#and george was like you know i can’t see her anymore because that means we’re breaking up by proxy ☹️☹️

[papertowness]

jerry and elaine this kramer and newman that what about them huh . what about the real best duo of seinfeld .

[idontplaytrack]

✧ No, idiot

Janis ‘Imi’ike x Regina George

Warnings: coarse language, fluff

Just a cute little peek into their day, home alone while Janis’ parents are on a trip. Ft. ‘Imi’ike! younger sister reader(1 year younger) & Cady Heron

Inspired by this incorrect quote by @frogs00 & @magicmumu2 <3 :)

“Jan.” She hears Regina calling her name. But she ignores her, more focused on her phone— she was currently texting you.

“Janis.” She hears again. Ignored.

“‘Imi’ike.” Regina huffs, tossing a cheese puff at her face.

Janis shrieked. “What?”

“I’ve been calling for you forever.” Regina smirks, “What the hell are you doing?”

“Texting y/n.”

“Why? She’s fine. She’s at the grocery store.”

“I know she’s fine. I just want her to get my damn gummy worms.” Janis sulked.

Regina nearly snorted.

“What’s so funny?” Janis pulled a face, tossing her phone aside after reading your text.

“Nothing, you’re just cute. Can’t I think you’re cute?” Regina shrugs, “Idiot.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Janis scoffs, grabbing a couch cushion and tossing it Regina’s way. The blonde easily caught it and set it down. “Don’t make me hit you back with this.”

“Thought you already would’ve.” Janis flashes her a cheekily smile then picked up her phone when it buzzed. “NOOOO.”

“What?” Regina cracked a smile.

“They don’t have the gummy worms I wanted.” Janis sulked.

“So, just get something else?” Regina scooted closer, wrapping an arm around the smaller girl. “I’ll get you those you like next time we’re out.”

“Dude, I’ve been craving for that specific brand of gummy worms. I finally got her to cave and get me a bag and they’re out of stock.” Janis deadpanned.

“Babe, if you say ‘gummy worms’ one more time…I will laugh.”

“Ugh, forget it. It’s such a stupid thing anyway.”

Regina tilted Janis’ face and presses a kiss to her lips, “Cheer up. We’re home alone.”

Janis chuckled mockingly, “With my sister.”

“Like she would care what we do.” Regina replies.

“It’s stressful knowing she’s like two doors down.” Janis rolled her eyes.

“You could be quiet.”

“Tsk.” Janis looks up, glaring at the blonde, “Talk about yourself.”

Regina smirks again, then laughed breathily, “She’s not here now.”

“No.” Janis says, “We’re not doing anything now.”

“Okay.” Regina agrees without a fight.

“But when she goes out to watch a movie with Carly tonight, sure.”

Regina says, eager, “Ooh, okay.” Janis giggles a little. “Who’s Carly again?” Regina asks. “Is that the girl she has a crush on?

“The girl she likes, yeah.” Janis answered.

“Right.” Regina nods, tracing random shapes and lines on Janis’ forearm, “Did y/n tell her yet?”

“No, but the tension? It’s there alright.” Janis laughs at the recollection, “Every time I see them together, they’re like— flirting. To me at least.”

“Maybe they need a little nudge.” Regina winks.

“I am not meddling. They’re doing fine.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Regina said back, “So we know your sister’s queer because she came out to us. But is Carly?”

“I dunno. She never said anything more than ‘I think I like her’.”

Regina hums, “Oh. Hey, what’s for lunch?”

“Food, usually.” Janis answered without hesitation.

“No, idiot, I mean what are we having?” Regina was biting back a laugh.

“An unwanted conversation.” Janis smiled, earning a playful shove from the blonde.

“Why is your sister at the grocery store?”

“She said she wanted to cook something, I dunno. She’s old enough to drive, I don’t have to watch her like a toddler.” Janis shrugs.

Regina scoffs, “And you couldn’t have just said she was gonna cook?”

At this moment, they hear a familiar jingle of keys. You were home. “Hi, baby.” Regina greeted. “Hey.”

Janis squints, noticing a change in your mood. Not in a good way. “y/n, what’s wrong?”

“I ran into Carly at the donut shop I stopped at on my way home.” You began, “I was planning on telling her that I liked her tonight, but it doesn’t matter anymore.”

Janis and Regina shifted on the couch to make space for you in between them. You sat down. “She was there with a boy. And they kissed.” You started to explain, recalling the images in your head, “She was the one who started flirting with me first so I flirted back. I don’t even know when she got a boyfriend— she didn’t tell me. If she did, I wouldn’t have been so stupid and continued. I should’ve guessed it when she canceled on me last minute for the last few times. I’m so stupid.”

“No. No one could’ve just guessed something like that.” Janis disagrees, “And don’t you dare call yourself stupid. You are not stupid.”

“What can we do to make you feel better?” Regina asks seriously.

“I don’t know, honestly. I just feel like shit. I don’t even know what I want to do.” You admit.

“How about we get our friend Cady to come hang out, and you two can chat? See where that goes?” Regina suggested. Janis was alarmed, “Really? You think this is the right time for that?”

“Actually, yeah. Please do that.” You agreed, “I don’t want to think about Carly anymore. I honestly just need a clean break from her. Now that my feelings for her are no longer platonic. It’s not gonna help if I stay friends with her.

“I don’t get it.” Janis says.

Regina chuckles, “Right. You don’t know this, but word has it that Cady likes your sister.”

“Cady?”

“Yes. And she has a crush on Cady too.”

“I never thought she’d like feel the same way, too, in my defence. She’s way out of my league. She hangs out with you.” You said, looking at Regina.

“She didn’t hang out with me.” Regina pointed to Janis, “But she’s my girlfriend now. So your point?”

“Is that I’m nervous.” You looked at the blonde dead in the eye, “Okay, it’s silly to have two crushes at once but hey, if you’re gonna offer to text her for me so we can hang out, I’m not a complete idiot.”

“Is this not too rushed?” Janis raised her concern.

“No, I’m done with Carly. Nothing has to happen between me and Cady— we’re just hanging out, getting to know each other.” You replied firmly.

“Okay, if you say so.” Janis smirks, grabbing her phone.

“What are you laughing at?” You squinted at Regina.

“Just the fact that sooner or later, the whole of our friend group’s gonna be kissing each other.”

Janis chortled, “She’s right. Karen and Gretchen. Me and her. I mean, Damian’s…Damian. Then you and Cady, maybe?”

“Okay, I take it Janis is texting Cady. I will make us a nice lunch. You don’t worry about anything at all — just look pretty for your crush.” Regina decided. “Requests?”

“Just make whatever you want.” Janis shooed her away.

“Fine. Chicken and waffles?”

“Sounds good.” You told her as she walked into the kitchen and checked out your grocery haul.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, Janis. Just need a good cry in the shower later on. All a part of life, right?” You chuckled dryly, “We’ve been friends forever. Maybe that’s why it felt so easy to be catching feelings for her. It’s not her fault, I just wish she would’ve told me she was seeing someone just like she’s told me everything else. Then it wouldn’t have been so sudden and such a punch in the gut. Also, the fact that she acted as if I already knew when she introduced me to him? I knew I had to leave her. She wasn’t honest with me. I don’t want someone like that in my life anymore.”

Janis puts her arm around your shoulder, pressing a kiss to the side of your head, “You’ll be alright, bubs. We got your back.”

“Thanks, Janis.” You blinked profusely, trying to avoid the crying.

“Let’s watch a movie, alright? You pick one. I’ll be back in a second. Just gonna grab us some snacks.”

“Do you guys want cookies or brownies?” Regina asks from across the room.

“Both.” Janis requested.

“No, idiot. Pick one.” Regina laughs, “I’m using the boxed mixes in the pantry. So if your parents ask, it was me.”

“The cookies, please.” You replied, “Thanks, Reg.”

“I was hoping you’d pick the brownies, but I’ll listen to you because you’re in a bad mood and I’m trying to help you feel better if not Janis’ll kill me.”

“I will not.” Janis gasps, offended.

“You’re capable of it.” Regina retorted, “You lit my backpack on fire.”

“Wrong.” You chimed in, “She lit your unicorn on fire. Your backpack was collateral damage.”

“I’m joking.” Regina tries not to grin but still did at this interaction. She’d never admit it, but she obviously had a soft spot for Janis, but also, for you. She cares, but always hid her concern behind her usual attitude whenever she speaks or does something.

————

The smell of waffles soon wafted through the air, accompanying the aroma of the fried chicken. “Stop staring at my ass.” Regina looks over her shoulder.

Janis stuck her tongue out, “No.”

“Childish.”

“I’ll bite you.”

You laughed, hugging a couch cushion close while your eyes were glued onto the TV screen. Before you knew it, Janis was hopping off the couch and jumping onto Regina’s back while the blonde was plating the food. “Hey!” Regina exclaimed. “Damn, I could’ve dropped this on the floor, baby.”

“As long as you don’t drop me on the floor.” Janis continues, resting her chin on Regina’s shoulder.

“Will you please get off me?” Regina asked, “Lunch is ready.”

“Fuck, you’re a great cook.” Janis admired the food on the table.

“Thank you~ I try.” Regina says, “Off.”

“Fine.” Janis pouted, standing back on the ground.

Regina retaliated by smacking her on the ass. “Ow! Damn you!” Janis shrieked, “You’re going to pay for that.”

“Gladly.”

Sighing, then laughing lightly as you watched them joke around with each other, you walk over to the kitchen, joining just briefly to grab your plate. You ate in front of the TV while your sister and her girlfriend ate in the dining area.

“y/n, the cookies are done if you want them.” Regina tells you. You nodded, not paying much attention to her than you were the movie. “You okay?” Janis asks.

“Mhm.” You confirmed, then Janis realised you were watching your favourite movie. Which explained why your eyes were practically glued to the screen. She shrugs, “Cady’s arriving soon.”

“Okay.”

Regina laughs, “Damn, what the kind of movie is she watching for her to be so focused on it?”

“Tangled.”

“What?” Regina chortled, “Tangled?”

“Well, she likes it. Let her enjoy it.” Janis retorted.

“I didn’t say anything about not letting her enjoy her movie.” Regina squinted, “You have syrup on your chin, idiot.”

“Whatever.” Janis shrugs, “I’m still eating, anyway.” Regina grabs a napkin and leaned forward to help Janis clean it off. Janis gives her a childlike grin, mouth full of the chewed up waffle and chicken, “I’m your idiot, though.”

“What is this? Are you like, about to get a sugar rush?” Regina was more amused by her little antic than she expected.

“Maybe.”

“Oh, boy.” Regina sighs, watching the brunette happily munching on the food. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Janis rolled her eyes playfully, “Aw, thank you so much.”

The doorbell rings, interrupting their silly banter. “Cady’s here.” Janis declared. “I’ll get the door. She’s um…doing that.” You put down your plate and went to answer the door.

“y/n! Hi!” The redhead gives you a bright smile, you stepped aside to let her enter.

“Hi.” You flashed her a small smile in return.

“I made chicken and waffles. Help yourself.” Regina began, “y/n’s watching Tangled, and Janis is currently giggling to herself because she’s had too much sugar.”

Cady couldn’t help but laugh, especially with how she said it, “Oh, I love Tangled. It’s my favourite movie.“ Your head whipped around so fast to look at her, “It is?”

“Oh, yeah. I haven’t watched many movies, but yes. That’s my favourite one.” She confirms, glancing at you on her way to the kitchen. After getting her share of food, Cady joins you in the living room to watch the movie together with you.

“She likes you, Caddy.” Janis giggles, “Oh, god. I need to stop doing this.”

“Janis!” Your eyes widened, horrified.

“She does this a lot, I’m sure she’s just—” Cady tells you.

“Yeah, she does.” You laughed awkwardly, “But um, Regina said you liked me…?”

Her cheeks flushed a light pink, “Um…” Your heart starts slamming in your chest, waiting for her to respond.

“Yeah, I— I do.” Cady spat out after putting her half-eaten plate of food down, “Do you…”

“Y—” You stuttered, “Yes, I do. I like you, too.”

Janis’ giggling snapped you out of it, “Regina, please don’t tell me you put stuff in her food.”

“Why would I do that? She’s a handful as it is.”Regina laughs, “Okay, that’s it, you’re not eating anymore of this. You are acting like a child.”

You were trying not to laugh, but seeing Janis being babied like this by Regina was far too entertaining to you and Cady.

“Fineee.” Janis huffs. “Take a shower with me.”

Regina’s brows were raised, bewildered. Then her signature smirk was plastered on her face again, “Okay.”

Janis stopped fidgeting, looking at Regina solemnly, “Really?”

“Fuck it, yeah. We’ll let these two babies have their alone time, while we have our fun.” Regina looked at you and Cady then back at Janis. “Will you two be okay alone? Of course, who am I kidding, you guys aren’t kids.”

“We’ll be fine, Regina. Just gonna hang out here.” Cady assured, “You two just…lock your door.”

“Don’t even worry about that.” Regina takes Janis by the wrist and pulled her up. Janis lays her head on Regina’s chest, “Carry me.”

“God, babe. The syrup on your chin is on my shirt.” Regina seethed, but she didn’t stay annoyed for long and just complied, “Fine, clingy. Cady, not a word. To anyone.”

————

🏷️ Tag list:

@ashecampos @auliisflower @cheesysoup-arlo @frogs00 @reneeswif3 @ludoesartnstuffs @pda128

[mattnben-bennmatt]

On media attention and 'Bennifer'

DAMON: When [Winona Ryder] was being pilloried in the press, to me it was like, “This too shall pass"—that somehow her true colors would come out and she would get past it because she’s a great woman. It’s the same way I feel watching Ben get ass-raped by the media. I think, That’s my friend. You have no idea who this person is, and you don’t even care. You’re just trying to get your story filed and get in a couple of good zingers. So that part sucks, seeing somebody you care about being treated poorly in public. On the other hand, if they’re really good people, they’re going to be fine. PLAYBOY: Have your romantic relationships been handled badly by the media? DAMON: To a certain degree, if you end up in the sights of Us Weekly or one of those other magazines, if you’re the cover child or the cover couple, then you’re fucked. The key is how not to be that guy. To not be that guy, don’t go out and do stupid shit. If you go out and attack a paparazzo or get into bar fights, you’re just craving the attention. And don’t date a celebrity. I don’t think I could fall in love with a celebrity right now, because it would mean changing my lifestyle, and I like that my lifestyle feels normal to me most of the time. [...] PLAYBOY: How did watching Affleck’s relationship with Jennifer Lopez affect you? DAMON: Ben got killed because he was in a high-profile relationship and the press fucking teed off on him. They believed, cynically enough, that he was trying to get publicity. What they never understood was that Ben is far too smart not to know that being in that relationship was the worst thing for his career. He stayed in it because he loved her. The cynical perception was that he was courting the attention, when he was actually embarrassed by the attention. PLAYBOY: As an old friend, could you have done anything to advise him? DAMON: It was one of those weird situations where there was absolutely nothing you could do. People weren’t going to stop paying attention to that relationship—it was selling too many magazines. But privately, you saw how much love was there. As a friend, the only course of action is to support your friend, support the relationship and talk shit about the people who are writing things. PLAYBOY: Couldn’t you say, "How about trying to dial down the big spending, the trips, the bling-bling?” DAMON: No, no way. One thing Ben has always done much better than I do is live life on his terms, not taking into consideration what something might look like. I still care way too much what other people think. But if people are not in your inner circle, you don’t have to spend your life worrying. The first time I met George Clooney was at his house soon after Good Will Hunting, and the first thing he asked was, “How are you doing?” I said, “I’m doing okay.” After giving me some really good advice, he said, “Don’t let them keep you inside,” which was this great piece of wisdom Paul Newman had dropped on him at one point. PLAYBOY: So you and Affleck aren’t staying inside. DAMON: Ben, much more than I, has lived by that from the beginning, and he didn’t need anybody to tell him. Ben will do stuff and know what the perception is going to be, but he doesn’t care. With both Ben and me at this point in our lives, it’s like we care less just because we’re okay now. I’m fine. Say what you want. I don’t fucking care anymore. You can’t alter perception, so there’s no reason to spend your life worrying about it. I doubt Ben will pick up another movie magazine in his life. He’ll read this, though. [laughs]

— From Matt Damon's interview with Playboy magazine (August 2004).

[jmagnabo92]

HJP Week 6 - Brunchy Confessions

@harryjamespotterweek

Harry worries about telling the Weasleys that he and George are an item at their weekly brunch.

AO3

***

Harry’s a bit nervous as he gets ready for brunch with the Weasleys.  While he often had brunch with the Weasleys, and the awkwardness of his dating and breaking up with Ginny has passed, this brunch was different.  

Because he was going to be announcing that he and George have gotten together.  

What if they reacted badly?  

After all, it isn’t like Ginny had taken the breakup well, and neither had Ron.  Just because things were back on normal terms didn’t mean that they would be accepting of the situation with him and George.  Especially because even though they’ve been together for three months that didn’t exactly predict forever.  

What if he broke George’s heart, too?

He’s not sure that he could handle losing the Weasleys after all of this time, and he’s sure if he messed up with another Weasley that they’d ban him from ever stepping foot in the Burrow, again.

“Relax, Harry,” George says, coming up behind him and hugging him around the waist.  “They’re going to be okay with it.”

“You don’t know that,” Harry states.

“They love you,” George states.   “You’ve been a part of our family since we met the scrawny git lost on the train platform.  It’s going to be fine.”

Harry turns around to face him, wrapping his arms around his neck.  “Did you forget that it took months for Ron to forgive me for Ginny?  That Ginny wouldn’t even look at me after the war when I told her that I needed time?”

“No,” George states.  “But it’s been a decade – surely, you realize that things are different now.  Ron’s realized that Hogwarts love usually doesn’t last forever, and he’s happy with Lavender, but that only happened years after they were both adults in the real world.  Ginny, too, has managed to find a connection with one of her teammates, and isn’t pinning for you anymore.  Plus, didn’t she tell you last Christmas that she didn’t want you to hold yourself back from dating anyone just because of her?  That you deserved happiness, too?”

“Well, yeah, but I don’t think she included her brother in that,” Harry states, worriedly.  “What if they’re grossed out that I was with her and now I’m with you?”

“Have you met Purebloods?” George asks, jokingly.  “There’s not a lot about dating anyone that people would find weird.  I mean, I could probably date Fred and people wouldn’t blink an eye.”

“You’ve thought about dating a corpse?”

George gives him a look.  “Of course not, I meant if we were both still alive, I could probably get away with dating him if I wanted – it just so happens that he’s not my type.”

“Oh yeah?  And who is your type?”

“You – you dunce,” George says, giving him a kiss.  “Now, come on – we’re going to be late.”

Harry takes a deep breath and sighs.  “Alright, let’s get this over with.”

“It’s going to be fun; you’ll see.”

“Sure, I will.”

***

Despite George’s assurances, when the dessert comes out and he says, “Lovely, brunch, mum.  Now, there’s something that I want to share with you all.”

Harry can’t help looking over at him like ‘like this, really?’ which George ignores.  

“I know this may come as a shock to all of you, but I’ve been seeing someone –”

“Yeah, Harry,” Ron states, cutting across him.  

“Old news, bro,” Ginny adds. 

George looks as shocked as Harry feels as they both look around the table at the other Weasleys present for lunch – none of them look surprised.  

“Wait, you know?” Harry questions.  

“Well, yeah,” Ginny says as if it should’ve been obvious.  “I mean – we’ve known something was brewing for a while, but I figured that after everything, you’d be a little more cautious.  Why do you think I told you at Christmas to go be with whoever you wanted?”

Harry opens and closes his mouth several times, still very confused.  

George, meanwhile, is smiling.  “I told you that it would be alright.”

“I – I just… I don’t understand.”

Both Ron and Ginny are laughing at his confusion, so Bill explains.  “The two of you have been giving each other interested looks for the last year.  Plus, you’ve been helping out at the shop and spending a lot of time together… it was only a matter of time before you got together.”

“But after what happened with Ginny, we figured that was holding you back,” Charlie states.  “So, Bill and I figured that we could talk to Gin about it, and low and behold, she was already trying to figure out how to tell you to go for it and stop worrying about the past.”

“Which I eventually did, and then, it was just a bet to see how long it took for you two to get together and then come out so-to-speak,” Ginny states.  

“And I win!” Ron says, smiling.  “With both – you two got together not even a week after Ginny told you to go for it with whoever and you came out at Brunch right before George’s birthday.  I figured that he wouldn’t want to be denied his birthday affections from his boyfriend, hence coming out today.”

Harry can’t help laughing.  “I can’t believe this – you were betting on us?”

“Why, yes, we were,” Charlie says, handing Ron two galleons.  “In fact, I think we were all contemplating a little cheating to win – you couldn’t have done it two weeks ago?  I thought you were so close…”

George laughs.  “Harry’s just been a little nervous but agreed to today because of my birthday coming up in a week.”

“Well, for the record, you didn’t have to be nervous,” Arthur offers.  “We just want our children – which includes you – to be happy, Harry.”

“Yes, exactly,” Molly states, grinning gleefully.  “And we can see just how happy you two are together, so we’re more than happy to support you both.”

Harry smiles.  “Thank you, everyone.  That takes a load off my mind.”

George smiles and brings his hand to his lips to kiss it.  “See, brunch was the answer.”

Harry hums.  “Definitely was.”

[demonbanisher]

So I’m gonna do a scary thing and share a poem I wrote that I just read at a show tonight. I’ve had some internal struggles with my place in fandom over the past while, which flairs up when JKR decides to be awful again. As a result, I sometimes feel guilty for existing in this spaces especially as a trans person who is new to their identity and figuring shit out. So I wrote a poem about it and I thought I would share it here in case anyone is feeling the same way. A huge shoutout to @fuckboyregulus for being willing to read it over for me before my show. Definitely gave me that last boost of confidence I needed. TW for JKR and mentions of her TERFness So without further ado, here she is...

A Lesson in Trans-figuration

I see another post that says if you still read, support, or are involved in anything Harry Potter related you’re a transphobe

And I feel that knife twist inside the parts of me that are still learning their name

My transness is still being born, is still an ugly duckling finding its way into a swan

My grip on my identity, on my place in this community is slippery enough and with those words… I fall

Now, when I say I never liked these books to begin with it sounds like a lie

Like I’m trying to justify causing harm to those I hold dear

But it shouldn’t matter, but it does matter, but I’m trying to make it not matter because my Hogwarts was never these 4100 pages

I found my Hogwarts in tumblr posts where Harry goes to therapy and George can’t look at himself in the mirror, and Remus’s scars aren’t just from lycanthropy

I found my Hogwarts in fanart of Sirius Black with top surgery scars that made me yearn for something I didn’t have a name for yet

I found my Hogwarts in the act of creation and Joanne is the boggart in the fucking closet

Is the only witch we need to burn

Joanne has forgotten that magic is the art of possibility

That fantasy is a world of discovery

Is construction

Is deconstruction

Is ripping the world apart and building it anew

Joanne calls women magic, but only the ones who were born with vaginas

Joanne turns magic into a cage and its iron burns my fae fingers

So sit your ass down and shut the fuck up and let me give you a lesson in trans-figuration

In the morning I wake up, breath my gender into my lungs

The dresser, the wardrobe, the vanity, the mirror are all part of this operation of invention

In allowing me to explore a rainbow-coloured spectrum of possibility

The way that I feel when I put my binder on is magic

Every time someone remembers to actually switch up my pronouns is magic

That I have the power to turn my body into the one I want it to be is magic

Icing the genderqueer flag onto the pride cookies we’re making is magic

My friend’s voice cracking for the first time on testosterone is magic

Gender envy sparking through my veins like a drug is magic

The feeling of chipped black nail polish on my fingernails is magic

The way I feel when he says I’ll love you no matter what gender you are is magic

Neopronouns are magic

Having queer friends is magic

And this world that you’ve created isn’t yours anymore it’s mine

My Hogwarts doesn’t have gender divided dorms

My Hogwarts knows where you belong before you do

My Hogwarts is getting magical HRT and learning body glamours to help with dysphoria

My Hogwarts is not witches and wizards but wixen

My Hogwarts is a letter arriving with the name your parents refuse to say

My Hogwarts is choosing who you want to be the way the wand chooses the wizard

My Hogwarts is looking into the mirror of Erised and finally having a name for the thing you feel inside, is whispering to yourself “it isn’t all in my head” as you see the true you reflected back for the first time

When I say trans is beautiful what I mean is have you ever held the grape before tasting the wine?

Have you ever held the baby calf before drinking of her milk?

Have you ever caressed the blank paper before it held a story?

As a child, did you ever sit in front of the oven just to watch the bread rise?

Or taste the sap when it dripped fresh from the tree, sour and tart?

Do you know the beauty in creation?

The magic act of turning a bouquet of flowers into a dove?

I am a writer, not just of stories, but of the truth of my own body

This world already struggles to find room for me in its pages

If I’m going to create a world, I’m going to create one with enough empty spaces for my gender to run free

And Joanne, it wasn’t your one size fits all world that I fell in love with

It was the possibility of what that world could be

My Hogwarts is a community of fanfiction writers and artists who are building a new castle that everyone calls home

Is the knowledge that splinters under my skin means that I’m doing something right

That I’m getting there

That one day I will get there

And it won’t be because of you, it will all be because of me

“Do not pity the dead, Harry. Pity the living, and, above all those who live without love.”

I do pity you Joanne

I pity the feeling of an imagination with limitations

I pity you for all the amazing, wonderful, magical trans people you will never deserve to meet

I pity you for creating something that could have been so beautiful only to make it mean

I’m not going to call you she-who-must-not-be named anymore

Cause the whole world should know who you are Joanne

They should know the person you’ve chosen to become

In my Hogwarts I choose to conjure up possibility until I feel recognition in my bones

I refuse to become the villain your Hogwarts tried to make of me

You’re a worse villain than any one I write could ever be

[strawberrymilkgeorge]

Part Nineteen. The Bench Trio and Sapnap make Phasmophobia 10000% Funnier

warnings: swearing maybe, word count: 3.5k (not including pictures) 

behind the screen (irl dream x f!reader) series masterlist ultimate masterlist

note: wooooo last chapter before... the trip........ be excited >:) 

**********

Y/n grimaced in anticipation as she looked at Karl’s wide eyes and open mouth as he leaned against the kitchen counter. He hadn’t said anything in almost a full minute and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could take.

“Say something, Karl,” she mumbled as she tugged on the strings of her new, lime green hoodie. She stared at him as he switched between leaning his elbows on the countertop and standing up straight with his palms pressed to it instead.

“I... wh—what?” Karl finally voiced his scattered thoughts, cackling abruptly as he threw his head back and clutching his stomach. “WHAT THE HECK, Y/N?!” He stood up straight and beamed at her, his eyes darting to her hoodie and then to her face. “Dream sent you his own hoodie?? How am I suppo— what in the— WHAT? Is this one his?” His fingers gently tugged at the hem of the material as he stared at it, eyes full of curiosity.

Y/n shook her head, face burning at Karl’s joy and surprise. “This one is just the merch one he sent. His hoodie is… very obviously his.”

“What do you mean?” he asked cautiously.

Y/n laughed lightly before leading him to her room, where the maroon hoodie lay neatly folded on the end of her bed. Karl picked it up and laughed. “It has a Florida thing on it?” he giggled and shook his head, not being able to get enough out of the whole situation and his best friend’s clear embarrassment. “Why aren’t you wearing this one? Too shy to flaunt your boyfriend’s clothes?”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” she clarified quickly, sending Karl a sideways glance. “But I’m trying to… you know… preserve it.” And because she worried that if she never took it off, she would only get more and more attached to the boy who lived three states away, hundreds of miles from her. She preferred sleeping in it over wearing it around the apartment. It was more comforting that way.

Karl lost it. He cackled maniacally and nearly fell on Y/n’s bed, losing his mind at how stupid the two were. “Preserv—Y/N! If you just tell him you like him, he’ll probably give you a new one when we go to his literal house.”

Y/n’s face heated up even more as she hummed. “About that…”

Karl’s laughter stopped abruptly, wide eyes staring at the girl. “No way.”

Y/n cowered lightly, nodding her head ever so slightly.

Once again, the curly-haired boy acted like he won the lottery. “NO WAY! Y/N, NO WAY! You’re lying, you told him??”

A wide grin spread across her face and she nodded as she recounted the details to him, almost like telling a little kid a fascinating fairytale. Karl’s face was glowing the whole time, his excitement for his best friend clear in his toothy grin and bright eyes.

He nearly tackled her when she finished, her hands tugging roughly at the hoodie strings, but tried to compose himself instead.

“Y/N! THAT’S SO AWESOME!! Wait, wait, wait, so, are you guys, like…?”

She shook her head. “We’re not dating, we’re just two people who like each other who are going to go on a date in…” she paused to the check the date on her phone and her stomach fluttered with excitement, “like, a week??”

Karl laughed and wiggled a little, his excitement nearly bursting at the seams. “Please, can I please give you a celebratory hug?”

Y/n laughed and opened her arms. “Of course.” He jumped at the opportunity, wrapping his arms around her in a huge hug and squeezing tightly. “Wait a minute, I’m mad at you!” she pulled away and Karl’s smile dropped.

“What did I do?”

“You and George knew how Dream and I felt and didn’t tell either of us anything?”

Karl raised his hands in defense. “No, hold on, to be clear, Dream himself didn’t say anything to me until, like, a week ago. I only knew before that because Sapnap and George told me stuff.”

“What the hell, Karl!! Sapnap too?”

“Yeah, of course Dream told him stuff, they live together and are best friends. Why wouldn't he know?”

“You’re all traitors.”

“We were sworn to secrecy! Both of you made us promise to not say anything!”

“That didn't stop you from talking to Sapnap about my feelings?”

“Ah, but I kept my promise and didn't tell Dream… you never said anything about Sapnap.”

Y/n gave him a deadpanned look and crossed her arms over her chest.

Karl paused. “Does it help if I tell you that we talked to Quackity about it too?”

“WHAT?” she snapped, though a small disbelieving laugh chased her words. “What, are you all just talking about us behind our backs? You told Quackity and Sapnap about my crush but you couldn’t have hinted at it to Dream? Or told me you knew how Dream felt?”

“You think I didn’t?” Karl laughed. “I hinted to you about his crush all the time, but you just never believed me!”

Y/n paused, recalling all the times Karl was super encouraging, promising things would work out, and even the times Karl straight up told her he thought Dream liked her. She pouted. “You know that I’m stupid.”

Karl stuck his bottom lip out in a smile. “You are. But you’re also ballsy and finally admitted you like him so all this can be in the past and you don’t have to be mad at me anymore. Right?”

“I’m not actually mad at you, Karl. I am embarrassed that you've told them things I’ve said.”

“Oh, no, no, don't worry. N one of us really explicitly said things you or Dream have said. We all mostly just complained to each other about how stupid you two were being,” he assured. “Well, Sapnap is Sapnap though, so he did tell us some very specific things Dream has ranted to him about regarding you.” He giggled as Y/n’s jaw dropped lightly.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “No, I don’t want it to ‘be in the past’ anymore; I want you to tell me everything Dream has told the others about me.”

“No! That’s private information. You can ask him yourself on your daaateee,” he sang, making her face heat up more.

“I’m going on a date with Dream,” she whispered in disbelief and Karl beamed at her. “Even better, you’ll see him in person in exactly a week.”

Y/n’s eyes went wide. “That’s so soon. Karl, I’m going to faint or something.”

The boy just smiled at her. “You’ll be fine. Naomi and I will hold you up if you need.”

A few days passed and Y/n found herself with her tucked her knees to her chest as she greeted her chat enthusiastically. “Today, it’s gonna be intense. Today we’re playing Phasmophobia!! So if you don’t like scary games or paranormal stuff or anything like that, feel free to not watch and just listen or even close out completely. I don't want anyone to get triggered or be actually scared or anything.”

She watched as hearts flew by in her chat and she smiled.

“Yeah, don't feel bad if you need to leave! But if you do want to stay, it’s going to be super fun and probably very chaotic. Today we’re playing with Sapnap, Ranboo, and Tubbo, and Tommy is in the call but he’s not playing.”

“And me!” Karl said from beside her and she laughed.

“Oh, yeah, and Karl is here in real life because he’s clingy.”

“That’s a lie; Bugsy is terrified so she asked me to be here for emotional support.”

“If I wanted emotional support, I would have asked Naomi to be here instead. You get scared easier than me.”

Karl laughed and looked at her chat

“Okay, so, yeah, remember to leave if you need to and take care of yourselves but I’m going to join vc now!” Y/n unmuted in the call, announcing her presence loudly. She switched her stream screen to the Phasmophobia lobby where her, Ranboo, Tubbo, and Sapnap’s lanky characters walked around aimlessly messing with stuff.

“Hiiii,” Tubbo dragged out sleepily. “Are you ready to be spooked by the scary game, Bugsy?”

“Yes, I'm so ready.”

“The Scary Game,” Ranboo laughed. “Trademark.”

“Hello, Bugsy Games,” Tommy greeted robotically and she laughed, responding in the same voice.  

“Hello, Tommy Innit.”

“How are you doing?” His voice was monotonous and reluctant, almost like he was being forced to be nice to her. She knew it was all a joke between them though, as Tommy had come to her for advice about things before.

“I'm doing well, how are you?” she laughed.

“'I'm doing well’,” he mocked. “How pretentious of you to say.”

“TOMMY,” Sapnap called out. Her nerves spiked at the new knowledge that Sapnap knew more than she had told him about her feelings for Dream. Not that he would ever say anything on a livestream in front of tens of thousands of people, but it still made her nervous. “WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO HER?”

“I'm not scared of you, big man,” Tommy explained. “I will say what I want to Bugsy and you can't do anything about it.”

“What about me and Sapnap combined?” Karl asked from her side. “We are the BugsyGames protection squad.”

“I think George is on it, too,” Sapnap declared.

“Can we be part of the protection squad?” Tubbo asked. “We can intimidate people with Ranboo’s height.”

“I'm the least terrifying person you will meet,” Ranboo claimed. “I am only tall.”

“I'm not scared of any of you,” Tommy assured. “I will continue to say mean things to Bugsy if I feel like it.”

“Okay, but you might be scared of someone we know, though. Someone who lives with me?” Sapnap hinted obviously. Everyone, including chat – who were spamming the name of that certain someone –  knew who Sapnap was referring to. Someone, who the mere mention of, made Y/n’s face heat up.

Tommy went quiet for a moment before mumbling close to his mic, “I'm sorry, Bugsy, you are not pretentious. You are actually a very kind person.”

She absolutely loved the fact that so many of their friends, joking or not, knew that Dream cared about her so much. Had it really been obvious all along, even to someone like Tommy?

“You're a menace to society, Tommy.” She smiled to herself as Karl laughed.

Tommy sputtered in surprise. “WHAT!”

“Are you guys ready to play?” Y/n asked as she went to the whiteboard in the game to start.

“Yes, let’s go!!!” Tubbo cheered.

Phasmophobia was eventful to say the least. Between Ranboo’s panic, Sapnap’s screams, Karl’s cackling laughter, Tommy yelling as he watched the stream, and Tubbo being blissfully unbothered by all of it, Y/n could barely catch her breath between laughing fits.

An outside observer might have thought the group was insane, and she felt bad for her chat having to put up with the obnoxious screams and cursing each other out, but it was the most fun she had had in a long time being able to mess around with this group of chaos she called friends. It only made her more and more excited for the upcoming trip, which was days away now.

“Okay, okay, I think I’m going to end here, is anyone going to stream?” she asked, still giggling from Ranboo’s latest bit involving him crying in the corner of the haunted building.

“I will be,” Ranboo announced.

“Then go start and I’ll raid you,” she offered, leaving him to thank her and leave the voice call to start his stream.

“Okay, thank you so much guys for playing! Wait, fit check?” she interrupted herself as her eyes caught the spam going through. “Chat…” Y/n trailed off with a laugh at the end. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but… you can’t see me. How am I supposed to give you a fit check?”

Tommy laughed from the other side of the call.

“Bugsy, does your chat not know you are faceless?” Tubbo joked, making her laugh.

“I-I guess not? Chat, we need to talk…”

“I can give a fit check for them,” Karl offered as he looked up from his phone. “I’ll just describe what you’re wearing.”

Y/n laughed but agreed.

“Do it, Karl,” Sapnap encouraged. “Feed the Bugsy stans. Then send me a fit check picture of you, Karl.”

Karl laughed. “Okay,” he said distractedly as he looked at Y/n. “She’s wearing, uh...”

“Can you even see her outfit or does she have the comforter around her like always?” Tommy asked, half genuine, half mocking.

“Actually, she doesn’t because she has her new hoodie on. So that, and just, like, black pants. And fuzzy socks.”

Y/n held her breath as she looked down and realized what hoodie she was wearing. The good one. Normally it was reserved for sleeping in, but she wanted the extra comfort it provided while she played Phasmophobia. Any hoodie would have done, but having Dream’s clothing wrapped around her body gave her an extra level of security that she was too embarrassed to ever admit aloud.

“New hoodie?” Sapnap asked. “Give the people some more info, Karl. What does it look like?” She couldn’t tell if there was malice behind his words or if he was genuinely curious. Did he know about Dream sending her one of his hoodies? They were roommates after all, Sapnap had to know, right? Especially since Y/n now knew that Dream told Sapnap a lot.

Karl looked at her with a huge grin, knowing exactly where the piece came from. “Yeah, super new. It has a Flori—”

“It’s just red,” she said quickly, giving Karl a wide-eyed look.

“Oh?” Tubbo asked. “W-why did you sound so suspicious? What kind of red?”

“Suspicious?” she scoffed. “What’s suspicious about a hoodie?” she paused before adding quieter, “And.... it’s maroon.”

“Interesting…” Sapnap said, his smile clear in his voice. He knew. He definitely knew.

The accusatory tone of his voice paired with Karl hiding his giggles behind his hand made Y/n pull her collar over her face in embarrassment. The action only caused the lingering smell on the material to fill her nose, but she wasn’t necessarily complaining.

“I have a maroon hoodie!” Tubbo related, oblivious alongside Ranboo and Tommy about the teasing going on between her and Sapnap. “What kind is it? Maybe it’s the same one?”

“Tubbo, you should not sound so pleased at the possibility of matching Bugsy,” Tommy sneered and Y/n momentarily forgot about the embarrassment of knowing Sapnap knew.

“Tommy, when we meet, I will personally make sure that you do not have fun.”

“Oh, I’m so excited for that!” Tubbo said obliviously. “It’s going to be so fun!”

Y/n glanced at her chat again and smiled at all the accusations that she was meeting up with some of the other streamers in the call. Little did they know how many of them were not only meeting up, but spending a week and a half vacation together.

“Me too, but chat doesn’t get to know anything about it.”

“Right, right, sorry chat!” Tubbo apologized. “You all are forced to stay out of the loop.”

“Oh, Ranboo went live, I’m going to end. I’ll talk to you guys later! Thanks again for playing!”

“Thanks, Bugsy!” Sapnap said. “It was fun.”

“Bye Bugsy…” Tommy dragged out and she laughed.

“Bye guys,” she said finally and muted, turning her attention back to her stream. “Thanks everyone for watching! And for everyone who donated or subbed or anything like that, thanks! I’ll stream again on Friday but after that I won’t be able to stream for a while, but I do have YouTube videos I will be posting so look out for those!”

She finally ended and turned to Karl after everything was shut off.

“Sapnap definitely knows about the hoodies,” Karl giggled at her expression. “Man’s voice was pure teasing, he knows.”

Y/n laughed and shook her head. “I know! What the heck. Thanks for hanging out with me, by the way.”

“Of course! I like hanging out even if I don’t get to play.”

“Even over your secret friend?”

Karl turned pink. “She’s busy. I’m also still not talking about this.” He stood up and Y/n smiled, dropping the topic.

“Karl, I was joooking.” She followed him out to the kitchen, where Naomi sat typing rapidly on her laptop, most likely cramming for an exam. Y/n’s phone buzzed from her pocket so she pulled it out and couldn’t help the smile or heat that made its way to her face.

Y/n excused herself from the kitchen — where Naomi was still typing furiously and Karl was now thoroughly entertained with something on his phone — to answer the incoming FaceTime call from Dream. She hit accept as she fell on her bed.

“Hi,” she greeted.

“YOU’RE WEARING THE HOODIE I GAVE YOU? HOW EMBARRASSING! HAHA LET’S ALL LAUGH AT Y/N FOR WEARING MY HOODIE!!”

Y/n frowned at his joke and hit the red end button underneath Dream’s face. Her screen defaulted back to her home screen before a new call lit up.

She answered again. “Are you going to be nice?” she asked, pulling the soft, red material over her face, leaving just her eyes to see Dream’s adorable pout.

“Yes,” he said softly. “Sorry.”

She smiled and released the fabric, showing her whole face again, which made the boy smile.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“I watched your stream,” he started and she scoffed.

“I know, how else would you have known about the hoodie?”

“Well, Sapnap also texted me so even if I wasn’t, I would have found out.”

Y/n shook her head as her face heated up with embarrassment. She knew the trip was going to be full of teasing from practically the whole group.

“But I was saying I watched your stream and it looked like a lot of fun. Sounded like you had fun, too.”

“I did,” she confirmed. “I love those guys, they’re awesome. I love how everyone just bounces off each other, it’s so funny.”

“I can tell,” Dream laughed, “I haven’t heard you laugh that hard before.”

“Oh gosh, did I sound like a crazy person?”

Dream smiled and rubbed one of his eyes sleepily. “No, well, maybe a little but, like, in a cute way.”

“In a cute way? So I’m crazy but in a cute way? Yeah, okay, Dream.”

“No, I mean, like, your laugh was just super loud and energetic but it wasn’t obnoxious or gross or anything, it was adorable. It’s probably the cutest sound I’ve ever heard.”

“You might be a little biased.”

He hummed as he smiled at his screen for a few seconds. “Maybe a little, but so what?”

“You weren’t supposed to agree to that!” she said.

“Secret’s out that I like you so I get to say things like that now, Bug. As long as it doesn’t make you uncomfortable, I’m going to call everything you do cute.”

“Shut up.”

“Cute.”

Her stern expression broke with a laugh and she hung her head. “Got any ideas about our date yet?”

He smiled widely. “Yes.”

“What are they?”

“You really think I’m going to tell you? Absolutely not. You have to wait.”

“Can you at least tell me what day? You’re not making me wait until Georgia, right? The date is while we’re in Florida?”

“So eager, sheesh!” Dream teased. “But so am I, so yeah. I was thinking maybe the 23rd? Since you guys will get here on the 22nd?”

“Oh, who’s eager now? The day after I get there?”

Dream pouted so she smiled and assured him that she was just as excited for their date as he was. “I’m kinda nervous because it’ll be the day before Christmas Eve, so a lot of places will be super crowded and I know you said you don’t like big crowds so we might have to work around some stuff—”

“Dream, I’m honestly just excited to see you. Anything we do will be fun, I promise. I’m just happy I’ll get to see you and spend time with you.”

His worried expression softened as it was replaced with a fond smile. “Down bad, huh?”

Just like that, the tender moment was ruined and Y/n groaned, a laugh bubbling in her throat. “What is wrong with you? You’re the one stressing out so much about a date! You’re the one who’s down bad.”

“Yeah, but at least I can admit it.”

She shook her head at him for what felt like the millionth time and sighed. “I can’t believe I put up with you.”

“You must like me a lot, I guess,” he said, pushing her to admit it again.

“I guess I do.”

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[kpostedsum]

high | d.m

summary: you find an unhealthy way of coping after draco cheats on you

warnings: drug use (marijuana) angsty¿, cheating, illusions to sex

song: habits - tove lo

a/n: this fic isn’t meant to romanticize drug use in any way. i also know nothing abt weed so LOL and very rushed & not edited

masterlist | taglist

I eat my dinner in my bathtub

Then I go to sexclubs

Watching freaky people gettin' it on

It doesn't make me nervous

If anything I'm restless

Yeah, I've been around and I've seen it all

you had a few minutes left of your charms class which was your last class before the weekend. you wanted nothing more than to get out of here and cuddle up with your boyfriend— who was enjoying his free period right now.

draco was one of the best boyfriends you could ask for, the frequent dates, gifts, and attention— it was more than you could wish for.

“you’re excused. you essays are due at the beginning of next week” snapes monotone voice dragged on as you quickly packed up your things and made your way to the slytherin common room.

I get home, I got the munchies

Binge on all my Twinkies

Throw up in the tub

Then I go to sleep

And I drank up all my money

Days get kinda lonely

entering the slytherin common room your eyes immediately searched for a certain blond boy, yet he was nowhere to be found. you made your way to the boys dorms in hopes of finding him there but you’re quickly interrupted by two familiar voices.

“why hello y/n, marvellous weather we’re having today aren’t we?” theo asked looking towards the ceiling and smiling as if he were outside, blaise blocking your path as he did so.

“i’m not sure what weather you’re talking about since we’re inside but i am okay thank you” you responded with a chuckle, trying to make your way past blaise.

“wait y/n” he stopped you. “can i borrow the astronomy notes? i would ask luna but i can’t find her anywhere” blaise continued.

they both seemed awfully on edge and anxious, you figured it was just quidditch nerves getting to them since there was an upcoming game this week.

“i have yet to finish my astronomy notes, but i did see luna in the great hall if you want her notes. now if you’d excuse me i’d like to see draco” you said trying to push past the two boys who still wouldn’t let you through.

“forget malfoy! let’s do something instead, we’re so much more fun than him, right blaise?” theo said giving blaise a pointed look as he threw his arm around your shoulder.

“right you are nott, let’s go!” blaise continued also throwing his arm around your shoulder and leading you away from the boys dorm.

“what? no, i have plans with draco. now excuse me” you said pushing them both off and heading towards dracos door.

as you get closer to his door you can hear heavy breathing, pants and skin slapping on skin. you’re confused, you figured draco would be taking a nap or running over drills for quidditch practice. the closer you get, the louder the noises become.

“pans, you feel so good”

you recognize that voice anywhere.

You're gone and I gotta stay

High all the time

To keep you off my mind

Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh

High all the time

To keep you off my mind

Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh

quickly you turned your head towards blaise and theo who had their heads lowered in shame, refusing to meet your gaze. “is this some kind of sick joke, are you guys pulling a prank or something because this isn’t funny” you said seriously not wanting to believe what you’re hearing from inside of your boyfriends dorm.

“we’re sorry, we tried to convince him not too but he wouldn’t listen” theo muttered silently.

it felt like your world was breaking apart slowly. just not too long ago you were excited to spend a weekend with your boyfriend who you loved so dearly, the same boyfriend who you’ve been dating for years, the same boyfriend who gets jealous about how much time you spend with his mum rather than him.

with shaky fingers you put your hand on the door knob and quickly pushed the door open, already preparing for the worst.

there he was, wrapped up with parkinson in the same bed you two shared not even twenty-four hours ago. her body straddling his naked, just like yours was doing the night before. you stood there frozen, mouth agape— not even knowing what to do with yourself.

“baby, i can explain, just please— y/n please don’t leave” draco said pushing pansy off of him, shuffling on his pants and reaching out towards you.

“dont touch me, malfoy!” you yelled and everyone froze. “you lost the right to touch me the minute you even thought of touching her” you continued sending both him and pansy a glare with tears threatening to slip from your eyes.

“darling please, i can explain—”

“no draco, we’re done just leave me alone, please” your voice cracking at the end as you pushed past blaise and theo rushing towards the girls dormitory.

Spend my days locked in a haze

Trying to forget you babe

I fall back down

Gotta stay high all my life

To forget I'm missing you

Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh

it’s been days since you last left your room, days since you last saw draco. daphne would come by and check on you but you’d always dismiss her, wanting to be alone. regret is one word to describe how you’ve been feeling— you gave him everything and he threw it away so carelessly for a quick hook up.

you missed waking up against his smooth skin in his embrace, tracing the lines and scars across his porcelain skin as you waited for him to wake up, the way he’d try to kiss you in the morning without brushing his teeth and you wouldn’t let him because of morning breath— but he’d still do it anyways.

you missed him, but he didn’t want you anymore.

maybe it was something you’ve done, you’ve been quite busy with work recently so you haven’t been spending as much time with him as normal. he was probably lonely and trying to seek the attention you lacked to give him.

getting up, you stared at yourself in the mirror picking yourself apart. you were pretty, it was a well known fact around hogwarts, maybe he thought she was prettier. she was the life of the party and always up for some mischief whereas you preferred to do stuff in silence and would rather be with a small group of people. maybe he liked how exciting she was in comparison to you, she probably brought a spark of excitement to his life that you couldn’t.

dreading to feel something you quickly showered and got ready to leave your room hoping to run into a specific set of twins.

Pick up daddies at the playground

How I spend my daytime

Loosen up the frown,

Make them feel alive

I'll make it fast and greasy

I'm on my way to easy

“well what can we do for you today” fred said to you with a cheeky smile plastered across his face.

“do you have any muggle herb left?” you asked in a low voice making sure no one heard you.

“maybe we do, maybe we don’t” george said. “how much are you offering in exchange though” he continued.

“ten galleons for three ounces, is that enough” you said pulling the galleons out of your pockets and placing them in george’s palm.

“it was a pleasure doing business with you” they said in unison as fred placed the tiny baggie in your pocket so no one would see.

once you returned to your dormitory you quickly pulled out the pre-rolled muggle herb, lit it and let yourself forget.

You're gone and I gotta stay

High all the time

To keep you off my mind

Spend my days locked in a haze

Trying to forget you babe

I fall back down

Gotta stay high all my life

To forget I'm missing you

you started showing up to class late with red tired eyes, not caring about the looks you got. at this point every one knew what had happened but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

the muggle herb brought you a sense of bliss and freedom, a new feeling you haven’t felt before but something that you now craved.

“are you high right now?” draco said as he sat himself in the seat beside you.

“since when do you care about what i’m doing” you said sharply, not wanting to talk with him.

“love, you don’t smoke. who gave that stuff to you, i’ll kill them—”

“no you won’t.” you said turning towards him. “you won’t do any of that because you don’t own me and i’m not your girlfriend anymore. so mind your business malfoy, i’m sure parkinson’s waiting for you”

the rest of the class you both sat in silence working on potions that draco did most of since you weren’t in the correct mind state and he wasn’t willing to let his mark falter over your slip up.

you find it amazing how even when you’re on drugs he still looks amazing. the way his nose curves perfectly with a slight bump, and the way his hands move with caution as he pours the potion into the waste bucket.

“look, i’m sorry for what happened with pansy. it didn’t mean anything i swear, i don’t know why i did it but i regret it with my life” draco said breaking your thoughts, he looked older than normal and had dark circles underneath his under eyes. you wondered why he looked so distraught when he wasn’t the one who got cheated on.

“a sorry isn’t going to fix this draco” you told him. he knew you were right but he didn’t want to admit it. he hadn’t talked to pansy since the day you walked in on them, the guilt has been eating him up inside. he stayed silent and didn’t bother respond to you, he knew anything he said would have made the situation worst than it already is— but how he wished you were still his sweet y/n.

“now if you excuse me, i have some fun to attend too” you said leaving him alone as you made your way back to your dorm.

Staying in my play pretend

Where the fun, it got no end

Can't go home alone again

Need someone to numb the pain

You're gone and I gotta stay

High all the time

To keep you off my mind

over the last few weeks, you couldn’t remember the last time you were sober. you started skipping classes to smoke and avoiding your friends so they’d stop questioning your habits.

you were forgetting and that’s all that mattered, you didn’t care how it was affecting your health— it made you feel better. sometimes you wished there was another way, another way to forget how he held you at night pressing soft kisses to your skin, another way to forget the way he took pansy the same way he took you. you wonder if he feels as sorry as he looks, he’s the one who cheated so he can’t possibly care that much.

you hear two knocks at your door which quickly break you from your state making you more attentive, cleaning yourself up and opening the door. there stood draco— his eyes red as well, like hes been crying.

“y/n listen, i know what i did was wrong and that i tried to pretend it wasn’t me but please. i didn’t mean too, you mean the world to me. i miss you so much love.” he pleaded with you.

“y’know draco, i miss you too” you admitted. “but i’ve found a way to forget about you, maybe you should do the same”.

Gotta stay high all my life

To forget I'm missing you

-

taglist: @mauvea @teenwolfbitches28 @ilygw @nic0lodean @s1ater @henqtic @justreadingficsdontmindme @i-love-scott-mccall @harmqnia @gwlvr @alishahpotter

[findingjoynweirdstuff]

Dream SMP Recap (April 25/2021) - The Red Banquet

The day has finally come.

All the preparations have been completed. The invitations have been sent out. Everything has been leading up to this moment, and the Eggpire is ready to make their move.

It’s time for the Red Banquet.

A brief summary of the week’s total events can be found at the end of the post.

---

VOD LINKS:

Captain Puffy

Badboyhalo

Antfrost

Eret

Skeppy

Ranboo

---

- Puffy walks around on the surface. Everything is prepared, the armor is where it should be. She hopes everything will go well.

- Everyone is dressed up for the occasion (except George). Hannah, Niki, Fundy, Eret, George and HBomb are all there.

- Bad says hello to Ponk in the Egg Room. Ponk tells him that no one has arrived yet. Antfrost greets them by the entrance and they go up the stairs to find Niki waiting. 

- Puffy and the other guests soon enter the room as well. Antfrost points them towards a coat room where they can put all their items. Foolish arrives with the Rolexes. They drink some cider, head to the dance floor and play some tunes.

- Bad comes over and greets Puffy. Foolish informs Bad that he peed on the Egg. Sam also has a dumpy and HBomb has two of Fundy’s cocks. 

- Antfrost goes off to speak with Ponk alone and check for some last guests. They watch as George arrives.

Ant: “He looks sort of lost, but that’s okay -- we welcome everybody here.”

Ponk: “Hold up...I don’t know...hmm. Hmm...”

Ant: “I mean, he looks harmless enough.”

Ponk: “We need to get a real good look at him first. Quickly.”

Ponk: “I don’t know what that’s about.”

Ant: “I don’t know. Well, we’ll just keep an eye on him.”

Ponk: “Yeah...”

- They then go speak to HBomb and Niki. H hasn’t stopped dancing

HBomb: “I’m doing my best impersonation of a white dad.”

...

Ant: “Did you guys notice that the guy over there -- George -- just sort of wandered in? He seems sort of lost.”

Ponk: “I feel like he’s hiding something.”

- From the walls, Ranboo in a shadowy outfit can be seen watching. 

- HBomb is the DJ.

- Bad comes over to say that dinner is ready. Bad tells Puffy that they have shrimp cocktails and they all go to sit at the table. Some people are in jail and weren’t able to attend. Ponk cooked all the food.

- Bad welcomes the guests to give toasts to the meal.

First up is Foolish, who says that he hopes that after today, nobody has to say “turn a new leaf” or “let bygones be bygones” ever again. Everyone has come here in agreement in the hope of something new.

Next is Eret. 

Eret: “As the monarch of the SMP, it’s awesome to be able to maybe see the SMP going back to being reunified again, and seeing all of us not have to worry about fighting each other on different sides. I hope this is a new chapter of the entire community as a whole. Cheers to that.”

Then Ponk steps up. Long ago, an old, wise man told him “People change like the tides in the ocean.” Now he truly knows they do.

Puffy steps forward. Bad and Antfrost, she considers as friends, and the Egg has separated them. She hopes this brings them all together and makes the server more peaceful. 

George was asleep twenty minutes ago. He asks about the soup. Ponk says it’s made from organic, free-range beets.

Finally, Bad says he appreciates everyone coming. This is the perfect opportunity for everyone to come together and let bygones be bygones. To set aside past issues to grow and advance forward, even with the wrongs that have been done. 

- He nods to Antfrost, who breaks a block behind them, revealing a button. Antfrost presses it.

Bad: “I was very, very happy that we were able to gather everybody here together for what is, I’m sure, going to be a banquet that none of us are ever going...to...forget.”

- Lava starts pouring down from the ceiling, walling them in.

Bad: “Yep. Prepare to die.”

- Everyone panics. 

- Puffy tells Bad that she didn’t trust the Eggpire anyway, and planned for this. She removes the cover from the table and looks into the chest -- it’s empty.

- They watch as the Eggpire members all don the diamond armor that Puffy and Sam had prepared. Hannah says she had to do it, had to tell them. For the Egg.

- Sam says that he had another plan, because he didn’t trust the Eggpire. He’s tired of all this fighting, and it’s about time that they blow up the Egg for good this time.

- Sam flicks the TNT lever and the explosives rain down on the Egg. When they explode, though, the Egg turns into crying obsidian instead of getting destroyed, reverting back to normal Egg blocks after a few seconds.

- After Quackity’s attack, Bad and the others took preparations to make sure that the Egg wouldn’t be vulnerable to TNT anymore. Now, it’s time for the executions.

Bad: “You see, the Egg needs something, and it’s gonna get it from each of you. See, in order for the Egg to hatch, it needs energy. And it gets that energy by people dying near it. And that’s the role that you guys are gonna fill! We’re gonna kill you, one by one--”

Eret: “You’re a monster.”

Bad: “What’d you say, Eret?”

Eret: “You’re an absolute monster. How could you. We all trusted you, Bad!”

Ponk: “Trust! Okay, Eret. Keep talking. Keep talking about trust.”

Eret: “...That was a long time ago.”

- Bad says that Eret is the perfect person to sacrifice first! He leads Eret to a spot in front of the Egg lined with Netherite blocks.

- Foolish steps forward, saying he’s had enough. The Egg can shield itself against TNT, but can it withstand lightning?

- Nothing happens. Bad laughs.

Bad: “You really thought, Foolish? You thought you could enter the Egg’s domain and beat it in a battle of power? Come on...you’re in the Egg’s territory, Foolish.”

- The Egg is suppressing Foolish. Ant suggests they start with Foolish instead and take Eret’s life later.

- Puffy steps forward. She and Antfrost shout at each other. Puffy says she gave them chance after chance. Antfrost says that Puffy betrayed them first.

Ant: “Foolish, your own son, is about to be slaughtered because of you!”

Puffy: “I’m only one person!”

Foolish: “Puffy, Puffy, it’s okay, it’s not your fault--”

Puffy: “NO! It’s not alright!”

Ant: “Puffy, you could have stopped this if you had stayed with the Eggpire. But this is your fault.”

- Antfrost kills Foolish with a sword.

---

CANON DEATH: FOOLISH

Cause: Sacrificed by Antfrost to the Egg

---

- Everyone screams in horror. The Eggpire wonders who to kill next.

- Suddenly, Quackity shouts at them to stop and drops into the room. He tells Bad to calm down. He puts on diamond armor.

- Quackity tells them they’ve just killed a man, asking if this is what they wanted. Bad tells him that he’s doing all this for the Egg, for what the Egg can give them.

Quackity: “I’m telling you, Bad, you’re a pawn to power. You’re nobody, Bad. You’re working for something that, quite frankly, doesn’t even care about you. I mean look at the Egg, look at the Egg! Look at what it means! It doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t mean anything, Bad. So how about...how about we just stop playing games.”

- As Quackity monologues, he subtly slips Puffy a Netherite axe, potion of strength and a golden apple.

- Bad can’t stop, or else he can’t get what he needs. 

Bad: “Guess what, Quackity. If you wanted to stop us, you should’ve brought more than just yourself. You should’ve brought an army.”

Quackity: “Guess what, Bad? I did! I did. In fact, I brought the next best thing...I brought my biggest enemy!”

- Technoblade logs on and drops into the room, his hoard of dogs following.

- Not only that...Quackity also went looking across the lands for the best mercenary he could find. Purpled drops into the room as well.

Bad: “We HIRED you to take out Puffy, and you join the enemy’s side?!”

Purpled: “Bad, to be frank with you, Quackity just had the better price.”

- Techno explains that he didn’t want to work with Quackity, but the Egg is too great a danger to the server and it’s against everything he stands for.

- Suddenly, Puffy jumps forward with her axe, attacking Ant. The Eggpire is shocked that she has a weapon.

Puffy: “You’ve taken my kindness for weakness, Antfrost!”

---

CANON DEATH: ANTFROST

Cause: Killed by Puffy with an axe

---

- A fight breaks out. Bad shouts for the remaining Eggpire members to retreat. They run out. Quackity orders Purpled to go track them down.

- Bad leads the Eggpire out. They can regroup later. For now, they have to run. They have to split up. They can’t get caught, they have to stay safe and go as fast as they can.

- Alone, Bad thinks to himself.

Bad: “This is such a trainwreck. This whole plan...everything was for this moment! And it’s gone! They -- they have the Egg now...they have it. What can I do? I can’t do anything! I need to get out of here. I need resources...”

“Wait, I know where I can go. I know who I can see...but the Egg, the Egg is -- it’s in their possession right now. What can I do? What can I do against it? I can’t do anything, they have it! I needed the Egg, I needed...I needed what it was gonna give. It was gonna help me get what I wanted, but now they have it...they have it...I just...I just wanted what...I just wanted what it could give me.”

“I didn’t really -- I didn’t really want to hurt anybody. I just wanted what it could give me, but...I don’t know. Did I screw up? Am I in the wrong here? I don’t know...I just need to go. I need to get out of here.”

- Bad starts rowing away into the ocean.

- Quackity asks Sam what to do next. The Egg is invincible.

- Purpled lost them in the labyrinth. Sam says he’ll build a prison for the Egg if he has to. He wants to find a way to destroy it, but for now they need to lock it away where it can’t be accessed.

- Quackity makes sure everyone is alright. They then exit the room through the whole in the wall. Quackity tells Techno to come with him and Sam to talk. They leave the others to escape the rest of the way.

- They make it to the surface, relieved. HBomb hands them all soup to remember the event by.

- Puffy goes off on her own down the Prime Path. While she talks to herself, Ranboo walks down the path with potion particles coming off of him.

Puffy: “What did I do? What -- I...My son died! And I killed my best friend! I...I need to find Foolish. I...I don’t even know who I am anymore. The life I swore to protect, I didn’t at all, and then I took one myself! I don’t even...I...I can’t do this anymore. I just...can’t.”

- Eret mourns Foolish after the events of the Banquet. Foolish sacrificed his life for Eret, so at the very least he should be commemorated.

Eret: “I don’t even feel like I knew him that well...which makes things even harder. He’s helped me out with so many things, just from the kindness of his heart. He claimed to know me. He claimed to know a me which I don’t even remember... And he sacrificed himself for me.”

“At the very least, I need to commemorate his sacrifice, I...I should’ve been the one to die, not him.”

- Eret builds a Totem statue in his fortress. 

RIP Foolish I’ll miss you, old friend.

- Eret builds a replica of the Egg in their museum.

- Ranboo logs on in his house. He decides to go around the main area today and fix some stuff. His inventory is quite empty, so he grabs stacks of grass blocks from a chest and heads out.

- He heads over to the main area and remarks that the server is beginning to look okay now that the Blood Vines are gone.

- He notices some posters for the Red Banquet.

Ranboo: “Oh, that was today! ...Cool!”

- He carries on and runs into Sam near the Community House. They exchange some steak. Sam says he’s collecting materials for the bank, as people need it now more than ever. 

- Sam suggests Ranboo invest money and charge cash for his hotel. Ranboo points out that they already have currency in the form of emeralds and diamonds. Sam explains his waiver idea for the bank.

- Also, Sam needs to build a vault. People can come and rent a spot to lock away important items. 

- Ranboo asks if you can lock away people in the vault. Sam says that’s what Pandora’s Vault is for already.

- Sam mentions that they’ll put the Egg in there. Ranboo asks what makes this different from regular storage. Sam says it’s more secure.

- Sam and his associates will be there day and night to actively defend everyone’s belongings. Ranboo asks how many guards Sam has under his command. Sam says quite a few.

- Why now? Sam says there’s no time like right now and quotes Oogway.

- Sam doesn’t plan on charging interest. He just wants to establish a better system of trade on the server.

- Ranboo explains to chat that he can use this system to make infinite money by trading emeralds and diamond armor.

- What if someone is, say, already quite rich on the server? Sam says the trade and the guard of supplies is most important. 

- Ranboo asks how fragile the system would be. What would it take to bring it down?

- Sam says a whole nuke. Ranboo replies that he was thinking systematically. He asks how the Great Depression happened and Sam explains inflation and the circumstances for economic crises. 

- Sam gives Ranboo a “prototype Sam dollar.” (One iron ingot)

- They go to Hannah’s house to steal and then find an anvil in the spider spawner to name the ingot “Smollar.” They go down the tunnel and Sam says that Ranboo shouldn’t go down to the Egg Room. It’s under quarantine.

- He’s planning on moving the Egg and asks if Ranboo heard what happened. Ranboo didn’t. Sam fills him in in the Egg Room. Ranboo is curious about the Egg turning into obsidian and picks up a piece of the Blood Vines, suggesting Sam do some experiments.

- They exit the Egg Room and find some strange llamas. Ranboo shoves a chest in Drip Llama.

- Ranboo, Sam, and Foolish breed a ton of llamas to begin the Industrial Revolution.

- Bad comes over and becomes one with the llamas to cope. Foolish turns into a L’manburg Llama and is promptly slaughtered by Ranboo.

- Ranboo, Bad and Foolish create a gigantic llama train.

Upcoming Events:

- Quackity’s business opening

- Tommy’s plan

- Tales From the SMP: “Space Race”

- Dream’s lore video

- The Banquet aftermath

---

END OF WEEK RECAP:

4/19 - Nothing much happens.

4/20 - Nothing much happens.

4/21 - HBomb makes a diamond game, Jack plans to open a pub sidechain for his hotel business

4/22 - Tubbo shows Tommy how to make TNT cannons

4/23 - Puffy, Foolish, Hannah and Sam meet on Cloud Prime to discuss the Banquet, Ranboo’s Enderwalk Saga: “The Lessons”

4/24 - HBomb’s diamond game, George’s anniversary dream, Bad hands out invitations

4/25 - THE RED BANQUET.

[angelicamerlinbarnes]

I just want Severus being a protective dad to Harry. Like,

(or, some conversations i think should happen.)

Year One

Severus: It’s not me, Harry.

Harry: But Dad, you like magical shiny things -

Severus: Harry. Go bother Professor Quirrell.

One book later…

Severus, storming through the castle on a rampage: WHO THE FUCK HIRED THAT TURBAN BITCH WHO TRIED TO KILL MY SON?!

Year Two

Harry: They’re going after Muggleborns. Like Mom and Hermione.

Severus: *pen snaps in his hand under desk* Hm. I’ll take care of it, Harry.

In Mcgonogall’s office later with her and Dumbledore…

Severus: My son is coming home with me whether you like it or not. And I’m inviting every other student too.

Dumbledore: We have everything under control.

Mcgonogall: Severus, I hate to break this to you, but four thousand students are not just going to follow you home.

Severus: *laser eyes ignite* They will if I offer them free A’s and no homework. And I think you’re forgetting that my son is the Chosen One, Minerva.

Mcgonogall: Bitch if you think I won’t slap you -

Dumbledore: *snores loudly*

The rest of the book later…

Severus: You are never allowed to speak Parseltongue again.

Harry: Then how will we talk when you’re in your Animagus form?

Severus: *mocking Harry’s voice* Then how will we talk when you’re in your Animagus form? We won’t, you idiot! I only do that for incredibly dangerous missions or to get some goddamn alone time!

Harry:

Harry:

Harry:

Harry: *starts to tear up*

Severus: Oh no. Oh no no no. Harry, no, don’t cry, not the crying, I didn’t mean, fuck, love, no, I, Harry -

Year Three

Harry: Dad, um… Professor Lupin invited me for tea.

Severus, without looking up from drawing smiley faces all over graded tests: Yes, yes. Go see him. Don’t be late. And tell him a good strong “fuck you” from me.

Half a book later…

Severus: I can’t believe you laughed at that paper’s comment on my nose.

Harry: Dad -

Severus: I did not marry James Potter and Lily Evans so our son could make fun of me. I have not dragged myself through thirteen years of your incessant crying and misplaced sarcasm to have you laugh at my nose. I could have killed myself Harry. You could have grown up with Petunia.

Harry: Dad, I’m sorry -

Severus, huffing and dropping down in his chair and turning his back on Harry: My only son. A traitor!

Harry: *groans*

The other half of the book later…

Severus: SIRIUS. THIS IS WHY YOU LET ME COME UP WITH THE PLANS.

Sirius: Snape -

Severus: SHUT UP YOU FOUL-BREATHED HEATHEN. COULD YOU NOT HAVE HAD THE COMMON DECENCY TO AT LEAST CLUE REMUS IN ON YOUR LITTLE PLAN?

Remus, stepping in front of Sirius: Now, Severus -

Severus, angrily pointing at them: NO! NO. HE’S YOUR HUSBAND, THAT MAKES YOU COMPLICIT. WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING?

Hermione: Uh, guys? Full moon?

Remus and Sirius: Shit.

Severus, already rolling up his sleeves and tugging his idiot son and said idiot son’s idiot friends out of the Shack: Come meet James, she said. It’ll be fun, she said. They’re not that bad, she said…

Year Four

Severus: No.

Harry: I didn’t put my name in there, believe me, but Dumbledore says -

Severus: Fuck Dumbledore. I’m your father and I said no.

Harry: Dumbledore says there’s wards -

Severus: No.

Harry: But -

Severus: No.

Harry: Dad -

Severus: No.

Most of a book later in Severus’ office…

Harry, curled against Severus’ robes: Dad, he just… and Cedric… he’s back… it’s all my fault - *bursts into tears*

Severus: *kisses the top of Harry’s head* Nonsense. I’ll protect you, love. You’re gonna be just fine. And Voldy dearest can just fuck right off if he thinks he can get to the son of James Potter and Severus Snape and Lily fucking Evans -

Harry: *laughs wetly and wipes his eyes and nose on Severus’ robes*

Severus: *withholds disownment*

Rest of the book later in Dumbledore’s office…

Dumbledore: *sighs* Severus -

Severus: *whirls around and points angrily* NO. I DON’T WANNA HEAR IT ALBUS. DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY FUCKING TIMES MY SON HAS NARROWLY AVOIDED DEATH IN YOUR SCHOOL? I WANT MORE SECURITY PROTOCOLS AND I WANT THEM NOW.

Dumbledore: *face scrunches up like a lemon* You want me to… what, Harry-proof the school?

Severus: *crosses arms over chest* Yes.

Dumbledore: *sighs* Severus -

Year Five

Severus: She did what.

Harry: *swallows nervously* Um. Nothing, Dad, just a blood quill -

Severus: A FUCKING WHAT NOW?!

Five minutes later…

Hermione: Harry? Why is your father cussing out Professor Umbridge and hexing her luggage when she’s not looking in the courtyard?

Ron: Yeah, and why’d I see him pay Fred and George like five hundred galleons in the hallway back there?

Harry, watching his father literally throw Umbridge down the steps while still shouting curse words in languages Harry didn’t even know existed: *facepalms*

Most of a book later…

Harry, sobbing and limping towards Severus: Dad… Dad, she killed… Dad, Sirius… *sobs brittlely*

Severus: *kisses the top of Harry’s head and pushes him gently into Remus’ shaking arms* Nonsense, love. Now, where’s the stupid veil?

Remus: *points trembling finger*

Severus: *nods sharply*

Severus: *returns ten minutes later dragging a soaking wet and violently shaking but otherwise fine Sirius Potter Lupin behind him* Found him.

Remus: *immediately pulls Sirius into the filthiest kiss of his life*

Severus: *wrinkles his nose* You’re welcome.

Harry: *laughs wetly and buries his face in Severus’ robes* Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you -

Severus: *awkwardly pats head* Um. Sure.

Unseen epilogue we all wanted…

Severus: I now pronounce you Dumb and Dumber.

Harry: *nudges Severus* Dad.

Severus: *huffs* Husband and husband, whatever.

Sirius: *grins devilishly and dips Remus back in a kiss*

Harry: *claps enthusiastically*

Severus: *gags to hide his face as he wipes away a tear*

At the reception…

Harry: *puts a flowercrown of lilies on Severus’ head*

Severus: I’m disowning you. You’re no longer my son. Enjoy homelessness, bitch -

Harry: Mum and Dad would like it.

Severus, now bright red and squeaky: Ah. Well. Fuck you.

Harry: *leans his head on Severus’ shoulder* I love you, Dad.

Severus, grumbling: You suck, kid.

Year Six

Severus: Give me your wand.

Harry: Dad -

Severus: Give me your wand.

Harry: Dad, Draco deserved it -

Severus: *shoots up and leans over the desk* Harry James Potter Evans Snape. No one deserves what you just did. What you just did was moronic, stupid, and above all, cruel. I know you’ve heard the stories about your idiot father and you know better than that, Harry. You are better than that. And if you want to make your parents proud, and I know you do, this incident will never be repeated. Do you understand?

Harry, in tears: Yes, Dad.

Severus, through gritted teeth: Yes, what?

Harry: Yes, I understand and I won’t do it again.

Severus: *sits back in his chair* Good. Now give me your wand.

Harry: *hands over wand*

Harry: *sniffs*

Severus, sighing and standing up: Come here.

Harry: *shuffles into his arms*

Severus: *kisses his head* I love you, kid.

Harry, sniffling: Mmph.

Severus: *closes his eyes* And I’m proud of you. We all are.

Harry: *laughs wetly and shoves his face into Severus’ robes* We’re proud of you too, Dad.

A quarter of a book later…

Harry: Hey Dad, I found this awesome book and I don’t know who wrote it but -

Severus: Give that to me, Harry.

Harry: But Dad! This thing is literally the only reason I’m passing Potions at all -

Severus: I know. Because you told Minerva you want to be an Auror. Now that, Mr. Potter, is a fucking lie, and you shouldn’t be taking Potions anymore. So. What do you really want to do?

Harry:

Harry:

Harry:

Harry: I wanna be the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor.

Severus: There you go. But bitch, if you get the position before me -

Harry: Dad -

Severus: And if you tell anyone who wrote this book I swear to Merlin I’ll make sure you meet your parents far earlier than expected -

Harry: The Half-Blood Prince? Why? Do you know him?

Severus:

Severus:

Severus:

Severus: I’m raising a dumbass.

Half a book later…

Harry: *bursts rudely into Severus’ office* Dad, Draco -

Severus: I know, Harry.

Harry: No, you don’t, this time I’m actually -

Severus: I know, Harry.

Harry: Dad, he’s -

Severus: *finally looks up from grading papers* Harry. I know. It’s okay.

Harry, sputtering: It’s not okay -

Severus: Harry, love. I don’t lie to you.

Harry:

Harry:

Harry:

Harry: I know. Okay.

Severus: *looks back down at his papers* Just don’t be dick.

Harry: I do not -

Severus: *raises his eyebrow*

Harry: Yes, Dad.

Three quarters of a book later…

Severus: So. Harry. I heard you’re dating Ginny Weasley.

Harry: No. Nope. I’m not.

Severus: I see. Well, either way -

Harry: Oh no.

Severus: Oh, yes. We need to have this conversation; you’re a growing sixteen year old boy. Of course, as your body grows there will be things -

Harry, bright red: No. No no no. Oh my god, Dad -

Severus, maintaining intense eye contact: When two or more people love each other very much, like your parents and I did -

Harry: *bolts right up* Dad, I will go to the Astronomy Tower and throw myself off right the fuck now if you don’t shut up, I swear to Merlin.

Severus: Good. Now, about protection -

Harry: I’ll do it.

Severus: So you’ve said. Madame Pomfrey has -

Harry: *throws his hands up in the air* I’m not even dating anyone!

Severus: *gives him a look* Of course people will be lining up eventually, you are the Chosen One after all.

Severus: *gives Harry a once-over and smirks*

Severus: Though I do wonder how you plan to defeat You-Know-Who when you can’t even sit through a discussion about the protection charms your mother cast when she sacrificed herself for you.

Harry:

Harry:

Harry:

Harry: OH MY GOD DAD THAT’S NOT FUNNY -

Severus: *giggling manically*

The rest of the book later…

Harry: Dad. No. Please, no.

Severus: I’m sorry, Harry.

Severus, externally: *looks at Dumbledore* Avada Kedavra.

Severus, internally: That’s what you get for hurting my son, you shitty old bitch.

Year Seven

Hermione: Harry, you need to talk about it.

Harry, setting up a tent “successfully”: Talk about what? I’m fine.

Hermione: *sighs* Your dad.

Harry: Okay. You wanna talk about your Obliviated parents?

Hermione:

Hermione:

Hermione:

Harry: Yeah, that’s what I thought.

Ron: *accidentally knocks the tent over*

Meanwhile, Severus…

Severus, staring blankly at the Carrows: What son.

Carrow #1: *sneers* Your son. Harry Potter.

Severus:

Severus:

Severus:

Severus: You think I raised that idiot?

Carrow #2: That’s… actually a fair point.

Severus: *huffs and crosses his arms over his chest*

Severus: *flips hair*

Severus, internally: Damn right it is, bitch.

Severus, externally: See? Obviously not my son.

Carrow #1, snickering: Plus no one would ever sleep with you.

Severus: *turns his head slowly so he can glare right into Carrow #1’s eyes*

Severus, in that dangerous, painfully slow drawl of his: Of course not. Carrot.

In Mcgonogall’s office at three a.m….

Severus: Where is he?

Mcgonogall: I don’t know, Severus.

Severus: But he’s alive, right?

Mcgonogall, sighing: If he wasn’t we’d have heard by now.

Severus, pacing: Right. Right. He’s fine. He’s fine. Har - he’s fine.

Half a book later…

Severus, poking his head into the Gryffindor common room at like two a.m.: Hello? Y’all coming?

Ginny, stepping forward while the rest of Gryffindor rallies behind her with small bags and pillows: Yeah.

Severus, creeping into the Hufflepuff dorms: Marshmallows? You guys ready?

Hufflepuffs, in perfect chorus as they gather with blankets and stuffies: Yes, Professor.

Severus, knocking on the Ravenclaws’ doors: Yo, smartasses, it’s time.

Luna, hugging a stuffed white rabbit with the rest of Ravenclaw behind her: Hi, Professor.

Severus: *heart melts a little bit* Hello, Luna.

Severus: *leads them all to the Room of Requirement under a mass invisibility spell*

Severus: *gets them all settled for a long-term sleepover*

Severus, straightening up: Okay. Anyone want goodnight hugs?

A few pages later…

Severus: You have a list for me?

Draco, handing over a piece of parchment: It’s alphabetized.

Severus: Hm. Thank you.

Severus: *reads list*

Severus: Get Zabini to put Zonko’s products in the bed of everyone on this list. Have Pansy get the rest of you prepped on the plan. If you’re all still on board, that is.

Draco: *shrugs* We may be Slytherins, sir, but we’re not cowards.

Severus: *eyes suddenly shiny* No. No, you’re not.

Most of a book later I think I haven’t read them in years…

Harry: You killed him.

Severus: *pleads with his eyes*

Harry: How dare you stand where he stood?

Severus, internally: FUCK why do I have to be the tortured one??? Kiss me, James said. Marry me, James said. Let’s have a kid, James said. This is all his fault. I swear Jamie when I die I am going to kill you. You fuckwad -

Severus, externally: *starts shooting harmless spells at Mcgonogall*

Quite a bit later…

Severus, internally: Fuck, I hate snakes. Why is that my Animagus? I already have this shitty tattoo and I’m in the snake House why do I need to die by a fucking snake too oh look my son’s here that’s humiliating

Harry, overwhelmed with tears: Dad -

Severus, internally: I’m fine go away jeez

Severus, externally: *gurgles*

Harry: *flurries his hands around Severus’ body uselessly*

Hermione, exasperated: Harry, move.

Harry, blubbering now: *whimpers* Mione -

Hermione, wand out and pointed at Severus’ wounds: Harry, move.

Two minutes later…

Severus, freshly healed and more than a little pissed off: Now let’s go tell that snake ass motherfucker to go fuck himself -

Harry, clinging to him desperately: Daddy you can’t -

Severus: Like fuck I can’t. That slimy ass shitwipe killed my spouses, tried to kill me, and has gone after you for your entire life as if you don’t have enough shit to deal with already so yeah I’m gonna go murder him.

Harry, burying his face in Severus’ robes: Dad, I have to go.

Severus: No, you don’t.

Harry: It’s the right thing to do.

Severus: Since when I have cared about the right thing?

Harry: Since always.

Severus:

Severus:

Severus:

Severus: You’re grounded for the rest of your life after you survive this.

Harry: *laughs wetly* Dad, I’m not gonna -

Severus: *kisses his forehead* I love you, Harry.

Harry: I love you, Dad.

*dead silence*

Hermione: Harry. We have to go.

Harry, whispering: Keep them safe, Dad.

Severus, also whispering: Of course, love.

Idontevenfuckingknow later…

Voldemort: Harry Potter is dead!

Everyone: *crying*

Severus, internally: The fuck no he’s not like you could kill my son.

Severus, externally: *stares at Voldemort*

Five minutes later…

Harry: Expelliarmus!

Severus: I KNEW IT

The end…

Harry: Hi, Dad.

Severus, tugging him into a hug: You’re grounded forever you fucking idiot.

Harry, grinning and hugging back: Yeah, I figured as much.

A little bit after the end…

Remus: You did a good job.

Sirius: You really did. I can’t say I’m not surprised.

Severus, internally: I can’t believe I saved your life you fucking dick.

Severus, externally: I know.

[poisoned-peppermint]

Part 4 of incorrect quotes because i feel obligated to make more due to the sheer number of people who liked it

Dream: My dearest beloved fuckos, is a fun, gender-neutral way to begin a speech

George: See also, esteemed bastards

Bad: Gentlefolk, Ferals, and Domesticated cryptids. 

Sapnap: My fellow yees and haws

~~~~~~~

Techno:Hey I know skyrim is revered as a classic but are we just going to ignore the fact that the entire game only had like 3 voice actors

Wilbur:Stop right there criminal cum

Techno:My ancestors are smiling at me, bastard, can you say the same

~~~~~~~

Foolish:When's your bedtime :)

Purpled: Whenever I next collapse in purely up to the gods

~~~~~~

Ranboo:Human skin is a fursuit for skeletons 

Tubbo: i’m going to debone you like a fucking trout

~~~~~~

Bad:You’re enough

Bad: love yourself!!!!!!! or suffer my wrath!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Dream:And by wrath I mean love!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Bad:no I mean wrath!!!!! You reading this, if you don't love yourself I’ll beat you with a stick!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

~~~~~~~

Bad:I hope everyone is today well! And tomorrow!!!! After that you’re on your own.

~~~~~~

Bad:what am I supposed to do all day while you’re at work

Skeppy:I don’t know, what do you normally do while I’m gone

Bad: wait for you to get back

~~~~~~

Velvet:For my next stunt, I’ll wake up at 5am on the day I can sleep in

Ant:Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise.

Velvet:Early to bed and early to rise makes me a massive bitch

~~~~~~

Tubbo: 3:23 AM make a wish

Ranboo: I wish that you would go to sleep

Tuddo: Yeah well I wish I grew an inch taller every day as you get an inch shorter until you’re as flat as as a piece of paper and I’m 11 feet tall

Ranboo: You’re going to die of a mixture of skeletal instability and heart disease.

Tubbo: Yeah but I’ll look good while doing it.

~~~~~~

Bad:Disrespect me again and I’ll determine your bodies resonant frequency and play a jaunty horn solo that boils your miserable organs inside out 

~~~~~~

Quackity: If I were dating you?  Well, heh. Let’s just say horses wouldn't be called horses anymore

Karl: hey what the honk does this mean…..I’m shaking what does this mean!

~~~~~~

Skeppy: Are you ok?

Bad wrapped in a burrito blanket drinking his 6th cup of coffee: Yes, this is exactly what mental stability looks like

~~~~~~

Sam: My hands are cold

Ponk: *holds their hands*

Ponk: better?

Sam: My lips are cold too

~~~~~~

George at dream’s funeral: can I have a moment alone with them?

Sapnap: of course *leaves*

George leaning over dream’s casket: Now listen, I know you’re not dead.

Dream: yeah no shit

~~~~~~

Skeppy, jokingly: I should have Bad kill you for that.

Bad, peering around the corner: Who do I need to kill?

Skeppy: Wh- no, I was just kidding around.

Bad, pulling out a switchblade: No, who’s bothering you

~~~~~~

Bad *watching the news*: Some idiot tried to fight a squid at the aquarium.

Skeppy *covered in ink*: Maybe the squirt was being a dick.

~~~~~~

Peacock: *spreads feathers at Bad*

Skeppy: It’s trying to attract a mate

Bad, extremely confused: *shyly lifts top*

Skeppy: No!

~~~~~~

Sapnap: Karl, do you eat olives? My dad wants to know

Karl: No, I hate olives. Olives are the spawn of satan. I hate olives so much my mom forced me to live in Mount olive for the rest of my childhood as a curse from the olive gods. Do you understand how much olives have ruined my life? I'm so offended that you asked me that have some consideration for people who have been abused by olives please!

Sapnap: K A R L ……….they’re just olives!!?

Karl: JUST OLIVES EXCUSE!

~~~~~~

Tommy: If you’re bored you can simply close your eyes and rotate a cow in your mind. It’s free and the cops can’t stop you

~~~~~~

Wilbur: is there anyone even named sheldon irl?

Tubbo: my class turtle from 6th grade :)

Wilbur: that’s a turtle

Tubbo: When god sings with his creations, will a turtle not be part of the choir?

~~~~~~

Ranboo: No bcuz why do ppl like salad?? What’s so good about it

Tubbo: chew leaf like god intended

Ranboo: No

Tubbo: Abandon god and see what he does next time you lift your hands in prayer

~~~~~~~

Tommy: Guys, there’s a monster under my bed and it’s really ugly.

Wilbur, on the bottom bunk: Honestly, fuck you.

~~~~~~

Quackity: So according to the cease and desist order I got, apparently you can’t ‘legally’ be a lawyer if your license is ‘cut out of a cereal box’.

~~~~~~

Puffy: If you had too, what would you give up food or sex?

Bad: Sex.

Skeppy: Seriously, answer faster.

Bad: I’m sorry honey, when they said sex I wasn’t thinking about sex with you.

Skeppy: It’s like a giant hug.

Puffy: Ant, what about you? What would you give up sex or food?

Ant: Food.

Puffy: Okay, how about sex or dinosaurs?

Ant: ……...Oh my God it’s like the movie Sophie’s Choice.

Gumi: What about you Velvet? What would you give up sex or food?

Velvet: Oh… um… I don’t know, it’s too hard.

Gumi: No, you gotta pick one.

Velvet: Um, food… no, sex… no, food…sex… food. Ugh! I don’t know! I want both! I- I want Antfrost on bread!

~~~~~~~

Tommy, holding a gun: If the conspiracies about life being a simulation are true WHOEVERS CONTROLLING MY SIM I JUST WANNA TALK.

~~~~~~~

Bad: Why are you guys acting like this?

Boomer: Oh, we’re not acting. We really are like this.

~~~~~~

Techno: Dream has only knocked me out three times this week. Our friendship is really developing.

~~~~~~

Tommy: You’re pathetic!

Wilbur: You’re pathetic-er!

Techno: You’re both losers.

~~~~~~

Bad: I wish I could help you, but I shorn’t.

Skeppy: Bad, please!

Bad: What part of shorn’t don’t you understand?

~~~~~~

Tubbo: Why did you leave Wrestlemania on for Michal?

Ranboo: They need to learn how to protect us.

~~~~~~

Antfrost: I regret getting dragged into your heterosexual tomfoolery.

~~~~~~

Bad: Strawberry milk doesn’t taste like strawberry OR milk.

Skeppy: Go the fuck to sleep Bad!

Bad: LANGUAGE!!

~~~~~~

Ranboo: Tubbo, please calm down.

Tubbo: I asked for two large fries!

Tubbo: *dumps fries onto table*

Tubbo: But all they did was give me a MILLION FUCKING LITTLE ONES!

~~~~~~

Bad: That was the worst throw ever. Of all time.

Skeppy: Not my fault. Somebody put a wall in the way.

~~~~~~

Wilbur: When you’ve been on the internet for as long as I have, you develop thick skin.

Tommy: Navy blue isn’t your color.

Wilbur: Navy blue brings out my eyes you prick! *Chases after Tommy*

~~~~~~

Bad: *Pulls a glass a water from out of nowhere*

Puffy: Where did you get that?.

Bad: My pocket.

Puffy: How do you keep a glass of water in your pocket?

Bad: Skills.

~~~~~~

Tubbo: I will come to your house after work and knock on your window at 11 AM. You will not open the curtains, knowing full well what awaits you, but the knocking only grows louder, more demanding. Finally it stops, your ears ringing. You nervously let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. You're safe now. Minutes pass by and you start to relax. And then you hear a knock at the front door. Like before, you stay still and clutch the blankets around you. You try to tell your self that it's just your imagination. Maybe the milk man? But why would he come so late? Everyone else was asleep, save for Naomi who was playing video games down stairs. To your relief, the knocking stops after a few. Minutes and you breath easy once more. Until you hear a knock on your bedroom door. You don't move. It's just your imagination. She isn't here. She can't be here. You tell yourself, shutting your eyes and willing yourself to sleep. The knock comes again, but with horror you realize that it came from the closet inside your room. You know that you have no choice. You get up, climbing out of bed with shaking limbs. You walk to the closest, trembling, and holding back the tears threatening to spill over your porcelain cheeks. You hesitate with your hand over the closet handle. Maybe it's just your imagination? She's not really there. You can go to sleep and laugh it off in the morning. Your naive thoughts are cut off by another, more demanding knock on the closet door, inches from your face. You know what you have to do. You open the closet door, and there she stands. Chuck e cheese, the mouse looms over you in the dim light. It's soulless eyes boor into you. It raises its arms, and you flinch as it begins to floss at lightning speed. Tears spill over your cheeks. This is the last thing you'll ever see.

Ranboo: Wait, Chuck e cheese’s pronouns are she/her? Trans Chuck e cheese? Good for her.

~~~~~~~~

Bad: Would you like something to drink? *They opened the fridge* We have water, milk, juice, spiders, Dr. Pepper-

Quackity: Spiders?

Bad: Spiders it is then.

Quackity: No, that wasn’t-

*But they were already pouring him a brimming glass of spiders…

~~~~~~

Puffy : Make her pussy wet not her eyes.

Velvet : Make his dick hard not his life.

Punz : Break her bed not her heart.

Skeppy : Play with his boobs not his feelings. 

Ant : Get on his dick not his nerves.

Bad : Always salt your pasta while boiling it.

~~~~~~~

Wilbur: Bet you can’t eat 15 crayons!

Tommy: Bet you I can!

Phil: *sips coffee, checks to make sure 911 is still on speed dial, and goes back to reading the paper*

~~~~~~~

Ant: We need a way to lure in new customers?

Ponk: Maybe we could have some fun, interactive events!

Skeppy: Badboyhalo bath water.

Bad: ABSOLUTELY NOT!

~~~~~~~~

Fundy: GET BACK HERE YOU DUMB FUCK!

Wilbur: LET ME RUN FROM THE CONSEQUENCES OF MY ACTIONS!

~~~~~~~~

Bad: Mint is just cold spicy.

Pummel party Squad: …

Gumi: What the actual fuck is wrong with you.

~~~~~~~~

Quackity: Isn’t it amazing how I can feel so bad and still look so good?

~~~~~~~

Tommy: Why does my arm shake and turn bright red when I’m eating dirt?

Phil:

Phil: Why are you eating dirt?

Tommy: Did I ask you if I should eat dirt? No, so answer my question.

~~~~~~~

Tubbo: I wish I could control wasps and bees to sting my enemies.

Quackity: You’re too young to have enemies.

Tubbo: You don’t even know.

~~~~~~~~

Skeppy: Is there a cactus where your heart should be?

Puffy: What’s up your ass this morning!

Bad: *walks in* …Hi!!

Puffy: Hmm… nevermind.

Skeppy: WAIT NO!

~~~~~~~~

Skeppy: Ha! Don’t you know the trappers trap can trap the trapper?

Skeppy: I must be losing it, I’m quoting Bad.

~~~~~~~

Skeppy: Bad, I sense hostility.

Bad: Good, because I hate you

~~~~~~~

Bad: Are you a painting?

Skeppy: What-?

Bad: Because I want to pin you to a wall.

Skeppy: OH GOD I THOUGHT YOU WERE GOING TO SAY YOU WANTED TO HANG ME OR SOMETHING-

~~~~~~

Tommy: You’re giving me a sticker?

Phil: Not just a sticker. That is a sticker of a kitty saying “me-wow!”

Tommy: I’m not a preschooler.

Phil: Fine, I’ll take it back-

Tommy: I earned this, back off!

~~~~~~

Dream, sweating: George, there’s something I need to ask you-

George: Finally! You’re proposing!

Dream: How’d you know?

George: Dream, you’ve dropped the ring five times during dinner.

George: I even picked it up once

~~~~~~~~

*Bad and Skeppy looking at a locked gate into a park*

Bad: Aw. :(

Skeppy: You know what they say.

Bad: Please don’t-

Skeppy: BE GAY DO CRIME! *hops gate*

Bad: Frick-

~~~~~~~~

let me know if ya’ll want more <3

[wondernimbus]

meet the weasleys — george weasley

pairing: george weasley x female!reader

summary: george takes reader to meet his family.

requests are closed for now. please refrain from plagiarizing my work!

"I’m nervous."

"Well, don't be."

"Thank you, George. That somehow just alleviated all of my worries."

George snickers and squeezes her hand in reassurance. “Just relax. My family doesn't bite—or, well, Ron used to, but that was back when he was, what, five? And besides, you already know him, and he's never bit you before, has he?"

"Not helping."

"And you've met most of my family already."

“I haven't met your mum. Or your dad. Or Bill and Charlie,” she argues, eyes worriedly darting from George’s own to the wooden door in front of them.

George laughs again. His eyes don’t fail to catch onto the way she’s frantically tapping her foot against the ground, how she keeps worrying at her bottom lip. The sight has him grinning widely; he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t horribly endeared.

“Listen,” he says, removing his fingers from her own in favor of turning her around to face him. George’s hands go to her neck, cradling the sides of her cheeks. “They’re going to love you. And if they don’t—well, I can always find a different family.”

”George,” she sighs.

”Only joking,” he grins, and leans in to press a very brief kiss to the tip of her nose. “But I mean it. They’ll adore you. Possibly even more than I do, although that’s up for debate.”

She lets out a long breath, pursing her lips together in a feeble attempt at a smile, but George commends her for trying. He drops his hands back to his sides and laces his fingers through her own again, turning to face the door like they’re about to venture into some sort of grand adventure and not into his family’s living room—and George is about to twist open the knob, until [Y/N] goes, “Wait.”

He glances at her. Her eyes are wide and the look on her face still so uncertain. Sucking in a breath through her teeth, she asks him, “How do I look?”

The grin on George’s face is so impossibly wide. “Like a billion galleons,” he tells her. Just because he can’t resist the urge, he swoops down to press one more chaste kiss to her lips. And then finally, he twists the knob.

The moment George steps foot through the door, he’s immediately enveloped by the wafting scent of something being cooked on the stove. It smells familiar, like he should know what it is, but George has never been much of a chef. But he recognizes the sounds—the voices—coming from the kitchen despite all of them mingling together to form one raucous chorus of chatter. He knows exactly which voice belongs to who—knows that the loud shriek is his mum reprimanding one of them, knows that the sound of someone whining is very likely Ron. That laugh is Bill’s, too, mingled with Fred’s voice. George just knows, automatically, without even having to think about it. George knows, too, without looking down on the “welcome” mat in front of the door, that there are going to be muddy boots on top it—and there they are. He steps around them. George knows that there is going to be a quilt magically knitting itself together on the couch without even having to look at it—and there it is.

And just like that, he knows he’s home.

Something about having [Y/N] in the vicinity of a place so important to him—a place that’s part of him—has his heart feeling full. He pauses for a moment in the doorway, taking it all in, but he’s snapped out of his brief spell of inexplicable happiness when his father comes lumbering out of the door leading to the kitchen.

“George!” his dad exclaims loudly, and just like that all chatter from the room behind him ceases (“They’re here?!” he hears his mother panic). “We didn’t hear you come in!”

”Likely because mum was too busy screaming,” George grins, and walks forward to envelop his father in a hug.

”Ah, yes—Fred arrived half an hour ago and terrified Ron out of his wits with some sort of fake—no, actually, nevermind that! This must be [Y/N].”

Arthur’s eyes have landed on her, and George actually has to give her a little nudge for her to say something. Her eyes widen like she’s surprised at being addressed (as though the entire point of this gathering hadn’t been to get to introduce her), but then her lips break out into a smile and she steps forward to shake his father’s outstretched hand.

”It’s really nice to meet you,” she says, eyes crinkling at the edges. George stands to the side watching the scene unfold, feeling oddly proud.

”Yes, of course!” Arthur nods with remarkable enthusiasm, smiling just as wide. “I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you! You’re Muggle-born, correct?”

She lets out a tinkling laugh. “Yes, that’s right.”

”Brilliant!” he claps his hands together—but George knows exactly where this is going, so he cuts his father off and says, “I think we can address the function of a rubber duck later over dinner, dad.”

Arthur pauses, seemingly dejected, but then gathers himself and nods. “Oh, right, well, I suppose—“

”[Y/N]!”

And there’s George’s mum, Molly, coming from the kitchen, hurriedly pulling off her oven mitts to rush straight towards [Y/N] and envelop her in a big, warm hug. “Oh!” [Y/N] exclaims, obviously taken a bit by surprise given that the two of them have never met before, but eventually she breaks out into light laughs and hugs her back. [Y/N] meets George’s gaze over Molly’s shoulder; he gives her this encouraging sort of smile, and then jokingly complains, ”Blimey. S’pose I’m not missed here anymore.”

”Oh, quiet, you!” Molly frets, waving a dismissive hand in the air (George laughs) and then pulling away from [Y/N] to grip her by the arms and gush, “You’re far prettier than I could have ever imagined!”

[Y/N] flushes a shade of vibrant pink. “Oh, no—but thank you—“

”Have you gotten your vision checked lately, [Y/N]?” It’s Fred, leaning on the kitchen doorframe with a toy snake dangling from his hand. “Or do you really want to be with Georgey despite his baffling similarities to a mountain troll?"

”We’re twins, you prat.” George smacks the back of Fred’s head.

“Ah, right.” Fred is grinning despite having received a blow to the head. “It’s lovely seeing you, future-sister-in-law.”

Fred and [Y/N] have known each other just as long as she and George have, having gone to Hogwarts at the same time all those years ago. All three of them had bonded over their mutual love for pranks, although [Y/N] had always been their babysitter of sorts—the one who made sure none of their jokes went too far out of line. George loved her for it; loved how considerate and gentle she was despite her undeniable mischief. But he’d only really gotten himself to tell her after the war; one brief visit of hers to the joke shop turned into two, and then three, and then suddenly [Y/N] was always hanging around somewhere in Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, helping the business run along. It was Fred who convinced George, only six months ago, to confess his admiration for her after five years of holding himself back.

After the war, George had all the time in the world to take as many risks as he could. So he told her—and now here they are: [Y/N] ruffling Fred’s hair fondly, George trying to fend off his mother’s hands trying to fix his hair (“don’t you think you need a haircut, sweetie?”), and Ron making his grand entrance from behind Fred.

”Ron!” [Y/N] exclaims, catching sight of him, and then jokingly she adds, “I haven’t seen you in ages—last time I saw you you were the size of a Pygmy Puff.”

Ron scoffs out a laugh. “You’re only two years older than me, you know,” he huffs, but lets her hug him, anyway.

Brief introductions are made as Bill and Charlie enter the room. George watches as [Y/N] shakes their hands—Charlie hugs her, as he’s always been big on affection—and just like that George knows that she’s won all of them over, the way she’d done to him. The way she still does to him, after all this time.

Five minutes later they're being ushered into the garden behind the Burrow, where a long wooden table has been set up. There are golden streamers draped all around the bushes and hanging from the branches of trees, but that's hardly what captures George and [Y/N]'s attention first because at the very end of the long table, a large banner is floating in mid-air: one that says "WELCOME TO THE FAMILY!" in glittering silver letters.

George doesn't miss the look on [Y/N]'s face when she sees this; her eyes almost seem to well up with tears, and despite the picture-perfect setting in front of him—despite the golden streamers and the balloons and the faerie lights hanging in mid-air—it's that look on [Y/N]'s face that has his breath catching in his throat and his heart doing odd little double-takes inside his chest.

He loves her, he realizes. It’s nothing new—shouldn't be anything new to him, as he's known it for quite a while now—but still there are moments like this one where he pauses and has to take a while to let it sink in; the fact that the woman next to him, whose smile reminds him of every single happy moment he has ever lived through, loves him just as much as he loves her.

Knowing that is absolutely surreal.

"We didn't expect you to arrive so early!" Molly says, obviously harried as she passes by them bearing a cauldron of steaming soup. “The cookies are still baking—and [Y/N], honey, I sent Ginny upstairs to go fetch your sweater, she should be down any time soon—Ron, Fred, will you stop that!”

The two, who had been wrestling with the toy snake Fred held in his hands earlier, immediately drop their hands to their sides. “T’was Fred who started it,” grumbles Ron.

”And I plan on ending it!” Fred emits some sort of war-cry, but stops when he spots the look on his mother’s face. “Kidding, mum.”

—

It takes a good half-hour or so before the last of the dishes are finally set on the table and everyone is seated. There’s food of all sorts in front of them—treacle tarts, cakes, pudding, pie—and [Y/N], who initially thought she’d feel too nervous to eat anything, eats with ease. Like everyone else around the table, she’s wearing a fuzzy red sweater with her initial sewn in front; a gift to her from Molly. The moment she’d laid eyes on it she knew it was her favorite thing in the entire world.

She tells this to George, who raises his eyebrows and replies snarkily, “I’m gonna have to ask for you to return the necklace I gave you, then.”

”Oh, sod off,” she laughs, rolling her eyes, but she lets him spoon pie into her mouth.

“Gah, get a room!” complains Fred.

”It’s not like they’re snogging,” says Charlie.

”Would you like us to?” grins George, earning him a slap to the shoulder from [Y/N].

”There are children here, George,” she scolds.

”You’re only two years older!” protests Ron.

No one really notices, but the sun has long since sunken below the horizon. Everyone around the table is immersed in chatter; Ron, for example, has been roped into a passionate debate with Fred and George about the true purpose of Pygmy Puffs. (“They only exist to ask for food and jump around and make annoying little noises!” says Ron, to which George responds with, “That sounds like you, Ron.”) [Y/N], meanwhile, is offering an explanation to Arthur about the rubber duck.

“They don’t do much of anything, really. They float and squirt and sometimes they make noises.”

But Arthur looks disappointed, as though he’d been expecting something much more grand. So [Y/N], not wanting to bring down his mood, decides to add, ”I believe they’re also used to keep—um—Grindylows away from your bathwater.”

Mr. Weasley positively beams with joy. “Is that right? I told you, Molly, rubber ducks are magnificent little things!”

Molly gives her husband an exasperated look, but it disappears the moment she turns to [Y/N]. “We’re so glad to have you here, sweetie,” she tells her, reaching over the table to grasp her hand and offering her the most motherly smile [Y/N] has ever seen. “We’ve heard so many good things about you. George speaks so very highly of you—and he was right, you really are perfect for him!"

[Y/N] flushes, smiling. “Thank you, Mrs. Weasley.”

”Oh, no, no, call me Molly,” she laughs, waving a hand in the air. “You’re part of the family now, dear. No need for formalities.”

And [Y/N] does feel like it—like she’s part of this table. This family. Not just the girlfriend of one of their sons but someone who actually belongs.

It’s odd, in a magical sort of way, how all of their random conversations blend together to form one harmonious burst of chatter, how everything and everyone in that table just works. Like puzzle pieces from different sets, she thinks to herself. And they shouldn't fit, but they do.

So this is home for George. This is the place he grew up in. This is where his heart lives.

She can't help the way her eyes stray to him every now and then, noting the sheer joy reflected in his eyes, the way the smile on his lips never really goes away. How, even when Ron flicks a strawberry at his face—even when George threatens to send a whole army of pygmy puffs after him—there's still that joyful glint in his eyes.

With the end of winter right around the corner, surrounded by the family that has welcomed her with open arms, holding the hand of her very favorite person underneath table, fireflies flitting around above them as laughter echoes around the table: [Y/N] feels safe. Happy.

So this is home.

—

The next morning, [Y/N] and George find themselves walking along the edge of the woods where meadow rues grow, a little ways away from the Burrow. They walk unhurried, the soles of their feet swishing against the blades of grass with each step, hands hanging loosely intertwined between them.

They’d woken up before anyone else, when the sun had just barely begun to rise. George had told her to "Get up, I want to take you somewhere" and admittedly she'd whined a little, claiming to need five more minutes of sleep, but George, laughing, threw her over his shoulder and threatened to carry her all the way there if she didn't oblige.

But now, she's glad she came with.

At one point she stops walking, lifts her face to the sky and closes her eyes against the warmth of the sun, taking a deep breath and soaking in everything that the morning wants to bring her. George watches her without question, a fond little smile already tugging on the edges of his lips without him even realizing. [Y/N] is beautiful in the sunlight—or any light at all, actually. George isn't entirely convinced someone like her—someone so breathtakingly beautiful and gentle and patient—would want someone like him. But when he tugs on her hand, turning her around to face him, and when he cups her jaw and guides her closer to press their mouths together, she lets him. She doesn't even think about it. Just melts into him like it's the only thing she knows how to do.

And then she pulls back slightly but stays close, runs a palm down the length of George’s arm and links their fingers together.

"It’s not much," he tells her, voice uncharacteristically quiet. A little unsure. "But it's home." Because, now that the excitement from yesterday has faded, George knows what his house could look like to someone who hasn't lived there all their life—knows that it looks messy, like pieces of it were thrown together haphazardly. It’s not a manor. Nothing like the kind of houses you see featured on Witch Weekly. He knows that [Y/N] isn't the type to care, but still—

"I love it," she pulls away, throwing her head back in an actual laugh—the kind that reminds George of everything good in the world. "I love this place, George. And your brothers and Ginny and your parents. Yesterday was.." she pauses, calming down a little, taking in a deep breath as she squeezes his hand in her own. "It was magical."

Quietly, with her eyes skittering away to look back at the Burrow behind them, she tells him, "I'm really happy, George."

George knows he'll remember this moment forever. The day is just beginning, and he is standing on the edge of a forest-line with a girl who looks at him like in spite of however many weird things he does, whatever dumb things he says, however embarrassing and difficult and painful some days might be, George is still worthy of being hers.

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

Merlin becomes a little obsessed with time, and how it’s running out:

Merlin struggles with a massive workload, and doesn’t understand how to ask for help, even with the simplest tasks, because people are relying on him. For small things, and large. He can’t let anyone down. He can’t.

REQUESTED

TW: not eating or sleeping properly, a little blood

Merlin is tired.

No one really notices the exhaustion, not at first anyway, what they do notice, is how much busier he seems to be.

He’s rushing around the castle so quickly, fetching and carrying things for Gaius, completing various chores for King Arthur, and trying to fix any problem he comes across (both the mundane, and the... less so), that no one sees him for long enough to notice the bags under his eyes. No one notices the way he sways on his feet if he stands still long enough. And if they do notice? Well, he’s rushing off to complete the next task on the list before they can say anything.

The few times he’s stopped to chat, he’s been quiet; polite but not really friendly.

His friends brush it off at first, he’s always been the type to rush places, and they figure he’s just got a lot of things to organise with the Yule celebrations coming up.

It had never really occurred to Merlin, but being the King’s Personal Manservant actually made him one of the most highly ranked servants in the castle. And that meant, everyone asking him for help, all the time.

Anything in the castle that could possibly concern The King, even briefly, was run by Merlin first. Everything from flower arrangements, to the week’s dinner menu, to which chambers to house guests in, to when exactly The King would like this paperwork completed.

It wasn’t too bad at first, Merlin had managed to stay on top of things for years, even during busier times such as these.

But this winter was different somehow. 

Merlin was a fully trained physician by this point, and he didn’t like to think about it much, but Gaius was getting older, quicker and quicker it seemed.

This just meant that more and more of the excursions that Gaius used to take outside the Physician’s chambers, were now being passed on to Merlin. 

He valued the trust that Gaius placed in him, but a trip to the lower town to treat this year’s strain of flu took him away for almost a week.

Long nights consoling young children who were in pain, followed by long days making it to as many houses as possible, to treat as many people as possible, meant he lost out on a lot of sleep. Especially since his mind was thinking about a million other things at the same time.

After finally getting the outbreak under control, he made quick work of the journey back to the castle, only to find a list of various speeches that needed writing and chores to catch up on, and a long line of panicking servants who needed whatever duties they had double checked.

Merlin had barely caught up on all of that work, staying up late through the night, when a second outbreak occurred in a different section of the city.

Gaius had made it clear to The King that the people’s health, and therefore Merlin’s position as Secondary Physician, should come first; Arthur whole heartedly agreed, and gave Merlin the time off to deal with it happily enough, but that didn’t erase the huge list of things he still had to get done when he returned.

He was only gone for three days this time, but with Yule getting closer and closer and foreign nobles arriving for the celebrations, Merlin had a ridiculous number of things to do when he got back. 

The headache that had been coming and going over the last month soon became permanent, and the shaking in his hands became something he had to actively account for any time he carried something heavier than a plate.

~

Merlin was rushing from the kitchens to the stables after dropping off Arthur’s empty breakfast tray when he heard it.

He paused in the corridor, leaning his weight against the cold stone of the wall as he strained his ears.

Just as he was about to write it off as him hearing things due to the lack of sleep, he heard it again, clearer this time, like someone was crying just on the other side of the stone.

He backtracked down the corridor a few metres, and slowly pushed open the door to a storage room, only to see Annabeth, the castle’s youngest serving girl, having a cut on her cheek being cleaned by George.

The both of them look up in shock at the intrusion, and Merlin clenches his fists as he sees the tears on Annabeth’s cheeks. He is especially worried when he sees the concern, painted clear as day on George’s face. George who was well know for being the least reactionary, most expressionless servant in the castle.

He shuts the door behind him, and walks forward, putting a hand on the girl’s shoulder. She immediately launches herself forward, and begins crying once again into Merlin’s chest.

He almost falls back, barely able to carry his own weight right now, let alone the weight of a distraught young girl, but thankfully George notices his imbalance and catches him with a firm hand on his back.

Merlin gives him a grateful, but bleary smile, as he strokes a comforting hand up and down Annabeth’s back. 

He nods to the bloody cloth in George’s other hand, and raises a questioning eyebrow.

George catches his meaning quickly, and replies in a quiet, but harsh voice:

“Lord Anselm reported that his manservant had taken ill, and requested that Annabeth take over. He was... displeased, with a dropped pillow.”

Merlin frowns in worry, as the girl, barely even fourteen summers, looks up at him with red eyes:

“I didn’t even drop it, it fell off his bed when I had my back turned. But he started yelling and he... he threw an empty goblet at me and then got even angrier at that mess. He wouldn’t let me leave for ages he was just standing over me and screaming.”

Merlin can see George tense in anger out the corner of his eye, and he calmly shushes the girl, wiping away her tears and giving her a small smile:

“He shouldn’t have done that, it wasn’t your fault. George is going to take you to Gaius, to get that looked at properly, and I’ll deal with Anselm until his manservant gets better, ok?”

George frowns slightly, but Annabeth speaks up before he can say anything:

“You won’t get in trouble, will you Merlin?”

Merlin gives her a cheeky wink and ruffles her hair:

“I’m always in trouble.” She giggles slightly, and Merlin counts that as a win.

She steps back, and George takes her hand, but he looks at Merlin, speaking quietly once again:

“Are you sure? I know you’ve got a lot of work at the moment, you can drop her off at Gaius’ and I can serve Lord Anselm, if you like.”

Merlin shakes his head, but realises quickly that was a bad idea as his vision starts swimming. He closes his eyes tightly for a few seconds and takes a deep breath, before looking back at an obviously concerned George and replying:

“No, it’s fine, I can deal with him. All those bloody quests Arthur drags me on means I’m well equipped to deal with people like Lord Anselm. Though I would appreciate it if you could pass by the stables and let them know to have Arthur’s horse prepared for noon, tomorrow.”

The fact that George’s lip twitches only slightly at Merlin’s address of the King, tells Merlin that the man is truly worried about Annabeth, and now probably Merlin’s safety as well.

He nods his head slightly, with a quiet “Of course.” and with that, the three of them leave the storage room.

They head in opposite directions, but after moving only a few feet, George looks back and calls to Merlin over his shoulder.

Merlin turns, slowly this time now that dizziness has become a problem, as George asks with a frown:

“Are you sure you’re alright, Merlin?”

Merlin gives him a small nod and smile, before waving him off:

“Yeah, I’m fine, just tired. I’ll see you later.”

George’s frown deepens, but he nods slightly, and turns back around again, leading Annabeth in the direction of the Physician’s chambers.

Merlin took a deep breath and rubbed harshly at his eyes as he watched them turn the corner, before turning in the opposite direction, and making his way to the guest chambers.

Lord Anselm was a visitor from a neighbouring kingdom, known for his harsh treatment of anyone he deemed below him (which... to be honest... was everyone, as far as he was concerned). He was here for the Yule celebrations, and to suck up to the King no doubt.

Merlin paused outside the room, taking another deep breath and trying to not look so exhausted, before knocking politely on the door.

A voice grumbles from the other side, calling for him to enter.

Merlin entered slowly, and shut the door behind him, immediately spying the Lord eating his breakfast at the table. He was an intimidating man, tall, even taller than Merlin, with a heavy gait, a thick beard, and a permanent scowl.

He looks harshly at Merlin, and roughly asks:

“Who the hell are you? Where’s my girl?”

Merlin clenches his hands behind his back, but replies neutrally, looking somewhere over the Lord’s shoulder:

“I’m afraid she has succumbed to an injury, and won’t be serving you anymore. I’m The King’s personal manservant, meaning I won’t be able to serve you full time. We’re a little understaffed at the moment, My Lord. Is there anything I can do for you this morning?”

The man growls and stands up, stalking quickly towards the manservant.

Merlin was especially glad that he was made aware of his balance and dizziness issues earlier, because if he hadn’t, he certainly wouldn’t have been able to hold himself upright when Lord Anselm swung a harsh fist to the side of his face.

He smirked horribly as he said:

“Insolent little thing, aren’t you? Are all of King Arthur’s servants so pretty?”

Merlin’s head rocked violently to the side, and he took a step back, before righting himself. He took a subtle deep breath as he winced in pain, but schooled his face back into indifference as he returned his gaze to just over The Lord’s shoulder:

“Would you like me to return your tray to the kitchen, My Lord?”

Anselm growled once more, obviously unhappy with the lack of reaction, and brought down a heavy hand on Merlin’s shoulder, leaning in close and snarling:

“You do that, pretty boy.”

Merlin waits impassively for him to release the bruising grip he had on his shoulder, before stepping around him and clearing away the tray.

Lord Anselm stared at him distastefully, but Merlin dutifully ignored it, and headed to the chamber door with the tray of leftovers and dirty plates. Anselm turns quickly towards him:

“Hurry back. I have things that need doing.”

For the first time since he entered the room, Merlin looks him straight in the eyes before saying:

“Like I said My Lord, we’re incredibly understaffed at the moment. I’m afraid no one will be able to serve you until your own manservant recovers from his illness.”

The shocked look on the Lord’s face gives Merlin just enough time to leave the room and hurry half way down the corridor, before Anselm followed him out.

Merlin heard the door bang off the wall as Anselm ripped it open, ready to shout, enraged, but the sight of the guards patrolling the corridor stopped him, and he slammed the door shut again with a huff.

Merlin let out a relieved breath. He had hoped that the sight of the guards would stop him from making a scene, and he was glad he was right.

One of the guards, an older man named Gavin who had always been kind to Merlin, stopped him with a hand on his (unbruised) shoulder:

“You alright Merlin? I though Annabeth was serving him?” He nodded at the other guard to continue on, mumbling that he would catch up in a minute, before looking back at Merlin, who blearily nodded:

“He threw a tantrum, hurt her. George took her to Gaius and I said I would deal with him.”

The guard frowned and muttered “bastard” under his breath, but widened his eyes as he saw the bruise blooming on Merlin’s cheek:

“Bloody hell, Merlin, do you always take over for the violent ones? You should get that checked out.”

Merlin sighs and shakes his head, only slightly:

“It’s fine, I’ve got too much else to deal with at the moment. The manservant he brought with him is sick, and Annabeth is certainly not serving him again, so I told him he would have to deal with minimal serving, until his servant gets better.”

Gavin let out a breath, and chuckled slightly:

“Pfft. Balls of steel, Merlin. Go on, you look in a hurry, I won’t keep you.”

With that, Merlin gives him a brief smile, before rushing towards the kitchens once again, trying not to feint the whole way.

~

The whole ordeal only pushed him twenty minutes behind, but twenty minutes was a problem when he was already three days behind on Arthur’s laundry, two days behind on stocking up on ingredients for Gaius, and two weeks overdue for a lunch with Gwen. 

Plus he still had one speech left to proof read, and considering Arthur wrote it himself, it’s more likely to end up being a full re-write, rather than a proof read.

OH, and that leak that he’d promised the stablehands he would help fix.

Ah shit. He also had to collect Gwaine’s spare sword from the blacksmith at some point, before he forgot again.

AND there was a huge delivery of flowers today, no doubt there would be some sort of problem with that.

All of that, on top of the fact that no one has tried to kill Arthur in recent weeks, and it was starting to unnerve him.

His journey to the kitchens went much like that. Task upon chore upon promise upon paranoid intrusive thought piling up in his head with every step.

He finally got to the kitchen doors, and paused outside. He took a deep, shaky breath, and shut his eyes tight, before forcing his mind to calm, and pushing through the door. 

The noise and smells immediately had him turn his head sideways, as if trying to escape the sudden onslaught, but the movement did nothing but force him to realise how much the side of his face had begun to throb.

He took another deep breath as the persistent noise, now in his mind, and out of it, made him want to scream. He resisted the urge, and dumped the tray next to the sink, before rushing out once again, ignoring the glares that the cook sent his way.

As he hurried down the corridor, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides in an effort to stop the shaking, he decided that laundry was the priority right now. If he could just get at least one basket done, that would be enough for today at least; and he could read over the speech whilst he did it.

Ok. ok. This is fine.

He finally made it to Arthur’s chambers, bursting in without knocking, and walking straight to the pile of dirty clothes. 

He doesn’t even have the energy to be annoyed at the fact that they were on the floor, instead of in the basket, and he certainly isn’t with it enough to notice the conversation between Arthur and George... wait... George??

Merlin is only lets his surprise distract him for a moment before he looks back to the laundry, bending over far too quickly, and having to hold himself up against the wall as his vision swims.

He vaguely hears George calling his name, but he waves his hand behind him absentmindedly and ignores him. He forces his eyes to focus again, as he picks up an armful of clothes.

He stumbles over to the desk, still not paying attention to the other two occupants of the room. He looks around blearily, once again beginning to clench and unclench his hands under the dirty clothes in his arms, just to stop himself from falling over.

He takes a deep breath, and interrupts whatever it is Arthur is saying:

“Speech.”

Arthur is clearly taken aback, having realised that Merlin hasn’t listened to anything either of them has said. George gives him a knowing look behind Merlin’s back, and Arthur frowns.

Merlin turns around, quick enough to make his vision blue once again, but not quick enough to make him fall over, and looks in Arthur’s vague direction:

“Speech. Where is it?”

Arthur gasps as he notices the now deep purple mark up the side of Merlin’s face and steps forward, George follows him, and takes the laundry from Merlin’s hands, and setting it on a chair before turning back to him.

He turns just in time to see Merlin almost tip backwards, and rushes forward, placing firm hand on his back once again.

Arthur slowly brings his hand up, concern written all over his face as his fingers hover just over the bruise:

“Merlin... what happened?”

Merlin rolls his eyes slightly as he turns back around to the desk, gently pushing George’s hand away and looking through the paperwork:

“Fell. Speech? I really do need it Arthur, I don’t have time.”

Arthur looks at George out the corner of his eyes, and George shakes his head, mouthing “Lord Anselm” .

Arthur frowns again, and picks up a piece of paper from his bedside table, going to hand it to Merlin, before snatching it back when he reaches for it:

“Not, until you tell me the truth, Merlin.”

Merlin huffs, and rolls his eyes again, before snapping:

“Fine, Lord Anselm punched me in the face because he’s a Lord and I’m a servant, and he can do whatever he wants to me and that’s nothing out of the ordinary. Speech. Please?”

In Arthur’s shock at Merlin’s bluntness, Merlin leans forward and grabs the piece of paper, before quickly turning away, ignoring the loss of vision at the sharp movement. He knew his way around Arthur’s chambers when he was asleep, he could manage a short black out.

He gathers up the laundry once again, and stumbles towards the door, interrupting Arthur’s:

“Merlin! Will you just-”

With:

“Don’t have time.”

And leaving the room before either of them can say anything more.

Arthur shakes himself free of the shock, and looks to George, bewildered:

“You really weren’t kidding were you? He’s completely out of it. Do you know what’s wrong?”

George frowns only slightly as he replies:

“It’s a busy time of the year My Lord, and we’re rather under staffed at the moment. Merlin has a habit of being unable to say no when people ask for help. That, on top of his normal duties to yourself and Gaius, and having to deal with the flu outbreak, I think- If I may speak freely, Sire?”

Arthur nods immediately:

“Of course, George, always.”

George nods gratefully before continuing:

“I think he’s just a little over-worked at the moment, My Lord. He’s never been good at asking for help.”

Arthur nods and hums thoughtfully. He thinks for a minute before looking back at the servant:

“Hmm. Keep an eye on him, won’t you George? I can’t have him keeling over, and make sure he gets some food in him.-”

George gives a firm nod:

“-Thank you, you’re dismissed, go back to your duties.”

With that, George turns and leaves the room, wiping the worried frown from his face and resetting it into his normal neutrality.

~

Merlin was unendingly grateful to find that the speech wasn’t actually that bad. By the time he finished hanging Arthur’s clothes to dry, he had a solid idea in his head of all the little bits he needed to tweak. He just needed to get a quill to it, and it’d be done and dusted.

He rushed as quickly as he was able without falling over, back to Arthur’s chambers, opening the door slowly this time; he really didn’t have the time to stop and chat, and if anyone was in there, he would just come back later.

Thankfully, the rooms were empty, and Merlin only had to spend around five minutes sat at the desk (where there was a small plate of food, labelled “For Merlin”, which of course went untouched. Deliberately ignored or just unnoticed, who knows), writing out his adjustments.

Five minutes however, was long enough for him to forget to not move too quickly, and the moment he tried to stand up, he immediately passed out. He fell back into the chair, and slumped forward onto the desk, his bruised cheek landing with a smack on the wood.

He woke again with a start, and jumped up quickly as he ran his hands through his hair roughly. He began to breath deeply, and tears came to his eyes as he brought his hands down roughly, gripping the edge of the table so hard he could feel his hands bruising.

Merlin, after managing to keep what he thought was a tight lid on it all day, was officially panicking.

His cheek was throbbing again, but he could barely feel it, only able to think about how much time he was wasting.

He can’t be taking naps now. He can’t. He doesn’t have the time. He’s still two days behind on laundry, two days behind shopping, two weeks since he’d last properly spoken to Gwen, he can feel a storm in the air so the leak HAS to be fixed now and Gwaine NEEDS his sword and where are those fucking flowers??

The more Merlin’s thoughts rush around his head, the more tasks he remembers that he needs to do, the more he panics. And the more he panics, the less he can breath, and the less he can breath, the more time, he is wasting.

When Merlin finally manages to open his eyes, which he hadn’t realised had been shut painfully tightly, he notices that the shadows on the walls have barely moved since he last checked.

Huh.

Ok.

He breaths slightly easier as he just about manages to drag himself over to a window, peering down into the courtyard below, to see that the castle was still busy.

He must’ve only been passed out for a few minutes at most.

It’s ok. There’s still time.

Merlin takes one last deep breath, pours himself a glass of water from Arthur’s jug and downs it all in one.

Ok. Too much to do, no more wasting time.

Merlin quickly straightens out the desk, leaving the speech in the middle for Arthur to see, and ignores the remaining fuzziness in his head as he stumbles out the door and down to the Physician’s chambers.

~

Merlin spends the next few hours down at the market.

He could feel his heart pounding louder in his ears with each second that he had to stand and wait in line, but it was no ones fault but his own that he had left the shopping too late.

He just had to be patient. Ignore the headache, ignore the pain in his cheek and shoulder, ignore the bruises on the palms of his hands from where he gripped the table, ignore the paranoid thoughts about assassins and poisoners and bandits.

By the time he made it back to Gaius’ chambers, it was dark. His hands shook violently, and he could barely see what he was unloading from his bags, but he kept pushing forward.

Without sparing a glance towards Gaius, he rushed out of the room again, now unhealthily used to the constant swimming in his vision, he dragged his hand along the stone walls of the castle corridor, and used that to navigate to the kitchen to pick up Arthur’s dinner.

The cook of course yelled at him about being late, but instead of brushing it off like he normally did, he internalised it.

He spent the whole journey up to Arthur’s chambers working himself up.

He was late. He was running out of time. He was so fucking tired. But that’s fine. That’s ok. One more job tonight, and he can rest. Just one.

He delivers Arthur’s food without a word, and if Arthur wasn’t worried before, he definitely was now.

Merlin lays out the meal, and quickly goes about lighting the fire for the night, and turning down The King’s bed. He turns to Arthur, not really bothering to focus his eyes and actually look at him, before saying:

“Anything else tonight, My Lord?”

The lack of sarcasm would be worrying enough to Arthur, but the way Merlin’s eyes stayed unfocussed, even as Arthur walked towards him, and the way his words slurred, almost sent him into a panic.

Merlin finally makes eye contact with him as Arthur grips his shoulders, but he quickly lets go when Merlin flinches in pain.

Fuck that hurt.

He’d forgotten about the bruised shoulder.

Arthur’s frown deepens:

“Merlin, are you alright? You look exhausted, you look sick. And you didn’t eat the food George left out.”

Merlin nods his head slowly, and moves towards the door, rolling his shoulder slightly to try and sooth the ache:

“Yeah yeah, I’m fine, and I’m not a dog Arthur. Just lots to do. Am I dismissed?”

Arthur nods slowly, but suddenly adds, as Merlin gets to the door:

“Yes, but only if you get something to eat and then go straight to bed. Get some sleep Merlin, whatever it is, can wait until morning.”

Merlin doesn’t look back at him, just waves his hand over his shoulder as he shuts the door behind him.

Ok. One more job. Just one more and then sleep. Maybe. He did have some useful new spells he needed to memorise... having as little time as he does means he should probably get at least a few done tonight.

Ok. One more job, then he can sit in bed and memorise some of those spells, then maybe he can get an hour or two of sleep before sunrise bought tomorrow’s jobs.

He headed over to the stables, at this time of night no one should be around, he can wave his hand, make some sparks, and the leak would be gone.

He halts in his tracks and his eyes widen as he subconsciously begins clenching and unclenching his hands once again.

No.

The stablehands know he promised to fix it. If they see it’s been fixed with some sort of miracle, instead of patched up properly, they’ll know.

Maybe he’s just being paranoid, but he’s also running on no food, no sleep, and a potential concussion. Trying to use magic right now was probably not his best idea.

He forces his hands to still, and continues his trek across the courtyard, towards the stables. 

The next time he stops, it’s because he hears the distinct sound of an armoured guard falling to the floor (the fact that he recognises the sound immediately, should tell you all you need to know about how insane Merlin’s life is).

Merlin rubs his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose briefly as he mumbles:

“For fucks sake, I knew it had been too long.”

Without wasting another second, Merlin turns back around, and sneaks carefully to where he’d heard the noise come from.

He finally spies the slumped guard by the main entrance to the castle, and after establishing that the attacker was long gone, he rushes over.

The growing puddle of blood, and lack of pulse, worries Merlin endlessly. Whoever did this was good, the guard never saw it coming, and now he was dead.

Merlin doesn’t want to leave him like this, but in all likelihood, the assassin was going to head straight to Arthur’s chambers, and Merlin had to catch up before he could do any damage.

The exhausted manservant rushes through the large doors, trying ever so hard to focus eyes, and not quite managing it, but powering through anyway. Thankfully he new the route to Arthur’s chambers by heart, he didn’t have to be able to see to know where he was going. 

He’s already out of breath before he even reaches the staircase that leads up to the royal chambers, but he doesn’t have the time to stop and catch his breath. Arthur was in danger, and as per fucking normal, Merlin was the only one that seemed to know anything about it.

He forced himself up the steps, being mindful of his weak legs and using the wall to pull himself up as quick as he could.

He swore to himself as he turned the corner to see the vague outline of a man with a dagger slip unnoticed through the doors to Arthur’s chambers.

Where the fuck were the rest of the guards?? Merlin had expected to see a few more bodies on his way up but there had been none. Shift change over maybe? In which case, how did the assassin know?

He pushes the thoughts to the back of his mind; something to worry about later, as he sprints down the corridor.

He almost falls several times, tripping over nothing but his own exhaustion, but he uses his own momentum to stop himself tipping over, forcing his feet to just keep moving forward.

He bursts into the room loudly, and the assassin, who had almost reached Arthur slumped over asleep on his desk, whips his head around to stare at him in shock.

The King mumbles from his spot on the desk:

“Merlin... I told you to get some sleep.”

That seems to snap the assassin out of his surprise, and he lurches towards Arthur, bringing the dagger up so he could swing it down viciously into his back, but Merlin rushes forward to meet him.

He shoves Arthur’s chair with as much force as he can muster, and steps into the space it had resided in as Arthur sprawls on the floor, cursing loudly.

It takes only a second for Arthur to be on his feet, a sword that was hidden under the desk gripped in his hand and any remaining sleepiness scrubbed from his face, but that second is all it takes for the dagger to sink with sickening force into Merlin’s shoulder.

Merlin gasps and staggers back as Arthur steps forward, swinging the hilt of his sword down onto the attacker’s head, and with a loud thunk, the would-be assassin drops to the floor, unconscious.

Arthur turns quickly towards Merlin, who was leaning against the wall, dagger still planted deeply in his shoulder, and once again curses loudly. He rushes forward to catch his manservant just as he falls, widening his eyes as he notices the rapidly growing crimson stain on his tunic:

“GUARDS!!” he yells it towards the still open door, but looks to Merlin as he mumbles:

“Shift... change. No one there yet.” with a groan.

Arthur curses for a third time, as he pulls Merlin’s uninjured arm around his neck, and starts to stagger towards the door, dragging Merlin, who is basically a dead weight at this point.

The manservant groans, not sure if it’s the constant, background panic that’s seemed to plague him the last few weeks, or the pain of the newest stab wound that’s making him dizzy, but either way... ow.

Merlin finally manages to raise his gaze to realise that Arthur is currently dragging him past the closest exit to the stables (god knows how they’d gotten that far without Merlin noticing), and he half-heartedly pulls away.

Arthur almost stumbles with Merlin’s sudden movement, but says strongly:

“No not that way Merlin, gotta get to Gaius, you’re going to ok, alright?”

Merlin’s breath deepens in panic, and Arthur, mistaking it’s meaning, says:

“Almost there, Merls, don’t worry, Gaius will fix you right up, just hang on a little more for me.”

Merlin tries to pull away again, going so far as to softly thump Arthur on the chest to make him let go (it doesn’t work, he’s far too weak):

“No... no, you don’t.... understand. I can‘t, I don’t.... I don’t have time.”

Arthur frowns at him, but continues moving in the direction of the Physician’s chambers. He turns his concerned face away from Merlin, to see two guards turning into the corridor ahead of them:

“HEY!! One of you go to my chambers to collect the would-be assassin, and one of you run ahead to Gaius to warn him we’re coming; deep stab wound to the shoulder. Tell anyone you might see to be on high alert, an attempt on my life has been made.”

Arthur growls as they just stand in shock, obviously taken aback at the sight of the King near dragging an almost dead-looking servant down the corridor towards:

“NOW!”

With that they jump into action, one of them sprinting back the way Arthur and Merlin had come, the other sprinting ahead, to warn Gaius.

Arthur looks back down to Merlin, trying to pick up his pace as he notices him grow weaker and weaker:

“Come on, only a few more corridors Merlin, then Gaius will take care of you and you can sleep it off. I’ll even give you tomorrow off, how does that-”

Before Arthur can finish his question, Merlin moans, and tries to pull away again:

“No... time. Too many things to do... not... no time. Leak...”

Arthur stares at him in confusion as Merlin trails off, but blinks in surprise, as he gains a sudden burst of lucidity again:

“NO! Leak needs... sorting. Flowers and... Gwaine’s sword. Check on... Annabeth-”

He pulls away from Arthur far more violently this time, and the King drops him as he staggers from the force.

Arthur curses and kneels down, panicked as he tries to get his arms under Merlin’s weight again. Which Merlin is making very difficult.

The manservant can’t really feel the pain at this point. All he knows is that time is passing. Time that should be spent fixing things. Whatever stupid thing Arthur wants right now needs to wait.

Leak. Then spells. Then catch up on laundry through the night. Then check on the flowers in the morning. Hopefully lunch with Gwen. Sword next. Then. Then he can maybe think about whatever is happening right now.

Arthur finally gets his hands under Merlin’s arms and pulls him up, growing more and more worried as Merlin tries to wiggle away, like he doesn’t want to get treated.

Only one more corridor.

Arthur continues his journey through the halls, breathing deeply with the exertion. 

Merlin had lost the last of his strength trying to escape, and the fall to the floor had knocked his other injuries slightly, so Arthur was forced to pick him up, carrying the limp man bridal style.

He finally made it to Gaius’ chambers, to see the guard holding open the door, and Gaius rushing around, gathering various ingredients and tools.

Arthur bolts through the door, not even looking at the guard as he spots the empty cot in the middle of the room, and carefully lays a clearly delirious Merlin down.

The dark haired boy continues to mumble, a frown etched deeply onto his features:

“No... time... too much else... to worry about...”

Arthur calms his own breathing before looking back to the guard:

“Make sure the alarm is sounded. Find out if the assassin was caught and report back to me as soon as you know anything. I’ll be here.”

The guard nods firmly before running out of the room, and Arthur turns his attention back to Merlin. He gasps as he notices blood dripping from the palms of his hands, and lurches forward, forcing Merlin’s fingers to uncurl.

Arthur realises with a numb horror, that something much more than the stab wound is wrong with his... friend. This isn’t even close to the worst injury he’s ever seen Merlin get, but still he lies here, panicking about something to such an extent that he drew blood with his own nails.

Gaius finally bustles over, and without even looking at him, forcefully tells Arthur:

“Hold him down, he’s in no sort of mental state for me to treat him awake, so I need to get this down him and he won’t... appreciate it.”

The King notices the vial of foul-smelling liquid in Gaius’ hands, and quickly moves around to stand behind Merlin’s shivering form.

He presses one hand down onto his uninjured shoulder, and bends over, leaning his other forearm across his chest, trying desperately to avoid aggravating the dagger still imbedded in his shoulder.

Once he’s secure, Gaius pinches Merlin’s nose, and pours the liquid into his mouth, quickly dropping the vial onto the table beside him, and massaging his throat to help it go down.

Merlin spasms for a few seconds and kicks out, but Arthur just about manages to hold him steady before he finally goes limp, his eyes rolling back, and his hands hanging off the side of the cot.

Arthur steps back, and collapses in a chair at Merlin’s side, before looking up at Gaius. The King watches the Physician bring over a pair of scissors and cut Merlin’s blood soaked tunic away, before examining the wound, and carefully removing the dagger.

Arthur tries to calm his heart rate, and takes deep breaths as he watches Gaius work, knowing that the injury, though bloody, was not life threatening.

At some point during the process of the wound being cleaned, stitched, and dressed, the guard from earlier had re-entered the chambers to say:

“The assassin was found and taken to the dungeons, sire. The castle is on high alert, and patrols are looking for any accomplices, though currently it appears the man was working alone. Two guards have been found dead, one at the castle gate, and one at the main entrance to the building.”

Arthur vaguely remembers nodding, and dismissing the guard; telling him to keep him updated, before focusing back on Merlin.

When Gaius finally slumps into the chair opposite Arthur, on Merlin’s other side, The King takes a deep breath, before asking quietly:

“What’s wrong with him, Gaius? I mean besides the obvious? George said-”

Before Arthur can finish, three thunderous pairs of feet burst through the door.

The King looks up to see Gwen, Gwaine, and Leon enter the room in a hurry. Gwen answers his questioning gaze with:

“The three of us were together when a guard told us what happened. Will he be alright?”

Gaius gives them a comforting, but strained smile, as they move towards the cot:

“He’ll be fine my dear, with time.”

Gwen moves quickly to stand by Arthur’s side, and takes one of Merlin’s limp hands in her own as she blinks away tears, her other hand covering her mouth. Gwaine rushes to the end of the cot, looking down at his best friend with a pained expression, and resting a hand on his leg. Leon steps into place above Merlin’s head, stroking a gentle hand through his hair, before focusing his concerned expression on Arthur in question.

Arthur huffs, but pays them no mind as he looks back at Gaius:

“Like I was saying, what’s wrong with him? George said he was acting oddly, and he seemed... almost sickly the last time I saw him. Then all the way here he was trying to get away from me, he just kept muttering about time, and saying he had things to do.”

Gwaine growls, and before Gaius can reply, he snarls out:

“You’ve been bloody overworking him, that’s what’s wrong. Look at him, he looks like he hasn’t slept in weeks.”

Arthur looks up, annoyed:

“That’s exactly why I’ve been giving him fewer chores, Sir Gwaine. I didn’t give him anything specific to do today, and when I told him he would have some time off on the way here, he freaked. Pulled away, I dropped him, and he just began muttering about not having time, having too much to do.”

Gwen clears her throat before timidly saying:

“He has been acting a bit strange. He seemed a little stressed after the first outbreak, but I figured that was normal for this time of year and let him be. Then he got back so late last night, and every time I saw him today he just seemed... more and more panicked. I tried to stop him a few times but he ignored me, like his mind was completely elsewhere.”

Arthur frowns at that, and Leon speaks next, his hand still absentmindedly carding through Merlin’s hair:

“Hmm. He’s been looking unwell; swaying on his feet, leaning on walls. I saw him in the market earlier today and he looked about ready to feint, but I was pulled away by a few guards. When I looked back again, he was stumbling away in the opposite direction. He looked in a rush, so like Gwen, I let him be. Perhaps he hasn’t been sleeping well?”

Gaius looks grim, and nods:

“I heard him moving about all through last night. I got up to offer him a sleeping draught but he refused, saying he had things to do. I got the impression this morning that he didn’t sleep a wink. And I remember what the yearly flu excursions were like, I doubt he slept any better whilst he was treating people in the lower-town.”

The three of them look troubled. How had they let it get this far? Merlin was clearly some sort of sick, and no one had noticed until he was ignoring stab wounds and clawing at his own skin.

Leon tilted Merlin’s head, frown deepening as he spots the purple bruise over his cheek, now also stretching up into his temple and into his hairline. His voice came out a mumble, as if he were speaking to himself:

“What happened here?”

Arthur’s face darkened, and he replied lowly:

“Lord Anselm. I informed him to leave my kingdom and told him not to come back until he could refrain from beating my staff.”

Leon nodded, face angry, and Gwaine replied:

“Bet he didn’t like that, the bastard.”

Arthur looked up at Gaius, and cleared his throat before asking:

“What do you suggest, Gaius? He’s clearly not... ok.”

Gaius sighed once more, looking down at the man who had become his son, before saying quietly:

“I imagine all three of us are right, in a way. He’s overworked, stressed, and lacking sleep. That mixed with a punch hard enough to give him a mild concussion, and the fact he likely hasn’t eaten very well over the last few weeks, led to a... miniature break down, of sorts.-”

He looks up at Arthur, who is struggling to hide how distraught he is, with grim determination:

“-He will need time off to recover. More than a few days, likely. And support. He has learnt to rely on no one but himself in recent years. Dealing with a workload that multiple people would struggle with all on his own, was almost certainly what led to his obsession with time, time running out. You will need to reassure him that any tasks he is worried about are being completed just fine without him, otherwise he’ll panic.”

Arthur nods before replying, his voice thick:

“Of course. Whatever he needs. He mentioned... a leak? And flowers, Gwaine’s sword. He mumbled a few other things as well, but I couldn’t hear him. He said something about Annabeth?”

Gaius rubs his eyes as he nods slowly:

“Yes, George bought Annabeth by earlier. Lord Anselm had hurt her and Merlin sent the two of them here before he went to deal with the Lord.-”

He looked up to see Arthur sporting a vicious frown, and continues:

“-She’s fine now, just a little shaken, her injuries will heal in a week or so. The other things he mentioned to you though...”

Arthur sighs, but Gwen speaks up, still clutching Merlin’s hand, before he can say anything:

“I overheard some of the stable-hands worrying about a leak in the stable, knowing Merlin, he probably offered to help them. And the flowers... well there was supposed to be a delivery today, for the feast decorations, but it hasn’t arrived yet.”

Arthur nods, and Gwaine swallows, looking a little guilty, before saying:

“He ran my spare sword to the blacksmith about a week ago, for repairs. I told him there was no rush, but he must’ve got in a panic about it.”

Arthur nods, but raises his eyes to Gwen in confusion:

“Ok, the sword and the leak I understand, but the flowers? Why would a castle delivery be any concern of his??”

Gwen widens her eyes in surprise, and Leon makes a disbelieving noise, before saying:

“Sire, with all due respect, Merlin is the King’s Personal Manservant. Of course it concerns him.”

At the growing confusion on Arthur’s face, Leon sighs. He drags a chair forward, and sits in his place behind Merlin’s head as he continues to absent-mindedly run his fingers through the man’s hair:

“My Lord, everything that has anything to do with you, gets run by Merlin first. Pretty much every non-political decision not directly made by you, is made by Merlin. I always thought it was rather hilarious that he didn’t seem to realise how much power he has within the castle.”

Arthur widens his eyes in realisation, and slumps back in his seat:

“I had no idea... no wonder he’s so exhausted all the time. He’s practically running the castle behind my back.”

Gwen nods sympathetically, but Gwaine still looks a little annoyed as he grinds out:

“Honestly princess. How did you think it was that the visitors you liked least were always housed in the chambers furthest away from yours? Or how the castle kitchen is always stocked up on your personal favourites? Or perhaps how council meetings always seem to be at a time most convenient for you, despite you never rearranging your own schedule? When we all joke about how you wouldn’t last a day without Merlin... we mean it. He doesn’t just dress you and feed you and sing you to sleep, he runs your whole life, mate.”

Leon and Gwen nod, and Arthur sighs, and the room goes silent for a few minutes, the only noise being Merlin’s ragged breathing.

Arthur finally straightens up, and nods to himself slightly:

“Right. Merlin gets every Monday off, no matter what, including his physician duties where possible. George is going to be reassigned as an... assistant of sorts; Merlin will hate it but I don’t care, he needs the help. He’s also going to get a bloody great big pay rise, and new chambers with a big desk. And that’s just to start with.”

Gaius raises his infamous eyebrow, but Arthur ignores it, he can see the hint of pride in his eyes. Gwen and Leon smile and nod, and Gwaine huffs before muttering:

“Yeah, that better be just to start with. Kid deserves the world.” 

Arthur stands from his chair and begins pacing, before looking back to the others in a hurry:

“Ok, Gwen, can you go find the Housekeeper, inform her that I want a few more servants to be hired, on a permanent basis. The castle is obviously understaffed if Merlin is the only one fixing everyone else’s problems. Take Gwaine with you, a guard informed me the assassin had been caught and was likely working alone, but just in case.-”

With that, Gwen nods and leaves, closely followed by Gwaine, who stops only to give Arthur a short, assessing gaze, before giving him a nod and leaving.

“-Leon, find the Steward, and George if you can. Find a set of chambers that can be reassigned to Merlin, and tell them to begin the process immediately. Not too big, he’d complain and refuse to use them but... oh you know what he’s like, I trust you’ll pick something to his... tastes.”

Leon gives Arthur another smile, before heading towards the door. Just before he can leave, Arthur calls out for him again:

“And if you could have a plate of food sent here as soon as possible. I don’t think he’s eaten all day and we’ll need to get something down him when he wakes up.”

Leon nods, and leaves without another word. Arthur collapses back into his chair before looking at Gaius, and blushing at the fond smile on the older man’s face:

“What?”

Gaius just shakes his head as his smile grows:

“Nothing, my boy. I’m just glad you’re finally realising at least a little of what Merlin sacrifices for you.”

Arthur frowns and tilts his head:

“You mean there’s more he’s giving up than sleep, food, and any and all free time he has?”

Gaius drops his smile fractionally, but covers it quickly (not quick enough that Arthur didn’t notice however) :

“Hmm. Nothing that you need to worry yourself over, My Lord.”

Arthur’s frown deepens:

“Well now I’m just going to worry about it even more. What is it Gaius? If you won’t tell me what the problem is, at least tell me the solution.”

Gaius settles a heavy, pensive gaze on Arthur, and stays silent for a few moments before answering slowly and quietly:

“A long time a go, I gave Merlin some... difficult, advice, pertaining to which secrets he should keep to himself. Perhaps when he wakes I shall rescind said advice. But ultimately, whether he tells you the true extent of his... well, truth, or not, is up to him. I advise you not to push him.”

Arthur huffs:

“So he’s hiding something from me?”

Gaius gives The King a sympathetic smile:

“He’s hiding a multitude of things from a multitude of people. There are very few people who know Merlin fully. His life has been... difficult, from birth, to such an extent that not even I’m aware of what’s going through his mind, the pain he suffers, and I live with him.-”

Gaius stops hesitantly, but Arthur nods for him to continue. He looks deeply troubled, before saying:

“All I can request Sire, is that, if he does decide that he trusts you enough to reveal himself fully, let him finish the story in it’s entirety before you start forming conclusions, and remember, that everything he does, he does for Camelot, for you.”

Arthur’s face shows slight confusion, but he nods firmly. He may not fully understand what on earth Gaius is talking about, but he has a feeling he’ll know it when he sees it. Plus, Merlin means a great deal to him, and the man obviously does a lot for him, the least Arthur can do in return is sit patiently and wait for Merlin to come to him with whatever truth Gaius thinks is so worrying.

~

It was late in the night when Merlin started to stir, only a few hours until sunrise.

Arthur and Gaius had both fallen asleep after checking over Merlin’s bandages. Gaius had settled in a cot in the corner of the room, and Arthur was curled up in his seat, Merlin’s hand clutched in his.

Arthur woke slowly at first, and then all at once, when he realised that Merlin’s hand was twitching in his own. He leaned forward on his seat, frowning, as he stroked Merlin’s forehead gently with his other hand.

Merlin’s eyes blinked open, as he muttered Arthur’s name. The King smiled gently, placing a comforting hand in the centre of Merlin’s chest, and squeezing his hand slightly:

“Hey, how are you feeling?”

Merlin frowns slightly, before he gasps with wide eyes and tries to sit up. Arthur pushes back gently against his chest, and Merlin is far too weak to do anything about it as Arthur speaks quietly:

“No no no, you stay right there. You need to get better before you start rushing around again.”

Merlin frowns and begins to breath deeply:

“No, I don’t have the time Arthur, there’s too much I gotta do.”

He tries to sit up again, but Arthur holds him down, struggling to think of what to say to calm his manservant down before he did more damage to himself:

“No there isn’t. You can’t do anything when you’re sick and injured, alright?-”

At Merlin’s panicked expression, Arthur hurries to continue:

“Don’t worry, Merlin. Gwen spoke to the housekeeper about hiring some new servants to help. I’m going to get Percival to fix the leak in the stable later, Gwaine doesn’t need his sword for at least a few days, and to be perfectly honest, he can get it himself. The housekeeper will deal with the flowers, and Annabeth is fine, Gaius saw her earlier and sent her home for the day. There’s nothing for you to worry about, ok?”

Merlin frowns, and blinks blearily, clearly beginning to lose his lucidity:

“Are you ok? The... assassin... looked pretty... pretty... serious...”

He trails off, but refuses to close his eyes, and lifts a shivering hand to loosely clasp Arthur’s wrist as Arthur replies:

“You haven’t slept or eaten properly in days, you’ve been smacked around and stabbed, and you’re asking me if I’m ok?”

At Merlin’s once again panicked expression, Arthur sighs:

“Yes Merlin, I am one hundred percent ok, and so is everyone else. The assassin was caught, everyone is safe, and there’s nothing that you need to think about right now. Let go, get some sleep.”

Merlin frowns indignantly, and murmurs:

“I’ve already... slept too... long... gotta-”

Arthur huffs before interrupting him:

“Being unconscious is not the same as being asleep. Go to sleep Merlin. I promise, I will wake you up if you are needed in any way... do... do you trust me?”

Merlin looks at him oddly, before his eyelids flutter shut and he goes limp. Arthur just about hears the muttered-

“More that anyone.”

-before Merlin passes out once again, and after waiting a few minutes to make sure he wasn’t faking it (definitely something Merlin would do), he collapses back in his chair.

Merlin really was sick.

Arthur huffs with annoyance at himself, how had he not noticed this sooner? Why hadn’t he pushed it when he came to collect the laundry? Why hadn’t he given Merlin a day off when he got back from the lower-town? Though, knowing Merlin, he probably would’ve spent all day working anyway, even if it wasn’t directly for Arthur.

Arthur’s thoughts are racing so much that he knows he isn’t going to get back to sleep, but it was far too early in the day for anything official to get done; the city was asleep. And besides, even if there was something to be done, Arthur found himself exceedingly unwilling to let go of Merlin’s hand.

So sitting here and thinking was his only option it seemed.

Gwen, Gwaine, and Leon had come back around an hour after he had sent them away, and he was more than pleased with what they had to report.

The housekeeper had drafted up notices asking for permanent, paid, help in the castle, to be distributed in the lower-town tomorrow (or... later today).

Leon and the Steward had found a suitable set of chambers for Merlin, about halfway between Arthur’s and Gaius’, small compared to Arthur’s rooms, but still bigger than the footprint of Merlin’s house back in Ealdor.

Arthur hadn’t managed to get any food in Merlin when he briefly woke up, but the plate that Leon had sent up still sat their waiting, and it would be ready when Merlin was lucid enough to eat.

Arthur was still very worried about the man he had grown to trust more than even himself, but he also trusted Gaius, and if Gaius wasn’t freaking out, then neither would Arthur.

~

The next few days were... difficult, to say the least.

It took a lot of persuading to convince Merlin to stay in bed, and even a few sleeping draughts slipped into his tea, courtesy of Gaius.

Merlin was also getting increasingly annoyed at all of his friends visiting him, and treating him like he was made of glass. 

He was getting desperate to leave the Physician’s chambers and get some work done, and Gaius was not best pleased when he caught the man trying to sneak out.

Gaius sternly told him to sit down and shut up for a minute whilst he explained why exactly he can’t get out of bed yet, and Merlin reluctantly sat back down, nodding at Gaius to start talking:

“Merlin, you hadn’t slept at all in at least seventy-two hours. You hadn’t slept well for the several weeks before that. You hadn’t eaten all day, and I imagine that you hadn’t eaten properly, again, for the several weeks before. You had a mild concussion and fractured collarbone, courtesy of Lord Anselm. Bruises on your hands from gods know what. Balance and dizziness issues caused by being medically exhausted. You are stressed far beyond levels that are even vaguely healthy. All of this, before you sustained a serious stab wound. Merlin, you had a panic attack, yesterday, over not being able to fix a leak. You can not keep working like this, or you will burn yourself out again, and then where will we be? You are of no use to anyone if you drop dead. So will you please, just trust that Arthur has things handled just fine without you.”

Merlin had the decency to look a little ashamed at first, but rolls his eyes when Gaius mentions Arthur:

“That man never has anything handled. Gods know how he’s even managed to get dressed the last few days.”

Gaius raises an eyebrow, an obvious “I dare you to argue with me right now” look if Merlin has ever seen one.

Merlin huffs before climbing fully back into his bed (still in the Physician’s chambers. Gaius advised against telling Merlin of all the changes that were happening until after he was better, otherwise he would... simply put, he would freak) and looking to his lap, frowning.

Gaius sighs, and puts a gentle hand on Merlin’s least-injured shoulder:

“Be patient, Merlin. You fail to realise how many people care about you, and how much. We would be devastated to lose you, it’s hard enough to see you suffer like this. So let yourself heal fully, if not for yourself, then for us.”

Merlin looks up at him tiredly (everything seems to tire him out at the moment) with tears in his eyes and Gaius leans forward to gather the boy in a hug.

Merlin falls into it easily, and buries his head in the crook of Gaius’ neck as the older man runs a hand through his hair. He sniffles slightly, before mumbling:

“I’m sorry.”

Gaius smiles sadly, not that Merlin can see it, before replying quietly:

“No need to apologise my boy, just get some sleep. I believe that Guinevere will be joining us for dinner later.”

Merlin nods before removing himself from Gaius’ arms, and settling back under the covers. He shifts until he’s comfortable, and whispers a soft goodnight (I mean... it’s the middle of the afternoon but he’s sleeping the nights and days away at the moment), before drifting off.

Gaius sighs once more, before leaving the room, shutting the door behind him quietly.

They had a long way to go. Physically, Merlin was well on his way to healing, but emotionally... well. He had a father-figure physician, a fellow servant, five boisterous but loving knights, and a King who may or may not be in love with him.

He’d get there. He just needed a little more time.

~

THE END

Thank you so much for requesting this anon, I had fun writing it! It kept getting longer and longer and I almost split it into two, but I just decided to go for it in the end.

I hope y’all enjoy! Same as always, you wanna write it up with proper paragraphs and extend it and everything, go for it, credit and tag me :)

Let me know if y’all want my thoughts on anything in particular!

[pepperonijem]

When He Sees Me || Peter Parker

MASTERLIST

Pairing:  Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: um peter might be a little ooc and that’s because i’m writing about my unfortunate crush but i basically just changed his name to peter parker any resemblance to real persons living or dead is purely coincidental <3 

Word count: 2.5k

Summary: What if when he sees me, I like him and he knows it? What if he opens up a door and I can’t close it? Catching feelings for your best friend is never easy.

A/N: This fic is sponsored in part by @bitchassbucky, @spiderrpcrker, @shurisneakers, @midnightsunfae, and @blackberrybucky who instead of shutting down my feelings, hyped me up to turn my crush and some of the things that we’ve done into a fic <3 this goes out to anyone who has ever started crushing on their best friend.

Oh God, please don’t walk this way, please don’t wa-

“Oh, hey Peter!” The crack in your voice betrayed your attempt at a casual greeting, despite your efforts to disguise it with a cough. “How’s it-- how’s it hanging?”

“You good?” Peter smiled at you but his eyebrow quirked upwards in concern. “I just wanted to make sure we’re still on for tonight?” His concern faded into a wide grin as you nodded in response. Peter gave you a quick goodbye before walking away towards his next class.

As soon as you saw him turn into the classroom, you turned to face your closed locker, letting out a groan before setting your forehead against it. Peter had asked if you were good, and although you nodded, the butterflies in your stomach threatened to give you away. You were very much not good.

A tap on your shoulder snapped you out of your thoughts and you turned to see your friend MJ. “What did Peter do this time?” MJ asked. For the last month, every interaction with Peter -- there have been a lot -- ended this way: a groan of defeat and a few welted lines on your forehead from holding your head against your locker. You turned to give MJ a dirty look, annoyed by the amused smirk on her face.

“Absolutely nothing,” you sighed, finally lifting your head up to talk to her. You opened your locker as you talked, not wanting to make eye contact with MJ as you confessed your feelings. “He just… smiled… and everything went downhill from there.” You rolled your eyes as MJ laughed. “It’s getting worse, I have no idea how I’m going to get through tonight.”

MJ laid a hand on your shoulder. “Well we’ll all be there,” she offered. “And if it makes you feel better, no one’s even noticed. Just act normal and you’ll be fine.” She shrugged her shoulders as if that was the easiest thing to do. But you couldn’t act normal anymore, not with Peter. Not when normal means resting your head against his shoulder every time he makes you laugh. Not when normal means borrowing his clothes when his aunt May tells you to stay the night every time a study session runs too long. Not when normal means wearing the extra sweater he keeps for you because you always forget yours.

Normal was when you didn’t feel butterflies everytime he looked at you, before your curious heart got the better of you and you began to wonder what it might be like to hold his hand. Now, things were just weird. At least for you. Nothing on the surface had changed, no one noticed how your heart rate picked up every time Peter touched you, or how you suddenly felt hot whenever he winked at you. But inside your heart was navigating uncharted territory in your friendship, trying to traipse along the thin line that separated how things have always been and how you suddenly wish things could be.

Pulling your textbook out of your locker, you shut the locker door a just a little bit more aggressively than necessary. MJ gave you a small hug before linking her arm through yours as you walked to your next class.

For the rest of the day, you found it impossible to focus on anything. Instead of taking down notes on George Orwell in English, you found yourself absentmindedly doodling hearts. Everything just reminded you of Peter and your own confusing feelings. Thankfully, you didn’t share any classes with him today, leaving you enough solitude to think about just why you were so frustrated with yourself.

Logically, you knew there was nothing wrong with having a crush on someone. You’ve had plenty of crushes before, a few of which reflected a temporary lapse in judgement on your part. You remember telling Peter about each of them, gushing about the most basic acts of human decency as he rolled his eyes and told you that you deserve someone better, but nevertheless helping you pick up the pieces every time someone broke your heart. That, you realized, was what scared you the most.

If you were to date, and then break up… well who would be there with kind words and your favorite boba when everything fell apart? The thought of losing your best friend over emotions, feelings, left far too much to chance. Was the idea of holding his hand, of hearing him call you his enough to make you risk the friendship that has always been enough for you? It should be enough for you, you reminded yourself. There was too much on the line and not enough guarantee for you to risk it.

With that determination in mind, you steeled yourself for the rest of the day, determined to put your feelings to rest and go back to normal.

Unfortunately, that plan quickly fell through.

You got to the restaurant a half hour late with only a really good nap to blame. You felt bad that your friends were waiting for you, but when you got there, you found an empty spot next to Peter, where your usual order of ramen was waiting and against your will, the butterflies flew rampant. The noodle that hit Peter’s nose as he ate while waving you over made you laugh as you sat down beside him.

“I got you your usual,” Peter explained in between bites. You smiled and thanked him before digging in. Peter had done this for you many times, and you willed your body to fight against the flutter of your heart.

Thankfully, the rest of your dinner was going well, and everyone had plenty of stories to tell. MJ had begun doing more portraits of people in distress and revealed her latest piece -- a portrait of Peter slurping up a noodle only to get a rogue drop of soup in his eye. Ned and Betty were off again, but of course they tried to keep it civil (they were on again by the end of the night) so no one would have to pick sides. Flash teased Peter about the B that he made on his literature exam yesterday over poetry and Peter’s face turned beet red.

“Hey,” Peter began, attempting to defend himself. “I totally could’ve made a perfect score. I was just distracted.” He shrunk down in his seat a little bit, and the rest of you laughed teasingly.

“Yeah, you’re telling me,” Flash continued. “You’ve been drawing little hearts all over your notes, dude, it’s unsettling.” He rolled his eyes and took another bite of his food, swirling his fork around the bowl trying to grab as much noodle as possible.

Across the table, you and MJ made eye contact, a look of surprise between the both of you. You tried to signal her to say something before a weird silence fell on the table, but she was not reading your cues. Thankfully, Peter spoke again.

“H-hearts?” He repeated. “Why would I be drawing hearts on my notes?” Although he tried to play it off, the rise in pitch gave him away. He scrunched his face in exaggeration.

“Actually,” Betty began. “Now that I think about it, you were doing that in Spanish class too.” You glanced over at Peter who looked at you with panic in his eyes. You took a long sip of water, suddenly feeling a layer of sweat form at the back of your neck. “Wonder what that’s about.” She shrugged and turned to Ned asking if he wanted to split a slice of cheesecake with her.

Before Peter had a chance to try to defend himself once again, the waitress appeared. “Are you all ready for the check?” she asked.

“Yeah, but we’re splitting the check,” Flash replied. Betty rolled her eyes in response. “What? Just because I’m rich does not mean I have to share the wealth.”

The waitress nodded in response. As she was leaving Peter called her back. “Oh wait,” he called. “I’ll also be paying for this order,” he gestured to your bowl. She smiled at him and headed for the counter.

“Peter,” you smiled. “I have money, I can pay for myself.” Although Peter usually had to order for you, he didn’t usually pay for you, unless it was a special occasion.

“I know, I just wanted to be nice,” he responded, giving your shoulder a playful nudge. “Plus, you seem like you’ve had a rough week. Every time I see you, you seem to be lost in thought. What’s been on your mind?” The sentence came out casually, but the furrow in his brows revealed how concerned he actually has been. Peter was nothing if not observant, like he could sense things better than most people.

You let out a sigh, unsure of what to say. You didn’t want to lie to Peter, but you also didn’t want to tell him the truth, that you were thinking about him-- well, your feelings for him. Just when it seemed like he had backed you into a corner, however, the waitress had returned with the checks, and the question left unanswered.

After dinner, the six of you went to Flash’s house to watch a movie. He had a home theater and early access to new movies and he loved to remind everyone of that. Not that any of you minded, especially if it got you free popcorn and a movie out of it. Every week, a different person got to select the movie and today, unfortunately, was MJ’s turn.

You loved her, of course, but you absolutely detested her taste in movies. Mostly because she was a horror junkie, and you were absolutely not. Her last few turns however had been spent making sure you all had seen all of the Shrek movies. But today, she picked a horror film. Something about demons and the like. Peter and Betty cheered at her selection as Flash groaned. You settled into the couch in the back of the room and grabbed a blanket. Ned and Betty sat together on a smaller loveseat, and MJ sat on the floor in front of Flash’s seat, the perfect spot to be able to scare him with a single touch on his leg.

Peter sat down beside you, handing you a tub of popcorn and a soda. He pulled the blanket over his own lap as he sat criss-cross on the couch. You tried not to pay attention to how his leg was brushing against yours under the blanket, instead focusing on the screen as the room went dark.

The movie had just started, but you could already feel yourself tense up in expectation.The music was coming to a crescendo and you knew something was already going to happen. You didn’t realize just how tightly your fists had balled together in your lap till you jumped at the sound of Peter’s soft voice at the shell of your ear. “Are you okay?” He asked.

He tried to hold in a chuckle as you almost bounced the tub of popcorn off your lap. He grabbed it from you and set it to the side. “Look,” he pointed to the screen where the creature’s head had just rotated a full circle as it crawled up the wall in pursuit of the main character. “That thing kinda looks like the spider from that kid’s tv show, but not as creepy.” You let out a laugh, a little louder than you meant, and Ned turned to tell you to shut up.

The small joke was enough to dissipate the anxiety you felt towards the movie, but unfortunately only heightened your feelings about Peter. But he noticed how your fists unclenched and how your shoulders relaxed once you laughed, so he continued to tell you whispered jokes for the rest of the movie. Each time he noticed your body tensing, he tried his best to make you laugh, and god, how could you stop yourself from those butterflies anymore?

At the height of the movie, you found yourself with your hands over your ears, and eyes squeezed shut, unable to even look at the screen or hear a joke. When Peter realized a joke wouldn’t be enough, he slid closer to you and pulled you into his side and you buried your face into the crook of his neck. Before you had a chance to think about the spicy notes of his cologne or the softness of his skin, the sound of a high pitched scream in the movie caused you to jump with a gasp. In response, Peter wrapped his arms around you tight, with a gentle shush.

It was only after the music began to die down that you opened your eyes again, only to find Peter’s eyes fixed on the screen. Now that the worst was over, you no longer had an excuse to be in his embrace the way you were. You began to wiggle your way out of his arms, attracting his attention.

“What are you doing?” he whispered.

“Peter I’m a big kid,” you smiled, teasing. “You don’t have to hold me like a baby.” Peter let out a soft laugh before relaxing his hold on you just a bit.

“Okay,” he relented. “I’ll just hold you like this then.” He began to shift so that your head was on his shoulder, and one of his arms looped under yours, intertwining your fingers. The smile on his face was calm as if this was something the two of you did all the time, but his racing heartbeat reminded you this was something new.

The two of you remained that way for the rest of the movie. By the time the soft music began to play in the credits, you could hear light snoring from everyone else in the room. However, you and Peter made absolutely no efforts to untangle yourselves from each other. It was as if you were worried that once the lights came back on, you would never find yourself like this again, and what a sad idea that was. Normal, would never be enough for you again, not when you know now how much better life could be like this.

You weren’t sure if it was the adrenaline from the jump scares, or the sureness of his hand in yours, like it’s always belonged there, that gave you the courage to finally break the silence.

“Peter,” you breathed out, lifting your head from his shoulder, but not letting go of his hand.

He turned to you, with a look of concern, afraid of what you might say.

“Kiss me.” The words came out so softly and so quickly that you weren’t sure if you said it at all.

“Finally,” he whispered as his lips fell against yours, softly and slowly. He pulled away after what felt like hours and yet not nearly enough time. His hands reached up to cup your face. “I like you,” he admitted. “So much.”

Suddenly, you felt it. You felt exactly what it must feel like to fly, to let yourself go without worrying about gravity or anything else. The risks were still there, the numbers hadn’t changed, but you knew that no matter what happened next, just having the chance to fly would always be enough.

[stylistiquements]

Day 9 : Scronch'love.

𐐪𐑂 Pairing : Sapnap x fem!reader {Playlist}

𐐪𐑂 Summary : a lovely afternoon and an ancestral question; when are you going to join the dream smp?

𐐪𐑂 Word count : 1.5k

𐐪𐑂 Warning : swearing

Masterlist | Previous | Next

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・　　 .・゜゜・　　・゜゜・

“Have you been here for a long time?”

“Have you been here for a long time?”

“Have you been here for a long time?”

Time bends and twists into unknowns shapes when well spent. So, you’re so not sure. Long enough for your fairy garden to start looking like at least a proper garden, long enough for your feet to start fidgeting, brushing against the soft fabric of the blanket ever so slightly and softly.

“Can you share your screen?”

“I’m just picking flowers, there’s nothing much to see,” you warn but it never does the proper job.

“That’s fine, I like watching you play.”

“Oh, do you now?”

“Yeah. You’ve been playing for years and you’re still dog water. It's almost soothing,” you hear him grin through the silkiness of his voice.

You smile evasively, palm gripping the mouse and executing on memory. Soon, Sapnap’s satisfied noises hovers and everything is just how it’s supposed to be. You spend a while humming the music of days and nights of the game while building your project. Sap helps from time to time, giving advice when his attention is there and leaving trails of compliments on his way. You don’t think the garden is necessarily that good, you don’t mind either.

“Do you think the tree should go on the left or the right of the pond?” You ask, fingers drumming back and forth between the two options. Right he says. "What about the roses, do I plant some or not?"

“It’s just a detail, don’t hurt your brain too much on that,” he says in a light tone, but you disagree.

“Details are what make things important. Like when you remember I prefer warm pillows so you give me yours, it’s just a detail but it makes me happy.”

“Of course I do; you’re a baby,” he murmurs teasingly.

With an arched eyebrow, you retort, “says you,” and silence follows for a second as you plant the tree on the right of the pond.

“Yeah, Dream already made sure I was aware of that.”

“Not sure why the piss baby thinks he’s qualified to have this conversation, buddy,” you note and Sap chuckles are as vivid as contagious. “Why would he call you a baby anyway? What have you done?”

“I-I’m not telling you.” As soon as the mumbles fades, your phone sends loud vibrations on your desk. You abandon your character to the night and the wildness, picking the phone as you murmur a low oh, okay. Whether it’s to your phone or Sapnap, that, isn’t really clear. Still, Sapnap’s words sound more distant, more of what wonders are made of. On the screen, a twitter notification of a certain Karl Jacobs.

“You’re not even listening to me anymore,” Sapnap whines.

“I don’t listen to whiny babies, sorry.”

“We’re on the verge of divorce, yn and it’s your fault.”

A scoff skitters out through teasing lips, “But you still talk about me all the time, don’t you?” Your voice drags through different lands, unknown and musky.

“So what?” He splutters all awkward like it’s some kind of confidence that shouldn’t have left his thoughts and, somehow, you’re surprised the almighty confidence has left the game. “Who said that?”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re obsessed with me, admit it,” you demand and though you don’t notice it, too tangled with the moment, the atmosphere is tinted with a different nuance like it’s suddenly dawn at the end of a summer party.

“So are you.”

Now, your heart drums a strange yet familiar rhythm. Something made of secrets and uncertainty, something you decided to leave unnamed a long time ago. Sapnap, you reason, can’t be lied to. He knows better than words half meant, half made up and it’s annoying, really, but he just does somehow. If you dare to lie, he would know and then it would be even more annoying.

“Yeah, you’re living in my head rent free but at least I’m not trying to hide it.” No answer. You peek at the game, you’ve been slain by a spider. “Karl said that,” you resign yourself. “He said he was about to join the vc by the way.”

Before the conversation can carry on, the sound of Karl joining the call resonates. Being in this Discord server is like living in a house with 10 siblings, that’s what you understand from the way Sap exhales heavily.

“Oh, I am interrupting something?” Karl says, struck by a peculiar energy.

“Besties time Karl, besties time,” Sapnap mumbles beneath his breath and it chimes a little like disappointment.

“Well, too bad I guess,” Karl exclaims. “It's about time I meet miss Bunnyshow.”

Karl is like that gif of a cat sitting in a tiny box with the caption “if it fits, I sit”.

“Does that mean our passive aggressive subweet arc is over?” You ask, faking the dejection when your smile grows wide.

“Oh god, I hope not. That’s my favorite part of the day.”

"It means a lot to me. Especially coming from my comfort streamer Karl Jacobs," you confess.

Satisfied, your attention gets back on the game; flowers rooting gracefully into the dirt and hives ready to host the beloved honey bugs as Karl and Sap catch up on time being apart. Everything is quiet and peaceful like the end of an afternoon well spent.

“I like your garden,” Karl points out and you hum a thank you beneath your breath.

“So you can take Karl’s compliments but not mine.”

“We’re besties you’re honor. Sapnap you can leave now, thank you,” Karl giggles and you follow along.

“Sorry Karl, there’s only room for one man in my heart and that has to be Sapnap.”

He fakes a cry to keep the theatrics before adding without transitions, “You know if you asked Dream he’d probably let you on the SMP.”

“No thanks,” you grin.

“Sapnap, your girl doesn’t want to play with us.”

“She’s already been whitelisted for months now,” Sapnap informs but fails to comment on the first part of the complaint.

He’s not lying, but you feel like it says more about Dream’s stubbornness than it says about you. As for your best friend, he understands better than anyone that wish for privacy and it’s something made of respect like yours for his career. You’d rather see him shaped by all the light than being touched by a glimpse of it. He does, after all, deserves it all. So, that’s the contract you made with yourself because it made sense; being a supportive shadow. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that you’ve never considered streaming before. It’s that it’s his world more than yours.

Karl, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to think the same way, “This is unacceptable, I gotta send a few texts.”

“Lost cause, dude, lost cause,” you grin but stubbornness seems to be a pre required trait for those mcyts.

Before you have time to find a suitable comment about the newborn group chat, a new person joins the call and Sapnap's annoyance is even more palpable, "No fucking way dude. We can't even have a second of peace on this server."

"Why would you be in a discord call if you want peace. You're just dumb," Quackity retorts with an energy he and he only can ever own.

Then George joins and Dream follows on his heels and soon your ears are filled with conversations that are as loud as scattered. Your shoulders sink in the back of your chair as soft fingers try to brush the upcoming migraine away. This is why you can't join the SMP; -not really but still- too much energy that has to be processed at all time. And you should know better, being friend with a very chaotic boy for the last 15 years, but you're not somehow.

"No, fuck that," Sapnap mutters. "I'm out."

"You can't leave now we have things to discuss," George exclaims. "Bunny, explain to me how Sapnap's proposition is more appealing than mine."

"Because I know her more than you do," he defends, and he's right. Money isn't of you interest. Love, on the other hand...

"Because she's like scronch'love," Karl giggles mindlessly.

"The fuck does scronch'love mean?" You ask, amused.

"It's very simple," Quackity intervenes. "If I offered you the same thing, would you even consider it?"

"Of course I would. What kind of question is that?"

"Fine. So, if Sapnap keeps his offer, here is mine; you become the president of Las Nevadas in addition to what he said."

"What?" Sapnap takes offense.

The call brims with an agitated confusion as you smile deviously, heels rooted into the floor to make your chair spin lightly and your fingers drum on your desk.

"I don't think you wanna do that," George corrects.

"Yeah, you absolutely don't," you confirm.

"Fine," he retorts. "So Sapnap's offer plus a Las Nevadas citizenship. How does that sound?"

"Like an offer I'll confider," you sigh. "So who's scronch'love now?"

"Still you," Dream answers. "Except you're also a big dummy."

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・　　 .・゜゜・　　・゜゜・

A/N : helloooo,, how are you??? this part very self indulgent and I think this fic will be in general but I hope you liked it anyway. I love the idea of c!quackity always being too much and always having something to add to be even more over the top. I'm having more trouble than I thought about Bunny's and Sap's friendship because I want them to have a very special friendship but I hope it appears as such. idk. lmk what you think and thank you for reading it it makes me very happy <3 Until next time (ɔˆ ³(ˆ⌣ˆc)

Taglist : @open-minded-chip-101 ; @itsoakaa ; @gaysludge ; @tinyegg ; @qnfdnf​ ; @paintingpetalsforyou ; @notjennaleigh ; @victoria-a567 ; @washy-washy ; @moneybagmarvel ;

[talesofstyles]

Reconcile II

Ok so I know that I wrote the first part with reader insert, but after many, many attempts to keep it that way, it just didn’t work with this one. So I’d like for you to meet Emma. This is my first time writing with OC and wow game changer. I love her and I hope you do too!

Also, I honestly can’t thank my beta queens enough @oh-honey-styles @for-fucks-sake-h 🥺💛 thanks for allll the comments and suggestions and nice words!!! ily both xx

Read part I here

Harry

“So… are we okay now?”

We’re sitting here on the sofa, finally having that very much needed father-daughter date. Granted, a movie night in was not what I had in mind. I wasn’t too thrilled when she said she wanted to just go back home after we dropped George at his classmate’s house for a birthday sleepover. I thought she would hole up in her room instead and ignore me. But she didn’t. I got us pizza for tea, and we’ve got Shrek 2 on the telly. Her animosity towards me disappeared just like that after she asked for a puppy the other day. Of course, I’m glad to have my happy-go-lucky daughter back, but deep down I know that we need to have a proper chat. The change in her behaviour is so abrupt that I know there’s a chance that my daughter is still bitter with me deep down. And that won’t do. I can take a lot of things, but my daughter’s resentment is not one of them.

“Yeah, we’re okay,” she nods as she takes a bite of her pizza. “You’re still getting me a puppy right?”

“I still need to talk to your mum about it, poppet,” I tell her. “Puppies need a lot of attention. It’s going to be hard work and that puppy is going to be a permanent member of our family. We’ve really got to think about it before we decide.”

I expect a little excitement knowing that her mum and I are really considering getting a puppy. But what I get is quite the opposite. My little girl’s gaze drops, her face slackening. Her voice cracks a little when she mumbles, “except… we’re not a family.”

I wince, realising how serious the effect our split has on my daughter. Despite Emma and I putting on a friendly, united front for our children, Minnie is still sad that her parents are not together. 

“Of course we’re still a family,” I assure her, pulling her to me for a comforting side hug. “I’m still your dad, mummy is still your mum, and you and George are still the lights of our lives.” 

“But you and mummy aren’t together anymore,” she points out bitterly. “And you live so far away from us now. I miss having you at home.”

“I know, my love,” I murmur gently, and turn sideways so she can see my face. “It’s killing me too. But you never know what the future holds, right?”

“I guess,” she says glumly.

I wish I can tell her that I’m trying to win her mum back so we can be together again, but I know I can’t do that. This is far too early. I don’t want to get her hopes up in case I’m not successful in convincing my wife to give me another shot. That’ll only break her heart all over again.

Thinking back, I realised that this is the first time we have a proper chat about our split. I fled to LA the next morning after my wife asked me to leave our marital home back in London, leaving her to sit down with our children to tell them that I was not going to live there anymore. I was shocked and angry because I had no idea what I’d done. I thought we were fine. There were no fights leading up to that. I still remember exactly what I told her. ‘You’re the one who wanted to end it, you tell them.’ And then I left.

Just like that. Without a fight.

I swear to God, it’s something that I would never be able to forgive myself. 

“How’s your mum?” 

“She’s sad,” Minnie sighs. “She cries a lot. She thinks we can’t hear her in the shower, but we can.”

Knowing I caused that physically hurts. I rub at the throb of pain behind my breastbone and I think about all those private tears I shed through it. The ones you hope are hidden and silent.

“Can I ask you something, daddy?”

“Anything, poppet.”

“Do you still get sad too?”

I’m not sure how much to divulge here. Does my daughter need to hear that I stopped eating? That I once cried in the loo at Cafe Habana, and once had to be fished out of a bath by Jeff after I turned into a human prune? I was sad. I still wear that hat. 

“I do. It’s the end of something, that’s always sad.”

“I think mum is dating someone,” she says and my eyes widen. “She told us Luke is her friend, but I think he’s her boyfriend. They’re on a date now, aren’t they?”

I can try and deny it, but I know my daughter is smart and won’t buy anything I tell her.

“What do you know about boyfriends?” I tease, my attempt to lighten up the mood. 

“I’ve just turned nine, I’m not stupid,” Minnie rolls her eyes. “‘Sides I’m thinking about getting one of those boyfriend thingies.”

I sit there slack-jawed, and my daughter roars with laughter.

“Minnie Alexandra, you’re going to drive me to an early grave, you know that?”

“Hey, what are you middle naming me for? I was joking!” She says, still laughing as she picks a piece of pepperoni off her pizza.

“How do you feel about your mum dating again?” I ask her.

She pauses. “I don’t know yet. As long as he’s nice and doesn’t put me under the stairs…”

“I’m sure he won’t. In the attic maybe,” I joke.

She laughs again. I’m thinking about keeping that bloke in the attic so my wife won’t date him anymore. Or even better, six feet under my patio. That’ll do.

“It’s gonna be okay, right, dad?”

Honestly, I’m not sure. But I don’t have the heart to tell her that.

“Yeah, Min. It’s gonna be okay.”

***

I see the headlight shining into the front windows as I walk down the stairs from tucking my daughter into her bed. That must be Emma and her date. I pull back the curtain a little to peek outside, and I’m right as I see that bollockface’s car in front of the house. 

You know that saying; curiosity killed the cat? Well, in my case, curiosity fucked me with a chainsaw. 

I’m a bloody idiot. I should have just closed the curtain back as soon as I recognised the car. I mean… it’s the end of a date. What did I expect to see? A high five? I knew I was so sure when they left that he would not be getting anything more than a friendly kiss, but that date must have gone really well, because right now, my eyes may as well fall out of their sockets as I see that bastard’s tongue down my wife’s throat. 

I’m frozen. I’m gripping the curtain so tight that my knuckles are turning white. I stand there—stunned. Watching. I’m not even sure for how long. It does feel like forever. Like an eternity. 

In hell.

And then Emma pulls back, and everything seems like a blur. I have to remind myself that my daughter is sleeping upstairs so I won’t go apeshit and knock that wanker square on his arse. 

I’m still glued to the floor by the door. I’m too shocked to move. I hear the sound of keys rattling before the door swings open, and she looks surprised when she sees me.

And all hell breaks loose.

“What the fuck, Emma?!” She jolts at hearing me shout. I rarely did it. In fact, I’m not even sure if I’d ever yell at my wife before throughout our marriage. “You told me last night you’d never even kissed him. You told me you weren’t ready.”

“I- I don’t know. He caught me off guard. That was-”

“I told you I wanted to make this work,” I remind her, trying to lower my voice so I won’t wake my daughter up. She doesn’t need to see this. “Us. Our marriage. I told you I wanted to fight for you. But I can’t do that with someone shoving their tongue down my wife’s throat, can I?”

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I see her tear up and I immediately feel regret. That was harsh. But before I can apologise, I can see her lip curls up and I know she’s about to get nasty. It’s a rarity with her when we’ve fought in the past, but I feel it coming.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” She sneers. “You think that if you put a toy down, it’ll still be sitting there when you want to play with it again.”

“That’s-”

“You have no right to be upset at me. We’ve split up for nearly a year now. What I do and what I don’t do on my dates is none of your business.” 

“I want us to give our marriage another shot,” I say in exasperation. “I want to try to win you back, but fuck’s sake you’re not even giving me the time of day.”

“Oh, look how the tables turned,” she taunts. “Sucks, innit? Being the one struggling to find the time when it seems like the other doesn’t give a crap?”

“Cheap shot, Ems,” I retort.

“Truth hurts, doesn’t it, H?” 

Emma averts her eyes, her lower lip quivering. I can’t tell if she regrets her harsh words or not, but she doesn’t look back my way, and she seems to have said her piece.

I knew sooner or later this was bound to happen. We never had our big fight, not even that night when she decided that enough was enough.

“I cannot possibly go through that again. It physically hurts,” she says softly. “I know I was the one who ended it, but when you just left like that the next morning without so much of a fight as if ten years means nothing to you… that really did hurt. You left me alone to talk to the kids about what happened. And sure, you did call every day. But it took you nearly nine months to finally come and see your children?”

“I needed some time. Some space,” I tell her. “Do you think it’s easy for me being there? Away from my wife and kids?”

“You chose to be there.”

“You know I couldn’t stay in London,” I murmur. “It’s too hard. At least in LA sometimes I can just pretend that everything’s okay. That we’re okay. That my wife and kids will be there waiting for me when I get home. I can’t do that in London.”

“That’s a shit excuse and you know it,” she mutters.

“I still love you, Em,” I say with a sigh. I know trying to defend myself further for what I did will get me nowhere. “We can fix this. We can be a family again.”

“Harry, it’s too late.”

“Is it him?” I can’t help but go there, because that’s a possibility. “Do you love him already?”

“Luke is a fresh start for me, H. I may not love him now but at least it doesn’t hurt looking at him. It took me months to be able to get back up again, to get to where I am right now. To finally find a little bit of peace.”

Emma’s head hangs low, and she rubs at her temple with her fingers. I want nothing more than to pull her into my arms. But by how stiff her spine is, I can tell she wouldn’t come willingly. 

“I’m sorry, Emma,” I whisper, resigned. Tears well up in our eyes. There’s nothing I can say that will change her mind because we’re not seeing eye to eye. She’s still focused on the past, not that I blame her because I did hurt her badly, but I know that there is no way we can go anywhere if she can’t see past the harms I’ve caused in the past.  “I hope one day you’ll be able to forgive me.”

“I’ve forgiven you a long time ago,” she says, her expression softens. Her thumb runs at a part of her finger where a ring used to be. “Now, I just want us to try and make this separation work. Focus on the kids. Let’s do the right thing by them.”

I nod.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah.”

“When did it all start?” I ask, my voice cracks a little. “When did you start feeling like you’re invisible to me?”

“I’m not sure I can point down to one exact moment,” she takes a shaky breath and pauses. “The change was gradual that by the time I realised it, I didn’t even recognise us anymore. I spent days and nights wondering what happened to us. That wasn’t us.”

I wipe that one tear running halfway down her cheek, and as soon as my thumb touches her skin, I lose it. I can’t help it by this point. Tears flow as much as I try to hold them back. She’s crying too. This is painful. 

“And it’d be too easy to say that I felt invisible,” she continues. “Because the truth is, I felt painfully visible. You ignored me on purpose. I wasn’t even sure what I was to you anymore, because the only chance for me to get your attention was by getting you in bed. And that was wrong. It hurts, because it felt like you only needed me to warm your bed.”

I want to deny that statement. I want to yell it’s not true. That I never intended to take her for granted. That she still makes my heart skip a beat like a bloody teenager seeing his first crush. 

But I don’t.

Because she’s right. I’m not sure what happened either, but we’d changed. Maybe it’s our jobs, maybe it’s the endless responsibilities. Domesticity, children, they wore us down. Kisses became perfunctory. Hugs became less frequent. Hell, I couldn’t even remember the last time I took my wife for a date night other than for social obligations.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her again. I’ll spend the rest of my life apologising to her if I have to, she deserves it. “I hurt you badly. I really am sorry, Emma.”

“It wasn’t all you though,” she mumbles. “I never called you out on it.”

“You didn’t,” I reply. “I never worked out why?”

“I swept it under the carpet because it was embarrassing. It felt silly having to ask for your attention. And I don’t know… pride, maybe? And the kids. I didn’t want them to know something was wrong. So I played along and carried on like nothing was happening.”

“When really…”

“It was like a punch to the guts each time. You were an excellent father. You still are, the kids adore you. This may sound insane and it’s embarrassing and painful for me to admit this, but there were times when I saw you with the kids and I couldn’t help but feel jealous. When you couldn’t even be bothered to look at me… it felt like you took a dump over all my love for you.”

“Emma…”

“I wish I could get past that. I wish I could just forget what happened and trust you again.” 

I bring her in for a hug and say nothing. She needs to get this all out. This is part of the process, and I’m here to listen. 

But where do we go from there?

Reconciling a broken marriage is tricky. I am not a violent person but I have never wanted to strangle people as much as I want to strangle those who wrote articles with countless advice regarding this subject, making it seem like it’s easy. Talk it out, get your point across, and you’re out of the dog house. Well, you know what, bollockface? It turns out that listening is not enough. Sod you and your dumb articles. 

All I know is that I can’t rush this. She’s not ready, and that’s okay. Right now, we both have things to work on. She needs to learn to let go of her resentment, and I have to learn not to take anything and anyone for granted ever again. This is killing me, but there is no one to blame but myself. I take solace in knowing the fact that I don’t know what’s going to happen in the future. Maybe one day we’ll be back together. Maybe we won’t. 

“Thank you for telling me all that,” I mumble against her hair. 

“Thank you for listening,” she looks up and gives me a sad smile.

***

Emma comes from a big family. 

There’s Jamie, her eldest brother and the only guy. I think the fact that he grew up surrounded by sisters was what made us the closest in the first place. He hates wine, even though he makes a career out of managing his own vineyard. I know, the irony. The next is Suze, sister number one who lives in Sheffield with her husband and three girls. Suze and her husband are both orthopaedic surgeons. Then my wife, the middle child. Then Meg, sister number two who just had a baby. It’s another girl so my George is still the only grandson in the family. And then Lucy, the youngest of the clan who’s still in university. 

They all live nearby, and I knew that all my in-laws hated me a tiny bit for taking their daughter and sister away. They were a hard outfit to infiltrate. You don’t enter into a relationship with one of them, you get a whole gaggle of them. It was hard to get in, but once you’re in, you’re in for life. 

After we’d split, I called my parents-in-law the next morning just before my flight to LA. I wasn’t sure whether or not Emma had told them about what happened, but I felt like it was the right thing to do. After all, they’d become my parents too for a decade. So I explained and apologised. Of course, I didn’t tell them the details because I knew they were between Emma and me, and they respected us enough not to ask. They were upset, but they also understood that these things happen in life. All they wanted was just for their grandbabies to come out of this unscathed. 

Now here I am, walking behind Emma and our children as we step over the threshold into her parents’ home for their monthly roast. Her parents invited me and I accepted. I don’t want to turn down any extra time I have with my kids as I’ve decided to leave today and head back to London. I was prepared to stay longer, take some time off work and fight for my marriage, but since it all has gone to pot, I figured I should leave. The world doesn’t stop even when you’re struggling with marital woes. I’ve got work to do, and I also know that it is best to give Emma space. 

I hear voices as we walk inside.

“If littl’uns are going in highchairs then what’s that extra space for?” I hear Meg’s husband say.

Meg tells him. “Count again, addition was never your strong point.”

“Oh.”

The house is suddenly quiet when they see me. This is my first time seeing the whole family again after we split, and even though my parents-in-law and I are on good terms, and Jamie too, I know the sisters would be a different story. All four of them are beyond close and they’re now looking at me as if they should’ve chucked me in the oven instead of the chicken.

You don’t do that to our sister. You hurt one, you hurt all of us. 

“Uncle Harry!” Freya shouts in excitement. She is one of Suze’s daughters. She and her twin sister Tessa are only a few months older than my George.

Suze, who is sitting on the sofa, looks a bit sullen, not knowing what the right call is to make. Meg and her husband freeze. 

“Alright there, mate?” Jamie greets me, trying to ease the tension. Suze glares at him.

“Are you here to do magic then, Uncle Harry?” Tessa asks. 

I bend down to her level. “Not sure I know any magic, Tessie.”

“Yeah you do!” Freya pipes up. “Because when we were driving here, daddy said you did a disappearing act on Aunty Ems. Show us what you did!”

“FREYA!” Her dad barks.

Meg can barely contain her giggles.

“But we like magic. You’re rubbish at magic,” she says to her dad. He widens his eyes. 

The sisters are now all smiling smugly, knowing a couple of six-year-olds just shamed me on their behalf. Extra roast potatoes for those two.

Lucy, the littlest sister, suddenly enters. That’s definitely not a happy face. “Oh, it’s you. Is that why everyone went so quiet? What are you doing here?”

“Luce,” Emma mutters.

“Because I invited him,” says a voice emerging from the kitchen. My father-in-law. “Harry, glad you could make it.”

“Of course,” I reply. “Thanks for the invitation.”

Lucy stares daggers at her dad, knowing she can’t unleash her trademark rapier wit as she’s surrounded by her little nieces and nephews. That one may be the youngest but she’s the scariest out of all the sisters, my wife included.

“Look, if it’s weird, I can just leave?” I offer.

“Nonsense, you must stay for supper,” Emma’s mum replies.

“Yeah, Harry, stay,” says Emma’s dad, staring at his daughters. “I want you lot to be nice. Otherwise, I’m putting you on the kids table. You hear me?”

The three of them nod in unison. 

“You two look well,” I say, my attempt to make small talk. 

“You know, dad’s been singing this morning,” Emma’s mum chirps, tilting her head towards her husband. “He joined a male choir. They think they’re Westlife.”

We all can’t help but laugh. This is classic mum. The tension seems to ease away. 

Let’s just hope it stays that way.

***

There’s a strange feeling of déjà vu as I take a seat on the steps in front of the cottage. 

I’m all packed up and ready to go. My weekender bag is in the boot of my car. Nothing left to do but say goodbye to my wife and kids, but I don’t go straight inside. 

Not yet. I need a moment.

These steps witnessed a lot of our marriage even though we’d never stayed here for longer than a couple of weeks at a time. We loved to sit out here in the summer. I remember when I first brought my stuff here shortly after we got married, we sat out here with beers, sleeves rolled up, boxes stacked into Jenga-style columns. 

I also remember sitting here last year on Christmas morning. Emma and I were both in our pyjamas and slippers, sipping coffees out of our matching Christmas mugs. We watched the kids ride their new scooters up and down the street. Everything was perfect. I had no idea that my marriage would end in just two months after that.

“Harry?”

I look over my shoulder and I urge her to sit beside me. She comes over and does just that. There is silence. We don’t say a word to each other. A quiet hum of traffic in the distance, puffs of breath cloud the air making me think we should both be wearing coats. Christmas is nearly here again. My heart aches at the thought of this being our first Christmas since everything fell apart.

“I’m sorry,” she says softly.

“I should be the one apologising, Em.”

“I know you wanted to work things out,” I hear the sadness in her voice. “I really loved you, you know that, right?”

“I do,” I nod. “Our marriage, all those years… it wasn’t all bad, though, right?”

“Of course,” she quickly replies. “We had our moments. We have Minnie and George.”

We pause, letting that sink in. In all this mess, those two were and remain everything, some symbol of our marriage not being a complete disaster. 

“There were also times when you were a good husband,” she adds.

“Why do I feel like you’re going to pat me on the head?”

Emma laughs under her breath.

“Your new bloke seemed a nice sort,” I tell her, because it’s true. I may hate the guy with a burning passion, but that’s only because he’s dating my wife. 

“He is.”

“That got legs?” I ask her.

“Possibly.”

“I want you to be happy, Ems,” I tell her. “With or without me.”

“Harry…”

“But I also want you to know that I’ll be waiting for you. No rush, no timeline. I’ll wait for as long as it takes. Because for me, it’s either you or no one else.”

The front door opens and two little faces pop out from behind it.

“What are you doing out here? It’s freezing!” Shouts Minnie.

“Well then come here and give me cuddles to warm me up,” I tell her.

Emma and I take a kid each. She takes George and lets him entangle his legs in hers, cradling himself into the hook of his mummy’s arm. Minnie uses me like a climbing frame. I bop her on the nose as I’ve done since she was a baby, and I like that it never stops being hilarious to her. The sky starts to dim, trees casting shadows onto the pavement. A house down the road has some festive lights that switch on and flicker on and off in strange syncopated patterns.

“This is nice,” Minnie mumbles. “I miss the awesome foursome.”

“The awesome foursome, huh?” I ask.

“That’s what you used to call us,” I hear the sadness in her voice and my heart aches. I know she feels this all a lot more than her little brother. “I still remember.”

“Do you really have to go again, daddy?” George looks at me with sad puppy dog eyes. 

“Yeah, do you?” Minnie asks. “I love having you here.”

“I do, my loves,” I reply sadly. “Be good for mummy, alright? I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

“I don’t like seeing you go,” George mumbles.

The emotion is a little unbearable and I see a tear trail down my wife’s cheek. George looks petrified seeing his mum cry. 

“Don’t be sad, mummy.”

“I’m not sad,” she shakes her head, quickly wiping the tear off her cheek. “I’m just sorry daddy and I couldn’t make it work.”

“Did we do something wrong?” George asks, looking at his mum and then me.

“Oh, mate,” I reach out to cup his face, Emma pulls him into a hug. “Of course not. You didn’t do anything wrong. You two are perfect, you hear me?”

“Do you still love each other?” Minnie asks.

Emma looks at me in the eye as she answers our daughter. “I’ll always love your dad, because he gave me both of you.”

“And I’ll always love your mum,” I say, my eyes pinned on my wife. “No matter what.”

Emma

“So… tell me, he a good lay? He looks the sort to have some girth.”

I probably should have warned you beforehand about this sister of mine.

Lucy is my entertainer sister who has done every job going alongside studying. She went to dance school, spent six months on a cruise ship, has been an extra and once did a two-month stint in Les Misérables. On weekends she dresses up as Disney characters and does kids’ parties which means she owns a lot of wigs and always has glitter in her bra. She’s the fun one. I keep her close because as much as I love my other siblings, this one has been a good entertainment through my separation. Mum suggested for her to live with me for a couple of weeks when I first moved back to the Peak, and I’m so glad she did. It was around the time I lost a stone and would spend most of the time napping, crying and staring at the wall, surviving on cups of tea and Rich Tea fingers. She couldn’t cook or clean and she used all my shampoo but she brought some light into the house when grey clouds threatened to consume it. She was also a great distraction because I could live vicariously through her tales of going to gigs and clubs and hear how she’s not slept and got her boobs out for reasons of fun and frivolity.

However, when you talk to her, she always goes there. She’s brash and has no conversational limit. She thinks her purpose is to not only feed me but also revive a pretty dead sex life too. Actually, it’s not just her. After my husband and I split, my sisters think it’s their job to pique my interest in men again. Luke happened after a boozy Chinese takeaway about two months ago when I joked that a spring roll was the most phallic thing I’d had in my mouth for over half a year. I remember a dumpling rolled out of Meg’s mouth in shock, so Suze decided to play the matchmaker and introduced me to Luke who worked at the same hospital with her.

Tonight, we’re having another takeaway night since my parents have all the grandchildren for the weekend. Bless them for entertaining that crew of children we seem to have acquired over the past nine years. We have seven between Suze, myself and Meg, and I just hope that my parents are well stocked with wine. They will need it. 

We all sit around my dining room table with the remnants of a KFC bargain bucket, a selection of Thai food, a giant bag of chips and some battered sausages. I’d admit that we were already a little drunk to buy food sanely. Luke is also here, I thought it’d be nice to give my sisters the chance to get to know him. And it doesn’t take Lucy more than thirty seconds after Luke gets up to take a phone call before asking such questions. 

“I don’t know? I haven’t slept with him yet.”

Lucy looks at me in confusion. “But you’ve been on dates and stuff?”

“We did have a cheeky snog last week but we’re taking it slow.”

“What are you waiting for? Just go shag him. Erase the memory of that wanker?” 

“Hey, he’s your niece and nephew’s father,” I chastise her for calling Harry names. “Don’t call him that.”

“Why don’t you want to sleep with Luke?” Meg, my other sister asks me. “Lucy is right though. He’s really tall, I bet he’s VWE.”

“What’s that?” I ask.

“Very well-endowed.”

I chuckle. “Honestly, I wouldn’t know what to do with it.”

Meg giggles and places her head on my shoulder. 

“Last time I had sex was on Valentine’s Day, girls. Do your maths. The next day, my marriage collapsed.”

Both of them huddle into me like penguins. 

“Which is why you just need to get over yourself,” Lucy remarks. “You need to remember what sex is like. It’ll be fun and make you feel good. If you don’t want to do it with Luke, you can have some taster session? I’ve got a uni mate who’d shag you.”

“Lovely. No.”

Lucy huffs. “You’re so boring.”

“Honestly, Em, Luke is fit. Seems like a nice fella, and he genuinely likes you. I’d have a go on him if I weren’t married. You should just do it,” says Meg.

“Yeah, you could shag him tonight,” Lucy adds. “Meg and I can piss off out and then…” 

Then she does a strange rave-style dance as she thinks of her plan coming together. Luke returns from his phone call and Lucy jiggles in her seat. Don’t you bloody dare. 

“Luke, we need more wine,” says Lucy. “There is not enough and we thought you could walk down to the shop and get some?”

Meg and I look at each other for a second, wondering what our sister is up to. 

“Sure, yeah, I could get wine,” Luke replies. “Any other requests?”

If she tells him to get condoms in then I will skewer her with a chopstick.

“Anything you might fancy or need?”

She’s walking an incredibly thin, thin line. 

Luke gets up to retrieve his coat and grazes my hand as he does. This move doesn’t go unnoticed by Meg and she gives me a sly wink. I hand him my keys and he heads for the front door. Meg stares Lucy out.

“Seriously?” She says.

“We need to prepare you if you’re going to sleep with him.”

“Like mentally?” I ask.

“Like have you had a tidy? This will be your first time. You’ll need to at least tidy up the flaps and do a bit of topiary.”

“LUCY!” I gasp and laugh at the same time, holding my hand to my face. Who is this woman? How can you raise five children in the same house and come up with such a random entity?

She stands up and heads for my kitchen drawers, rifling around until she pulls out a pair of scissors.

“Show me your bush,” she orders.

“Lucy! I prepare food with those scissors.”

“And we’ll wash them?”

Meg is in hysterics as she sees this scene unfolding in front of us.

“I’m not getting my bush out in my kitchen.”

“You’re so dull,” Lucy complains. “I’m trying to help here. What are your pits like? Shame there’s no time to tackle your upper lip.”

I put my hand over it instinctively. “I’ve got a moustache?”

“Well, you’re not Tom Selleck but it could do with a bleach.”

“You’re being cruel now, Luce,” Meg giggles. “But I think we do need the comedy of seeing Lucy trimming your bush in the kitchen.”

I stand up reluctantly and unbutton my jeans.

“Ha!” Exclaims Lucy. “You’re wearing nice knickers, you knew this was going to happen. Just peel them back a little and let me have a look.”

“Be quick for fuck’s sake. This is something that no one needs to see.”

“Do you want a shape?”

“What?”

“Yeah, like a heart? It’d be cute.”

“No!”

Meg roars with laughter.

“I’ll just trim the length then,” says Lucy. “Meg, put your hand out.”

“Do I have to?”

“Don’t you love your sister enough to at least hold her pubes?”

I’m not even sure what’s happening here. One sister is very close to my private regions with a sharp object and I hear the creak of metal as she shears away. The other collects the trimmings in a napkin in her palm. This feels like an opportune moment to ring Suze, our other sister, and start a FaceTime chat. That time we all took one for the team so Emma could reclaim her sex life.

“Thanks, Luce.”

“You don’t say this enough I feel.”

“We really don’t,” says Meg.

“Want me to look at yours, Meg?”

“I’m good.”

“What if he’s into weird stuff?” I ask.

“Like?”

“I don’t know… maybe like choking? Stuff like that.”

“Well, no one breaks out all the moves on their first time,” says Meg but Lucy gives us a look like she begs to differ.

“And I’m not on anything. I stopped the pills months ago. What if I get pregnant?”

“That’s what condoms are for?” 

They both give me a look that says I am not fourteen and that I should have an inkling about how reproduction works and the preventative measures that I can put in place to stop myself from getting pregnant. 

“How do I initiate it?”

“Maybe you could dance for him?” says Luce mockingly. “You’ve both had a drink, let it just happen. Planned sex is the worst kind of sex.”

“I planned nothing. You’re the one who’s got the kitchen scissors.”

“I’m done, anyway. Not my finest work but then at least he’ll be able to find it?”

Meg laughs again as she goes to the bin with her napkin of pubes. I do my jeans up and sit at the table, downing what’s left in my glass. What if he can’t get it up? Or worse, what if he doesn’t like my boobs? I have modest boobs. They wouldn’t win any competitions. What if he wants better boobs?

“You’re overthinking,” says Meg.

“I haven’t got any condoms.”

Lucy reaches inside her handbag, pulls out two packets of johnnies and hands them to me. How far ahead has she planned this?

“Any other excuse?” Lucy asks.

“Look, tonight, just get naked with the fella, have some bloody fun. Enjoy yourself.”

I hear the key go in the latch of the front door. That was quick. Crap. Luke enters the kitchen with two bottles of red that I immediately feel guilty about as I’ve got a rack of it in the utility room. He also carries a few packs of crisps and takes the kitchen scissors that were on my table.

“No!” I stop him. “Those need to be washed.”

He looks at me in confusion and I love that he puts them in the sink without any further questions asked. He rips opens the packet of crisps with his hands instead.

“Crisps?”

Lucy grabs a handful of crisps before she grabs her phone, pretending to read some texts. “Bollocks! Meg, we forgot about the party.”

Meg quickly plays along. “Oh yeah, crap. It’s that birthday party, innit?”

I feel awful. I’m sending the sisters back out into the cold so Luke and I can have the house to ourselves. They both keep winking at me which is more down to the fact that they’ve had at least a bottle of wine each for themselves tonight. Luke stands at the kitchen door while I wave everyone off. This feels weird. 

“Have fun, kids!” Chants Lucy as she shepherds Meg away from the house. I shut the door.

And then there were two. I turn around and Luke is no longer at the doorway. I tiptoe into the kitchen to find him stacking plates. 

“Shall we tidy up now?” He asks.

“It can wait.”

My phone on the table lights up with an incoming text. It’s Lucy. Don’t forget to adjust your tits. Make sure they’re facing forwards. Show a bit of bra. 

Does this mean my boobs are not always facing forward? Where are they looking? This isn’t helping at all. I ignore it.

“Alright,” Luke says with a smile that makes me feel relaxed but also on the faint side of nauseated. It’s probably first time nerves. Is it weird that I’m thinking about the cleanliness of my bedroom? Did I pick up yesterday’s bra from the corner of my room? Do I remember how to go down on a man? What if he doesn’t fancy me?

Sometimes I can’t help but wonder whether my marriage ended with Harry because I was terrible in bed. Maybe I wasn’t attractive enough. I’ve had kids, parts of me are stretched and doughy. Maybe I didn’t provide what he needed. 

In the last year of our marriage, I think it’s safe to say that I was mainly the one to initiate things between us and my success rate wasn’t 100%. There’s this nagging thought in my head that maybe even on those nights I succeeded, those were just pity shags.

You know what, sod it. 

I grab him by the collar and kiss him. He stumbles a little but then lets his body fold into mine. I can do this. Crap. He’s lifting me up. He sits me on the counter and I’d like to say the moment overtakes but there’s red wine inches from my arse so I move the glass with my hand whilst still kissing him. We’re kissing. This is weird. It’s different. It’s not my husband’s lips. Why am I thinking about my husband’s lips? 

I shake my head, banishing that image. Harry doesn’t belong in this room with me right now. 

I feel his hands in the small of my back and then he lifts my jumper over my head. I’m in my bra. Don’t overthink it. Oh, the bra is off. My nipples are out in the kitchen. I run my fingers through his hair as he trails kisses down my neck. Is it weird that right now, at this very moment, all I can think about is that his blond, floppy hair looks like a golden retriever?

I gasp and push him away involuntarily when his mouth wraps on my nipple. This is wrong. This feels wrong. I thought it was just first time jitters but now I think this is deeper than that. 

“Are you alright?” He asks, looking concerned.

I grab my jumper and quickly put it back on. “I… I’m sorry, Luke. I can’t. I have to go.”

“Emma, I’m sorry,” his face reads panic. “Did I read the signals wrong? I thought you wanted this. I feel terrible. I’m so sorry.”

“No, please don’t apologise,” I say hastily. “You didn’t. I did want this. Or so I thought. It’s just… I’m not ready. I don’t think I’ll be ready any time soon. Or ever.”

“What do you mean? Are you breaking up with me?”

I have to be straight with him. I take a deep breath. “I want to give you the opportunity to walk away. You’re a good guy, Luke. I just don’t think it’s fair for me to string you along if we can never progress.”

“Is it your ex-husband?”

He’s still my husband. But I don’t say this out loud. 

“He told me that he wanted to give our marriage another shot about two weeks ago when he was here,” I tell him. “I did say no right away. I didn’t think it was a good idea. But…”

“Is it really?” He asks. “You two have a lot of history. Two kids. Why wouldn’t you give him a chance?”

“I’m worried.”

“And what are you worried about?”

“My heart?” I say quietly. “I don’t want to go through that again.”

Luke smiles at me through sympathetic eyes. “Listen to me, Emma. I’m not a cardiologist, but I know that the hearts are the strongest organs in the human body. They can go through anything.”

What happens next feels like a blur. All I know is that by midnight, I’m already halfway down the M1, on my way to London. 

Harry

It was a knock on the door that woke me up.

When I first open my eyes, I’m disoriented. I don’t know what time it is, or how long I’ve been asleep. Then I realise I’m on the sofa, and it’s still dark outside. It’s also raining. I walk towards the door and open it, just in time to catch a figure going down the steps, which doesn’t take me more than a second to recognise. I am in complete shock. Is this real? Is that really my wife, standing in front of my door in the middle of the night? Or are my eyes deceiving me?

“Emma?”

She stops on the pavement and slowly turns to face me. She’s spooked through—her jeans moulded to the curves of her legs, the sleeves of her jumper dripping, her hair flat, lips slightly tinged with blue.

“I don’t know why I’m here,” she says. “Don’t know what I was thinking.”

I open the door wider, and my voice is drowsy and deep when I say, “Come on, let’s talk inside.”

She takes a step back instead.

“I just… I wasn’t thinking. I’m here. I don’t know why,” she sounds genuinely bewildered—even a little panicked.

“Are the kids in the car?” I ask her and she shakes her head. The wind blows, spraying ice-cold drops across my bare skin where my shirt hangs open. “You’re shivering, honey, come inside.” 

She stares at me, so many emotions swirling in her expression. She’s like a skittish kitten who can’t decide if she should let the stranger pat her head or haul up the nearest tree. It breaks my heart.

“I don’t think I can.”

So I go to her. 

The rain is cold and hard, soaking my shirt. Her eyes dart from the pavement, to my chest, up to my eyes and back again, like she’s ready to bolt—but her feet stay glued.

I lean in so she can hear me through the rain. “Do you remember the first time we went to Paris together? When we were young and crazy enough to only rent one electric scooter for both of us, and we rode around the city at night?”

The corners of her mouth tug up a little. “I remember.”

“But then I was going way too fast and we hit a rock, and both of us went flying. I didn’t want to ride anymore the next day, because I was afraid you’d get hurt. Do you remember what you told me?”

“I said…” she begins, her eyes meet mine. “I said we had to keep riding. Because it’s the only thing that made falling worth it.”

I nod tenderly and hold out my hand. “I’m not going to let us fall this time, Emma.”

Her eyes are back on the pavement. “I’m not sure-”

I know she still doesn’t trust me. I know that sadness on her face and how it penetrates so deeply. I know she’s probably better off without me, the bastard who crushed her heart and soul and took her for granted for years. 

We shy away from the things that hurt us. But that’s what scars are for. They protect the wounds. They cover them with thick, numb tissue so we’ll never have to feel that same pain again. The scars that my wife has inside? They’re tough. 

I beg when she continues to stare at my hand, “Please, just come inside.”

Slowly, tentatively, her hand slides into mine. 

And we go in out of the rain.

I take her upstairs to the bedroom that used to be ours. Her teeth chatter as she sits on the edge of the bed. I throw a blanket over her shoulders, rubbing her arms, sliding down to cup her hands. 

“Shit, you’re freezing. How long were you out there?”

“A while. I was walking… thinking.”

“Just some friendly advice. Next time you go a-wandering, stop and buy an umbrella.”

Emma shivers as she laughs. I pull the blanket closer around her and rub her back. 

“So… you gonna tell me what’s this midnight adventure about?” 

Her voice comes out soft and wavering in the dark room. “I was with Luke.”

“Did he do something to you? I’ve watched enough crime documentaries to pull a perfect murder.”

She shakes her head and chuckles. “We were having a takeaway night. Meg and Lucy were there too, but then they left and there were just the two of us and-”

“Please spare me the details,” I beg.

“Nothing happened. I just… I couldn’t get through it. Your face kept popping out in my head and I knew that if I went all the way through, we’d lose our chance. And I didn’t want us to lose our chance. I know this is completely the opposite of what I said to you two weeks ago but it’s true. I wasn’t ready then and maybe I’m still not ready now, but I don’t know about the future and you said you’d wait for me and…”

Her words trail off and my chest clenches with that sublime mix of excitement and trepidation. Of wanting something so much it’s like every cell in your body is stretching, reaching for it, yet there’s a grey shadow of worry that you might never get to touch it.

“Oh, Ems…”

I cup my hands around hers and blow into them. Another shiver vibrates through her. 

For a moment we sit there in silence. Memories of us in this bed come flooding back. Of the kids piling in here bright and early, and us having cuddles and catch ups over the week just gone. Of the two of us and that sacred half an hour we had together before we go to sleep. Where we could have a proper chat without little voices interrupting us every few seconds. Sometimes we’d read together too, and other times when we just couldn’t be arsed, we’d simply spend that half an hour scrolling through memes and having a laugh together.

“You’ve got to get out of these wet clothes,” I say gently, with absolutely no teasing suggestion. We’re right on the precipice. I can feel it. And I have to tread so carefully, because one wrong move could send her away, truly lost to me.

I peel my soaked shirt off and let it drop to the floor. Her eyes move, trailing over my shoulders. I stand and slowly unbutton my jeans, leaving me in black boxer briefs. 

Her eyes follow my every move, looking at me.

I push the blanket off her shoulders and let it drop to the floor. I grasp her jumper at the bottom and lift slowly. I wait for her to push me away but she doesn’t. She raises her arms instead. I pull the jumper over her head and it lands with a plop on the floor. I remind myself not to enjoy the view. I’m trying hard not to look.

My chest rises and falls as rapidly as hers. I sink to my knees in front of her and reach out for the button of her jeans. She lifts her hips and my fingertips graze her skin as I slide them down her thighs, leaving the white lace knickers in place. 

“Get under the sheets,” I whisper and she does just that.

She scoots to her side of the bed, and I slide beside her. Without a word, she snuggles into my side. The cool feel of her flesh is a shock at first, but in just a few moments, my heat chases away her chill. Except for her feet. I practically jump when she runs one up my calf.

“Yer a bloody ice cube!”

She laughs kind of evilly. 

We face each other, almost nose to nose. Her hair still drips at the ends and a drop trickles over her collarbone, down her chest, and I’ve got to take a deep breath—because I want to lick it off her so badly.

“Talk to me,” she says softly.

“I’m taking time off work.”

“But you never take time off work?” 

“I’ve got a lot to make up to the kids,” I tell her. “So I told Jeff to bugger off for at least until after New Year.”

I see her smile in the dim light.

“I’m gonna stay up with my mum,” I add. “I’ll only be an hour away from you lot.”

This is something that I’ve been mulling about. If I really do want a chance with Emma, I need to move up there because absence does not make the heart grow fonder. That may be true in secondary school when you went away for the summer. But in marriage, especially in a broken marriage, absence separates people. It creates distance. That’s the opposite of what you’re trying to achieve. You want the closeness back.

My wife’s palm runs over my bicep—tentatively at first—then with a surer touch. “They’d love that.”

“Also, you remember my old mate Stu?” She nods. “We got in touch just earlier today. He’s got a litter of puppies and he offered one for us. I told him I need to talk to you first. So what do you think?”

“A puppy, huh?”

“A puppy.” 

“I think that’s a good idea,” she says. “But I’ve never had a dog though.”

“I can train it first at my mum’s?” I offer. “I’ll get it all settled. Then when it starts sleeping through the night, I’ll bring it over.”

“Does it make me a terrible mum for wishing we had that kind of service when the kids were newborns?” 

“We had that service. It’s called sending them to the grandparents.”

We both laugh, and when the laughter dies down, we’re silent for a few minutes. The thrum of my heartbeat jacks up as her hand continues to stroke my arm. 

“Harry?” Her voice is the barest whisper, like she’s checking to see if I’m asleep. 

“Hmm?”

“I… I’ve missed you. So much.”

And I’m done.

The need to kiss her, to touch her, has been pulling at me like a raging current ever since I saw her on the front step, and with those few words, I let the current take me. 

***

Numerous studies have shown that having sex extends the human life span. At this rate, Emma and I are going to live forever. We probably slept twenty minutes max throughout the night and I’ve lost count of the number of times we’ve done it. I’m pretty sure the last time we did something like that was ten years ago on our honeymoon. 

We’re sitting at the breakfast nook. Her hair mussy and she’s wearing one of my T-shirts. She looks freshly fucked, which I know to be true, and I reckon she’d be ready to crawl back into bed with me if I just crook my finger. But I don’t do that. Because this, us, sitting here in the morning sunlight, playing footsies under the table while we talk over coffee is all I’ve been dreaming about every morning.

“What are you thinking about?” She asks when she catches me looking.

“You,” I smile. “You look perfect.”

“No, no more,” she shakes her head frantically. “I won’t be able to walk.”

“You dirty lass, I was trying to be romantic and all that,” I can’t help but snort in laughter. “And you always do that… rebuff any type of compliment I try to give you.”

It’s true. If I tell her she looks beautiful, she waves a dismissive hand at me. If I compliment her mind, she blushes. Even an appreciative look from me has her turning shy like a schoolgirl.

When she doesn’t respond to me, I continue to poke at her. “Why is that? Why does it embarrass you when I tell you that you’re smokin’ hot?”

She wrinkles her nose at me. “Because it’s weird. I feel like you just have to say that.” 

She pretends to go through one of her old magazines from when she still lived here. I reach across the table and bat at it, causing one side to pull out of her hands and reveal her entire face to me. Now she’s glaring. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.”

And I grin when I see red stain her cheeks.

“And you’ve got the most gorgeous body. I take one look at you naked and I can’t help but get rock hard.”

“Stop it,” she blusters, now blushing all the way down her neck.

I change tactics, but I know this will embarrass her just as much. “You are the most amazing woman. Kindest, genuine and grounded. Funniest too. And you’re the best mother for our babies.”

“Okay,” she snaps at me as she closes the magazine and slams it down onto the table. “You’ve made your point.”

Chuckling, I stretch back in my chair and nudge her foot with mine under the table. “You’re adorable.”

She rolls her eyes, which I find to be beyond adorable. 

Standing up from my chair, I walk around the table and hold my hand out to her. She willingly takes it and stands when I give her a tug. It’s a natural move for her, to walk straight into my embrace and press herself against me. I tilt my head and kiss her on her jaw. “It’s something you need to get used to… compliments from me. It’s never going to stop.”

She moans softly in my ear.

“Want to know what else you’re going to have to get used to?” I whisper as I kiss my way down her neck.

Her fingers come up, tangle in my hair, and fist tightly. “What’s that?”

“My face between your legs.”

***

Some people might not put Quaglino’s into the romantic restaurant bracket, but they’d be wrong, very wrong. In actual fact, it’s quite hard to top. The interior has this 1930’s romance charm with candlelit tables, dark-panelled walls and an adjoining room for dancing to the soft tunes of the piano man singing bluesy versions of classic songs. 

Tonight, I managed to convince Emma to go out to dinner with me before she goes back to our babies. I insist on driving her since I don’t want her to drive alone at night again, which she initially refused but finally agreed.

We finish our dinner and split a slice of cheesecake for dessert. Probably not my brightest idea since I keep having to readjust myself because seeing her slowly swallow a mouthful of white, creamy concoction is a pure kind of torture. But I try to kick those dirty thoughts out of my mind and focus. 

Since last night, we’ve successfully managed to avoid the talk. It feels like we’re in a bubble where everything is perfect and we’re just scared to burst it, but I know this can’t go on. Emma and I need to have a proper chat if we want this to work.

“Penny for your thoughts.”

“You and I need to talk, don’t you think?” I begin. 

“You’re right,” she nods. “So…”

“What is this?” I gesture between us. “Are you ready to give us another shot?”

“I think so,” she nods. “But I want us to take it slow.”

“You set the pace,” I assure her. “I want this to work more than I want anything else in my life. So I’ll do whatever you want me to.”

“We’ll see this as a new dalliance,” she adds.

I know this is supposed to be serious so I try hard not to break into laughter. “Okay. I will court you but I won’t ask you to move to an estate in the country. Not right away at least.”

“I’m serious.”

“You sound like Austen.”

She rolls her eyes. “And we can’t tell anyone either.”

“I agree,” I tell her. “And from now on, we talk to each other, alright? I’ll try to make you happy the best way I know how. But if it’s not enough for you, then you need to tell me.”

She nods, but then her graze drops before she asks. “You really do want this right?”

“I told you I want this to work more than anything else in my life.”

“It’s just… when you first told me you wanted to fight for our marriage, I was overwhelmed because it was all so sudden. You told me everything I wanted to hear. Even at that moment, everything in me screamed for us to just fall back into it all the way. But there was also a part of me that thought you were just lonely, and maybe you thought that us getting back together was the answer to it.”

“Not true-”

Emma holds up her hand. “Maybe not true, but it’s my fear. That’s why I kissed Luke that night, because I was desperate. I wanted to push things with him because I knew I’d never love him the way I love you. I knew that if things went to pot, I wouldn’t be half as devastated. But with you? I don’t think I can survive that type of heartbreak again, H. You don’t know how much it killed me to end our marriage. I can’t afford to fall back into something that’s not going to last.”

“Emma,” I reach across the table to take her hand. “I can’t even imagine how hard it was for you. I know for sure it was not a decision you made lightly, nor on a whim. I wish I had fought you on it then… had fought for you then. There was a time when I thought our marriage was over, and I was going to let you go. But I’m not going to do that now. If it takes you weeks, months, hell, Emma… if it takes you years to fully trust my devotion to you, I’m in this for however long it takes.”

Emma nods, biting into her lower lip. I can see her eyes starting to water because every bit of this is overwhelming. She turns her head towards the music floating in from the other room. It’s a Van Morrison cover, Crazy Love.

“Wanna dance?”

The request takes me by surprise since this isn’t like her. But I toss my napkin on the table and move to stand next to her, holding out my hand. The simple delight on her face when her hand slides into mine is everything.

We step out onto the edge of the dance floor. I wrap my arm around her lower back, holding her tight and flush against me. One of her hands rests on my shoulder, playing with the hair at the nape of my neck. The other is clasped in mine just over my heart. We sway, eyes pinned at each other for a few moments.

“Thought you hate dancing?” I smirk.

“Still hate it,” she answers. “I’m just using it as an excuse to be closer to you.”

She sighs, practically sinks into my arms. Emma’s head fits against my chest like she was made to be there. My chin rests against her hair.

“Emma?”

She lifts her head from my chest. “Yeah?”

“You don’t need an excuse.”

She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love… 

***

“What the-”

“Oi!” I yell, quickly pulling the duvet over my wife and I. “Heard of knocking?”

“Heard of a bedroom lock?” Lucy challenges.

Last night, we drove up the M1 straight from the restaurant. We took breaks in deserted services with shiny floors and bad lighting where we had coffees and wandered around WHSmith bulk buying sweets even though it’s really not that far. But you can never have too many travel sweets, can you?

And now, here we are, back at the cottage. The kids are still at their grandparents until this afternoon so Emma and I are enjoying the benefit of having the house all to ourselves by having a morning shag. That is until one of her sisters walks in on us. I’m very aware that I’m still inside Emma.

I pull out, roll over to lay down next to my wife, and we both stare at Lucy who is dressed from head to toe like Princess Jasmine from Aladdin.

“Party?” Emma asks her sister. We both try not to giggle as she sashays in to look at herself in the mirror then perches on the bed in her harem pants. Today, she’s gone heavy on the winged eyeliner and shows off a flat midriff. I quite like the pointy silver shoes though.

“No, Tesco,” she says dryly. “Obviously a party.”

“What are you doing here?” I ask her. 

Lucy glares at me. “What are you doing here? Besides rearranging my sister’s guts, of course.”

I don’t even flinch. I’ve been married to Emma for ten years, I’m used to this sister of hers.

“I’m trying to win your sister back,” I say earnestly. I know that Emma and I talked about keeping this a secret, but she literally walked on us shagging. There’s no point in denying it. It’s best that she knows my true intention rather than thinking we’re divorced with benefits.

“Eh, about time,” she replies nonchalantly.

“Luce, please keep this to yourself for now,” Emma begs her. “This is still new.”

“I will,” she nods. “Just a friendly reminder, though, Styles. If you hurt my sister again, I won’t even think twice before starting a business selling voodoo dolls of you. Bet I could make a fortune of that.”

In their girl gang, Lucy is the wildcard, the likeliest to carry a shank. I don’t even laugh because she could be serious. 

“Duly noted.”

“What are you doing here this early?” Emma asks her sister.

“I wanted to ask if I can borrow that giant tiger in George’s room?”

“Feel free to borrow the rug in the front room as well,” I cackle.

“Ooh yeah,” Emma chirps. “Are you going to find a whole new world?”

“Have you got your Aladdin?”

She pulls a face at our mocking. “My mate who’s supposed to be Aladdin is sick so I asked Jamie to fill in and he agreed because he owed me a big favour. But this lot changed their mind and wanted a genie so now I have to go to Jamie’s and convince him to let me do a full blue body paint on him.”

Emma and I roar with laughter. “Please, please, please, take some piccies.” 

***

A month later…

I can only imagine the joy on my children’s faces when they open the door. I’ll be standing there with the pup in hand, but I know I’m practically vibrating with excitement myself. I glance over at the little dog crate that we’d prepared to transport him in. It’s a sweet, nine-week-old Bernese mountain dog. He’s pretty chill, curled into a round ball, but he’s not sleeping. His eyes are open and alert, as if he’s just waiting to find out what’s around the next corner.

The back of my Range Rover is loaded with two boxes of food, dog toys, bowls, a leash, and appropriate treats. Since I’m still crashing at my mum’s, that will go to her place for when the kids and this puppy come to stay. Emma has an identical list at her home, already purchased and hiding until we hand the puppy off to the kids.

I’ve got a feeling that today is going to be a good day. All morning, Emma and I texted back and forth. Some of it was practical, like making sure we agreed on all the dog rules we’d lay down with the kids tonight. Some of it was lighthearted teasing. Some of it was dirty.

I can’t remember the last time I texted my wife throughout the day just for the hell of it. I had fun with it, and I know without a doubt she had fun with it too. Which made me realise what a twat I’d been for never doing something as simple as letting her know she was on my mind in just such a way. 

Pulling into the drive, I cut my headlights so the kids wouldn’t see me approach. I shut the engine off, quietly get out of my side, and press the door closed quietly. On the other side, I open the passenger door, then spring the latch on the dog crate, and this tiny little puppy totters straight at me with tail wagging.

I lift him in my arms. I shut the door and then move over to the patch of grass. I put the puppy down so he will go potty before I bring him in. When I was a kid, we had a dog called Max, but I sort of grew up with him so I didn’t remember when he was a puppy. And Emma never had a dog before, so we’re sort of winging it with this puppy training thing. But I don’t fret about it. I mean, we’ve had babies, they’re harder than this, surely? 

I patiently wait for this little fella to do his business, which includes a few minutes where he attacks my shoelaces and tugs. Shite, he’s cute. 

Eventually, he sniffs around, tail high and then abruptly squats to pee. I thought boy dogs lift their legs when they pee but maybe not at this age. I immediately bend and give him praise with an upbeat, positive tone that makes him excited. Who’s daddy’s clever little fella? You are! Yes, you are! You did well, mate. That was brilliant! He puts his paws up on my shin, accepting my stretches with tail wagging and tongue lolling out the side of his head. My kids are going to fall in love with this little guy. 

I scoop him up in my arms when he’s done and make my way inside. But instead of entering from the front door, I circle the house so I can enter from the back, knowing they must be all in the kitchen as this is usually the time when the kids would do their homework for next week. Walking past the window, I see that I’m right. Emma is at the kitchen island with George next to her and Minnie on the opposite side. My heart starts beating faster at the thought of spending the day with my family—and apparently our new third child in my arms—and I find it almost shameful I have such excitement over it. Shouldn’t I have always been this excited? Or is it normal for things to just settle, and we take them for granted?

I shake that thought off of my mind. I had this important talk with my wife a couple of weeks ago about how we shouldn’t focus on the past. We’re both committed to repairing our marriage, and for it to work, we both know we must commit to living in the present. Because at the end of the day, the present is all we have.

I knock on the door and as planned, Emma will tell the kids to answer it.

In moments, it’s swinging open. I get a flash of Emma walking up behind our kids, but my eyes are pinned on them. They’re both in complete shock, eyes wide open staring at the puppy squirming in my arms.

Both stare at me mutely, frozen, as if they can’t believe that this is real.

Finally, I say, “surprise!”

Minnie’s gaze rises up to meet mine. “Is that ours?”

“This is ours,” I nod, laughing. But still, neither of them move forwards, so I goad them. “Come and get him?”

That’s all it takes for Minnie to scoop this little fella into her arms, pressing her nose into his head and murmuring little endearments. George scratches him and he reacts to their greetings by wiggling frantically and trying to lick both of my kids’ faces. They both laugh in a delighted way I’ve never quite heard before.

I look at my wife and see her tender smile as she watches our littles. I can tell she’s as charmed by it as I am. 

I walk inside because it’s colder than a witch’s tit outside and shut the door. “He just peed outside, but we need to keep a close eye on him. If he starts sniffing around or circling, that probably means he needs a wee. Scoop him up and take him out to the back. After he’s done with his thing, give him lots of praise and affirmation.”

“Got it,” Minnie says as she plops down on the living room floor with the pup. The puppy jumps around, and all three of them start to play.

“Now, what should we name him?” Emma asks.

“Droolius Caesar?” I joke.

Emma laughs. “Jimmy Chew?”

“Sarah Jessica Barker?” I continue. “Wait, no, it’s a boy. Franz Fur-dinand?”

“Sir Barks-a-Lot?”

“Deputy Dawg?”

“Bark Twain?”

We both laugh. We’re shite at this. The kids are too busy with the puppy to comment on our suggestions.

SpongeBob SquarePants is on the telly playing in the background. None of them are watching, but I see SpongeBob scratching his snail pet under the chin before he picks up said pet and says, “I love you Gary. Gary, Gary, Gary, Gary…”

“Gary,” I say. The kids look at me and I point at the telly.

“That’s a ridiculous name for a dog,” Emma cackles. “But I like it.”

“That’s a human name?” Minnie’s brows knit slightly.

“I like it!” George exclaims, then proceeds to baby talk the pup who’s chewing on the end of Minnie’s braid. “I love you Gary. Gary, Gary, Gary, Gary…”

We laugh.

“H,” Emma calls, and my gaze moves to her. She jerks her chin to the kitchen. “Help me set up the table? I’ve got a cold beer for you.”

Minnie and George still completely ignore us as we move into the kitchen. 

It would be natural for me to sit at the kitchen island while Emma gets the beer and checks on the supper, but the kids can see me from where they sit in the living room. So I follow my wife behind the island instead.

Before she can make it two steps, I move right into the back of her. Hands at her hips, I push her all the way forward until the counter catches her hips, then I dip to put my lips to her neck. 

Emma’s head falls back and she utters the tiniest of sighs, one arm looping back to go around the side of my head so she can thread her fingers in my hair. It’s an intimate embrace, but not one to provoke lust. Just a message that I missed her even though I saw her two days ago, and I love touching her in this gentle, loving way.

“The kids,” she murmurs. “They might see us.”

“Oh, the tragedy,” I whisper dryly. “Our children seeing  their parents hugging.”

Emma snickers and pulls away, glancing over her shoulder. “It would be shocking to them. And until we know for sure what we are and where we’re going, we need to keep them in the dark, remember? I don’t want them to get their hopes up.”

“You’re right,” I mumble in a low voice before moving to the island. I glance back at the living room and see the puppy on George’s back, trying to climb up. “No touching around the kids.”

She smiles and hands me a beer. She’s got one in her hand, and we tap bottles. She then moves to the oven, where she bends to take a peek through the window. Obviously, I stare at her arse as she does.

“It’s done,” she announces, opening the oven to pull the pan of shepherd’s pie.

“Need help with that?’ I ask, noting it looks like it probably weighs fifty pounds.

Twisting, she grins. “Sure. I made a double batch to send you home with some leftovers.”

That gets me. Not only she made one of my favourite meals, but she’s also sending me home with leftovers. I pop off the stool, round the island and take the two potholders she’s holding out to me.

After I carefully lift the pan from the oven, she shuts the oven door. I set it down on the two trivets she’s placed on the counter.

Bending over, I inhale the scent deeply. “Smells fantastic.”

Emma bumps her hip against me. “Well… you’ve been pretty amazing these last few weeks, so…”

I bump her hip back before sliding my hand around her waist. Bending my head, I murmur. “Admit it… it’s for the orgasms I gave you after the school run the other day.”

She chuckles with a sly smile. “Possibly.”

Leaning in closer, I touch my temple on the top of her head, lowering to a complete whisper. “You do know that I can give you that any day you want, right, Em? All you’ve got to do is ask.”

“Oh, I will,” she teases.

“What’s going on here?” Minnie says from behind us.

Emma and I jump apart as if we’d been electrocuted by each other. We spin to see Minnie standing there, with George next to her holding Gary in his arms. These two must have worn that pup out as he is still, watching us curiously.

Minnie’s expression, on the other hand, is condemning and suspicious.

“Nothing’s going on, poppet,” Emma says, her voice a little squeaky in panic. It’s adorable.

“Your mum and I were just talking,” I calmly explain.

“With your arm around her waist and whispering,” Minnie challenges. “Looks more like flirting to me.”

“Are you upset about it?” I challenge back. I knew she was upset when we separated and she struggled with it for a long time. 

Her brows knit together. “I’m just confused.”

Emma’s expression indicates she has no clue what to say. I can’t say I’m any more well equipped, but I’m going to take this one. I give my wife a subtle chin tilt, silently telling her I’ll handle this and relief evident in her eyes.

“Come on, you lot. Help me sort Gary’s stuff,” I say, herding them towards the garage. 

All three of them follow me into the garage, Gary still cosy in George’s arms. 

I immediately spot the stack of supplies, which includes a dog crate similar to mine, as well as bowls, a soft dog bed, food and toys. I pick up the soft bed towards the door that leads back into the house. Minnie turns to precede me, but I stop her. “Hang on there a second, poppet.”

When she pivots to face me her expression is guarded. “You asked about your mum and me. What do you want to know?”

“Were you two flirting with each other just now?” She demands. Crap. She’s nine. She’s not supposed to know that stuff. 

I can’t believe I get a little warm in the face at such a question, but I nod. I know it’s probably too soon to tell them but there’s no point in denying this. Both of my children are smart, and they deserve to know what’s going on. 

Her eyes narrow. “So are you… what… getting back together?”

“Does it mean you’re gonna live with us again, daddy?” George chirps.

“Not yet, nuggets. It’s not that simple.”

“It kind of is,” she replies. “You left for months. You didn’t even come during the summer. Then once she started dating Luke-”

“What’s dating?” George turns to his sister.

“It’s when you like someone and they like you back and you become boyfriend and girlfriend then you go out to eat together and do other stuff,” Minnie explains, then she continues. “Then once she started dating Luke, you’re suddenly coming around more often. And then she told me that Luke wouldn’t come over anymore and now you two are making googly eyes at each other.”

We lapse into silence for a moment. I need to think carefully about what to say next. George beats me. “I think I’m dating someone.”

“You what?” My eyes widen.

“Yeah. I asked Poppy in the playground to be my girlfriend the other day and she said yes. Then after we were done playing on the slides we got hungry so she shared her raisins with me. I also let her take a sip of my Ribena.”

I try hard not to break into laughter but Minnie doesn’t even crack a smile. 

“Okay… so here’s the thing. I was very upset. I know that was wrong of me to just leave without saying goodbye, and it was wrong of me for not visiting sooner. I needed time to let it go, and to accept what your mum wanted. But not once during that time did I not want to come back home. I’ve always wanted my family back.”

“Then what changed?” Minnie asks.

“Your mum and I spent some time apart because we both thought that was the best decision. But we were wrong. Because we realised that we didn’t want to be without each other. So now I’m trying to prove that I’ve changed. That I’m a better man, and I’m ready to be a better husband. The one your mum deserves.”

“See,” Minnie murmurs, her expression filled with confusion. George dips his head and rubs his cheek against Gary’s head, who seems to be on the verge of falling asleep. “I don’t get it. You and mum always seemed to get along great. You never argued. I never understood why you left.”

I move in close to my daughter and brush a lock of hair behind her ear. “A lot of that stuff is private between your mum and I, poppet.”

George asks. “But why can’t you just move in now, daddy?”

“It takes time, mate. Your mum and I need more time to sort ourselves out. But I promise you two that we’re trying our hardest here, okay? We need you both to be patient. Can you do that for us?”

They both nod in unison. Gary blinks twice.

“I can’t wait for us to be family again,” says Minnie.

Grinning, I bend to kiss her head. “Me too, poppet…”

***

Emma

“Gary! This way, Gary!”

Harry and I look at each other across this rather windy hilltop. The kids and Gary are exploring the neighbouring bushes and pathways as we perch ourselves on a rock nearby. We take in the view, the breeze biting at my cheeks.

My husband turns to me. “Tea? I put some whisky in it.”

“Hell, why not.”

Harry pours the tea out and we clink mugs. He brushes his thumb across my nose for no absolute reason. I was born and raised here, but this is something I’ll never tire of: these swooping hills and valleys, infinite skies and bracing breezes. As much as I loved London, I’m glad we’ve traded that life with this simpler one. There is no taxi nor Tube in sight but our kids are somehow a little bouncier and carefree. They’re happy here, and that’s all that matters. 

 “Ey up,” greets Harry at a group of people walking past us. They are obviously tourists as they have no way to respond and one of them is wearing bog standard Reebok Classics.

We hear the kids squeal in the distance and we both smile at each other. Getting that pup was probably one of our best decisions.  

“Do you remember when we first dated?” Asks my husband. “You brought me up here.”

I nod. “I do.”

“The view was decent,” he grins. 

“I know you’re not thinking about the view.”

“I was thinking about what happened when we got to the top of the meadow…”

“That was some decent shag,” I chuckle. “Nowadays, I’d worry about getting ticks on my unmentionables.”

We laugh.

I stare over at my husband taking in the view and sipping tea noisily. He always pauses for a moment on any walk to drink it all in. He rustles in his bag and gets a packet of biscuit out, opening the packaging awkwardly and offering it to me. 

“Did you know that you’re supposed to call it ‘niece’ and not ‘nice’? Apparently, they’re named after the French town.”

“That’s proper pub quiz trivia knowledge right there, Styles,” I tease.

We stay up here for a little while, but since it’ll get dark soon, we start our walk back to the car. The one thing you forget about taking kids up mountains (small hills) is that for all that experience of green space and fresh air, eventually, you will have to bring them down. Despite having an entire packet of biscuit (with a whole lot of why did you bring this one? This is rubbish. You could’ve brought hobnobs), we failed to remember to pack enough snacks and a fine drizzle is now scratching at our faces. It takes George much persuading to keep walking and by the time we return to the car, the sun is dipping behind the clouds and the twilight sits in the air. 

Harry decided it was fine to park in a deserted car park in the middle of nowhere to escape the throngs of regular walkers and tourists but strangely enough, when we get back there, we are one of six parked up.

“Come on, mate. Literally, just to the car. Like twenty more steps,” Harry begs our son to keep on walking. 

“You lied!” He complains. “You said that twenty steps ago.”

“I’ve got Haribo in the car.”

He progresses to a light canter. 

“Where did all these cars come from?” Harry asks as he approaches our motor cautiously.

“Maybe you’re not the only smart one here and people are following your lead.”

A car flashes us. 

I look around at all the cars. People are sat in them. What are they waiting for? You see this sometimes when waiting for the rain to pass or when people decide to eat their lunch in the car. 

Suddenly, I hear a car door open and a gentleman approaches us. His footsteps are low.

I know him. It’s Patrick. He’s our postman, so, yes, we have our very own Postman Pat. It was the first thing that tickled Harry when he found out years ago. And even better, the joke is not lost on Pat. His wife even got him a stuffed black and white cat for his cherry-red van window. I smile at recognising him, as do all of the occupants in our car.

“Emma, Harry, kids. Fancy seeing you here, of all places.”

“We’ve got a new dog and we were just taking him for a walk,” I inform him.

“Oh, lovely. What’s his name?”

“Gary,” the kids say in unison.

“Have you got a dog, Pat?” George asks him.

“No, my wife’s a cat lady. But funny you should mention dogs. This place here, people like to come here for that reason.”

“Gary seemed to like it,” pipes in Harry. “I think it’ll be his favourite.”

“That it is. People come here all the time for walking and with their dogs and other such endeavours.” His face looks slightly ashen at this point, his eyes darting towards the other cars. “And the other sense of the word… I just thought I would mention it as you have the littl’uns and it’s getting darker. I think someone just flashed his lights to warn you.”

Harry and I realise what he means exactly at the same time. “OH!” we say at the same gobsmacked volume. 

“Dogg…ing…” Harry mumbles. “We should-”

“Leave, like definitely leave, like now,” I say finishing his sentence.

The kids appear confused. I look around and shield my eyes. I should shield the children’s eyes. Pat’s wife waves from the passenger seat.

“Give our regards to June,” I say.

“Will do.”

He salutes us and returns to his car. The kids have all the questions. “People come here to look at dogs?” George asks. “Where are the dogs?”

“Get. In. The. Car.” Harry mouths very deliberately.

I slink into the passenger seat. Our eyes dart in different directions trying to divert focus from any of the cars ahead. We’ll be good if Harry doesn’t drive us off a cliff face. He turns on the wipers, the engine roars to a start and he pulls away slowly.

“We could have stayed and seen the dogs,” says George, a little despondently. “Gary would’ve loved to see his mates. Wouldn’t you, Gary?”

I throw a packet of Haribo at him. Harry and I are silent. We’ve just strolled our children and our very young dog into an outdoor sex hotspot. We are terrible parents. 

“Who fancies chips?” Harry says as he changes gear. He finds our littles in the rear-view mirror and studies their faces. “There’s a decent chippy down road.”

There’s a chorus of approval from the back seat. My husband smiles. He then moves his hand over from the gearstick to find mine, fingers interlocked, the sky glowing a thousand different colours.

***

“Are you calling my turkey dry?”

I look over at my older sister Suze in the corner of our family kitchen wondering where on earth she had the courage to come out with a comment like that. Even her husband stops washing up to absorb what his wife just said to our mother. I mean, you think it, but you just douse it in gravy and make do. Such is the joy of white chalky meat like turkey. Why do this now? Now she’ll harp on about the bacon she puts on the breasts and all the goose fat. But it’s Suze. She likes the challenge. I secretly think the only way she believes she can have a relationship with our mother is to spar with her regularly so they at least have one line of communication.

“It was a lovely dinner, Mum. Did you make the mince pies?” Suze winks at me.

I shake my head at her and bring the plate of mince pies through to the living room. Amidst my mother’s wreaths and tinsel wrapped around the lampshades, it’s a familiar tableau: Pop, my grandfather, asleep in the armchair in the corner, a holy green paper hat covering his eyes. Small children crawl on the floor and make angel shapes with their bodies amidst remnants of old glittery wrapping paper.  I hope Mum’s made a trifle. My other sister Meg and her husband snooze on a neighbouring sofa, catching on much needed sleep since they just had a baby four months ago and I still remember four months sleep regression is hell. I like this part of Christmas where bits of old crackers litter the floor and twilight takes over.

I take a mince pie and escape to the last vacant spot on the sofa. George rests his head on my knees. “What are you eating, mummy?” I look down at his bright green eyes and wonder how he can still be hungry as he must be ninety per cent roast potato at this point.

“A mince pie.”

“With cow mince?”

“No, like fruity bits,” I pick out said fruity bits and drop them into his mouth like a baby bird. He pulls a face, tasting it, and then walks away.

Harry smiles at me from the bottom of the Christmas tree. He’s laying down on the floor with one of my nieces. He’s always been great with kids, long even before we have our own. My niece has her palm out, and Harry runs circles in it as he sings, “round and round the garden, like a teddy bear…”

She smiles and laughs, poising her fingers, ready to bounce. 

“One step, two-step, tickle me under there,” he pretends to collapse into giggles and my niece’s little face broadens into laughter before she rolls over and walks away to play with her cousins.

Finishing my last bite of the tiny pie, I roll under the tree to join my husband. He looks at me as I cosy up next to him, the lights reflect off his eyes.

My mother likes a real tree for Christmas. It’s the smell, you can’t beat the smell. I like to think you can get that real pine smell from a good supermarket brand toilet cleaner but I don’t say that out loud for fear of incurring her festive wrath. And so there’s always a real tree and like we endured when my siblings and I were teens, there’s still a daily rota of vacuuming up the needles as we watch that bastard go crusty and brown as it’s shoved up against the radiator. 

We lay there in silence, looking up at the branches and my mother’s multicoloured lights twinkling in some erratic fashion that my eyes can’t quite handle. I’ve been to raves that were less of an assault on the senses. It’s an overwhelming memory of our childhood, lying in silence wigging out on mum’s trippy disco lights, absorbing the magic of the season. 

“You’re drunk aren’t you, tipsy-tits?”

“You were the one who poured double shots of Baileys in our coffees this morning,” I cackle.

“That’s called Christmas milk.” 

“What are you doing here?” Minnie asks, her head nestling into my shoulder. I rake pine needles from her head.

“Nothing…” Harry replies. “Where’s yer brother?”

“Here,” George suddenly appears, rolling under the tree next to his dad to join us.

“Looks like the awesome foursome is back, huh?” Harry grins.

Minnie and George hum in agreement. I can see my babies smiling. 

It’s time.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?” 

I take a deep breath. “Will you come back home with us?”

-

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[anabsolutetrainwreck]

it’s just what we know || h. styles

warnings: dad!harry, talks of pregnancy, slight mention of vomit, talks of kissing

word count: 1.6k

summary: having your second child takes its toll on you and your relationship...

Your daughter was three now. And yet it only felt like yesterday that you’d brought her home from the hospital. She’d certainly tired you and Harry out for a good while after she was born. You both loved Vera unconditionally, so when you discovered you were pregnant again, Harry was worried he’d lose a bit of his love for Vera to give to your new baby. He was scared he didn’t have enough love to share between the three of you.

He’d spend his nights awake, his hands resting on your stomach. Anne had assured him that the love one has for one’s family is never limited. There’s always enough affection to go around. Your own father had said something similar, though it was slightly less poetic.

Your second pregnancy had been far worse than your first. You felt constantly exhausted, dehydrated and sick. It amplified Harry’s guilt immensely. He already felt bad about not being able to love Vera the same as he did when she was an only child, but now you were in pain and there was nothing he could do about it. All he could do was help you sleep comfortably, fetch you water whenever you needed, hold your hair back when you were disposing whatever food you had eaten into the toilet, and provide you with plenty of cuddles.

When your baby boy arrived in June, neither of you were surprised. Your entire family had predicted a boy because Harry had an older sister and you had a younger brother. So, when George Styles arrived, you’d been overjoyed to finally meet him and to have the rough pregnancy over.

Bringing him home, where Vera finally met him, almost solidified the reality that you and Harry had had a second baby. Vera became very obsessed with him very quickly. She would get up early just to come and watch him sleeping soundly. She’d sit and admire as you and Harry took turns in putting him to bed. She hated it when he cried and she hated it when you or Harry got frustrated with him for not stopping. Vera was naturally curious.

At first, it seemed easier than you’d remembered it to be with Vera. However, it quickly became just as stressful. There was nothing as bad as putting in hours upon hours of effort to seemingly get nothing out of it. The constant headaches and heavy eyes were beginning to feel worse than the pregnancy.

You’d always been aware of how tough pregnancy could be. Watching your aunt go through it when you were younger and hearing Anne talk about it when you first revealed you were pregnant with Vera had taught you that much. But you’d never expected it to be this hard.

As of present, you were balancing George on your hip. He was almost nine months old now. He’d found such joy in tugging on your hair and your ears. You tried your very hardest to ignore his actions as you prepared dinner. With only one free hand, it made it incredibly difficult to cook. But it was your only choice. Whenever you put George down, he began crying. And the last thing you needed to hear was more of his crying.

Vera sat at Harry’s piano, pressing her fingers down on random keys, giggling loudly as she went. The tune emitted was far from pleasant. And with the combination of George’s physical torment and Vera’s masterpiece of music, you were nearing your limit.

You’d dealt with them all day. And it was definitely one of those days. To make matters even worse, Vera was going through her daddy’s girl phase. She needed to know where Harry was and when he would be back and she’d only ever do anything if Harry asked her to. As far as she was concerned, you had no authority in her life whatsoever.

Harry had been at the studio all day with Mitch, writing and toying around with the instruments there. There was only so much he could do at home without being interrupted by a clingy Vera Styles. And, as much as you knew how much his music meant to him and his fans, you just wished he’d take a day to look after Vera and George. You were constantly tired, constantly aggravated and constantly stressed. All you wanted was a break.

You heard the front door close. Harry had always slammed the door, it had just been a habit of his. That was until you first had Vera and he learnt that she became easily frightened by the loud bang and it often woke her up. And when she was awake and on edge, she wasn’t going back to sleep. Which, in turn, meant you and Harry didn’t get any sleep either.

You listened silently as Harry hung up his coat and kicked off his shoes. He wandered into the living room. You heard him gasp, “That’s beautiful! You’re so talented!”

It was swiftly followed by Vera’s giggles. She said something to him, something you didn’t quite pick up. You heard his footsteps as he arrived at the threshold of the kitchen. He grinned, “There’s my baby boy!”

You let out a sigh of relief as Harry lifted George from your arms. You smiled to yourself as Harry peppered George’s face in light kisses. He turned to you, “And my gorgeous Y/N.”

He pressed his lips to your forehead, squeezing your hand with his free one. You smiled, “How was Mitch?”

Harry sat himself down at the kitchen table, tickling George as he did so. He shrugged slightly, “He was good. We wrote a great song today, Y/N. Oh, God, you’d have loved it.”

You nodded, “I’m glad you had a great day.”

Perhaps there was an air of bitterness to your tone. But you couldn’t help it anymore. You were just so tired. Besides, Harry didn’t pick up on any traces of sourness, but a part of you almost wanted him to. Maybe then he’d bring you up on it and you could tell him about all your problems.

You felt almost guilty being the person to bring it up; you didn’t want to burden Harry with what you were dealing with. Communication between you and Harry seemed scarce these days. Sure, you’d have a brief catch up in bed, but half the time, you were asleep so quickly the conversation didn’t last all too long. And then the hours between Harry’s arrival home and when you fell asleep was only filled with Vera and George. You knew that’s what parenthood was about, but you just craved some alone time. Harry nodded, “I did. The band is gonna come down tomorrow and we’re gonna play around. You know, see if we can put some music to my lyrics.”

Slowly, you said, “So, you’re going to the studio tomorrow?”

“Yeah. I just have a really great feeling about this song, Y/N. I mean, you really would have loved it.”

“I’m sure I would,” you said, suddenly filled with the urge to cry. “Can you take over for a second?”

You gestured down to the pan you were preparing dinner in. He quickly shot up, much to the glee of little George. You wiped your hands on your trousers and left the kitchen with your head down. Rushing into the bathroom, you let it all out quietly.

You splashed your face with a bit of water in an attempt to wake yourself up a bit. It was only two minutes later that Harry wandered in, ruining your only time alone all day. Upon realising you were upset, he rushed to kneel in front of you, taking your face in his large hands. “Baby, what’s wrong?” he asked, his eyes large and inflated with sympathy.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” you smiled forcefully, kicking yourself internally for that being your default reply whenever you were asked how you were feeling.

“No, please don’t lie.”

“I’m just… just so tired,” you said, feeling lighter already for finally confessing. “I just can’t physically do it on my own. I’m so lonely all day. And I know I’m just being selfish, but I feel like I’m raising them without you. It feels like I never see you anymore.”

“You’re not being selfish, my love. Please, don’t think you’re being selfish for feeling alone. I love you. I love you so much. Okay? I’ll make the effort now, okay? I will. I promise. Please, darling, don’t keep stuff like this to yourself anymore. I need to know. I’ll tell you what, I’ll tell the band to have the day off tomorrow and I’ll stay and look after George and Vera. You can do whatever you want all day, whether that be sleep or go see your parents.”

He never failed to make you smile, with slightly flushed cheeks.

“Are you sure?”

“We shouldn’t even be a big thing. I’m their father, I should just automatically put in as much effort as you,” he said.

You sighed, “Well, yeah, but you are a lot busier than me.”

“I’m never too busy for my three angels. Alright? I love you,” he said softly, kissing you.

It felt as if something within you had reigniting. It felt as if this kind of intimacy had been lost on you and Harry since having kids. And, for a split second, you felt seventeen again. “Thank you,” you whispered, laying your forehead against his.

“Stop thanking me for doing the bare minimum. You know I hate it,” he sighed, leaning into your touch. “Now, come on, before we end up with spaghetti all over the kitchen walls.”