your body into a coddled position as you sat upon the window sill. Forehead pressed to the glass, the coolness of it made your warm forehead ease with the sensation, condensation fogging up the window pane as your eyes stared mindlessly out of the window. Small mouth sounds fell from your parted lips as you inhaled and exhaled deeply. In the fog on the pane, you dragged your finger across the condensation, drawing little figurines as you attempted to distract yourself from your wandering thoughts that flooded with panic at the news you had received moments ago.

Your pointer finger drew a small heart into the glass before you ripped it away. The sound of a deep tenor rumble resonated outside as small water droplets began pitter-pattering down onto the window. The rain was soothing in contrast to your current state, washing over the lush landscape of the Scottish countryside that Hogwarts castle stood proudly on. 

The rain renewed and refreshed the early autumnal landscape. Water struck upon delicate flowers and reached up to the pale gray sky, accepting the water gratefully. Like a stream in a forest, water rushed down the sides of the Whomping Willow as it twisted and shook off the rain as it poured down. The lush green grass absorbed the water, causing mud puddles to form in pockets across the ground. A smile creeped onto your face as you bit your bottom lip, thinking about how George would insist the next morning that you two go romp around in the mud, behaving like children. George loved mornings after the rain, the way the air was crisp, the smell of fresh dew, the soft ground beneath his yellow rain boots. 

But with the thought of George, your anxious thoughts swirled in your mind like a mixing bowl. You took a deep breath in and repeated to yourself that you would not like to jump to conclusions. This could have been a misunderstanding and Patricia Stimpson had just conveyed the message incorrectly. But the churning in your gut suggested otherwise.

The rain came down relentlessly now, thunder rumbling like a snare drum as darts of lightning flashed far away. The storm was far away, thankfully, which put your mind at ease. 

As a rumble of thunder rippled through, gentle knocks sounded at your door. Rather than getting up and greeting the expected visitor at the door, you lifted your wand beside you and with a gentle flick, the door creaked open just enough for him to push it open all the way.

Entering the room, George closes the door behind him. Without even saying a word, he knows you aren’t yourself. Something was troubling you and it was palpable. The way you curled up watching the rain trickle down the window as you followed it lazily with your finger. George sighs and walks towards you. “Awfully quiet today, aren’t we?” he speaks simply as he takes a seat across from you on the window sill, him sitting criss cross. 

You peel your eyes away from the window and give him a gentle smile as your mind screams to tell him to leave the room, you need space. But when you look at him, your heart swells with all the love you can conjure in your body. He was your George. How could he have done something so unthinkable, but your heart still leaped at the sight of him? You pushed the thought away; nothing was confirmed yet. “Hi, Georgie,” you speak quietly. He scoots closer to you, smile on his lips as he leans forward and presses a light kiss to your forehead. “There’s just a lot on my mind today.”

George peels your arms from around your legs and pulls on them gently, making you wrap your legs around his waist as you huff, giving into his touch. Now, you were wrapped around him like a koala would be, his hands resting on your hips as he brushed a loose strand of hair from your face. “Would you like to share with the class?” he jokes as you give him a look that tells him you were serious. He clears his throat. “Sorry, darling,” he smiles. “What’s bothering you? You can tell me...I don’t like seeing you upset. Especially if it is something I can prevent.”

How ironic. You rub your eyes with the heels of your hands as you inhale a shaky breath. “I received some news from Patricia Stimpson this morning,” you start as you gently start to peel yourself off of George. It didn’t feel right to talk about something like this while being complete entangled in each other. George gives you a concerned look, a little confused as to why you would be talking to Patricia Stimpson. “She saw something that you did that is honestly quite disturbing.”

Patricia came up to you this morning after you had finished breakfast in the Great Hall with George as you parted ways for the day, him to the library and you to you the courtyard. She had a look of urgency in her eyes as she tapped your shoulder and requested to speak somewhere privately. The two of you sat on a bench in the courtyard as she gave you a sad smile and revealed information that you never thought you would receive. 

Your heart had stopped beating at the mention of the combination of names strung together in that sentence. It felt like your worst nightmare had grown legs and had walked into your life. The news slapped you in the face as you just stared at her when she told you, looking into her eyes that looked at you so sad for you. “You mean to tell me,” you breathily laugh, not wanting to even think that this situation was a possibility, “that you saw George and...Angelina...”

She nodded her head, sadly with a look of guilt on her face. She hated that she had to be the barer of bad news, especially since you two weren’t that close. But she would hate to see another girl struggle to breathe as rumors flooded in when she knew she could have helped prevent the situation. Patricia gulped and spoke, “Snogging, yeah.” The thought makes bile rise in your throat as you swallow hard and close your eyes. “It happened a few days ago. They were in the library in the back. I was trying to return a book and I stumbled upon them. The two of them both froze and Angelina then yelled at me to leave and I did, I was shocked, I didn’t know what to do,” she tries to reason. “I’m so sorry, (Y/N).”

You shook your head and placed a reassuring hand on Patricia’s. “Please don’t apologize. You didn’t nothing wrong, darling,” you give her a weak smile. “There was nothing you could after seeing that except tell me. Thank you for telling me,” you speak as you inhale a deep breath, trying to understand how something like this could have happened.

George went to the library often, but he was usually accompanied by Fred or Lee to talk about the joke shoppe or sorts. He would have meetings every four days. If he had slipped away to do something with Angelina, Fred or Lee would have known. But what really stung was the fact that it was Angelina. Your first friend at Hogwarts. She introduced you to George. She helped set you two up. And now she was the one tearing you apart. 

Patricia starts rambling, “I should have told you when I saw it, but I was scared that I had the wrong twin. That it was Fred and not George, but I could have sworn it was George. It had to have been.”

You speak, “Stop justifying things, Patricia. It’s okay. I’ll, um, I’ll have a chat with George about this I guess. Thank you, again, Patricia. I’ll...see you around.”

When you recounted the events to George, he just sat there and looked at you in disbelief. The way he looked at you with so much pain in his eyes made you feel guilty for accusing him of such a thing. You gulped down a dry swallow and told yourself you couldn’t cry, but that didn’t halt the tears from welling up in your eyes as you inhaled a shaky breath. George still just stared at you in shock. “Please, Georgie,” you beg, just barely above a whisper, knowing if you speak any louder, you’ll crumble. “Tell me it’s not true.”

Your bottom lip trembles and threatens to spill out a sob, but it’s stifled when George pulls you into his chest as you cry into his jumper, taking it in your hands in fistfuls. You let cries erupt throughout your body as George rubs your back soothingly, kissing the top of your head. “Don’t cry, angel,” he coos as you sob into his chest, praying to whoever was listening that this wasn’t happening. “Shhhh,” he hushes you, gently prying you off of his chest so he could look into your eyes.

Looking up at him teary eyed, George cradles your face in hands, thumbs wiping away your tears as you tremble like a child after a sick nightmare. He pressed a kiss to one cheekbone and then the other, where tears fell before he pressed his forehead up against yours. “Never in my life,” he speaks, “would I do that to the girl I love.” The fear evaporates from your body as your shoulders relax and you let out a shaky breath. “I know Patricia claims it was me, but it was absolutely Fred. He’s had his eye on Angelina for a few weeks now. Nice to know that my own twin brother doesn’t tell me when he snogged a girl,” he teases as you giggle lightly. “(Y/N)...” he speaks, his voice trailing off, almost as if it were a warning. “I love you.”

His declaration of love felt more like a statement when he said it. As if you should have known. It was firm and pressing. You shook your head as you smiled lightly, sniffling. It was dumb of you to question George’s loyalties in the first place. He loved you fiercely. “I love you, Georgie.”

And for the first time ever in this relationship, the words you exchanged felt out of place. Misused. But you knew the words still rang true for the both of you after three years of dating. If they didn’t, you wouldn’t have your lips pressed against his right now in a gentle kiss, trying to mend what had almost been broken.

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

A few days had passed since the rain and you found yourself happily walking down the hallway, hand in hand with George. He leaned down and whispered in your ear, making you laugh and slap his chest as he joined you in laughter. George squeezed your petite hand in his larger one before he spoke, “Freddie and I have got a team meeting in the library. We’ve got potential investors for the joke shoppe.”

Your eyes widen as you excitedly push his shoulder. “Investors? Geez, Georgie, why didn’t you tell me?!” you exclaim as he chuckles. “I’m so proud of you,” you beam, gently stroking his cheek before you place a gentle kiss to his lips. “Go on then, go do more exciting things,” you push him in the direction of the library.

George sends you a wink, “I’ll catch you after, alright?” He walks backwards down the hall. “In your room?” he asks as you smile and nod. “Brilliant.”

And with that, he’s gone as you shake your head and continue walking down the hallway. As you walk, you think about how that night between you and George had brought you closer. He wanted to be around you more, he gave you more compliments, he paid close attention to how you were feeling. It was like he was becoming a more attentive boyfriend. A new George, one that you could get used to. 

You lazily walked through the halls of Hogwarts, chatting with people you knew as you passed. Now, you found yourself giggling as you stumbled upon Ron, linking arms as dancing down the hallway. You erupted in a fit of giggles as Ron spun you around and he chuckled. The two of you engaged in light chatter before he offered you a snack from his satchel, a bright red apple. “What is it with your family and always eating? I don’t get it,” you tease him.

Ron shrugs, “Always be prepared?”

You roll your eyes as you continue to walk, talk, and eat as you turn the corner and you furrow your brows. There was Fred leaning up against the wall, chatting to Lee about something before Lee threw his head back in laughter. That was odd. Quite a short meeting Fred and George had. “Oi!” you call out. “Freddie!” You drag Ron down the hallway to meet his brother and Lee as Ron throws a lazy arm around your shoulder, towering over you.

Fred turns his eyes and when his eyes land on you a genuine, happy smile appears on his face. “Oi, is my younger git brother annoying you?” he teases as Ron sarcastically laughs before punching Fred in the arm as Fred laughs melodiously.

“Piss off, Fred. Don’t you have somewhere to be?” he sneers.

You turn to Fred again, “I thought you and Georgie had a meeting about the joke shoppe. I was just with him like twenty minutes ago and he said he had to run.” You were genuinely curious and also confused. You thought an investor meeting would take more time than just a mere twenty minutes if it was a serious offer. 

Fred shakes his head and tucks his hands into his pockets. “No,” he speaks, brows furrowed, confused as to why his brother would relay false information to you like this. “We have a meeting about the shoppe every other week. Our next meeting isn’t for another week.” Lee looks at you, puzzled, looking back and forth between you and Fred. There was something wrong. 

Your heart sinks and your mouth goes dry. Ron watches your face drop from an excited smile to the color of parchment. He places a cautious hand on your shoulder. Before he can ask you how you’re feeling, you speak up, “Freddie,” you gulp. “This is going to sound like a weird question, but I need you to be brutally honest with me.” Fred looks at Lee completely puzzled before looking at you. “About a week ago, did Patricia Stimpson walk in on you snogging Angelina in the library?”

Lee cackles, “He wishes! Angelina Johnson wouldn’t go near our poor Fred with a ten foot pole!” Lee claps Fred’s shoulder as Fred shoots him a glare, making Lee pipe down immediately. Now was not the time to joke around. And that really meant something when it came to Fred Weasley.

Your heart sinks further and your chest starts to rise and fall with anxiety. The big red apple that was once in your hand fell to the floor and rolled away. Something was gravely wrong. Ron peels his arm off of you, knowing that you need space as you anxiously look between Fred and Ron and Lee, trying to figure out where George could be then. If he wasn’t with Fred or Lee or you, then that meant he was alone. Or...

Fred looks at you and takes a step closer to you. “(Y/N),” he speaks, approaching you with caution like you were ticking time bomb. “Look at me,” he speaks, placing both of his hands on your arms as you look upwards at him, fear in your eyes. “Where did my brother tell you he was?”

Breathing heavily, you open your mouth and no sound comes out at first, just a squeak. Fred’s eyes soften, concerned for you and moment away from kicking his brother’s teeth in. His eyes coax you into trusting him with the information you have. Finally, you manage, “In the library, with you, talking about investments for the shoppe.”

Without another word, Fred takes your hand in his and speaks directly to Lee. “If George doesn’t come back to the room tonight, don’t go looking for him,” he speaks through gritted teeth. “Ron, stay here. We don’t need more attention to the scene we’re about to cause. Or should I say, I’m about to cause.” 

Before anyone can object, Fred and you are now walking, more marching, down the halls of the castle to the library to hunt out George. Panic and fear are pumping through your veins as Fred radiates pure fury. Fred and you were always very close, even more so after you and George had started dating. In Fred’s eyes, you were like another sister to him. He felt the overwhelming need to protect in a way that was different how George protected you. Fred knew the inner workings of your mind like the back of your hand. You were the first person he came to when he had a problem and vise versa. Fred was your friend and a damn good one at that. He hated seeing you upset, especially if he knew it was the doing of his own twin. 

“Freddie,” you breathe out. “Patricia came to me days ago and told me that she saw them, but I didn’t believe it. He had told me that it was you and that you had a thing for Angelina for a while and I believed it because I have always trusted George. But now I-”

Halting dead in his tracks before you walk into the library, Fred grabs your shoulders and spins you to face him. “Listen to me, (Y/N),” he commands your attention. “I love my brother. He’s my other half. But something he can be that the guy who is down right dick. And if he did, or is doing, what we’re thinking, then he’s even worse than I had ever imagined. And that is on him.” Fred’s words bring you peace, but also a wave of nerves. Could George ever be unfaithful? Did the relationship have that many cracks that he allowed himself to slip through one? Fred’s brown eyes that looked so like George’s stared into yours as he gave you a smile. “You’re the best girl I know and George is a fucking idiot if he’s letting you go. Regardless of what happens in there, I am your best friend first and foremost. I’m here for you no matter what he does.”

You nod your head and sigh before pulling Fred into the tightest hug you’ve ever given anyone. With all your might, you hold him close as he sighs and hugs you back, knowing the outcome of this situation before it had even unfolded. Fred thought to himself how could his brother be so selfish, so childish, so moronic to do what he had done. There was no going back now. You can feel the hot tears stinging the back of your eyes, but you don’t dare let them fall. You were still clinging onto the last bit of hope before you entered the library. “Thank you, Freddie.” 

His arms gave you one last squeeze before taking your hand in his. “Are you ready?” he asks, eyes genuinely searching yours for your answer. Fred was ready to go in there without you to confront his asshole twin and your once best friend, yelling and screaming. Rage was pumping through his veins, but he tried his best to conceal it in front of you. Fred didn’t want you to see him like this. 

With a weak nod, you inhale a shaky breath. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

The two of you walk into the library and you feel your heart drop into your feet when you step in. You didn’t like the way the library felt in this moment. It was cold and hot at the same time and you felt stifled. But that didn’t stop you from chaotically walking to the back of the stacks to find your boyfriend. 

You peer down aisles trying to find that familiar tuff of red hair, but all you find are diligent students reading, some joking around with each other, others peering through the stacks to find books. “Where the bloody hell...” you whisper to yourself, growing frustrated that you couldn’t find George. Your nervous energy was now being channeled into anger as you balled your first beside you.

Before you can flip around and ask Fred where he thought his brother could be, you hear a familiar low voice and girlish giggle from behind you. You look at Fred, your eyes wide and stomach churning. Fred opens his mouth to say something, but you are already walking to the back of the library to find exactly what you expected.

The red haired boy your heart belonged to was now pressed flushed against your once best friend, lips connected to each others as her fingers played with the hair that stuck up on the back of his neck. George’s hands were placed on her hips before running down her sides to squeeze her bottom cheekily as she giggled. You inhaled a sharp gasp at the sight, wanting to vomit at the sight of George and Angelina pressed up against each other like this. Your mouth hangs open as the detach themselves from their embrace, faces falling from smiles to sheer horror. 

“Fucking hell,” you breathe out, the tears that threatened to fall outside now flowing down your cheeks freely. You feel Fred’s presence behind you as George and Angelina’s eyes dart between you and Fred. Angelina stutters for a moment as George’s hands fly off of her body and into his pockets. “So is Angelina your potential investor?” you ask, bottom lip trembling in horror as Fred steps right behind you, placing his hand on yours giving it a squeeze, letting you know that he is right there with you. 

George steps away from Angelina and Angelina fumbles with her words, “(Y/N)-”

You scoff, “Oh, shut up, Angelina. You have no excuse. You were supposed to be my best mate, but instead you decided that you’d rather fool around with my boyfriend behind my back, eh? Some fucking friend you are.” 

Angelina’s face contorts with sadness and guilt as she looks down at her feet, playing with her fingers. “I didn’t mean for it to happen,” she tries to defend herself. 

With pure fury rushing through your veins, you laugh. “Well, I’d bloody hope you didn’t plan on it!” you exclaim. “I always knew you to be competitive, but not like this. This is low. Even for you,” you shake your head before looking at George who has guilt slapped all over his face. He opens his mouth to say something, but you stick up your hand. “Don’t even say anything to me. Don’t you dare even look at me. You’re a liar and a cheat and loathsome. I hope you’re happy. Angelina, he’s all yours.”

You turn away and let a hand fly up to your mouth to conceal your sob as you run out of the library with Fred draping a protective arm around your shoulder. “Come on, now,” he whispers to you as some people notice your state. “It’s over. They’re both done and that’s it. You can cry, darling, it’s alright.”

Fred whisks you out of the library quickly and the moment you step down the secluded hallway, you collapse into Fred’s arm as he holds you, brushing your hair calmingly. The sobs rake through your body, causing it to tremble hopelessly in his arms as he holds you tight. Seeing you like this filled Fred with rage as he kissed the top of your head as he allowed you to cry into his chest, holding onto him for dear life. You sob and mumble things into his jumper as he nods his head. “I’m here, it’s alright.”

That’s when you hear his voice. “(Y/N), please let me talk,” George pleads, pain evident in his voice, but immeasurable to how you felt in this moment. You don’t dare look at him, burying your face deeper into Fred’s chest as his grip grows iron on you.

“Back off, mate, haven’t you hurt her enough?” Fred defends you as he rubs your back. “What has gotten into, George?”

George’s jaw clenches and his fists bundle up beside him. “Piss off and let me talk to my girlfriend, Fred,” he speaks through gritted teeth. “Please, (Y/N),” his voice changes when he addresses you, more gentle and coaxing as you sob harder into Fred’s chest. “I need to tell you my side of the story.” Fred laughs as you peel yourself from him, wiping your eyes, hot with tears. “There’s no explanation needed, dear brother,” Fred sneers at George who with a sarcastic smile presses his tongue to his cheek in sheer annoyance. “She caught you in the act. What are you going to explain? How your tongue accidentally found its way into Angelina’s mouth?”

George takes a step forward, challenging his brother. “Shut the fuck up, would you?” he bellows, anger in his eyes as Fred doesn’t back down, unafraid of George. You watch as the scene unfolds in front of you, still sniffling. “All of a sudden you’re interested in my girlfriend? You trying to scoop her up while she’s vulnerable?” he pushes Fred’s chest.

“Scoop her up?” he pushes back. “Are you mental? And if she hadn’t made it clear already, I’ll do it for you. Ex-girlfriend. She’s your ex-girlfriend,” Fred corrects his brother. “Not to mention, (Y/N) has always been my friend, even before you started dating. I’m not trying to scoop her up, George, we’re friends! I will always protect her! Especially when you fail to do so,” he spits at George. 

That’s what sends George over the edge. With a yell, he sends a gruesome punch to Fred’s jaw who nearly falls over from the blow. “Godric, George, stop!” you yell out at he goes for Fred again, but Fred sends a punch to his twin brother’s nose as George stumbles back, blood trickling down from his nose. 

People start to notice that the twins are now in a full on fight, grabbing and swinging at each other as they yell profanities at the each other. A crowd starts to trickle in, cheering on either side of the boys as you watch in horror.

“Fucking hell, get off of each other!” you scream as you grab Fred’s arm as he holds it up to send another punch to his brother’s nose. “Knock it off, you fucking dickheads!” you throw yourself in front of Fred as George and Fred catch their breaths, chests heaving. “Can we not make this a public affair?” you scream again, gesturing to the small crowd that has formed to witness the Weasley twins having it out at each other. “We can talk about this in private,” you say in a hushed angry tone to George. You turn to Fred and take a look at his face, no blood, but definitely lots of bruises and a split lip. “Episkey,” you wave your wand at his face, sealing his broken lip as well as managing to take away some of the swelling of his eyes. 

Fred hisses as his face stings as it heals. “You don’t need to talk to him, (Y/N). He doesn’t deserve to hear what you have to say,” he sneers at George who takes another challenging step at Fred.

You hold Fred back again and hold a warning finger to George. “Don’t you dare. You’ve already hurt enough people today,” you spit at him who immediately retaliates. You speak to Fred with a soft, calm smile. “I’ll be okay. I can handle him, Freddie,” you insist as Fred gives you sad smile.

Slowly looking away from Fred, your eyes land on George as your heart breaks at the sight of him. He wiped his bloody nose on his shirt sleeve as he glared at his brother, eyes eventually trailing to you as his glare fades into a guilty look. The brown eyes that you loved so much suddenly made you feel cold and alone as you inhaled a shaky breath. George tries to offer you his hand to walk somewhere more private to discuss things, but you just scoff and walk past him, letting him follow you. The audacity, you thought to yourself.

The two of you walk into an empty classroom as you close the door behind you and leaning against it, arms folded in front of you as you glare at George. You could feel yourself wanting to cry again, but you refused to let him see you cry again. He wasn’t worth your tears. Instead, you let rage course through your body instead of sadness. 

George gulps before speaking. “I never wanted this to happen...” he trails off.

“No, you never wanted to get caught,” you correct him as he lets out a disgruntled sigh. “I never thought you would ever do this to me, George. Nevertheless, do it to me with my best friend,” you shake your head. “I thought that if you didn’t love me anymore, you would at least have the decency to tell me,” you throw your hands up in defeat. George remains dead silent. “But somehow, you thought this was a better option.” He quickly replies, “It just happened, (Y/N)!” You furrow your eyebrows. “We were in the common room one night, studying for an exam and we started talking and then for some reason, one thing lead to another, and we kissed,” he admits as your heart breaks. So they had kissed before the time Patricia caught them in the library. This wasn’t a one time mistake he made. George had repeatedly kissed Angelina. Godric knows what else they did. “It was a huge mistake, (Y/N), and I’ll never forgive myself for it. You mean so much to me,” he tries to rationalize with you, begging at this point.

You just scoff and say, “A huge mistake that you did again and again and again. If I hadn’t caught you in the act, you would have kept seeing her, wouldn’t you?” George just shakes his head and gulps, taking a step forward. “Don’t lie to me, George...not again,” your voice cracks, but you refuse to cry. “Instead of telling me how you really felt, you kept telling me you loved me.”

George takes your hands in his and speaks, “I have always loved you, (Y/N). None of that was ever a lie.” Your eyes search his eyes, searching for a truth. Something to tell you why you should stay with him. But instead, you found nothing. “I don’t know what I was thinking,” he whispers, tears filling his eyes as he truly feels sorry when he understands what he losing. “We’re just not who we used to be, I guess,” he shrugs his shoulders, trying to shift the blame on both of you.

Pulling away from his hands, you spit back, “No, you’re not who you used to be.” You shake your head. “In fact, I don’t know who you’ve become. But you’re not the George I fell in love with,” you take a deep breath in as George’s heart breaks. What George did really ripped your heart out of your chest, but this is was ripped it into a thousand pieces. Leaving him. “Goodbye, Georgie.”

George shakes his head, “(Y/N), please don’t.”

But you were already gone.

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

Being without George for the first weeks of the breakup were difficult. You missed his touch, his voice, his eyes, his laugh, his smile; you missed it all. Even though what he did rung your heart out, there was a part of you that missed him more than words could say. 

People took notice immediately about how you didn’t sit next to George during meals in the Great Hall or converse to Angelina in between classes. This all earned you sorry glances in your direction as people found out what happened. It was embarrassing, having everyone know exactly what went down between you and George and Angelina.

You tried to distract yourself with other friends and schoolwork and other hobbies to keep yourself from thinking about George. But somehow, you always thought of him and how he so harshly betrayed you. No matter what you were doing, something had made you think of him. It came down to the point that you had to distance yourself from Fred, your closest friend after Angelina, because just the look of him made you think of George. That fact that your best friend had to be the identical twin of your cheating ex-boyfriend was enough to drive you mad. 

But after a few weeks of healing and distancing yourself from everything that reminded you of George, you finally decided you couldn’t let him prevent you from seeing Fred. Fred was not only George’s brother, but your friend and you were’t going to let that stop you. When you had seen him for the first time since you and George broke up, tears welled in your eyes, you missed him so much. Fred gave you the tightest hug and profusely apologized for his brother’s behavior. Fred was insistent on helping you in every way possible to move on from George; he wanted you to know that no matter what he would be there for you, no matter if it was his twin who had done the damage or not.

Fred along with the help of your other friends helped you get over George and move on. They helped you regain your confidence and have fun and you couldn’t be more grateful. Soon enough, George was the last thing on your mind. His presence in a room no longer made you sad, the mention of his name didn’t make your heart stop, and the sight of him didn’t make you miss him. You were over George Weasley; something you never thought you would be able to say.

Even though you were over George, you didn’t think that you would date someone else after four months after your break up. But funnily enough, you were. The relationship that had blossomed between you and Roger Davies started as something very innocent. You had always been friendly with Roger, but not very close. So when you had initially started studying in the library, you didn’t think it would lead to hanging out in the courtyard, to your first date to Hogsmeade, until your first kiss on the moving staircase. 

Roger was so refreshing. He was gentle and kind and shy, but he was affectionate and loved showing you how much he truly cared for you. He would be in the hallways with his friends and spot you across the way before running over to place a quick kiss on your cheek before running back to his friends. Or he would see you studying in the library alone and then immediately find the chair next to you to keep you company. It was the little things he did that made you feel so loved.

When word got to George that you and Roger started dating, he was didn’t take the news well. Unlike you, after the breakup, George wallowed in his guilt and couldn’t stop thinking about how foolish and careless he was. He cursed himself for letting he and Angelina share that kiss on that late night in the common room. He hated the fact that he let himself come back for more when he had someone like you in his fingertips. Someone who loved him fiercely and would do anything to prove their love. When Fred told him the news about you and Roger, George sat there with sad eyes and dryly gulped. “Why him?” he spoke. He was sad, angry, disappointed, jealous at the fact that Roger had just scooped you up. 

“She found someone who she cares for and who does the same,” Fred tells his twin. “You should be happy she found someone like that after how the relationship ended with you two,” he tells him as George just closes his eyes and shakes his head. “I know you miss her, George, but it’s over. You messed up.”

George just looked at his brother with the most pained look on his face. George knowing that he hurt you in a way unimaginable sat with him like a rock in his stomach. “It was the worst thing I ever did, Fred. I fucked up big time and I can’t fix it. I really can’t fix it this time,” he spoke, pools welling up in his eyes as Fred gave his brother a sympathetic gaze. “I really messed up, Fred.”

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

Winter break rolled around and it would be your first holiday with Roger, but the first holiday without the Weasleys. The thought made your stomach churn. The Weasley family took you in as their own the moment they saw you. Molly and Arthur felt like a second set of parents and you were so grateful that you always had a home with them. You sadly smiled at the memories of the Burrow and the holiday season. You had spent the past four Christmases with the Weasleys and each year just got better and better. You had thought your seventh year would be the best yet, but you had to cast that thought away before you grew sadder.

Shaking away the thoughts of the Burrow, you smiled at the thought of spending the holiday with Roger and his family. You were more than nervous to meet his parents and his older brother, but Roger made it abundantly clear that his family was thrilled to meet you. “I’ve talked to my mom about you before and she is so excited to meet you. She says you sound lovely,” Roger kissed your forehead as you danced nervously around your dormitory room. 

You gave him a nervous smile. “I just really want them to like me,” you shake your hands nervously as he takes your hands in his, laugh gently at your nerves. “I’m serious, Roger. I love you and I want your parents to know how much I care for you,” you stand in between his legs as he sits on your bed.

Roger smiles and kisses your nose gently. “They’ll love you because they know how much I love you and how much you mean to me. Let’s be honest, though, what’s not to love about you?” he pokes at your sides as you giggle.

And he wasn’t wrong. Roger’s family was so warm and welcoming to you. Practically the moment his mother spoke to you, you saw how kind and lovely she was and how the whole family took you in instantly. You couldn’t be more grateful to have a boyfriend who had a family that was kind and welcoming like the Weasleys. 

On the first night at Roger’s home, you laid in bed next to Roger as you played with the hem of his jumper. “My family bloody loves you,” he whispered to you with the largest smile on his face. You smiled wide and pecked his cheek. “I’m serious. You even impressed Chester and that’s not an easy feat,” he refers to his older brother. 

You beam, “Your family is wonderful. Truly. I love them already and it’s just the first night.”

“It’s only going to get better from here,” Roger wiggles his brows as you giggle before he presses his lips to yours.

When the Weasley students arrived home from Hogwarts, they were all tightly embraced by Molly Weasley who peppered each of her kids’ faces with kisses, making them all lovingly groan. “Ah! Harry, there you are,” Molly beamed as she kisses the top of Harry’s head. “Good to have you back home again, my dear,” she spoke before doing the same to Hermione’s head and giving her a tight squeeze. Molly looked around the living room, searching for something or rather someone. “Where’s (Y/N)? Georgie, did you leave her at Hogwarts as a mean prank?” she teased before noticing her son’s hollow face and everyone tense up as Molly spoke of your name like it was You Know Who. “What happened, Georgie?” she looks at her son with a stern look in her face. She knew something was very wrong and she had a bad feeling about it.

George gulps before saying, “(Y/N) and I broke up, Mum.”

Molly’s face drops with sadness before looking at Arthur whose face resembles Molly’s. “Really? Oh my dear, I’m so sorry, Georgie. (Y/N) and you seemed so happy. How did it happen?” she implores as George stiffens and Fred sighs and rubs his face.

This is the part that George Weasley was dreading; the reason why you split up. Everyone else in the room was scared for him too, Merlin’s sake. With a deep breath, George said, “Um,” and swallowed hard. “I wasn’t a good boyfriend, Mum. I betrayed her trust.”

And that’s when Molly’s face dropped into a serious expression. Molly always taught her children how to care for others and always be loyal to the ones who treat you with love. George’s behavior spoke a different story. “George Fabien Weasley,” she shook her head. “I thought you knew better,” her heart broke for you and it hurt her to know that one of her own boys did that to you. “Your father and I taught you better than that,” she told him with a disapproving look on her face.

It was all she needed to say in order to make George feel more disappointed in himself than ever. He sadly looked to Fred who gave him a sad smile. Losing you was the worst thing he’s ever done. He not only lost you, but he made his parents feel disappointed in him. You meant so much George and he threw that all away for a silly fling that he could never take back. George nervously bit down on his lip before huffing his way up the stairs, needing to be alone with his thoughts for a while. 

The Weasley siblings dispersed throughout the Burrow as they all felt the strange shift in the energy of the house. The house was feeling the weight of your absence. When everyone was in the Burrow, the home was full of life. But with you gone, it was like one piece of the puzzle was missing and wouldn’t be found. 

As George opened the door to he and Fred’s room, the memories of previous holidays flood George’s mind. The two of you laying on his bed, him on his back, you on your stomach as you comb your fingers through his hair. He would steal kisses from you every now and then and poke at your sides, making you giggle wildly. George would hold you close in his arms and whisper how happy he was that you were with him. You would pepper his face in kisses, telling him how much you adored him in between pecks.

The memory made him smile as he entered the room, the more he walked in, the more memories resurfaces. He thought of the time you two watched the sunset out of his window, or the time you two laid on your back on his floor and reread a muggle book of yours, or the time he told you he loved you for the first time in the middle of the room on Christmas Eve all those years ago. 

“You alright, mate?” Fred’s voice interrupts George’s thoughts. Fred gives is brother a sad look. “I know it must be hard this time of year, George,” he puts a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “But you’ll be alright. And so will she.” George shakes his head sadly. “Listen, George, even though what you did was still very wrong, you’re my brother and I love you. I’m here for you.”

George gives his brother a sad smile and shakes his head as if to say thank you. He looks Fred in the eyes and just shakes his head, “I want the best for her, Freddie. I want to be the best for her.” George has tears in his eyes and chokes lightly on his words.

Fred’s heart hurts for his brother. George rarely cried in front of Fred, he usually liked to be alone if he was going to cry. He didn’t like Fred seeing him upset. But this was too much for George to hide. Fred holds his brother’s arms and speaks, “I know, George. I know. But right now, what’s best for her is space. You both need to be away from each other. That’s what’s best for both of you.”

That made George realize that his brother was very right. As much as he hated to believe that you two couldn’t be together, George knew it was true. And he would have to be okay with that.  

[damgoodjob]

Because I’m tired of people being raggedy

A long one…

…I’ve been resting…but I saw a status that poked me a bit.

I can say this now…and I say it without apology or holding my tongue.

First, I acknowledge and pay respect to the individuals who lost their lives in Kabul. It’s hard to see families break down when their loved ones are brought home with American flags draped over their coffins. I hope to never have to experience that. Ever.

I saw a status that called people who don’t stand for the flag a “disgrace”, and I hope to share some perspective.

A few years ago, a friend of mine who had fought for this country came into my inbox and basically told me that unless I laced my boots up and fought for this country, I had no right to ever criticize America…that’s where I struggle…I struggle with veterans who think that they have the right to tell me how to think, act, stand or speak with regards to this country because of a decision they made in serving this country as military personnel.

I will always do my best to support the decisions of friends who choose to go into the military. I support my younger brother who is a Marine.

What I find the most disconcerting is that people will mourn the death of individuals who have lost their lives in combat overseas, but remain silent when Black people are unjustly killed right here on American soil by police officers and racist bigots…and then have so much to say in opposition to movements like Black Lives Matter (which shouldn’t be a movement, but rather an understanding) when a Black person is killed in a city like Chicago.

You did not grieve for Atatiana…you backed the Blue.

You did not grieve for Tamir…you backed the Blue.

You did not grieve for Sweet Aiyana…you backed the Blue.

You did not grieve for Akai…you backed the Blue.

You did not grieve for Elijah…sweet Elijah…you backed the blue.

You did not grieve for Beautiful Breonna…you backed the Blue.

You. Did. Not. GRIEVE for George Floyd…you waited for every piece of evidence to come out about him that would justify him no longer existing on this earth, and you backed the Blue.

With footage of Derek Chauvin’s KNEE on his neck for almost ten minutes…you watched that man die, having not resisted…you contributed to Derek’s bail, you prayed for his family, and you backed the Blue.

When Black people are murdered because of the color of their skin…are their killers a disgrace?

When our Forefathers…some of whom owned Blacks as slaves, would maim, rape, and kill enslaved Black people…were they a disgrace? They had statues erected in their honor…so certainly their good outweighed their bad, right? If a few Negro heads had to roll for democracy and the birth of this great nation, so be it.

When fire hoses and dogs were turned on Black people who protested and marched for equality…were those officers a disgrace?

In the eyes of so many Americans, a disgrace is anything that would dare to challenge the status quo…and the reason why racism no longer exists, never existed, or no longer has any bearing in the eyes of the average American citizen is because RACISM IS the status quo. Racism IS business as usual. RACISM doesn’t exist because RACISM has proven to BE the American way for so many.

So what if a few Blacks can’t afford healthcare?

So what if COVID 19 affects the Black community at larger rates?

So what if the number of Black people who die from COVID 19 is significantly larger than any other group in certain areas?

So what if a few Black people get shot by the police?

The response to Black Lives Matter is All Lives Matter…followed by Blue Lives Matter…but no one who Backs the Blue or drives around with that Blue painters tape on their car, or adorns decals of the American Flag with that blue line in the stripes would ever agree that just like their lives matter, the life of an unarmed Black person matters…creating Blue Lives Matter as a response is saying directly to Black people…if you die, you die.

It broke my heart to see a mother kneel down as she met her son’s flag draped coffin as his body was returned home…

…but I realize that so many of you who would call someone who doesn’t stand for the flag a “disgrace”, would never shed a tear seeing Elijah McClain’s mother break down after taking Elijah off life support…

Seeing Emmett Till’s mutilated body wouldn’t move you after he was murdered for whistling at a White woman…and his murderers were acquitted.

He was a kid. A kid.

Tamir Rice was a kid.

Trayvon was a kid.

Aiyana was a kid.

The story of 4 little girls from Birmingham, Alabama who were murdered after a church was bombed by an angry White mob doesn’t move you to tears.

A white man walking into a church and murdering Black worshippers doesn’t move you…the decedent’s family’s forgiveness moves you.

Botham Jean being murdered in his own apartment doesn’t move you…his brother’s forgiveness of Botham’s murderer moves you.

A difference in perspective is what caused me and a lifelong friend to never reconcile, and unfortunately I will never ever get the chance to…but even in our difference of opinion, I would never call him a disgrace because I care more about the message of equity and unity than calling him anything other than “brother” or “friend”.

People become strangely patriotic when Americans die in combat overseas, but say nothing when Americans die at the hands of domestic terrorists.

I was shamed and made to believe that I feed into the liberal trash being broadcasted by the media and that I’m a race-baiter who is the lowest of the low for spreading divisive rhetoric…but to me, the lowest of the low are people who claim to love this country, but do nothing to speak out against injustices just because the hue of another person’s skin must obviously warrant some of that treatment.

If you ask me, THAT isn’t very patriotic at all. If America stands for liberty and justice for ALL…you better start offering up that same energy at the dinner table and at your churches because I guarantee you…the hatred that so many accuse me and others of spreading is a lot closer to your homes than you even realize.

…but I’m not so naive to the fact that many of you actually know that.

Why is it sadder and more appropriate to mourn the death of someone who gave their all for this country than someone who did their best to just stay alive IN this country?

Stories of fathers-to-be tug at heartstrings…but what about Elijah? He wanted to be somebody. Aiyana wanted to be somebody?

Tamir…he wanted to be somebody.

Trayvon could’ve been somebody.

Addie May wanted to be somebody.

Little Carol wanted to be somebody.

Little Cynthia wanted to be somebody.

Little Carole wanted to be somebody.

Emmett wanted to be somebody.

They all had dreams…didn’t they? Didn’t they dream the dream you quote “MLK” for dreaming?

Or is his dream only relevant when combatting people fighting for equity?

If you’re going to call someone who sit or kneels during the Pledge of Allegiance a disgrace…

You’d better offer that same energy to those who disgrace their badge and uniform when they take another Black life without flinching.

Why isn’t Brian Encina a disgrace? A man couldn’t control his ego long enough to just give Sandra Bland a ticket and keep it moving…he had to exercise his dominance and put her in her place…now she no longer exists.

…but he’s human just like us, right?

So what was Sandra Bland?

The officer who murdered Philando Castile, a licensed gun owner in the car with his partner and child made a simple mistake, right? Sometimes it just happens….but Eric Garner panicking and struggling to breathe was resisting arrest. He wasn’t only human. Mike Brown wasn’t only human. Walter Scott wasn’t only human. Ahmaud Arbery wasn’t only human.

Chiiiile…y’all out here being situationally patriotic. You might stand for the flag, but you got your back turned on your fellow citizens who were trying to do every day things like run to the corner store, leave from their brand new job, lay down in their bed and rest, walk around in their apartment, walk around in their home, BE A KID, BE A KID, BE A KID…

[ares-would-be-proud]

Izzy said: Fairy! Im so excited for your dark content!! Since i saw it on your other blog, may i request for yandere bertholdt 👀 i feel the would make the most unsuspecting but worst (or best?) Yandere next to armin because he's so gentle and unassuming and shy, no one would ever think he has other intentions

Yandere Bertolt pt.I

{ Bertolt x reader | tw:yandere, tw:toxic-behaviour, tw:near-death experince, tw:murder mystery? Eh kinda, tw:manipulation tw:Emotional-rollercoster | Dark romance, fluff, slowburn, lowkey funny ngl | Canonverse }

{ "Roses" 1878 by George Cochran Lambdin 1830–1896 }

Securing the last belt around your thighs before attaching it to the one near your knees, you made sure to tighten it as much as you can before sliding it in the metal head.

Having the equipment room all to yourself, you took your time in double-checking everything was in place. Making sure your gas tanks were filled, carrying spare steel blades and tightening your boot strings.

The manoeuvring gear's parts made a clinking sound against each other with every step you took. Making your way to the nearby woods acting as the training ground, the sun shining made you shield your eyes with your hands, taking some seconds to adjust to the brightness.

The road was clear, with almost no birds or squirrels in sight.

It was one of those days when the wind seemed so fast as it swept by you, so much in fact that you could visibly see the few clouds swimming by as if they're racing each other. A perfect day to spend near a lake maybe, or in a field of flowers, but you had to spend it training in the woods with the other soldiers till your fingers ached from pressing against the handgrips.

You wanted to get it over with, feeling nauseous. Probably because you managed to oversleep and miss breakfast.

It started as normally as any other training session went, pushing through till your autopilot took over. While fun at first, there's so much manoeuvring between tree branches to slash at 2d wooden cutout of titans you could do before it started getting repetitive.

And so you let your body take over and move on its own, taking you further and further towards the edge of the forest till you couldn't hear the sound of anyone else's manoeuvring gear except your own.

The high wind rustling the trees making the leaves fall distorted your visions as they fell on you, and the flashing sunlight that swept through the small openings between the leaves only made things worse.

Blinding you for split seconds, too bright in fact, that you had to close your eyes shut as it burned after the light fell directly against it.

It's only after a couple of seconds late, that the sound of something snapping registered in your brain.

You were slowly turning in the air, strong wind resistance coming from below as gravity pulled you down.

Things were moving too quickly to process, dread shot through your entire body in shivers, you could feel your heartbeat in the back of your throat as you came closer and closer to the ground.

No matter how many times your clammy hands attempted to work the pistol-shot, no hooks attached to the nearby trees despite the gears working as you heard its zipping noise.

The realisation of the situation you're in finally settled, you couldn't do a single thing, but watch the trees grow larger and larger by the second as you fell to your doom.

You've survived many expeditions and missions, you've escaped Titans teeth that were mere inches from biting your head off, and this is what will put you seven feet below? A mere fall?

...no, it wasn't just a fall, it was arrogance for taking it for granted. After all, overconfidence was a slow and insidious killer, sneaking on the second you let your guard down.

But was it?

A flash of today's morning comes before your eyes, your brain recalling the unusual spot your manoeuvring gear was placed, you were too sleepy to notice it at the time but now it's the only thing on your mind, did someone-

Before you could hit the ground, the familiar sound of pressured gas fizzling out followed by the clinking of metal swishing by.

One second you were almost slamming into the hard ground, the next you were caught by someone mid-flight.

Bertolt tightly pressed you against his chest with one arm, securing you in place while his other used his gear to reach the nearest tree branch.

Your hands wrapped around him, securing yourself even more. He didn't flinch when your nails accidentally scratched his neck from how hard you were holding him.

Despite how close you were to his chest, your own hammering heartbeat was the only sound you could hear for it was stuck in your throat as the adrenaline pumped through your veins.

You hesitantly let go the second your feet touched the ground, although still shaking you managed to find your balance again, yet, Bertolt's hand didn't leave your back.

You looked below at the wires dangling from your gear, their end visibly thinner than the rest of it. It still didn't register how a wire made out of iron could snap so easily…

Your thoughts were interrupted by the hand reluctantly turning your face back up, Bertolt's nervous eyes meeting yours.

"Don't look down too much, you'll get dizzy" he said, concern clear in his voice before stepping closer to you, his large body tucking you between him and the tree behind, as if you might slip away "are you okay? Did you get injured?"

A bit taken back by his dotting, you shook your head before thanking him for not letting you fall.

"Don't mention it please...it's nothing, really." That seemed to make the corner of his lips rise a bite, slight flushing to his ears. "Maybe you should get some rest, you didn't seem well back there."

Was he watching?

The thought disappeared from your mind as quickly as it came, the guy saved you from a head injury after all, the least you could do is give him the benefit of the doubt.

Not to mention, it was Bertolt. Has it been any other guy, Reiner or Jean for example, then your attitude towards this whole thing would've been completely different. Putting as much space as you can between the two of you after brushing off their hands.

Has it been any other guy...but it wasn't now, was it?

No. It was Bertolt, soft-spoken and easily flustered Bertolt, who got nervous in most situations and didn't reply to teasing.

Bertolt, who didn't say a thing when Eren stole his seat next to Reiner, instead settled to sit next elsewhere.

Bertolt, who always remained humble and downplayed his skills despite ranking in the top five and becoming a really valuable soldier.

Bertolt, who you've only ever said hi to before once before he seemed to panic and just awkwardly wave back instead.

Maybe that's why you didn't mind him being so close, he wasn't a threat and most everyone knew that. If you asked people to rank the top three men they'd feel safe in a room with, Bertolt would almost make it to everyone's top two.

And so when he offered to walk you back to your room, it didn't raise any red flags despite it meaning you'd be alone with him in the dorms while everyone was training.

-

The short walk went fairly nice actually, he kept a respectful space between you while making sure to walk at a slower pace so his height wouldn't force you to jog.

From the sweat collecting at his forehead and his hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt he seemed to struggle to find a good conversation starter.

You could read him like an open book, it was quite endearing the way he commented over how nice the weather is, four times in a row while stumbling over his words. But you weren't that cruel and so you decided to grant him mercy, starting a topic yourself.

Talking about your interest, hobbies and things you'd do whenever those rare moments of peace and normalcy would arrive.

He shared his too, apparently, he's into journaling, finding it much easier to write his thoughts on paper than out loud.

One conversation pulled another, as he seemed to grow more comfortable the more you talked.

Although, he wouldn't meet your eyes for more than 5 seconds before turning his gaze away, yet you could feel them staring at you the second you turn your head.

Somewhere between your conversation, the subject switched to talking about life. Bertolt asked you if this is the kind of life you've wanted, words unusually firm that it made you pause.

The question was out of place, a huge switch from your previous fun topics.

Nonetheless, you answered, "I don't think anyone would willingly choose this life. It's more of...doing the most out of the cards you've been dealt, this just happened to be mine."

The sound of his footsteps stopped, you looked at his face, he didn't look away.

"Would you rather have a more normal life?"

The way he stood, his back to the sun with you in his shadow, an unreadable expression on his face, really brought out his height and large build that you've almost forgotten.

you unconsciously took a step back, he took a step forward.

"If by normal you mean a non-starving one where I'm not at the risk of being eaten daily, then yeah." You answered, time felt like it slowed down. The seconds stretched for too long as you watched his reaction.

He...smiled, a sincere smile, the kind that makes your eyes shine. Soft expression seemingly relieved as he continued walking, a slight bounce to his steps.

"I'd love that too, to have a normal life one day."

And then he proceeded to tell you about his dream, the normal life of peacefulness he seeks. Sharing as many details as time would allow, from the kind of person he wants to grow up to be, to the colour he wants to paint the house backyard's fence.

It was lavender.

When he mentioned wanting a dog, you couldn't decide what was funnier, the mental image of Bertolt with an equally almost as big kind of dog, or a small tiny breed that would fit in his hands. Taking him for walks and playing catch as the dog tackles him to the ground.

Some chuckles escaped your lips, and while Bertolt didn't know what you were smiling about, nonetheless he joined too.

-

Your time together was cut short when the dorms came into view. Feeling both relief for finally being able to rest and disappointment for having to end your conversation so soon, especially since you think this is the first actual talk you had with him besides saying hi before.

Bertolt, looking out for you, made sure to hold the door to your room open for you. Some part of your brain wondered how exactly he managed to guess which room was yours, the other simply couldn't wait to get into bed.

You sat on the bed, Bertolt invited himself in and closed the door behind him.

He took his time looking around your shared room with his eyes, staring at the titles of the books splayed on the table, taking in the smell of scented incense your roommate bought every month, the doodles, drawings and notes hanging by mere tape against the wall.

Finally, eyes landing on the top bunk bed, currently empty with your roommate having left too early in the morning for the preparations of their next expedition.

Well...after all you were too used to waking up by the sound of them opening and closing all the drawers in search of their glasses that they manage to lose each day, yet yesterday they made sure to sleep next to it.

Huh, maybe that's why you overslept.

Yet, Bertolt's eyes didn't move as he stared seconds too long, shoulders growing stiff and palms tightening against his side.

"They left for an expedition, a titan capturing one... I think." You explained, "it's supposed to last three days, but since it's led by Captain Hange...I wouldn't be too surprised if they still haven't left yet."

"Must be nice, having the room for yourself."

You agreed before adding "well, it still gets too lonely sometimes."

Bertolt looked like he wanted to say something, lips parting for a second before he pressed them close into a thin line.

An awkward silence filled the room, as you looked at Bertolt who seemed to revert back to his old nervousness.

"I think I should go, Reiner must be looking for me."

You thanked him again for his help, he avoided your eyes before mumbling a reply, saying it's really nothing.

Did you do something wrong? You couldn't help but think that, after all things were going so well just now. Why would he get on edge again?

As a final attempt to redeem yourself from whatever unknown act you must've committed for Bertolt to act this uncomfortable, you called out to him one last time.

"Hey, Bertolt. I know we technically just met but, just know you can drop by anytime okay? You seem like a nice person and we can be friends."

Oh god did you really say, we can be friends, what is this kindergarten again? Welp you fucked up, looks like it's another failure to add to the calendar, man and you've been keeping such a clean track of days without accidents.

You know what? No, forget it, you tried your best and you had good intentions so why should you ever feel guilty for-

"You really mean that?" Bertolt, whom

You've become aware was still in the room, said.

Not sure how to reply to this, you just gave a nod instead.

"I'd love that." He spoke with a soft tone. And despite his growing desire to move closer to you, he opened the door instead, sparing you one last sweet smile before he left.

And for a good minute there, his smiling face was all that occupied your mind, a fluttering feeling that came and went too quickly for you to acknowledge.

-

True to your predictions, the mission was apparently delayed till midnight for...undisclosed reasons. Although gossip spread faster than wildfire, and by dinner time everyone was talking about the argument Captain Hange and Captain Levi got into, the story got modified and exaggerated each time it was passed around.

"Listen, I was there and I saw it! Well...not with my own eyes but it doesn't matter." Your roommate said, too eager to spill you everything that they almost forgot to eat their food. "It was big, like Captain Miche having to restrain Levi kind of big!"

You gave them a silent look, raising an eyebrow.

"...okay jeez it didn't get this far but it felt like it did, like it almost happened." They poked their food with the fork, before deciding to try some.

Their pouting face almost made you want to tease them even more, just to see what corner you can back them into before they confess to making up half the story they've been telling you.

But a wrenching gut feeling suddenly shot through your body, coming almost out of nowhere, the kind you'd usually feel whenever a titan was targeting you.

Confusion was naturally your first response, there couldn't be any titans nearby. You swallowed down, no don't be silly, it doesn't even make sense.

Maybe...maybe it was one of those cases you studied in class? About people getting PTSD flashbacks at random times, or from small triggers?

The air seemed too cold and too hot at the same time, you forced your eyes to move around the room in an attempt to remind yourself everything is fine, that you're here.

Seeing your friends, fellow soldiers and veterans just sitting around, enjoying their food while joking with their friends, helped ground you to reality again.

Yeah...see? Nothing's wrong, everyone's having a good time so-

Your gaze met Bertolt's, dark eyes staring back but not at you. No, instead they were focused on your roommate. The knot in your stomach twisted.

Beside him, Reiner was murmuring something under his breath as he leaned closer to Bertolt, his stare following the other's gaze.

Reiner seemed unusual, drops of sweat collecting at his forehead while Bertolt was the opposite, the calmest you've ever seen him actually.

Reiner gave Bertolt one final look, lips moving too fast for you to attempt to even read. Bertolt nodded.

And then it was like nothing happened, both of them going back to their usual selves. Reiner's attention was stolen by Eren asking about his food, while Bertolt looked at Jean who sat next to him without asking before commenting on Eren.

"Hey, are you okay? You look…" your roommate said, concern in their voice before their hand found your forehead. "I heard what happened this morning, with the manoeuvring gear, I didn't want to bring it up but…"

You didn't have to be told twice, and so you reassured them it's okay, you'll get some rest, not like you'd complain about having an excuse to get a day off.

That seemed to make them satisfied, well...that and making you swear on the scouts' honour to take care of yourself while they're away.

After dinner, as you were headed to your room while your roommate had to get to the stable before heading out with their group, you passed by Reiner.

It wouldn't have been unusual, wasn't it for the fact he was fully in his uniform with gear ready that you had to do a double-take.

You swore you just saw him in casual clothes at dinner...was he also going on that mission? Huh, weird you can't remember seeing his name on the list.

-

The week passed by slower than you would've liked, with both of the survey corps Captains gone, most of the soldiers...really had nothing to do but waste time.

It was almost funny, wasn't it for the fact you were bored out of your mind.

Captain Miche rarely gave orders, the only time you'd see him is during training season when everyone had to do a round with him. While commander Erwin didn't really entrust soldiers who weren't close to him with his paperwork or even chores.

At least Sasha and Connie were making the most of it, whatever they were doing seemed fun…

Bertolt never took you up on your offer either, despite him seemingly having a positive reaction to wanting to be friends he didn't show up at all.

Yet you'd still see him hovering by, either being assigned the same chore together or simply happening to be in the same room at the same time. And despite how much you've thought about going up to him to start a conversation, you knew how to read between the lines. You didn't want to make him uncomfortable that's all.

He'll come when he's ready, is what you told yourself.

And well, you were right, eventually, he did.

Not only did he initiate talking, he even attempted to ask if you'd like to accompany him to the nearby town maybe.

With the way his hands were clasped behind his back and slight flushing to his cheeks as he summoned all his courage to ask you that, how could you say no?

-

It was almost like seeing an entirely different person.

Bertolt, in his casual clothes, as he strolled by you through the food stands, seemed a much more...healthier version of himself?

He looked at peace, the smile never leaving his lips. He even made jokes and shared his opinions without being asked.

Whenever you went to check something that stole your attention, he would quickly follow by to erase any form of distance. Whenever your eyes fell on a piece of accessories for too long, he'd suggest you try it on, putting it on you himself.

And yet, whenever his hand would brush yours by accident while walking, he'd almost stumble into the ground and quickly pull it back. Or the time you attempted to adjust the collar of his shirt and you swore his knees almost gave out when you stepped closer, reaching his neck.

Both of you tried different kinds of food, he even offered you his own if you seemed to enjoy a certain food. Saying he'd rather you have it.

Both of you being broke soldiers ment there are only so many things you can do in the town before quickly burning through your savings.

It wasn't long before he suggested going back, you agreed to take the long walk back to enjoy nature a bit more.

You've wondered how come Bertolt only seems the most comfortable when talking to you on walks, but the story he was telling you was too interesting for you to think about it now.

You listened to him talk, it felt like you could listen to him for hours on end before getting bored. For someone who rarely spoke, he surely did have a way with words when he actually did.

It was nice, comfortable and gave you a false sense of normalcy as if the world was okay for a short while.

One final thought you had just before the both of you parted to go to your separate rooms, was that if Bertolt was going to write about this day in his journal.

-

For each day of the remaining week, you and Bertolt managed to hang out more and more.

You went to the lake, a frog landed on him that you had to remove because he was too nervous he might crush it.

He took you to a nearby spot in the town, it seemed normal at first but he just told you to wait. Apparently, each after some dogs would frequent this spot and Bertolt has already made friends with most of them.

And on the last day, both of you actually just spent it...in his room. He had a really comfortable bed and feather pillows that you almost didn't want to leave. And despite sharing a bed he still would keep space between you, no matter the uncomfortable positions he had to sit in.

By the end of the week, the expedition group arrived during sundown.

Their heads lifted high, pride clearly across their faces as they rode their horses. Captain Hange especially seemed much more excited than usual, barely managing to stay still on their horse.

The mission was a success apparently, they've managed to capture two titans with zero mortality rate and minor injuries.

...well almost a zero rate.

You were called into Erwin's office in the middle of the night, when Moblit knocked on your door asking you to quietly follow him.

The night air was cold against your thin clothes, silence filling the usually busy hallways, now errly empty.

Knocking before he told you to enter, he seemed busy with some paperwork, instead offering you a seat and asking to wait shortly.

The curtains behind him were closed shut, the candle sitting on his desk seemed on the verge of burning out, melted wax collecting on the plate under it.

It wasn't till after some seconds that you realised you weren't alone in the room, Captain Levi was leaning against the wall on the other side, arms crossed.

The scratching of the pen against the papers would occasionally get replaced with the sound of dipping the metal head inside the liquid ink container, carefully wiping it against the opening to remove any overflowing liquid.

Your fingers fiddled with the red cushion on the armchair, leg slightly bouncing before you force it to stop each time.

Waiting...and waiting.

The back of your throat felt scratchy, only becoming aware of how dry your mouth was then. Attempting to swallow down as a form of relief didn't help much.

"Here, drink it." A glass of water was offered to you by Levi, handing it to you before going back against the wall.

Saying a small thank you before finishing the glass, you felt slightly better afterwards. Although the growing tension in the air didn't help ease your mind.

"Cadet." Erwin clasped his hands, "I apologise for calling you here this late, although considering the circumstances I'm sure you'd understand."

Opening one of the desk drawers, Erwin pulled out something wrapped in a napkin, the white cotton having a growing reddish stain in its middle.

"I offer my condolences."

-

[aressss1]

Through Fire and Ice Chapter 10

(Technoblade x Reader)

Chapter 10

< Prev Chapter | Next Chapter >

~~~~~~

“You’re going to love it when you see it.” You could hear the giddiness in Dream’s voice. His hands were over your eyes as you, Sapnap and Dream walked to where they had been building your house.

 “Dream’s been working on this for days now.” Sapnap chuckled, “I helped a little bit.” You couldn’t help but smile at their excitement. You could feel Dream’s puffs of air hitting the back of your neck, his touch cool on your skin. When he led you to a full stop and he turned you, with his hands still over your eyes. He pressed his body against yours as he whispered in your ear. You could feel the heat rise up on your neck.

“I hope you like it,” His voice causing shivers to run down your spine. “A home fit for a princess.” With that he takes his hands off of your eyes and you open them. In front of you was a home planted inside the wall just like everyone else had, but this one had a tiny, enclosed porch, with little planter boxes for you to garden in. Big circular shaped windows on either side of the front door stared at you as if they were eyes. The dark oak door had a circular frame, and two blue lanterns hung from the overhang of the porch on each side.

 “I-I can’t accept this Dream,” You sputtered out turning to face him.

 “Sure you can! Dream’s done way better stuff than this for people.” Sapnap chimed in chuckling at the blush on your cheeks. “This is child’s play compared to what he’s even done for a lot of the people in our old village.” Sapnap scratched the back of his head. He didn’t go on when Dream cleared his throat, his eyes meeting Sapnap’s almost as if to tell him to shut up.

 “If you don’t want to accept it for free, I’ll make you a deal? How do you feel about that?” Biting your lip, you look back toward the beautiful house just waiting for you to walk inside. Hesitantly nodding, your eyes flit back to Dream. You could see his grin behind the mask, the sight making your heart flutter. “I’m sure you’ve heard of the festival going on tonight? To mark the one-month anniversary of us all moving down here?” He cocked his head at you. You shook your head. Dream was the first one to bring it up. Niki was too busy to think about anything else other than cooking and helping out at the hospital, and Techno didn’t know much about social gatherings in general nor did he care much at the thought, let alone when they were going to be, but you were the same way.

 “I don’t talk to a lot of people.” You shrugged and you heard him chuckle.

 “Alright…” He cupped your cheek, “How about you come to the festival with me? Then it’ll be even.” His voice almost took on a sultry tone. You could see the hope in his eyes from behind the mask. You gave him a deadpan stare.

 “That doesn’t really seem fair.” You were confused when Sapnap shook his head sighing at you. What did you do? This caused a laugh to come from Dream, his thumb stroking across your cheek.

 “Don’t pay attention to him,” he jerked his head toward Sapnap. “You wanna come to the festival with me?” His hand drops from your face. You ponder over his question. You remembered Techno wanted to build your house for you, he had actually asked you what you wanted for your house. Guilt twisted in your gut about Techno, well at least he didn’t have to worry about another thing to do. Looking up at Dream you nodded, it was the least you could do to repay his kindness. He lifted his mask, and you could see the excitement in his green eyes.  “Tonight is gonna be a good one princess.” He took your hand pulling you toward the house.

 The inside of the house was well built, and somewhat furnished. Still trying to get over the fact that Dream had called you princess, you followed them and listened to every word they had to say. Sapnap kept showing you everything that he had built. Overall, it was a nice home, what drew your eye was the fully stocked bookshelves and you found yourself gravitating toward that more than anything.

 “I know how you like your books, so I got what I could from around here.” Dream stood by your side as you allowed your fingers to trace over the spines of the books on the shelves. Sapnap muttered that he would be right back, and he left out the front door hastily.

 “Why are you doing any of this for me Dream?” Your eyes never left the books on the bookshelves, but you could feel his eyes boring into you.

 “I want you to know you have friends who have your back,” Dream explained after a few seconds of processing your questions. “Having a home is the first step to being comfortable.” He half shrugged. “This is where I want you to make your memories.” He let out a chuckle. “I think my first good memory of this place is when your face lit up when you saw it.” His shoulder nudged yours. You weren’t able to hide your blush from him and he led you to the small couch.

 “Who made the furniture?” You ask your hand grazing over a nearby end table.

 “George did,” Dream sat on the couch throwing his arm over the back of the couch. He kicked his feet out in front of him, one boot resting on the other. “He wanted to help at his pace.” You sat next to Dream, his face illuminated by a lantern hanging above your heads. He took his mask and haphazardly threw it on the coffee table in front of him. You felt honored that he took his mask off in front of you. He didn’t do that often it seemed.

 You didn’t know how much time had passed but a golden clock on the wall glared at you when your eyes met it. Oh no… You were late in helping Niki out.

 “Uhh… Dream, this has been amazing, but I have to go, please tell Sapnap I said thank you.” You pushed yourself up from the couch, and Dream stood with you. He towered over you, and his green eyes searched your face. “Where should I meet you for tonight?” His chuckle sent butterflies to your stomach as he cupped your cheek.

 “Meet me here princess.” His tone was smooth, and his thumb brushed over your cheek. “I’ll come by sometime after your route.” Your cheeks heated up under his hand and you pushed forward giving him a hug which he returned. The hug enveloped you, and you gave a content sigh.

 “Thank you for everything Dream.” You pulled away from him, tucking the hair in your face behind your ear. He fished around his pocket for a half second and he held out a set of keys to you.

“I’m glad you like your new home!” His smile was genuine, and you take the keys from his hands. It had been a very long time since you were able to call anywhere home. Returning his smile as you clutched the keys to your chest you moved past him and out the door. Booking it to Niki’s, you see a familiar red cloak standing next to your already loaded up cart.

 “Heh?” Techno cocked his head at you. “You’re late nerd.” He teased. His eyes worriedly ran over your figure, not that you noticed. You weren’t hurt, but you usually were never late. Techno was wondering if he should have been out looking for you. He had gotten the cart prepared in your absence to keep his mind busy.

 “Sorry,” you huffed out, your hands rested on your knees as you caught your breath. “Dream, Sapnap and George made me a house and Dream and Sapnap took me to see it.” You explained. This made Techno’s heart sink. When he wasn’t busy, he was planning out your house. His talks with you about your house were for nothing. You had even wanted to help him build it. Gritting his teeth, he turns to the cart, grabbing onto the handle to pull it.

 “I see…” He kept his voice as even as possible, but you heard the disappointment in his voice.

 “I know you wanted to do it, but this was kind of a surprise to me.” You shrugged nudging his shoulder with yours. “It’s not something that needs to be done anymore. We can spend our time doing other things, like mining.” He perked up at that as the two of you set off on your route. The two of you talking as you went.

 “So, Dream said there’s a festival going on tonight do you wanna come?” You asked as you handed out the food to the people on the street.

 “Is Dream taking you to the festival?” Techno peered down at you, as an old woman took the box of food from your hands. He had known about the festival. Phil had been planning it for a few days now. It wasn’t important to Techno, but the excitement he heard in your voice piqued his interest.

 “Yeah, I’m assuming with George and Sapnap too. I want you to come too.” You shrugged as Techno struggled to swallow down the lump in his throat. “You’ve been working too hard on the mine and helping me. A night of fun is exactly what you deserve.” You beamed up at him. Techno didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to say no to you, but he felt it would ruin your night if he was there. But… Like hell would he allow Dream to do as he pleases. If he didn’t show up, he would be giving Dream exactly what he wanted, and Techno was spiteful toward Dream.

 “Alright…” He grumbled; he wasn’t liking the fact that he was going to have to be social. The smile that spread on your face when he agreed, was worth it though. He kept quiet as you greeted the people who approached you for their rations. You happily handed the people their boxes of food, waving them off, missing the way they would side eye Techno. Sometimes they even had the gall to look between the both of you. Dirty assumptions playing across their minds.

 ‘They are nothing.’

 ‘Slaughter.’

 ‘Protect her.’

 The voices had their demands, not that he would give in to some of them. Even so, he would move in a nonchalant way, to obscure their view of you when their thoughts played out across their faces as plain as day. You kept making your way to people, handing them piping hot boxes of food. When you continually greeted people and asked about their days, Techno had zoned out, the small talk grating on him. You made it look easy. He wasn’t one for talking to people in general.

 The two of you were deep in the residential area of the Burrow when you ran out of boxes. You thought that this was the perfect time to show Techno your new home. When the two of you were on your way back to Niki’s you pointed out the house to him, which caused him to huff in annoyance.

 “Don’t be so grumpy,” You nudged his shoulder. “I’ll let you build onto it how bout’ that? Anything you want to build on it.” Your eyes met his and he nodded contentedly. A smile spread on your face as you fished around your pocket. You held the keys to your house in the palm of your hand. Separating the two keys you held one out for him to take.

 “You’re letting me have a key to your house?” Techno cocked his head at you. His heart thumped in his chest, and he took the dangling key from your hand, tucking it into one of his own pockets. The voices in his mind sounded off, projecting his worries on how you were too trusting, giving him a key to your home.

 “Yeah, why not? You’re literally my best friend.” An embarrassed blush spread over your cheeks, and Techno felt his heart flutter. You could feel his golden eyes on you, and you acted like you didn’t notice.

 “Hm,” Techno grunted as he nodded in response, not knowing how to respond to that. His body gravitated closer to yours, the back of your hand just barely touching his. Resisting the urge to wrap your hand around his, you cleared your throat. There was a comfortable silence between the two of you until you got back to Niki’s bakery. You still had the second half of the route left to complete, but with Techno there you didn’t mind.

 --

 After finishing the route, both you and Techno, made your way back to your new home, to meet up with Dream. Looking around he wasn’t around your home so you shrugged and figured you could show Techno around the place. You opened the door and pulled him in. He looked around with almost uninterested eyes. While you looked up at him and deadpanned at the fact that his head almost hit the ceiling. You knew he was tall but…  He had to be over seven feet tall…

 While you were busy gawking at him over his height, he looked around his eyes scanning over your bookshelves. His eyebrows furrowed at things that he didn’t exactly like, little things, things that could be exploited. Small holes in the wood, that could be used to spy on you. He inspected the windows, to see how easily someone could get in. He already wanted to install a deadbolt on the front door the moment he walked in.

 “I’m making you a weapon’s rack, for when we start making your weapons.” Techno stated. You knew better than to argue with him. You threw your hands up, while a smile pulled at your lips.

 “I told you that you could add anything you like around here,” You leaned against the wall watching him. He entered the kitchen, staring at a blank wall at the end of the house. He had plans, but he was going to build a door to something similar to Phil’s ‘backyard’ for you.

 A sharp knock rang out in the air. Standing up from the wall you open the door as you see Dream standing there, a flower vase filled with lilies, in his hands. You could see the grin stretching across his face when the door opened.

 “Hey princess,” Dream chuckled as he held out the vase for you. “Are you ready to have the time of your life tonight?” You felt Techno’s presence approach behind you as you took the vase into your hands.

 “Well, I’m flattered you noticed the crown on my head Dream, but you don’t really have to call me princess.” Techno bent down so his eyes were level with Dreams. His joke caused you to giggle as you walked over to the end table next to the couch. You completely missed Dream and Techno’s stare down. “Wouldn’t miss this night for the world.” Techno narrowed his eyes as he said it.

 Dream’s hands clenched and unclenched, and his shoulders slightly shook in a silent anger at seeing the hybrid standing in front of him. The sight soothed Techno, and he chuckled and straightened up and cocked his head at Dream. He regained his composure when you turned back around to look at them.

 “Thank you again for everything Dream.” You walked over to the two of them. Unaware of what had gone down, just a second before. “Are we all ready to go?” Dream cleared his throat as he nodded, his eyes scanning Techno.

 “Yep.” Dream gave a small sigh as he turned around and walked down the steps of the porch, waiting for you and Techno to join him. You locked your door behind Techno, hearing a satisfying click. You were the first to descend down the steps to Dream. You planted yourself in between the two men as you started off toward the town square. “I didn’t think festivals were your thing Techno.” Dream spoke up, side eyeing Techno through his mask.

 “Well, you see,” Techno started, “I’m tryin’ to be more social.” Techno gave a half shrug. “I also don’t want to miss out on all the fun.” Techno jeered at him; he was having fun ruining his plans. Dream picked up on Techno’s double meaning, and he grit his teeth.

 “I see…” Dream nodded, “had I known I would have invited you myself.” You looked between the both of them, quietly listening to their conversation.

 “I’m sure,” Techno rolled his eyes. It was going to be a long night…

 --

 The night was filled with friends, games, and drinks. Niki had joined your group for the night, opting to drink with you. Dream had found Sapnap and George and was conversing with them throughout the night. Every once in a while, Dream’s gaze would wander to you and he would give a tiny wave, and you would wave back. As the night grew on and you had gone to dance with Niki, you felt yourself stumbling, the haze of the alcohol overtaking your mind.

 You spent most of the night with both Techno and Dream. Wilbur and Tommy kept Techno company when you weren’t with him. They noted the way he watched over you. Seeing his eyes scan the crowd for anyone who would do harm to you, as per the voices in his minds request. They were instantly scheming, on ways to get you two together.

 “Techno, come on, Fundy’s got this drinking game, I think your girl’s playing with Niki,” Wilbur pulled on Techno.

 “She’s not my girl, Wilbur.” Techno sighed. The large crowd around him, was almost too much. Between that and the voices, he felt a little bit overstimulated.

 “Yet!” Wilbur said as he pointed upwards to accentuate the word. “Come on, it’ll be fun.” Wilbur raised his eyebrows at the hybrid. Techno looked back and forth between you and him. You had been mid drink when he looked over at you. He sighed, and nodded grumbling to himself as he made his way over to you. That was when Will noticed Dream heading over to your table as well. “Tommy, you gotta distract Dream.” Will’s head snapped over to Tommy as he nodded his head in Dream’s direction.

 “What do you want me to do man?” Tommy asked his eyes landing on Dream’s approaching form. A look of panic almost reaching his eyes. Will just pushed him toward Dream in a hurry.

 “Anything, just be yourself, and don’t let him near them.” Will whispered to him. He watched as Tommy walked up to Dream in his boisterously confident way. His arms outstretched and he gave a big toothy grin to the man he needed to distract.

 “Dream! Mah friend!” Tommy practically shouted, slapping a hand down on Dream’s shoulder. “How ya been? Come on, I got something to show ya! We gotta find Tubbo!” Tommy pulled Dream away and Wilbur watched as Dream turned to look at both you and Techno. He held his breath when Dream tried to pull away, but Tommy had insisted. A sigh of relief escaped him as Dream gave into Tommy, following him to wherever Tommy was bringing him to.

 Will headed over to your table only to sit next to Niki. He watched for Dream so he could distract him next if need be. You were already slurring your words, but you cuddled up closer to Techno practically leaning on him, and that brought a smile to Will’s face. Techno needed someone in his life and those close to him knew it, even if Techno denied it. Dream seemed to get everything he wanted, well… Not this time. Wilbur would make sure of it. At least for tonight.

 ~~

 You pulled at Techno’s hands, trying to get him to come with you to the dancing area. Swaying a tiny bit, your eyes begged him, even when he looked over at the other dancers in discomfort. He could definitely hold his alcohol better than you. He didn’t want to deny you, but others could use this against you… He didn’t want to make you a target like he was.

 “Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaassssssseee??” Your whine knocked him out of his thoughts. “When are we ever going to do this again?” Techno let a sigh out and he stood from his seat, leaving his cloak on his chair. His hand was still in yours as you led him to the other dancers. You got into your positions, this wasn’t any ballroom dance by any means, the music was too fast paced for that, people locked arms and spun around to the tempo of the music and the two of you followed suit. He kept you steady, even as you were tripping on your own feet due to the alcohol.

 Techno reveled in your laugh as the two of you danced, the outside world was quickly shut out when he focused soley on you. Keeping you upright, keeping you happy. It made him feel things that he hadn’t felt in a very long time. Your hands on his arms felt right and that’s when he knew, that he would do anything for you, for your happiness.

 All this time fighting, adventuring… None of it had the satisfaction of when you held him closer. When he caught you staring up at him, with a blush on your face. He had lived a life that many dreamed of, but he only dreamed of you, and he found you.

 You stumbled on your own feet once more, and he was there to catch you when you fell, and you fell right into his chest. Both your movements stopped, as if time for the two of you was standing still, even as the others around you still spun in their dances. You laughed at your own clumsiness, letting out a little snort. That was enough to send Techno in a fit of laughter on his own. He watched as your cheeks reddened and you buried your face into his chest in embarrassment while you still laughed. This was a perfect moment that Techno would cherish forever.

 ~~

 Dream walked back to the festival, a bit peeved at Tommy who was still yammering in his ear about something. Tommy had led him to Tubbo’s bee farm. To show him bees of all things, while he looked for Tubbo. Why was this so important now? Any other time would have been fine but right now during a festival? Dream shook his head sighing. He was supposed to be with you, and you were off doing who knows what with Techno.

 “Tommy, I don’t actually give a fuck right now.” Dream interrupted Tommy’s ramblings as he turned to the boy to his right. This earned a scoff from Tommy, who put a hand on his chest trying to look affronted.

 “Oh, come on Dream, that’s rude.” Tommy started to say but he was interrupted again.

 “I had something to do when you pulled me away, isn’t that rude too?” Dream sighed rubbing at his eyes. “Listen, any other time would have been good, but this isn’t a good time.” He tried putting on a more comforting tone. “Just please let me go do what I need to do.” Tommy put his hands up and stepped away from him. He had done his job, maybe it was Wilbur’s time to shine. “Thank you.” Dream sighed and walked back to the main area where he had seen you last.

 You and Techno were absent from your table and there still sitting at the table was Will and Niki looking in the direction of the dancing area with interest on their faces. Following their gazes, he clenched his fist at the sight. Techno stood there with you in his arms, you pressed up against him flush. You seemed to be falling asleep on him.  Gritting his teeth, he just watches. Techno slid an arm underneath your legs holding you to his chest bridal style. That was enough for Dream.

 He left, the festival still raging around him. He went to go find Sapnap and George. When he finally found the two, he felt numb and angry. After everything that he did for you… Techno? No… He just needed to step up his game. Show you just how dangerous Techno was. The memory that itched across Dream’s face was enough evidence that Techno was dangerous, that all he did was destroy things. He didn’t want that piglin to destroy you, and he would do anything to keep you out of that monster’s reach.

 Sapnap and George greeted him, with Sapnap asking him if he had been with you. He shook his head. The disappointment that played across their faces was almost too much. George gave Dream a reassuring look.

 “I’m sure you’ll get her; you’re Dream after all.” George offered. “And the Dream I know always gets what he wants.” He laughed as his grip tightened on Dream’s shoulder. Dream sighed. His eyes landing on Sapnap.

 “Want to make some chaos?” Dream asked, he didn’t want to do what he was about to do. But he needed to pull out all the stops. Techno couldn’t control himself in certain moments and you would be in the middle of that if he didn’t stop it.

 “What’s up?” A smirk pulled at Sapnap’s lips the moment Dream mentioned chaos.

 “I think we should let everyone know we have a pig fucker in our midst.”

 ~~

 You were out like a light in his arms, it was only when he unlocked your door with his key and he stepped in your new bedroom, did you wake up.

 “Mm, Techno?” You still slurred a bit, but your eyes fluttered open as you focused in on his face.

 “I’m here,” His voice was barely above a whisper. He brought you over to your new bed, reluctantly setting your body down. His eyes met yours and you reached out for him.

 “Stay… Please…?” Your voice came out like a whimper, and he could do nothing but nod as he sat down on the bed, pulling the covers over you. It didn’t seem to be enough for you because you sat up, and tried to pull the covers on him, your head sinking to his shoulder as you tried but failed to do so. Techno let out a chuckle. This was something he was getting used to, but you were never so bold about it before. He laid down with you, after taking his mask off, your head still on his chest.

 You felt the room spinning around you and the only thing that kept you grounded was Techno’s hold on you. It was quite a while before you spoke again.

 “Thanks for tonight Tech,” You whispered into his neck, before planting a kiss to where his pulse could be felt. This made Techno freeze. Feeling your lips on his skin was something he had wanted for weeks now. But there was just one problem.

 “You’re drunk.” Techno’s monotone voice rang out in the room. He pulled away to look you in the eyes. This made you giggle.

 “So…?” Your eyes searched his, lips slightly grazing his. All you had to do, was push forward… And you did. Your lips crashed down on to his, and you saw the look of surprise in his eyes before you closed your own. Techno took a shaking hand trying to decide on deepening the kiss or pulling away from you. Unbeknownst to you, his eyes flooded black, his silver irises drinking the sight of you in, and his urges took over.

 ‘Ruin her’

 ‘Take her’

 ‘Make her yours.’

 Between everything he wanted, and the voices it should have been easy to fall into the kiss. But no… He pulled away from you. Gently setting you on the mattress, he got up from the bed. His hands clenching and unclenching. He couldn’t… Not while you were like this.

 “Techno?” The sound shattered his heart. You sounded hurt. If this went on everyone involved would regret it. He couldn’t do that to you.

 “I-” Techno stammered. “I’m sorry…” With that he grabbed his mask and walked to the door. “I’ll be right out here. I’m not leaving… I just can’t do this right now…” He hoped you understood, hoped you wouldn’t remember this in the morning, but yet he hoped you did…

 The rest of the night, was nothing but pain… He heard you cry yourself to sleep. He desperately wanted to go in there, kiss your tears away, tell you he wanted to be with you. But no, he listened to your crying on the other side of the door. He wasn’t sure if he could hold himself back if he went back in there. It was better if he kept an eye on you from outside your door. The voices shouting at him a million miles a minute.

 The night crept by and Techno did not sleep.

[shadowglens]

"a kiss between exes who meant to walk away" for gigi/peter pls mcu clowns support mcu clowns 😤

prompt list | ~1k words

The smoke clears, and Gigi can see Peter’s blood on her hands. If she closes her fingers into a fist, turns them from marrow to stone to lead, she could watch it trickle out between the cracks like it was her own. Maybe it is. Hard to tell these days.

Peter’s blood is on her hands, and the smell of melting rubber and electrical fire is thick like poison in the air, and there is a wail of a siren somewhere, distant, and all she can look at is Peter where he’s on his knees before her. His suit is torn down the front, leaving the pale skin of his eye, jaw and throat bare to the smoke. Gigi allows herself the indulgence of staring at the mole above his Adam’s apple.

Peter rasps, chokes. Falters onto his hands and knees, stumbling, until he’s got one foot under him. Blood splatters through the red of his mask to the concrete below. Gigi thinks for a moment that she’s never seen the suit so vibrant, but then she’d be lying, wouldn’t she? This game of theirs, blood and smoke caught between them like the love used to be, is going to be the end of them.

Or at least, so she hopes.

“George,” Peter coughs, struggling to look at her. The fire consuming the building behind them makes the blue of his one visible eye burn gold. “Gigi. Please.”

She stalks forward, dragging the tip of her boot along the concrete until it screams in mockery of the police closing in. Two avenues over, maybe there?? Tick tock, Georgina.

“Now, now, Spiderman, didn’t I tell you to call me Atomia in public?” Gigi bends at the waste, her hand shooting out to grab his chin just as she shifts its buoyancy, so Peter is forced to look at her. She can almost taste the blood on the inside of his suit where her boot had landed with the force of a tonne of solid ore. “Wouldn’t want to ruin this little charade of ours, would we?”

His laugh rattles through a near-broken jaw. “Sorry, didn’t realise you were trying to be subtle.”

“A snarky little spider, aren’t you?”

“Only for you,” he rasps.

It’s a lie. From the moment Gigi stumbled into Peter at ESU during the hottest summer in her living memory, he has thrown barbs and sarcasm at anything within a ten-metre circumference of himself, inanimate objects or living ones. If he has any serious bones in his body, they are few and far between, hidden deep beneath his ribcage. She would know. They only protrude through the skin when she’s shattered everything else. Evidently, she hasn’t dug deep enough today.

“Please stop,” Peter is saying, and Gigi hadn’t realised he was still talking. His hand is white knuckled around her wrist where it still clutches his chin. “Please.”

A siren wails a few blocks away. Above them, a window bursts, and glass rains down behind them. Gigi feels a few shards dig into the shoulders of her suit. Her usual retort sits heavy on her tongue, the words recycled enough that Peter could say it himself if he really wanted to. But he doesn’t, just sits on his knee with his blood pooling in Gigi’s palm, and stares at her with one human eye and one arachnid. The drug and the addict. She’s not sure who they play anymore.

May as well take the needle and dig it deeper for the both of them.

Gigi leans forward and kisses the exposed, bloodied skin of Peter’s cheek.

She feels him tense as she leans forward, expecting teeth and being given tenderness instead. He is as clean shaved as always, not by choice she’s sure (Peter always was incapable of growing facial hair). The skin under his eye pulses like a freshly forming bruise, stuck halfway between green and purple. When she pulls back to look him in the eye, Peter just chokes out a sigh.

“Gigi . . .”

She tsks him, shifting her hand to splay flat against the emblem on his chest. The sound of her name on his tongue makes her centre of gravity sit heavier than normal in her gut. She turns it to steel, to trap the feeling or keep it out she’s not sure. “What did I tell you?”

The blue and red of a police siren bathes the alley in neon just as Peter’s phone starts ringing. Gigi takes a large step back, molecules shifting so she’s already a foot off the ground and out of reach. Peter doesn’t let his chin drop.

“Would you look at that,” Gigi hums, the taste of him burying into her gums like a parasite, “saved by the girlfriend.”

Peter staggers to his feet, eyes flicking between her hovering in front of him and the sound of police shouting from the street. “Meet me. Let me help you. Please.”

The laugh drags itself up her throat before she can stop it. Gigi can feel herself drifting higher in the breeze, her bones turning feather-light by the second as her ribcage draws tighter around her heart. “Ever the optimist aren’t you, little spider. You better scurry off before Ms Watson gets worried.”

“Wait – ”

A blast of heat slams into Gigi as another window explodes, and oh, she’d almost forgotten. The flames have almost jumped to the building next door, and the drone of Peter’s ringtone and the wail of the siren doesn’t mask the growing scream of nearby civilians. Gigi directs herself higher, higher, until she clears the roof, and the roaring summer wind of New York City douses the embers that were caught on her suit.

For once in her life, Gigi relents to the city, and lets the wind take her. Peter swings up to the roofline just as she disappears behind a nearby skyscraper, leaving the pool of his blood to seep into the concrete below. Either that or burn up in the flames Gigi’s left behind.

*

“Pete, was that explosion you? Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I mean, no – but also – ah fuck, I need to go MJ. Call you later?”

“Sure. Be safe.”

“Always.”

[yesterdayiwrote]

All is definitely well at Mercedes. Toto’s comments lately have been concerning. Lewis saying after that discussion with Toto that it was internal. They don’t know what is up with the car and answers keep changing every week, and I don’t think any upgrades can save this season tbh. Mercedes is heading down.

It honestly sounds like tension is starting to rise and that’s even more unnerving.

Lewis criticising the team is really unusual, although if cool temperatures are their weakness then they were always going to struggle in these conditions and it’s unlikely we’ll see a true read of their situation.

I know I’ve said it before but honestly I feel the most sympathy for George in all of this. This was his big promotion, supposed to be the pay off of all his years of toil in awkward diva cars, his chance to be competitive and look what he’s walked in to?! A team that’s got it wrong, struggling to find a solution and they’re all starting to turn on each other to boot 😬 Not to mention the fact every time he manages to outperform his teammate, people take that as a negative for the team?

And the thing is they haven’t got it anywhere near as wrong as some teams. I think some people talk as if they’re the worst car out there and that’s not the case, it’s just sad in comparison to where they were.

[themagicalmysticalboy]

Iveneverrequestedanaskbeforesryifimlikeawkward

Anyways can you write a mclennon and theres a thunderstorm or something and the power goes out and one if them gets all scared and clingy to the other and they’re scared and it ends with cuddles? I love your writing btw <33

a/n: ah! thank you so much! hope you like this one too! ended up being a lot longer than i thought it would lol

Going to Kansas City...

Going to Get My Baby Back Home

The last note of Long Tall Sally tore from Paul’s throat and blasted into the exuberant crowd as the concert came to an end. He was smiling like mad as he looked between his bandmates and the people in the stadium. It was strange to not see every seat full but he didn’t care at all. There was too much adrenaline coursing through him to give it a second thought. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet as he sent a few thank you’s into the mic.

John held his shoulder and waved with him before going towards the speakers so they could prop their instruments up with the other equipment. “Fucking fantastic,” he yelled close to Paul’s ear.

“Aye, Eppy looks satisfied,” Paul yelled back and nodded to just off the stage where their manager stood.

With another smile and a pat on the shoulder, they both broke into a trot to the locker rooms, George and Ringo on their heels. Paul was still waving the whole way until they descended into the tunnel. Cool air hit his face like a blessing from above. They slowed to a slow stride to catch their breath.

Everyone was soaked in sweat and panting. They had every right to be dead tired but the electricity of the performance wasn’t about to wear off. Paul surmised they had a good 30 minutes before they were absolutely dead on their feet.

“Was weird hearing our own music. ‘Bout forgot what we sounded like,” George said as he wiped at his forehead with his sleeve.

“Small crowd and we still got paid out the arse for it. Screw a day off.”

Paul thought a day off still would have been nice. With it raining like it was when they landed, though, there wouldn’t have been much to do. Might as well make some more money. Maybe that’s why the crowd was so small - all that rain and wind kept people from arriving. It didn’t really matter -money wise- if 30,000 or 10 people came, though. The deal was at a set rate and they got paid the same either way.

“Glad to hear it was worth it, John.”

Paul turned on his heels, walking backward, to find Brian trailing behind. “Aren’t you glad we kept saying no? Got us far.”

“We should start refusing things more often,” Ringo chimed in, tapping the air with his drumsticks.

“All fab and gear and whatever,” George came up and grabbed Paul, jumping to put all his weight on Paul’s shoulders before turning him around and pushing him forward.  “but let's get the hell out of these clothes and get some kip.”

There was a general agreement between laughs and jests. They set off to the dressing room while Brian went to ready their ride to the hotel. When they finally found the room in the maze of a stadium, the airconditioning was even better than in the hallways. A fan in the corner hit them as they walked in and sent Paul’s hair on end. He collapsed into a chair at the first opportunity and yanked off his boots, not bothering to unzip them. Taking the boots to the clothes rack, he undressed and hung his outfit up accordingly. When he was happily redressed in a t-shirt and jeans, he looked on at the mess John and George were creating. 

George’s clothes were on the floor, surrounding a chair that managed to not so much as catch a sock. Whereas John’s clothes trailed from the door to the vanity. He was mostly undressed, wearing only unbuttoned pants and a tie, as he searched for his clothes. Paul eyed him indulgently as he moved about the room, feeling something between annoyed and pleased. At least Ringo had made a good faith attempt, clothes messily placed on their hangers with boots sat beside Paul’s.

Paul marched over and untied the tie around his neck. “How did you even manage that?”

“I like to keep a mystery.” John’s eyes were soft and dream-like.

“Save it for later, you two,” George exclaimed and made a fake vomiting sound.

 Rolling his eyes, Paul leaned into John and picked up his discarded suit jacket, revealing John’s pile of plain clothes. “Looking for these?”

John laughed mockingly and snatched up his jumper. He had just pulled the thing on when the lights flickered out. The breath of the building cut out before wheezing back to life and illuminating the room again. John let out a low woah as they all eyed the ceiling.

“Mal blow a fuse unplugging the speaker,” Ringo joked, his gaze still fixed on the lights.

They stood there for a moment longer before going back to getting dressed and lounging. John got himself together and dressed rather quickly. Paul watched him closely but didn’t question him. When George and Ringo took a seat on either side of Paul, John was pacing the floor and tapping his thighs.

“I’m going to look for Brian. He’s taking too long.”

Paul stood. “John,” But he was gone before any protest could be made. “Great. I’ll go and get him.”

George propped his feet up on the table, taking one of Ringo’s drumsticks to spin between his fingers. “He’ll be alright. Maybe he’ll even get Eppy to tell us what’s going on.”

Paul weighed his options and dropped into the seat at the vanity. “Would be nice to know what’s keeping him.” Tapping at the maroon-painted wood, he noticed John’s glasses wrapped up in his tie. Paul held them up, pulling the tie off. “He’s got his contacts in, hasn’t he?”

“Took ‘em out, actually.”

“The git. He’ll never find his way back here if he doesn’t run into Brian.”

“Probably couldn’t find his way back with the specs. They’ll find each other though.”

Ignoring the advice, Paul was half out of his seat when a nerve-rattling bang sent him falling back. His breath hitched in his throat, his muscles tense and pulling against his skin. Ringo and George were just as stunned, leaning forward on the couch. Slowly, as if they might evoke more banging if they made a sound, the three walked to the door. Howling screams echoed outside, becoming more clear as Ringo placed his hand on the knob. When he opened it, a gust of warm and humid wind rushed into the room. The low howling wind whistled up in pitch.

There was a small set of stairs to their left that led to double doors. They were flung apart like unfolded lungs, rushing all its oxygen into the building. Outside, the parking lot was shrouded in a haze of heavy rain that made the street lights radiate a halo’s glow. They, consequently, did nothing in the way of providing actual visibility.

“That’s probably not very good.”

The lights flickered off and on again, making Paul grip the back of Ringo’s shirt. “No. Probably not.” His mind was a racehorse running through a blank expanse.

George pulled him back into the room. “Come on before we get sucked out the door.”

Steadying himself and pulling back the reins on his mind, he pointed to the other two. “I’m going to get John. Stay here in case Brian comes ‘round.”

“Can’t recall a single time when splitting up has been a good idea,” George said with a raised brow.

“Well, John’s already gone and done it. I’ll make it an even split at the least.”

No further argument was made and Paul went into the hall to find a few staff members going towards the open door. They took no notice as he went the opposite way. The once comforting cool of the hallway moved from humid stuffiness to icey cold in a matter of a few steps. He turned at the first opportunity and heard both doors close with a clank. At least that was handled. 

Once he knew he was on the path to where they had originally come into the stadium, he called out, “John! You around?” There was no reply. Down the next corridor, there was another employee sliding a bolt into place at the exit doors. They rushed off, leaving Paul alone. He called out for John again.

“How the hell did I get back here?” John was standing behind Paul, one hand on his head, the other on his lower back. “I went in a circle…”

“These might have helped.” Paul brought over the glasses and slid them on John before grabbing his shoulders. “Better?”

John stuck his tongue out and shook off Paul’s hands.

“Aye, welcome. Now come on. Eppy’s probably this way.” The doors at the far end of the hallway banged against their bolts, rattling from the forceful wind that pushed through the cracks. “Let's pick up the pace, yeah?”

John only nodded, speed walking ahead while Paul struggled to keep up. He was a good 6 feet in the lead when the lights cut.

“Fucking hell.” Paul was getting tired of this finicky electricity.

“Paul?”

“Yeah. Haven’t disappeared.” He might as well have. The dark that blanketed the building was dense and consuming. He had no way to see anything at all.

“Where are you?”

“I’ve got my arms out. Just walk back towards me.” Having the clack of their boot heels would have been nice at the moment. Their sneakers were far too quiet to make out the location by. Regardless, John’s strong grip wrapped Paul’s bicep. “There we- oh-”

John’s arms wrapped underneath Paul’s, pulling them together by the shoulder blades. His head was buried into the crook of Paul’s neck. More banging echoed somewhere in the distance and John held tighter.

“Hey,” he gently rubbed circles over John’s back. “We’re alright, y’know.”

“I don’t like this.” John shook his head against Paul, trembling in his arms. His heartbeat was wild in his chest, thumping against his ribs so forcefully that Paul could feel it too. He had seen John like this before but only a handful of times. It sent Paul’s alarm bells off. “Paul, I can’t- I-”

“Okay… Okay. Let's sit, then.” They parted briefly and Paul led him to a wall so they could slide to the floor. “Come here.” John pressed against him, head on his shoulder and hand in hand.

Without the hum of electricity, the wind completely filled the deafening silence, only interrupted by the bang of doors and distant footsteps from the level above. Though that did let them know other people were somewhere, it gave an already ominous atmosphere that last nudged into horror. Paul might have been scared himself but he couldn’t think of anything other than John’s panicked breathing and shaking hand.

“I’ve got you, okay? We’re not going anywhere, neither of  us.” John didn’t respond. “You need to breathe, love. Take a deep breath for me, please.” They breathed together - slow inhale and even slower exhale - over and over. “That’s good.”

He was shaking less when he fell into Paul. “Shouldn’t there be backup lights?”

Paul chuckled softly. “You’d really think.”

“You think it’s a tornado? Mal said this was part of Tornado Valley… Or was it Alley?”

“Tornado Alley? Only in America, I swear.” His fingers were still tangled in John’s hair, lightly massaging his scalp. “They got a state-designated for hurricanes too?”

“Actually, I think they do. Maybe Florida.”

Paul let out a wholehearted laugh. John slowly worked his way into one too. “Can’t wait to be back in England. I’ll take rain and no sun every day over whatever this all is.”

“Yeah…” Another clatter of metal echoed from the dark and John tensed.

Paul gave a reassuring squeeze of his hand. “And we will get back. In one piece too. Storms can’t stick around forever.”

They settled into a mutual silence as the aches of sleep crept into their bones. John ran a hand up and down Paul’s thigh and Paul held his head against his shoulder. They both jolted every now and again but were fairly still for the most part. Any footfall that was above them stopped some time ago. At least that had calmed John’s nerves a bit further. Though Paul found it more frightening now that they were gone - not that he’d dare to voice that. 

He was too tired to be scared anyway. The nonstop concerts and traveling exacerbated the stress of all of this and left him numb. It was safe to be numb now. John felt slack against his shoulder, finally at peace. A weird tranquility slipped through his skin and sunk into his bones. The darkness deepened as his eyes fluttered shut.

“What are you doing on the floor?” A drawled voice drifted into his dream. “Paul.”

He grumbled and opened his eyes, only to be attacked by searing light. He sucked in a pained breath and shielded his eyes to look for the source of the voice. Squinting, he could make out George coming down the hall. He blinked away the sting and stretched a bit. John’s head was on his lap, still fast asleep.

“Morning,” he mumbled on instinct, rubbing any leftover sleep from his eyes. “John, love. Wake up.”

“Come on before someone sees you both all snuggled up like.”

John copied Paul’s wake routine down to the “Morning.”

 “Yeah, yeah. Morning, morning.”

After some much-needed stretching, George hauled John to his feet though it was more for show than actual help. Paul followed, leaning on the wall as pins pricked at his sleeping legs. “How long have we been gone.”

George was taking the lead. He turned his head back to say, “Well, it’s past midnight. They just got the power on not even 15 minutes ago. I’d say you’ve been missing for three hours.”

Both men only grunted a response, swaying sleepily as they walked.

“Wish it was longer,” John groaned.

“Aye. I’m still wiped.”

“The storms passed enough to get to the hotel. Both of you can get back to your snuggling soon.”

A smile twitched at Paul’s lips. “Good.”

[northernindigenousbeautyhailey]

TAMRA JEWEL KEEPNESS.

FEW CHILDREN IN CANADA JUST VANISH. Fewer still stay gone for longer than a couple of days. Some are found alive, others are hurt or killed, but rarely does a child simply disappear. The RCMP’s National Centre for Missing Persons and Unidentified Remains database lists 147 missing children, in a country of more than 35 million people. Of the sixty children under the age of twelve, a quarter are thought to have been abducted by their parents. A large portion of the others were lost to apparent accidents or misadventure, falling through ice or swept away in the pull of wild rivers, their bodies never recovered. The database shows twenty-four children in the past sixty years who have inexplicably disappeared. Because there are so few, we know them. In Edmonton, there is Tania Murrell, six when she vanished while walking home from school for lunch in January 1983. In Toronto, Nicole Morin, eight when she disappeared from a condominium building in July 1985. Michael Dunahee was four years old when he went missing from a playground in Victoria in 1991. In Regina, there is only Tamra Keepness.

THE LAST TIME anyone saw Tamra, she was five years old, with bobbed black hair and soft, round cheeks. In one picture, she wears a T-shirt dotted with flowers, standing against the colourful collage of a classroom wall. Her smile is broad and open, her eyes lively. She was so smart that her mother called her “my little Einstein,” so feisty that when a little boy pushed her once, Tamra shoved him right back, and harder. She liked playing Mario Kart on Nintendo and climbing her favourite tree, down the block from her house.

July 6, 2004, was the first time Sergeant Ron Weir would hear Tamra’s name. He was getting ready to leave on vacation that day when he got an urgent call back to the police station. Weir was a veteran cop with the Regina Police Service and head of emergency services, which included search and rescue. In a meeting, officers from the major crimes unit laid out what they knew: sometime between the night of Monday, July 5, and the morning of Tuesday, July 6, a five-year-old girl had gone missing from her home in central Regina.

Weir had been a police officer for twenty years. He knew that kids often went missing and turned up safe a short time later. Sixty-five percent of missing children and teens are located within the first day, and almost 90 percent within the first week. But Weir also knew that Tamra was too young to get far as a runaway. Patrol officers had already checked the neighbourhood to make sure Tamra hadn’t wandered away or ended up at the house of a playmate or relative, as was often the case with missing children. They’d found nothing. Even in the early hours of the investigation, Weir suspected this case would be different.

TAMRA LIVED with her mother, stepfather, and five siblings at 1834 Ottawa Street, a shabby brown-and-white two-storey with a windowed porch at the front. The house stood between 11th and 12th avenues, just east of downtown Regina. The neighbourhood was a mix of long-time elderly residents, young families drawn by low prices for heritage houses, and ramshackle homes where residents struggled with poverty and addiction. The area was sometimes known as the “low stroll,” a place where women and girls sold their bodies for drugs or booze and men drove around looking to buy them, circling the neighbourhood in trucks and station wagons. Many of the women and girls who lived or worked in the area were First Nations, like Tamra. Long before calls for a federal inquiry into missing and murdered Indigenous women would dominate the political conversation, women were going missing from those streets. It was from that same area that nineteen-year-old Annette Kelly Peigan disappeared in 1983, followed by eighteen-year-old Patsy Favel in 1984 and Joyce Tillotson in 1993. Two years later, two young white men picked up a woman named Pamela George, sexually assaulted her, and beat her to death.

The last public development came in November 2014, when a Reddit user posted to the website a scrawled map with the words: “Location of Tamra Keepness, check the wells.”

Tamra’s house was less than a block from the Oskana Centre, a halfway house for federal parolees, and not far from the Salvation Army’s Waterston House, a residence and shelter inhabited by former inmates and men struggling with drugs, alcohol, and psychiatric issues. Residents of both facilities had been responsible for serious attacks in the past. Just four months earlier, convicted violent sex offender Randy Burgmann had lured a woman into his room at Waterston House with alcohol, before violently sexually assaulting her and leaving her beside a dumpster to die. The Oskana Centre had previously been home to both serial rapist Larry Deckert and Billy John Francis Whitedeer, who began committing violent sexual offences on children when he was ten years old. A few blocks farther was the Ehrle Hotel, one of the worst bars in town, from which patrons spilled soggy and staggering onto the sidewalk, and which appeared regularly in police reports and court testimony.

Police also had serious questions about what was happening at 1834 Ottawa Street. There was a broken window and blood spatter in the porch. Social Services had been involved with the family since not long after the oldest child was born in 1993, and there had been more than fifty reports made to crisis workers, most often about Tamra’s mother’s use of alcohol and drugs, and neglect of the children. Her mother’s boyfriend had a history of violence and domestic assault. In most cases, investigators knew, children are hurt by people closest to them.

POLICE STARTED with a thorough search of the area immediately around the home, then cast their efforts outward in an expanding grid. As the sun rose on the morning of July 7, 2004, the search effort intensified. First, there were ten officers, then twenty, then more. Some officers accompanied trained volunteer search teams; others questioned family members and potential witnesses, going door-to-door gathering leads or chasing down tips. The RCMP training academy provided cadets, and members of the public soon began arriving on their own to help.

Police set up a command-centre bus in the parking lot of a nearby church, from which Weir co-ordinated the search. Though it was an urban environment, the terrain posed serious challenges. The area was filled with overgrown yards, empty houses, piles of garbage. Tamra weighed forty pounds, and stood three foot five. There were so many places a child could hide or get trapped or be held, where a child’s body could be concealed or dumped. Searchers in orange vests worked in grids, knocking on doors, inspecting junked cars and crumbling garages, peering under discarded mattresses and piles of wood, looking down manholes. Police stopped garbage pickups, checking all the bins in the neighbourhood, the trash putrid and reeking in the summer heat. Some bins had already been emptied, so plans were made to search the dump as well.

And what if she had been taken farther? Not far away were industrial areas, large abandoned lots and buildings, Wascana Creek, and beyond that, the vast Prairie. With a thirteen-hour head start, someone in a vehicle could have had Tamra in Vancouver before she was reported missing.

When they were not speaking to police, members of Tamra’s family waited anxiously on the fringes, watching the searchers, eyeing the growing assembly of reporters and news crews holding out microphones and pointing camera lenses. “It’s not like her to go off by herself,” said Tamra’s father, Troy Keepness, sitting on the front steps of his ex-wife’s house, his voice tight with worry. “We’re trying to do our best to get her back.”

Weir worked in the command-centre bus, surrounded by maps and whiteboards. A scribe logged every aspect of the search in real time, recording ideas and progress. No one wanted to break, not for food or rest. Everyone knew the situation grew more serious with every passing hour. As the heat of the day gave way to evening, Weir stood outside and looked up. A strong wind had come in, and storm clouds were spreading, darkening the Prairie sky.

The next day, police strung crime-scene tape around Tamra’s house and the one next door, drawing it through the back alley and across six garages, long slashes of yellow dividing the street. Officers guarded the perimeter while forensic investigators went in and out of the house in boots and masks. “While we don’t have any direct evidence that Tamra has come to any harm, we also don’t know where she is,” police spokeswoman Elizabeth Popowich told reporters. “And if, in fact, this comes to a point where we determine that she’s come to some harm and it’s because of a criminal act, this location could potentially be the scene of some evidence.”

THERE WERE three adults in the house that evening: the children’s mother, Lorena Keepness; her boyfriend, Dean McArthur; and a family friend named Russell Sheepskin, who had been staying with the family. All three had come and gone during the night, and investigators were starting to question their movements. There were no signs of forced entry to the house, and there were gaps, inconsistencies in their timelines that didn’t make sense to investigators.

The story the three told publicly, compiled from various interviews, was that Lorena and McArthur got into an argument while watching a movie on Monday evening, and McArthur and Sheepskin left the house around 8:30 p.m. to go drinking. The men returned briefly to drop off a bottle of formula for the baby, then left again. Lorena went out around 11 p.m, kissing Tamra goodbye before she went. The oldest child in the house was ten-year-old Summer, the youngest was Lorena and McArthur’s nine-month-old baby. Lorena returned briefly to check on the children and then left again around midnight. At about 3 a.m., Sheepskin returned home drunk and saw Tamra sleeping on the couch. Not long after, McArthur got back to the house and assaulted Sheepskin on the porch, punching him through a window and then stomping on his head. (Both men later said the fight had nothing to do with Tamra.) Sheepskin walked alone to the hospital to get stitches, and McArthur went to stay at his aunt’s house a few blocks away. Though it should have been a short walk, he said he got lost and kept passing out as he walked there. He didn’t arrive for at least two hours, until 5 or 5:30 a.m. Meanwhile, Lorena got home around 3:15 or 3:30 a.m., climbed in through a window, and passed out on the couch. She said that she got up to undo the latch on the door for her mother around 8 or 9 a.m. and that the two eldest children, Summer and Rayne, left on their own in the morning to attend a summer day-camp. Lorena didn’t realize Tamra wasn’t there until about three hours later, when the five-year-old didn’t come downstairs. At 12:16 p.m., a family member called the police and told them Tamra was missing.

Rayne, who was eight, said he had gone to bed squeezed into the space between the wall and mattresses piled on the floor in an upstairs bedroom. He told his mother he felt Tamra get up at some point, the slight movement of a child’s weight. All he could remember was that it was light outside.

FRIDAY WAS hot again and wet from the previous night’s rain. An odour of decay hung in the air around Ottawa Street. Tamra had been gone three full days and become national news. Her picture seemed to be everywhere, hanging on street poles and store windows. In news stories, she became “missing five-year-old Tamra Keepness,” but more often she was just Tamra, as if we knew her. The front page of the Regina Leader-Post spoke directly to her, asking, “Tamra, Where Did You Go?”

Tips flooded in to police. On the street, there were rumours that Tamra had been seen at a dollar store with an older woman. Business owners in the neighbourhood said detectives had been looking for a middle-aged white man named Roch or Rocky, but police wouldn’t confirm whether that was related to the search. Lorena and McArthur said they gave police the names of five people they thought could be suspects, including a man who had befriended Tamra and later been discovered to be a pedophile. For a while, there was even a theory that Tamra had never existed at all, that she had been a scam to get extra money from Social Services. (Hospital records proved that was not the case.)

Searchers were coming from around the province to volunteer, streaming into the city from towns and First Nations communities, motivated by the faces of their own children or grandchildren to help in whatever way they could. “I’ve got a boy, and he’s twenty-one,” said Jerry Scott, one of the volunteers who joined the search. “And if he left, I’d go nuts, too.” Around the city, people organized vigils and barbecues, brought water and snacks for the searchers, wrapped ribbons around trees to show their support. Some left teddy bears and angels on the steps of Tamra’s house. Days of intensive searches had turned up lots of items that seemed as though they could be connected—clothing, a child’s shoe—but none of it belonged to Tamra. “I’m starting to go on different conclusions, like maybe someone took her, I don’t know,” Troy Keepness said. “I just hope nobody would hurt my daughter.”

WHEN Tamra had been gone a week, police announced they were suspending the ground searches. At a press conference, Regina police chief Cal Johnston announced a $25,000 reward for information and vowed, “We will find Tamra.” Police questioned sex offenders living in the area and obtained surveillance tapes from convenience stores, bars, gas stations, and the Greyhound bus depot nearby. Johnston confirmed that “criminal interference with Tamra is a distinct possibility” and drew attention back to Tamra’s house and family. “There were comings and goings from the house that night that remain not fully explained to our satisfaction, and we continue to ask those questions,” he told reporters. He would not elaborate.

Tamra’s family was growing increasingly angry at the police, and the strain of the situation was starting to show. Lorena told reporters she’d signed consent forms for police to search her house and had given her DNA, but still she felt as if they were focusing too much on her family and not enough on trying to find Tamra. She was angry that police hadn’t closed the highways out of the city and that there was no Amber Alert because police said it didn’t meet the criteria. “I’m fed up,” she told reporters. “They are wasting time. This is my little girl we’re talking about.”

The family was growing frustrated with the media, too. Lorena’s mother yelled obscenities at reporters one day, and on another, members of the family nearly came to blows with a TV reporter doing a live update from the front lawn. They had been watching the news inside the house when they heard the reporter imply what many in the city were already wondering: If not someone in that house, then who?

On July 19, two weeks after Tamra had been reported missing, police charged McArthur with assaulting Sheepskin the night Tamra disappeared. McArthur told reporters he had been interrogated for twenty hours, not about the assault, but about Tamra and about what had gone on inside the house that night. “It was always the same questions, and they were assuming that I knew the answers to those questions, but I didn’t know the answers, and I still don’t know the answers,” he said. “I would never hurt a hair on that little girl’s head.”

Two days later, Tamra’s brothers and sisters were removed from the home by child-protection officers. Tamra’s twin sister wore messy pigtails and clutched a colouring book and a yellow blanket as two women led the children away down the front steps of the house. Neither government officials nor police would say whether the children’s seizure was related to Tamra’s disappearance. When the children were gone, police searched the house again.

One night late that summer, Tamra’s father, Troy, showed up at the house with a baseball bat and confronted her stepfather, McArthur. Troy was charged with assault, though McArthur later said police “got things misunderstood.” “Everybody’s looking for answers,” he said. “We more or less talked.”

LORENA KEEPNESS was fourteen years old when she ran away from her home on the White Bear First Nation, 200 kilometres southeast of Regina. She had been in residential school for about three months, but that wasn’t what did it. For her, it was the same ugly stuff at home. She found her way to Regina. When her mom tried to take her home, Lorena wouldn’t go. She lived on the streets instead.

She had her daughter Summer Wind when she was twenty, her son Rayne Dance not long after. It was after the ultrasound for her third baby that she walked home in a daze and told her husband, Troy, “We’re having twins.” She kept repeating it until it sunk in, and then they just stood together in the kitchen and laughed. Her mother said “Way to go!” but Lorena told her, “They came from God. Not like I planted those in me.”

The babies were born on September 1, 1998. Fraternal twin girls, each weighing more than six pounds, carried almost right to term and curved around one another like pieces of a puzzle. Lorena and Troy split up when the twins were little, and after that, the girls stayed sometimes with their mother, sometimes with their father or with other relatives. Lorena and Troy each struggled with substance abuse, and their lives were sometimes too troubled and unstable to have the children with them. At five, Tamra was bold and courageous, and protective of her twin sister. Once, Lorena heard a soft knock in the middle of the night and opened the door to find the twins standing there. The children had left their father’s house and walked four blocks back to Lorena’s in the middle of the night, Tamra leading her sister by the hand as they found their way through the dark. REGINA POLICE received more than a thousand tips in the first six weeks after Tamra’s disappearance. At one point, a Volkswagen van that had been stolen the night Tamra disappeared was found burned outside the city. A jail guard told police she and a former inmate had stolen it, picked up Tamra, and then dumped the child’s body in a ravine on the Muscowpetung First Nation. Ron Weir led a week-long search on Muscowpetung, draining multiple beaver dams with compressor pumps, while searchers slogged through water up to their hips. The jail guard later confessed she had made up the story. She was charged with mischief and wrote a letter apologizing to the police. In court, her lawyer said she had been trying to get her abusive boyfriend locked up again.

Returning from medical leave to the police department in the fall of 2004, superintendent Troy Hagen could feel how Tamra’s disappearance was weighing on his colleagues. Hagen noticed it in everyone he spoke to, from the police chief down, whether they were involved with the case or not. Sergeant Rod Buckingham, one of the lead investigators, was among those who felt the growing frustration. “It’s a mystery,” he would say. “And I don’t like mysteries.”

Officers had spoken with more than 6,000 people by then, but there had been no arrests, and leads were drying up. Shortly after, a special task force was struck to re-examine the case, to see whether anything had been missed. The name of the project was iskwesis ayishowak e mamayahi, a Cree term meaning “little girl bring people together.”

TWELVE YEARS LATER, Lorena Keepness spends her days doing odd jobs and picking bottles, trading them in at the depot for cash. She is forty-three and lives with her eldest son in a rundown shack of a house on Victoria Avenue, a fifteen-minute walk from Ottawa Street. Lorena’s children were never permanently returned to her custody after the disappearance, and the three babies she had after that were all taken by Social Services, too. Tamra’s twin sister is seventeen now. Lorena says she is an athlete, smart and beautiful. Lorena lost her family pictures when someone threw all her stuff in the garbage a few years ago. The only photos she has of Tamra now are the ones on missing-child posters.

Tamra’s twin and her older sister, Summer, don’t want to be interviewed. Neither does Tamra’s father, Troy. McArthur couldn’t be reached. Lorena needs a six-pack of Black Ice beer to talk. She doesn’t really want to be interviewed either. She has never liked reporters or their questions, and it hurts to talk about that time. “But part of me wants to,” she says, as her face crumples. “Part of me needs to share what the fuck happened. Someone stole my child.”

Lorena has heard many theories about what happened to her daughter. Some believe Tamra wandered away and was abducted by a driver cruising the area or that she got lost, then crawled in somewhere so small she has never been found. Other theories focus on the adults in the house that night. Some officers will say off-the-record that they think Tamra is in the dump but that they just couldn’t find her in the mountains of debris. Many in the city believe that Lorena and McArthur sold or traded Tamra to pay off a cocaine debt. Lorena has heard that one the most. One night, she was at a bar and heard some women talking, loud enough so she could hear. “Yeah, she sold her kid for dope. She has a whole bunch of babies. She has kids just to sell them for drugs.” Her friend told her not to listen, but Lorena couldn’t ignore it. She swore at the women, promised she would get them for even thinking she could do that to her child. They met at the same bar again the next day, and that time they fought, a tangle of hair and fists. One of them had a knife and slashed her twice on the back of her arm. More scars to wear for life. It wasn’t the only time. One night, she was attacked in Moose Jaw. Not long ago, a woman shouted “Baby killer!” at her across the street.

Lorena and Dean McArthur are still together, on and off—“more on than off,” she says. Police tried hard to turn them against each other, but she always believed him in the end. He may be all kinds of things, she says, but he’s not a baby killer. “If I thought he did something to my daughter, I would have killed him myself,” she says. “I think the police were just so sure. They figured, ‘These guys are a bunch of nobodies. She did her own child.’ They already had their conclusions drawn before they even tried to look for anything.”

The suggestion she could have had something to do with her daughter’s disappearance still pushes Lorena to the point of violence. You can see her eyes flash, her muscles tighten at the question. But she holds back— it’s not worth going to jail. She’s had enough of the police, has grown used to the accusations. In the past twelve years, she’s repeated her story publicly many times, and it has never really changed.

REGINA POLICE have never released full details about the investigation into Tamra’s disappearance, on the grounds that it remains an open case that they still hope to solve. In an interview, Troy Hagen, now Regina’s police chief, would not speak about any working theories or confirm any specifics of the investigation, including whether one of the people questioned about Tamra’s disappearance had failed a polygraph test. Instead, Hagen echoed what police have said since the beginning: That there remain important unanswered questions about the comings and goings from the house on Ottawa Street that night. That they will continue to investigate every tip. That they won’t stop looking for Tamra until they find her. He pointed to cases in the United States where children have been gone for years, sometimes decades, and then been found alive. In Canada, twelve-year-old Abby Drover was held in an underground bunker in Port Moody, British Columbia, for six months after being abducted by her neighbour in 1976. There was an intensive search of her community—including by her abductor—but she had been only feet away from her house the entire time. She was found alive. It seems impossible, but it happens. “I refuse to lose hope,” Hagen says.

The years since Tamra’s disappearance have exposed the epidemic of missing and murdered Indigenous women in Canada. Suspected serial killers are facing charges in the Prairies, but there has been no public indication that Tamra’s disappearance may be connected to any of those cases. Hagen said police have also explored a possible connection with thirteen-year-old Courtney Struble, who disappeared from Estevan, a city 200 kilometres from Regina, four days after Tamra was last seen. Investigators initially believed that Struble was a runaway, and she had been gone for seven years before RCMP announced that her case had become a homicide investigation. No one has ever been charged, and her remains have never been located. Hagen says it’s strange to have two unsolved missing-children cases linked so closely in time and geographic proximity. He says the possibility of a connection was “very much” explored by police, but there doesn’t appear to be a correlation. The police investigation into Tamra’s disappearance is one of the largest and costliest in Regina’s history, but Hagen says it has never been about the money. If there were more leads or work for investigators, the police chief says he would reconvene the task force “in a heartbeat.” But the flood of tips has slowed. The reward for information that leads to finding her, now $50,000, sits unclaimed. The last public development came in November 2014, when a Reddit user with the name MySecretIsOut posted a scrawled map with the words: “Location of Tamra Keepness, check the wells.” The person later wrote that the map belonged to their grandmother and had come from a great-aunt who had visited an inmate in Alberta. “We, like many others, haven’t forgotten about you, Tamra, and continue to search and hope you are found,” the person posted. Police searched twenty-one wells around Muscowpetung but found nothing.

Sheepskin died on January 1, 2009, “with his family by his side,” according to his obituary. Many of the police officers who worked on Tamra’s case have retired or moved from the department to other jobs. Hagen says he thinks of Tamra whenever he is walking through the forest, not looking for her but always half expecting to see her there. Sometimes he looks at people he passes on the street, examining their faces and imagining what Tamra might look like now.

THROUGH THE YEARS, Lorena has developed her own theories about what happened to her daughter. These days, she mainly wonders about a drifter who used to stay with them, a woman Lorena knew from when she was a girl. A woman who sometimes told people she was pregnant even though she wasn’t, who Lorena knew by one name but whose medical documents said something else. The woman was around so much that Lorena’s children called her Big Auntie. Big Auntie had been staying at the house before Tamra disappeared, but left after she and Lorena had a falling out. Lorena says it took a long time to realize Big Auntie wasn’t coming around any more. When she did, she put word out on the streets, but no one there had seen her either. Big Auntie didn’t even show up for her own sister’s funeral in Regina a few years back. Lorena says she told the police about Big Auntie many times, but doesn’t know whether they ever found her, or whether they even looked. “She’s just gone now,” Lorena says. “Same time as my child.” Maybe it’s something. Or maybe Big Auntie is missing, too.

When I ask Lorena whether she thinks Tamra will ever be found, she struggles for an answer. “I don’t know,” she says. “But can I tell you about a dream I had?” There are two, both so vivid it’s as if they were real. In one, Tamra is inside a big house in a city Lorena has never seen. There are silk clothes draped around, and broad windows, and Tamra is upstairs, sitting on the edge of a bathtub putting on stockings. She is grown, with dark, shiny hair like her mother’s but cut straight all around. In the other dream, Tamra is still a little girl, running into her mother’s arms. “There you are!” Lorena says. “There you are!” She picks up her child and holds her, until Tamra wriggles free and is lost again.

[stillbandofbrothersthirsty]

How Do You Feel

George Luz x OC (Part 2)

Rated T+ (Part 1; Part 3)

“Okay, so we’re doing this.” George stood awkwardly in front of Julia in his PT shirt, his suspenders hanging down by his thighs.

“Yep,” Julia said as seriously as she could before bursting into a fit of nervous giggles.

“Julia!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! You just-,” she pressed a hand over her mouth as she took him in, “I’m sorry,” she giggled.

“This is not going to work if you can’t keep it together.”

“I know, you’re right. I just have never seen you so…” she gestured up and down his body.

“I’m not even undressed yet.”

“No but it’s clear it’s going in that direction,” Julia blushed and giggled nervously.

“Well, yeah, it is.” George was not nearly as amused as her.

“Okay,” Julia composed her face, “I’m ready.” She began unbuttoning the top of her dress.

“Here let me,” George said, his hands out stretched. She smacked them away.

“Julia!”

“Sorry! Wouldn’t you say that’s kinda intimate though?”

“Well, we are about to be naked!”

“Yeah, but-,”

“It would feel transactional if you just stood and stripped. Look, we’re good friends right?” George’s voice dropped into a low, comforting tone, “As your friend, I think you’re beautiful. And, we’ve hugged and kissed and touched each other before. This doesn’t have to be weird, we just need to trust each other.”

“You think I’m beautiful?” she asked.

“Yeah, you’re a red hot tomato, kid.”

Julia stuck her tongue out at him. But, George’s words reassured her. He was right; it wasn’t like this was their first time ever touching each other. How many times had he planted a kiss on her after a rowdy darts game victory. How many times had they stumbled back to their beds with their arms wrapped around each other. They were dance partners, they knew each others movements almost better than anyone else. Theirs was a different kind of intimacy founded on confidence in the other. Julia needed to get out of her head and simply trust her friend.

“Okay,” she said in a low voice. She was calm. The previous giddiness had evaporated as she surrendered her trust to George. He moved toward her, slipping his fingers behind the button at the very bottom of her bodice. He worked steadily, efficiently sliding each plastic button through its hole so that slowly her light pink satin slip was revealed. George pulled the dress off of her shoulders, letting it drop to the ground. Then Julia took her turn. She ran her hands into the waistband of his pants and under his shirt, helping him to lift it over his head.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he said.

“Okay.”


The kiss was sweet but some carried the same weirdness as their last kiss.

Julia pushed him away, “I think it’s when we plan it.” George looked confused. “Just kiss me!”

“So you don’t want a heads up?”



“No, I think I think about it too much when I get a warning ya know?” George nodded and leaned in. His hand came up to cup her jaw as he deepened the kiss.

“George,” Julia squeaked. He pulled away.

“What now?” he said exasperated.

“Don’t be so sweet! It’s weird! Just be you!”

“I am just being me! This is how I kiss! I’m sweet!”

“Well don’t kiss me like one of your girlfriends, kiss me like one of your friends!”

“Oh my god, fine,” George rolled his eyes. He grabbed her around the waist, kissing her hard. The kiss was relentless; Julia barely had time to think as his lips and tongue explored her mouth, her neck and her collarbones. She could barely keep pace as he slipped her shift off and expertly released her garters. Her hands fumbled with his pants. He took that opportunity to come up for air. He released her from their kiss, leaning back to give her room to work. As soon as she had his pants unbuttoned he belly flopped onto the bed, pulling her down with him. Julia squealed in involuntary delight, giggling as they landed on the quilt.

“Shh!” George grinned and began kissing her again. They roamed each other’s bodies with a familiarity that was innate to people who had spent so much time with each other. The only pause in their rhythm occurred at the moment of penetration.


“Are you sure about this?” George was braced above her, his chocolate eyes searching hers for any indication of uncertainty.

“I’m sure!” Julia said confidently pulling him to her.

“So, thoughts?” George wrangled his arms through his shirt sleeves.

“Yeah, good,” Julia said as she reattached her garters.

“Good? That’s it?” 

“What do you want me to say? You’re a god in the sack, George?” Julia teased.

“Actually, yeah, that would be great to hear.”

“Ha ha!”

They had spent only a few moments in each others arms after they finished. But after coming down from the haze of their orgasms they realized no cuddling should be a rule. Their friendship could handle a bar booth cuddle with clothes on; naked and in bed was not conducive to their goal of platonic sex.

“So when’s the next time?” George said, tying up his boots.

“Ready to go again already?”



“As a red-blooded man I am always ready to go.”

“Debatable.”

“You need me to prove it?” George tackled her onto the bed and the two dissolved into a fit of giggles.

“No!” Julia playfully swatted him off of her, “we don’t have time anyways, get out of here.”

George stood up and smiled warmly down on her. “See you tomorrow, Jules.”

“Be quiet!” Julia reminded him as he slipped out the door, his jacket in hand.

They were overly cautious at first which meant their liaisons were few and far between. But as their confidence grew they became greedier, and more reckless. On more than one occasion George was nearly spotted exiting Julia's bedroom.

“None of the guys know right?” Julia asked one night as she dressed.

“Not that I’m aware of,” George replied. “Why?”

“Only wondering, I want to make sure things stay private.”

“You embarrassed of me?” George stuck out his bottom lip jokingly.

“No, not of you, but at the same time I don’t want every guy in the Company thinking I’m easy.”


“Don’t worry about that, they’re Easy too!”

“Bad joke, George.”

“Mm yeah, that one kinda fell flat huh?”



“I just don’t want to get a reputation ya know?”



“I understand,” George sat down beside her on the twin bed, “don’t worry, kid, our secret’s safe.” He kissed her sweetly on the cheek. “Okay, I’m off.”

As the summer wrapped up so did the men’s training at Toccoa. Julia and George discussed the possibility that Julia may not be moving on with the men. There was nothing they could do about it if that were the case so promises of letters were made.

Fortunately, however, Julia continued on with the 101st airborne to Fort Mackall. Life was good, all things considering. The dynamic between George and Julia was comfortable. For all intents and purposes, nothing had changed between the two of them. They played darts and cards and drank with the other airborne staff and soldiers just as they had before. They ended the evenings laughing into each other’s shoulders. But instead of walking back from the bar together or George escorting Julia back to her quarters, they would sneak off to find a private moment.

They were still careful. One had to know the difference in order to spot it. If the evening ended with just the two of them they would find a place to kiss - or if they could, go back to Julia’s room. Their rules hadn’t ever prohibited fooling around or kissing outside of Julia’s bedroom. So, especially when the alcohol was flowing, they found themselves taking liberties with their intimacy in dark alleyways and behind barracks.

Had this been a rule, it would’ve been the hardest to respect. But it wasn’t, so instead the couple found themselves struggling with the “sleep with other people” rule. Neither of them would admit this; as much as they each wanted to support the other (and keep up appearances) it was easy to feel lonely if one of them was occupied elsewhere. Considering the male to female ratio at the bars, it was surprising that George was usually the one with a new partner.

The bars were always filled with the airborne men, along with the army and marines. Relatively few women were brave enough to infiltrate the packed bars. Yet, somehow, George was often found charming a beautiful local.

It bothered Julia quite a bit at first. Not for the obvious reasons, but because she missed her friend. They had never been glued together at the hip, but at Toccoa they almost always ended the evenings together. Julia couldn’t help but wonder if George was getting tired of her since they spent so much time together. But Julia found solace in her other Easy Company friends. Frank Perconte was always up for a chat. Joe Toye was a more melancholy friend when he drank and they spent plenty of evening’s lost in deep conversation.

It was on nights like these, when George was absent, that Julia found herself interacting more and more with Chuck Grant. On a regular week-day evening Julia was honoring an invitation to play cards with Frank and Bull when Chuck invited her out on a date.

He had run into her as she was about to enter the building where Frank was bunked. It was late evening. The sun hung just above the horizon, struggling to say goodbye to the late summer world. The warm, fading light had Chuck’s skin glowing when he approached her. Julia had always found him very handsome, but never entertained the idea that he may be interested in her. Before their social encounters out in town she wouldn’t have expected him to know her name.



“Hi Julia,” he said politely. He looked like he had just showered. His hair was freshly combed back and she could smell his aftershave.

“Hi Chuck,” she smiled. Her palms were a little sweaty, although she wasn’t sure if it was out of nervousness or due to the last beams of the day’s heat.

“Who ya visting this evening?”

“Frank. Well a few guys actually, but Frank invited me to play cards with them.”

“You any good?” Chuck asked.

Julia shrugged, “not as good as I’d like to think I am.”

“Ah, I bet you’re better than you think!” Chuck said.

Julia smiled at him, then at the ground, trying to think of something to say next. “Well, I ought to get going…” she trailed off.

“Yeah, well hey, I was wondering, would you like to see a movie with me?”



Julia looked at him in surprise, “like watch one of the ones they screen here?”


“Well I was thinking somewhere in town? Like a date.”

“Oh!” Julia didn’t know what to say, she was totally taken aback.

“If you’re up for it?” Chuck asked sheepishly. He was usually a confident guy but standing there in front of her Julia finally saw a more vulnerable side of him. His shoulders were slightly hunched and his lips were pressed together in nervous anticipation for her answer.

“I would love to!” she said honestly.

“Great!” he straightened with renewed confidence. “We can work out the details later, I’ll let you get to your game.”

“Okay, see you later Chuck.”

He smiled a little half smile at her as she turned toward the barrack. Before entering, she stole another look at him over her shoulder and he smiled warmly at her. A little swarm of butterflies somersaulted in her stomach and Julia had to press down a wide smile.

[the-tubbo-admisitration]

The Tubbo Administration

6

Tommy was the right hand man, this was a controversial topic for the citizens of L'manburg. On one hand people were pleased that Tubbo got to work with his best friend, on the other; people were concerned that the two most powerful people in the nation were children.

Tubbo was very happy, he had his nation, his best friend and he had so much power. In fact he enjoyed showing off any chance he got, leaning forward just a little bit forward or back so the light glints against his crown. His eyes always sparkled then he did this, a little innocent gloat.

He'd stopped staying up late to stare at the flag, he'd been happy to spend his late nights happily talking to Tommy. Tommy himself had been struggling to figure out the paperwork Tubbo had been previously doing before, he had to get some help.

Tommy had also gotten Fundy and Niki released, although he had told them that they were horrible for being so cruel to Tubbo. He wouldn't seem to listen to reason, Niki worried that he was also evil, but she trusted Tommy- he had such a strong moral compass.

Tommy had taken to following Tubbo when he went on his daily patrol. This didn't seem to be much of an issue, an extra pair of hands to cover the paperwork in half the time. But this did become an issue when Fundy was caught carrying a couple of paper bags out of the nation.

The guards brought him to Tubbo, who had been talking about the community farm with Tommy. Punz was the one holding Fundy, one hand on the scruff of his neck, the other under him.

Tubbo looked up at him in mild confusion. "What happened? Is something wrong?"

George stepped forward, holding three paper bags, marked with the names of the outlaws. "He was caught sneaking out with these, they're packed lunches." He tears one of the bags open, the one labelled with Technos name; a baked potato, some apple juice and a little muffin all fell to the ground, the muffin rolling to Tubbo's feet.

Tubbo pauses for a moment, looking down at it. He steps forward, crushing the muffin beneath his boot, he leans forward so he is face to face with Fundy. "It's bait of course? To lure them out and kill them?" He chuckled and stood properly, glancing around at the citizens. "Gotta put those little teeth to use after all."

No one really laughs, eyes fall to Tommy- wondering what he would make of this. He looked worried, his friend didn't just suggest that right? He must have misheard it.

Fundy was furious, how dare Tubbo speak to him like that? He let out a low growl and spat in the Prince's face. Silence landed on the crowd as Tubbo froze, slowly turning back to Fundy, wiping the spit from his cheek.

There was something in Tubbo's eyes, that glare again but this time it was different, there was something new in there, action. He slowly took a breath and looked to Punz with a steel gaze. "Take him to the cells again." He watches silently as Fundy is dragged off. He then sighs "That poor fox...he can't seem to understand why Wilbur is dangerous."

Tommy's fists clench, sure Wilbur was a bit unpredictable but he couldn't stand to hear Tubbo say that kind of thing about him. He just sighed. "Tubbo…"

Tubbo glanced back at him. "Hm? What's wrong? Did you want to say something too Tommy?"

Tommy pauses, clearly assessing his options, he shakes his head. "I need to talk to you when we get back to the office." He could wait…

When they finally did get back to the office, Tubbo happily took a seat. "What's up?"

Tommy sighed, fingers massaging his temples. "Why did you say that about Wilbur?"

"What? That he was dangerous?" Tubbo didn't even seem to realise that what he'd said was wrong, or that it was bad.

"Yes!" Tommy was exasperated, he'd been upset when Wilbur talked bad about Tubbo, he wasn't about to allow the reverse. "You can't just say that about him! Wilbur isn't dangerous! He's just a dick! I defended you to him, don't make me regret that!"

Tubbo had shrunk away from those words, looking up at Tommy with those big blue eyes.

Tommy was pacing around, fists balled. "And the way you spoke to Fundy; the threats, the way you spoke about him like he was an animal-"

"But he is-"

"Let me finish!" Tommy slams his hands on the desk, leaning over him. "You're being a bit of a dickhead, and it's been what? A week, I'm already losing my fucking nerve. You've been lying, you've been passive aggressive and you've been a downright asshole!" He swallowed his saliva and took a breath, clearing his throat. "I defended you to Wilbur, I defended you to SCHLATT!!" He roars, feeling his temper reaching its head. "DON'T MAKE ME A FUCKING LIAR TUBBO!! I DON'T WANT YOU TO BE EVIL!"

When he finally stopped, he looked down to see Tubbo staring up at him with wide eyes, he was tearing up and almost shaking. "Tommy..?" His voice is quiet, shaky and almost sounds...scared.

Tommy sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I- I'm sorry…" He struggled to apologize for things, but all he felt at that moment was guilty- he'd yelled at his best friend. He looked down at Tubbo and stopped leaning above him and sat down himself. "I know you Tubbo, you're trying to be assertive- you're not going to lose power, they love and respect you already."

Tubbo looked at him, quietly brushing his hair out of his eyes. "You think so..?"

Tommy nods. "I know so, you're going to be fine... I'm sorry dude…" He stands up and sighs. "I'll go do some paperwork in my room, I'll see you tomorrow."

Tommy slowly left the room, leaving Tubbo alone. Tubbo slammed his fist down on the desk, letting out an aggravated huff, almost a scream but with too much breath to make much noise. He let some tears spill onto the desk, Tommy yelling at him was a bit too much for him, he hadn't expected that.

He walked to the door, wiping his eyes and stepping outside, he looked up at the moon and sighed. He needs an outlet for these feelings, and he's got the perfect idea.

It just so happened that one or two citizens were out that night, they saw Tubbo speed walking across the grass, holding his cloak close to him on that cold night. He wasn't wearing his crown and so folks began to worry if he was feeling alright as they watch him head towards the prison.

[mithranqueersmusings]

I Think I'll Love You Too III

Chapter: 3/?

Rating: U

Summary: George and Ringo have been going out officially for a couple of months. Ringo anticipated that dating a stripper would be complicated, but he didn't understand exactly how complicated it would be.

Tags: Modern AU, Established Relationship

Pairing: George Harrison/Ringo Starr (Background McLennon)

AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here

Ringo hadn't been back to The Helter Skelter since he and George had started dating, much to the disappointment of John who had been begging constantly. However there cane a point where George began to grow suspicious, evidently he was worried that his relationship history was beginning to repeat itself. Not that he expressed any of these concerns to Ringo, instead he dropped passive aggressive hints and made vague comments which unfortunately reminded Ringo of the potential downsides to dating. Once the clues had been deciphered, Ringo vowed to return to the club the following night which seemed to please both John and George.

"You're not gonna get jealous are you?" George had asked while getting ready for his shift "Because if you are, just don't come."

Ringo certainly wasn't enjoying the harsher side of George but he understood the defensive tactic well "Of course not." He sat behind George who was doing his makeup in the mirror and wrapped his arms around his waist "What have I got to be jealous about?"

"I'm just saying..." George leaned in to the touch "You might think you won't get jealous, but when you see me rubbing my arse on some ugly bloke you might flip."

"George." Ringo said sternly "Stop worrying, please. I'll be just fine."

"Hmm, if you're sure." George sounded distracted as he coated his eyelashes in mascara.

Ringo had headed back home when George had left for work, he saw no use in hanging around the club so early in the evening. He caught up on some much needed sleep, his body was still rather exhausted. When night fell, John was excitedly knocking on Ringo's door. Awakening feeling groggy and disoriented Ringo shuffled over to open it. John burst in immediately, swinging the door so violently that Ringo had to jump backwards to avoid being hit.

"Jesus!" Ringo scolded "Could've taken my nose off."

"I'd be doing you a favour." John joked with a grin, collapsing onto Ringo's sofa "You got anything to drink?"

"Nice to see you too." Ringo scoffed, closing the door.

The two of them shared a few cold beers before heading out to the club, blasting the radio as they drove through the night. John was eager to see Paul, even though they'd spent the last few nights together, it was refreshing for Ringo to see his best friend so happy.

Ringo had forgotten how loud the music had been, the vibrations rattling in his ears as they made their way past the bouncer and into the warmth of the club. It was relatively packed, unsurprisingly for a Saturday night, but luckily their usual seats at the bar were free. John didn't even have to order a drink, as soon as he sat down he was being served without a word. Ringo supposed it would be an impressive sight if they weren't in a strip club, the thought passed his mind that John had paid the bartender prior just to make him look cool.

Ringo didn't recognise the dancer on stage, they had short platinum blonde hair and intricate tattoos dotted across their skin. Neither of them paid much attention, far more invested in their own conversation. Eventually they were shooed away from the bar to make room for other customers, so they sat at the back of the rows of chair and continued their nonsensical discussion as best they could.

"Ey up." John's tone changed as he nodded his head towards the stage "Someone's got their eye on you."

Ringo didn't register the words entirely at first, both his thoughts and visions gradually  blurring as he drank more and more. John nudged Ringo to direct his attention, the dancer was making their way through the throng of customers who were eagerly waving money in the air. Gradually they maneuverered over to Ringo and John, swinging their hips with their eyes glued to Ringo.

"Shit." Ringo breathed with a hint of a laugh.

He looked around the room to see if George was around, but there was no sign of him. As the dancer got closer and closer, Ringo figured there was nothing he could do but humour them and to get the whole thing over with as soon as possible. He could hardly complain, it was the guy's job after all. John seemed ready to burst into a fit of laughter upon witnessing Ringo's dilemma, his face scrunched up in an attempt to keep it in.

It was strange to compare the difference in emotion Ringo felt when being singled out by this new dancer versus how he'd previously felt with George; surprisingly the nerves were still present but were far more of a negative rather than actual excitement. Ringo leaned back in his chair a little in an attempt to gain some distance from the blonde dancer who had begun gyrating in front of him, but the gesture was mistaken for encouragement as he only intensified his lewd movements. John's laughter began pouring from his pursed lips, luckily the music masked the noise so that the dancer took no notice.

Ringo felt a hand on his shoulder, he assumed it was John trying to further his discomfort but then he heard shouting behind him and he knew something was up. Turning his head, Ringo saw an extremely pissed off looking George.

"You trying to be funny?" George was yelling, his hand possessively pressing down on Ringo's skin.

The other dancer seemed unfazed, passing George a momentary glance before reaching his hand forward to caress Ringo's cheek; at least that's where Ringo assumed he was aiming for it never reached it's destination. George gripped the dancer's wrist, the anger in his face melting away into a strange kind of satisfaction.

"Watch it." George spoke in a low voice, Ringo hardly even heard it.

By this point John was unable to restrain his emotions, his mouth agape in shock for a few moments before laughing again; George paid no attention to him, his dark eyes fixed solely on the blonde in front of him. He tried to shake George's hand off, it was causing quite the scene, but couldn't. After a few more moments of struggling, George released his grip and the dancer shuffled sheepishly away and attempted to finish their number with the little dignity they had left.

Ringo started laughing now, mostly because he was nervous, but was silenced when George ordered him to meet him outside. John gave Ringo a look which said 'good luck' with a mixture of both encouragement and worry.

In the cold air of the night Ringo felt himself sobering up a little, he hadn't fully registered the whole situation but it still felt pretty comical to him, though that may have just been the alcohol.

"You alright?" Ringo broke the silence, offering George a cigarette who snatched it.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." George mumbled as he lit it.

"One too many 'yeah's there, I think." Ringo chuckled.

George just looked at him, saying nothing. Ringo knitted his brows together in worry.

"Er- You gonna say anything?" Ringo shifted his weight between his feet awkwardly.

George said nothing for a few more moments then finally said "I'm sorry."

Ringo laughed again "Sorry? For what?"

"I..." George broke off his speech with a huff "That was out of line. On my part, I mean."

Ringo rolled his eyes and moved closer to George, interlacing their fingers together "Don't be daft, George. I get it."

"But- I just..." George sighed, Ringo had never seen him so internally frustrated, he tried to speak again but Ringo silenced him with a kiss.

"You don't have to explain yourself to me." Ringo said firmly, his hands cupping George's cheeks.

"I- Alright..." George huffed, closing his eyes in an attempt to dispel the frustration "I really hate that new prick."

Ringo laughed, breaking whatever tension was laugh "I can tell. What's his deal anyway?"

"Oh, I dunno." George flicked his cigarette away "Think he's jealous of me or something. Can you blame him?"

"Not at all." Ringo hummed happily, planting a short kiss on George's now cold lips.

Ringo could feel the tension leaving George's body: his shoulders lowering, his breath slowing. He wondered whether he'd ever be able to have a drama-free night at this place.

"You wanna go back in?" Ringo offered, rubbing his thumb on George's cheek before pulling the hand away entirely.

"Sure, sure." George still seemed a little distracted, Ringo knew he wasn't being told everything "Let me get you a drink."

"If you're offering." Ringo smiled, leading the way back into the humid club.

"Will you stay until I finish?" George asked, sounding almost shy "Please." He added after a moment.

"Of course." Ringo held the door open for George to walk through.

Inside George led them over to the bar where he ordered another round for both Ringo and John. He placed a brief kiss on Ringo's cheek then vanished into the crowds. Ringo let out a huff of air, managing to find John who had moved to the front of the stage and was hollering even louder than the music. It was no mystery as to why, Paul was currently onstage spinning around the pole in a way Ringo only assumed was incredibly difficult. He was wearing no shirt yet a multicoloured tie was hanging around his neck, his trousers a sheer black material with relatively high platform boots on his feet.

When John realised Ringo had returned, he offered him a cheesy grin which revealed how drunk he really was. His face lit up when Ringo offered him yet another drink, accepting it gladly and downing it almost instantly.

"Everything alright?" John yelled into Ringo's ear, his eyes not moving from Paul.

"Yeah." Ringo shouted back, it was all that needed to be said.

As soon as Paul had finished his number, he sought John out in the crowd instantly and the two disappeared giggling excitedly into one of the private room. This left Ringo alone to think and, more importantly, drink. He spotted the blonde dancer serving drinks later on but avoided eye contact as best he could.

George had been appearing and disappearing throughout the night but Ringo didn't really mind, it wouldn't be too long until the club was closing for the night. Ringo tucked himself away in a distant corner, finishing an array of drinks and scrolling through his phone aimlessly.

Eventually John resurfaced, dark bruises dotting the skin of his neck, with a very satisfied grin. He didn't hang around for too long, helping Ringo finish some of his drinks, before excitedly saying goodbye to head to Paul's for the night. It was a relief to Ringo, he no longer had to worry about getting him home safely.

George appeared only several minutes later, his skin covered in a sheen of sweat from exertion. Ringo smiled at him drunkenly, stumbling up from his seat and banging into the table which knocked a few empty glasses over.

"Ready to go?" Ringo asked "You're sober enough to drive, right? Because I am not."

"Sure thing." George pulled Ringo close to his body "I'm bloody knackered, let's just get to bed."

Ringo made a noise of agreement "Lemme just have a piss, then we'll go."

"You don't wanna go in there, trust me." George scoffed, nodding his head towards the toilet "It gets blocked every night, it's dead grotty."

Ringo curled his lip up in disgust "Really? I don't care, I'll just-"

George stopped Ringo from turning away "No, no, really, it's dreadful. I'll just get us home quick, alright?"

There was a strange tone to George's voice, at least Ringo thought so but his senses were considerably dulled from the alcohol. Ringo gave him a quizzical look but allowed himself to be pulled out of the club all the same, his stomach feeling a little sensitive as the car pulled out onto the road.

George was silent, his hands gripping the wheel tightly as he drove. Ringo wasn't quite sure what was awaiting him when they were fully alone back at George's place, but he knew it was something big.

[weasleydream]

A story of love, pain and shitty parents - Part 1

Heyyyy here is the first part! 

So there’s a little bit of violence, but it’s just the beginning 😇

Hope you enjoy!

Masterlist 

Prologue 

Almost five years later

“Y/N what the hell are you doing?”

Fred was calling for me from downstairs. I was still in Ginny’s room, frantically looking for my green sweater. I couldn’t go to the Quidditch World Cup and support my favourite team without my green sweater. No, impossible. But a loud sigh escaped my lips when I finally saw it folded on a chair behind me. I quickly slipped into it and managed to store the room, because it was a mess. Soon Fred barged in and, without a word, dragged me in the kitchen where George, Arthur, Harry, Ron, Ginny and Hermione were already eating their breakfast. Molly was nowhere to be seen. Some groans welcomed me. Obviously, everyone was a bit tired. Well, I was too, because barely four hours of sleep weren’t enough for me, but the excitement I was feeling helped me staying perfectly awake. Glancing at Fred, I noticed his ruffled hair and almost closed eyes. He seemed to be exhausted too. 

That wasn’t a surprise: I had stayed in the living-room with Fred and George after everyone went to sleep. We had discussed about the winners of the finale of the World Cup: we happened to be all sure the Irish team would win. However, the twins were sure Viktor Krum, the bulgarian seeker, would catch the Golden Snitch. “Impossible.” I had answered. “Aidan Lynch is way too skilled.”  A playful argument had started, only interrupted by Molly who wanted us to go to sleep. 

A few hours later, we were on the verge of leaving when Molly caught George trying to hide some Ton-Tongue Toffees. Here we are. Three seconds later, a true explosion shook the house and I escaped the infuriated woman by following Ginny. 

“Unbelievable…” I murmured. “I told them not to take the Toffees. And did they listen? Of course not.”

“What did you expect from them?” answered Ginny. “I thought you knew them better than that. They only do what Mum doesn’t want them to.”

“I swear they are driving me crazy.” I said while looking them passing in front of me and ignoring me. The poor boys were upset because I had left them alone in front of their mother.

“I think Fred is driving you crazy more than George. Am I wrong?”

“Of course you’re wrong.” I answered with a nonchalant tone. 

I needed all my will to hide the blush on my cheeks and Ginny’s knowing look didn’t help. Instead of facing the imminent threat of revealing my secret to my crush’s sister, I accelerated and slightly pushed the boys to make some room between them. 

“Here’s the quitter.” mumbled George. 

“Ooh,” I mocked. “Mummy did really scare you as it seems. You wanted me to wet my pants with you so that you would look less childish?”

George rolled his eyes and Fred chuckled. I eyed him suspiciously.

“You seem way too happy for someone who just lost all opportunity to gain money. What are you hiding from me?”

“You know me too well, dear Y/N. But why would we trust you with something as important as this?”

I pretended to think about the answer. 

“Because despite what you say, I know you both love me and I’ve kept plenty of terrible secrets for you in five years of school.”

“True enough.”

Fred managed to show me the content of his bag without Arthur seeing anything. I was so absorbed by my conversation with Fred (at some point, George had sped up and joined Harry and Ron) that I didn’t realize everyone in front of us had stopped on the top of a hill. 

“The portkey shouldn’t be far from here!” shouted Arthur. 

We separated and I found myself next to George. We almost had the nose in the grass as we didn’t even know what it would be like. Something suddenly landed on my back and George coughed, as if he wanted to hide a laugh. I turned around and saw Fred, a few meters away from me. His hand was above his eyes like someone who had just aimed right and he was smiling goofily. Then my eyes fell on the old dirty boot and I screamed.

“You’re gross Fred!”

George couldn’t hide his laugh anymore and soon his twin and I joined him. Maybe it was the fatigue, fact is that we were still crying and holding our ribs five minutes later, when the rest of the Weasley family, Harry, Hermione and the Diggorys finally understood something was up with us. 

“Good, you’ve found the portkey!”

“Merlin, how could Lynch be so stupid?” 

I wiped away another tear as we gathered around the shoe. From the corner of the eye I saw Fred wiggling his eyebrows to me the exact moment I put my hand on the boot and my chuckle drowned into the hissing of the wind carrying us to the world cup. 

_ _ _

I was struggling to stay behind the twins as we were slowly downing the bleachers stairs to join our tents. The match had just finished and, as hard as it was to admit, these two idiots were right. Krum had caught the snitch. Even if their long ginger hair were the only thing of them I could see - and it was quite practical, or else I would have been lost in the crowd in no time - I knew they were making fun of me while I was grumbling. 

“I mean, the first time, okay. But doing the same error a second time?”

“Maybe he had drunk too much butterbeer before…” said George. 

“Or maybe he was distracted by the Veelas. I mean, have you seen them?” added Fred.

I had just arrived between them but I was too busy being jealous and slightly hurt to catch the playful look in his eyes. 

“Fact is that you’ve lost your bet, dear Y/N.” continued George. 

“What will be our reward?” Fred’s voice was teasing.

“Nothing. We didn’t bet anything.”

My voice came a bit more harsh than expected. I decided to avoid any question and quickened my pace to join Hermione and Ginny. The latter sent me a questioning look but by the time she knew better than just ask me what was wrong when I was upset. Plus… how could I admit I was jealous of a few Veelas just because Fred thought they were pretty? It was a very girly problem and I had never been like that. The only girly thing in me was my mother’s necklace. It had never left my neck in five years. Never. 

“Y/N?”

I jumped, not because of Fred’s voice but because of the sudden touch of his hand. I quickly composed myself before giving him a convincing smile, or so I hoped. 

“Yeah?”

“What was that earlier?”

“Nothing, guess I’m a bit tired.”

The sun was slowly rising in the sky as we were making our way back to the Burrow. The eventful night had left my muscles sore and I hadn’t slept more than an hour. My brain was full of what had happened earlier, bad things like good. We had been sleeping for roughly an hour when Arthur had called for us. The camping was being destroyed by masked persons and a true chaos was reigning. Without losing a second, George had grabbed Ginny’s hand, Fred had grabbed mine, and we had run toward the forest at the entrance of the camping. As soon as we had arrived under the protection of the trees, Fred had wrapped me in a relieved embrace and I had felt like nothing could ever happen to me. Above his shoulder, where my head was resting, I had seen Ginny’s smirk and, slightly panicked, I had pulled him, pretending to be looking for the others. We had waited for them for what had felt like hours before finally joining our tents to try to get some sleep. It seemed like no one had succeeded because right now, as we were walking down the hill near the Burrow, I was pretty sure we were looking like a bunch of Inferi. 

He frowned and I saw he was on the verge of saying something, probably not to take him for an idiot and tell him why I had snapped like that, but I anticipated and lightly kissed his cheek before fleeing in the tent, my bright red cheeks matching his without any of us knowing. 

_ _ _

A worried sick Molly welcomed us and as Arthur was reassuring her and Ginny was preparing some tea, I let myself fall on the couch and closed my eyes. Almost immediately, I felt a weight next to me and I knew who it was. I rested my head on Fred’s shoulder and he wrapped his arm around mine. 

“I’m sorry for yesterday.” 

His voice was hoarse, like always when he was tired. I loved hearing him talking when his voice was like this, it happened often at Hogwarts when we sneaked out the common room with George and sometimes Lee. It also happened each time I spent holidays at the Burrow. 

“Why would you be sorry?”

“I’ve thought about it all night.” I lifted my head and looked at him, surprised. He was deadly serious and I couldn’t help but think he was really cute when he had this tired yet determined expression. “I said something that upsetted you, and I’m sorry. You know, you don’t need to be a Veela to be pretty, Y/N.”

Honestly, dying on the spot would have been less embarrassing than stuttering like an idiot while all the blood of my body was rushing in my cheeks. I definitely felt like fainting when he kissed my forehead.

“Everyone in bed! Come on, you all need to rest!”

Molly, who had gained back her strict-mother-self, literally saved my life as she clapped her hands behind us. The little bubble around Fred and I suddenly disappeared and we both jumped on our feet. Fred almost ran to George and I quickly followed Ginny, hissing in passage that she better had to shut up. Obviously, Ginny was not the kind of girl that shuts up whenever something happens in front of her and this time wasn’t exception. 

“I knew it!” she exclaimed as soon as the door was closed. “You like my brother! I knew it!”

“Ginny, don’t talk that loud please! He could hear you!”

“Y/N, dear, you have to wake up.” Someone whispered in my ear. “Y/N, your father is here.”

The little demon stayed totally indifferent as I begged her. She was gloating, probably imagining a world where she would be surrounded by plenty of babies looking like Fred and I. I sighed and laid in my bed, deciding I didn’t want to hear her babbling about my possible future relationship with him.

_ _ _

It was enough to wake me up. In fact, I sat so fast that my head almost bumped in Molly’s one. The room was dark as Ginny had closed the curtains, and filled with loud snores. Molly sent me a little smile to show me she was sorry even though she didn’t specify why she was. I doubted it was because she had woken me up in the middle of a really needed sleep. No, she knew about the kind of relationship I had with my father. In fact, it wasn’t difficult to figure it out: I knew I had the habit to frown each time someone mentioned him near me, and since my first year at Hogwarts, I had always done everything in my power to avoid the holidays with him. But no one knew who he was really. No one knew about his crisis, about the nights he yelled on Mary or on me for whatever reason, about the evenings I knew I shouldn’t approach him because a glass of whiskey accompanied him. No one, not even Fred and George. 

I quickly gathered my things and got out of the room as quietly as possible. I followed Molly, dodging the squealing steps as naturally as her. When we arrived in the living-room, I saw my father waiting for me in front of the door. He was nervously pacing and regularly passing an hand in his short salt-and-pepper hair. I had rarely seen this tension in his body. He wasn’t the kind of man who lost easily his calm, not in public anyway, and certainly not the kind to show fear.

“You’re here. Come on, we don’t have all day.”

His voice snapped like a whip. His piercing blue eyes landed on me, and an imperceptible move of his eyebrow convinced me I should obey. I threw a little smile to Molly, who was watching my father with her lips pursed, and quickly followed him. As soon as we stepped in the neglected garden, he grabbed my wrist and we apparated in front of the manor. 

The thickets hadn’t been trimmed in years, neither had been the trees. The marble statues, once magnificent, were now nothing more than the vestiges of the past splendour of the mansion. The path leading to the door was invaded by weeds and grass and some slabs were broken. The imposant white building in front of us was giving an impression of coldness that had taken over the place since the day my mother had died. 

The heavy wooden door closed loudly behind me and I turned just in time to see Mary fleeing in a corridor that leaded to the kitchen, her head down. I briefly wondered why she acted like this and why she didn’t even look at me before my name echoed in the main corridor in front of me. 

“Y/N, move!”

I dropped my things, knowing that Mary would appear to get them to my room, and followed my father. I found him in the huge dining room, standing straight in front of the fireplace. All I could see was his back but I didn’t dare to approach and see his facial expression. 

“You were at the world cup.”

It wasn’t a question, and I didn’t answer. He knew perfectly why I had insisted to go to the Weasleys earlier this summer. 

“Did you see the attack?”

He suddenly turned toward me and I couldn’t help but take a few steps backward. His eyes were round and looked like they would leave their orbit. A vein was palpitating in his neck and he was compulsively tightening his wrist. I nodded, my throat too dry to let me say anything. 

“Tell me. Everything. Now!” He yelled when I didn’t answer. 

I began to tell him everything I remembered, which in fact wasn’t a lot. I told him about the masked persons, the fire, how much they had loved humiliating these muggles. I added timidly Arthur had warned us they were Death Eaters and an heavy silence took place. My father was pacing in front of the chimney. He was mumbling so low I didn’t understand one word, and he seemed to have totally forgotten I was here. I didn’t move, though, too afraid he still needed me. He was in a nervous state I couldn’t even suspect and my worried eyes were fixed on his wand, firmly held in his hand. 

“In your room.”

I didn’t lose time and almost ran toward my room. Surprisingly, my bags were on the floor in front of my door. Usually, Mary would at least put them in the room. The feeling that something was wrong crept in me and I stayed unable to forget it. When diner finally came, I headed directly in the kitchen. When she saw me, Mary found a sudden interest in the first pan she could grab and royally ignored me when I asked her what was wrong. I sighed and took the plate of sandwiches she had let on the table. I would eat alone in my room, and I couldn’t help but feel sad when I imagined the table of the Burrow’s kitchen, animated and surrounded by people I loved like my family. 

Each day until the first of september was exactly the same as this one. My father had never talked to me that much, only because he seemed obsessed with what had happened at the world cup. I noticed he received more visits than usual but he had made me understand I wasn’t welcome when it happened. Mary also ignored me, which was what worried me the most. I only understood why the day before my departure. 

I was looking for the Weasley sweater Molly had knitted me the previous year. I had forgotten it when I had packed my things the first time and I wanted to ask Mary if she had seen it. I went in the kitchen first: it was empty. I was going to go in the lavery when shouts echoed from the dining room. I tiptoed and hid behind the door. 

“I forbid you to tell anything.” My father’s voice was colder than I had even heard it and I shivered when I imagined Mary cowering in front of him. “From now on, you haven’t seen anything. You don’t know anything. You better have kept your mouth shut, and you better continue. Am I clear?” A silence, followed by a weak squeal. “Am I clear?”

“Yes…” Mary answered in a sob. 

I decided to see what was happening and slightly opened the door, just enough for me to see the scene. Mary was in front of my father, she was on her knees. He was tightening his wrist in the same compulsive movement I had seen before and his eyes were throwing lightnings. He gave his back to Mary and was ready to leave by the other door when she mumbled something. If I didn’t hear, my father obviously did and he turned vividly toward her. 

“What did you just say?” He yelled. 

“I said you must be terrified.” I couldn’t see her face, but I pictured myself an insane expression on it. “After all, you’ve crawled at the Ministry's feet when -”

I hadn’t closed my eyes in the last 24 hours. Even though staying impassive in front of my father had been mentally exhausting, I feared the flash of green light would appear behind my closed eyelids if I slept. The noise in the Hogwarts Express helped me staying awake. The problem? I had to face Fred and George’s questions. 

She never ended her sentence. A green lightning enlightened everything and Mary’s body fell lifeless on the floor. 

_ _ _

They had wanted to know why I had left so quickly, of course, but as soon as they had realized I wasn’t in my normal state, they had also wanted to know what was bothering me. 

“Come on Y/N, you know you can tell us everything, right?” had pleaded Fred. 

But I had stayed resolutely silent, dreading the tears that would surely come as soon as I would open my mouth. Somewhere in the middle of the travel, they had given up, but I had noticed how they tried to make sure that one of them was always with me and how they kept an eye on me. 

The feast passed in a blur, and so did the first week at Hogwarts. Everyone had noticed I wasn’t my normal self, but even Professor McGonagall hadn’t been able to make me spill the bean. I had received plenty of letters from Molly, and even one from my father. However, it was really short; in fact, what he had to say was expressed in one sentence: Stop whatever you’re doing. He was probably afraid someone would find out about Mary. 

Deep down, I knew I would give up one day or another. I knew the twins could be really persuasive, and I could feel the weight of what I had witnessed slowly crushing me. I just didn’t think it would be in the middle of the Charms class. 

Indeed, it was always a very animated class, very favourable to discussions. After a few failed attempts to know why I was acting so weird, Fred and George decided to give me space and began to chat with Lee and Angelina. I tried not to listen to what they were saying but they were sitting just next to me and a few words inevitably arrived to my ears. 

“No George, I’ve told you not to cover me in ink and you still did so, I won’t help you with this essay!” exclaimed Angie. “Fred, drop this stupid look right now, you won’t tenderize me with these goo goo eyes of yours!” 

“Come on Angelina, what could we do to be forgiven?” asked Fred. 

“Do you want us to crawl at your feet?” added George. 

Angelina’s answer wasn’t what I heard. 

After all, you’ve crawled at the Ministry's feet… The green flash… You haven’t seen anything. You don’t know anything. Am I clear? Yes… Sobs… Y/N? Y/N? 

“Y/N!” 

I suddenly became aware of the gazes on me. The class was obviously over and the only persons present were gathered around me. Professors Flitwick and McGonagall were here, the latter obviously warned by Professor Flitwick who was still panting. Fred and George were sitting at each of my sides, both holding tightly my shoulders. Fred’s fingers were slightly sinking in my flesh and this detail helped me coming back to my senses. 

“Y/N do you hear me?”asked Fred with a strong voice. 

A relieved sigh escaped everyone’s mouth as soon as I nodded. It was a weak movement but it seemed to be the first in a certain time. 

“What happened?” 

I feared no one had heard me as my voice was quieter than a whisper but Fred answered, because he had heard or just because he knew I would ask that. 

“You froze, Y/N. You didn’t react when we called you…”

“You seemed terrified.” finished George. 

Tears immediately pooled in my eyes as I remembered what I had heard. I understood I would have to say something. The weight had become too heavy for me. However, murderer or not, this man was still my father. What would happen if someone knew what he had done? He was a respected member of the Ministry of Magic, he was moving in its highest circles. Would he have troubles? No matter what he had done to me, I just couldn’t bring him troubles like this. Plus, would he hesitate to make me suffer the same treatment as Mary? 

“Y/N, now you have to tell us. I won’t let you the choice.” warned Fred.

His serious voice let me know he wasn’t kidding. 

“Not now.” I managed to say. “Too tired.”

It wasn’t a lie, and as if my body wanted to prove my point, I yawned extensively and my eyes almost closed by themselves. I barely heard Professor McGonagall asking Fred to bring me back to the common room and allowing him and his twin to stay with me for the day. 

I woke up after a needed rest in the middle of the afternoon. I was curled up in a tight ball on the Gryffindor common room couch. Fred and George were both sitting on another one next to mine, and they jumped on their feet when they finally saw my open eyes. 

“How are you feeling?” asked George. “You frightened us, you know.”

“I’m sorry I haven’t told you before…” I murmured. 

Without really thinking about it, my decision was taken. 

“Told us what?”

And I told them everything. The violence my father had made me known, the murder. Everything. Once I had begged them not to say anything to anyone, not even Molly, I stayed silent and looked at them. 

To say they were shocked would be a massive understatement. They stayed silent for a long time, their expressions matching and turning more and more angry as the time passed. I was beginning to fear an explosion.

“I’m sorry,” murmured Fred. “I… I should’ve seen… I-”

“No!” I exclaimed, making him jump. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for. I didn’t want you to know, I would have never let you figure it out. Just please, promise me you’ll keep it a secret. Please!”

“Why would we do that?” George’s voice was awfully calm. “Why would we cover him whereas you’ve suffered because of him all these years? He killed the woman you loved like your own mother!”

“I know!” I cried out. “I know that, George! I was there, remember? I just… I don’t know. I don’t know.” I repeated with the head down. 

Another long silence took place, only broken by George. 

“Sorry… We won’t say anything.”

“That’s a promise.” added Fred. “But you have to promise us something too. No more secrets.”

I nodded, too happy to know I could trust my favourite twins with this to realize how shitty my life had just become.

To be continued

Tags: @pregnant-piggy