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seventeenpins · 1 year ago

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bad girl

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

word count: 4.1k

summary: you're staying in your hometown for a couple of months with your mom and relatively new stepdad. he walks in on you masturbating, and is surprised at the sort of porn you've been watching. no outbreak. very smutty. 18+

warnings: ooh god where to begin??, reader is kind of a detached menace but in a fun way?, masturbation, porn watching, infidelity, choking, pussy slapping, pussy eating, unsafe piv, dirty talk, big dick, daddy kink, bit of breeding kink, age difference (unspecified, but reader is late 20s, joel mid-40s or whatever you like really), begging, slight dom/sub vibes, readers mum is a ho, somewhat degrading language (probably other warnings????)

a/n: honestly don't know what happened here. one minute i was working on what i intended to be a lil daddy kink drabble and then it turned into a whole other beast. also--i'm a recently out nb person but feel most of my writing has focused on fem readers. any nbs out there who'd want smut more tailored to us??? doesn't come up in this fic, but in my heart joel miller is bisexual and would make for some gr8 gender play ahhhh

you had only met your stepdad twice before he married your mom, and only a couple of times since, and you could never quite get a read on him. he seemed quiet and gruff. upsettingly hot with his salt and pepper hair, and his biceps, and his little bit of tummy, but seemingly entirely unattainable (how your mom pulled him, you'll never know). your mom didn't have the greatest track record as far as not cheating on her husbands, and you didn't know how much or how little he knew about her past, but you were incredibly curious how long this one'd last.

he's polite. enigmatic. a man of few words. he had two kids, who you hadn't actually met yet, but they were a few years younger than you and away at college--one daughter from a previous marriage, the other adopted when he was a single dad.

you'd only been staying here for a couple of weeks, usually only home for two months out of the year to do some freelance work and catch up with friends, but since your mom got remarried (again) you're adjusting to the new dynamic. you didn't have the best relationship with your mom, but you didn't argue. didn't fight. didn't have enough interest or passion to try and make her angry. you had a mutual understanding--you'd stay here for a couple months of the year, rent-free, and you wouldn't get into it with her about how her four husbands and a dozen boyfriends in between them in the nearly thirty years you'd been alive had simply made you impassive towards most men, knowing they'd never be able to stick around, and instead you took what you wanted and then ditched them before they could ditch you. to say you had daddy issues was just the tip of the iceberg.

there's only been one family dinner night since you've been back, but calling it awkward was an understatement. you were sat in almost total silence, as your mom scrolls on her phone and joel scoops up some mashed potatoes and slaps them onto his plate.

"so, uh-," he begins, clearly not sure how to start a conversation, "how's your work been going? guessing it's pretty slow these months since you're able to take the time away? your freelance stuff going well?"

"sure," you agree, "it does get slow this time of year. freelance has been good. got a couple of projects i'm enjoying working on."

there's another silence.

"your momma said you'd been dating someone you met at your work? how's that been going?"

you laughed, thinking back to one of the only guys you'd mentioned to your mother, less out of a closeness to him and more because you wanted your mom to get off your case, "honestly, that ended a while ago. he was a pretty terrible lay."

joel clearly wasn't expecting that, and you smirked at him as he choked on the beer he was sipping, coughing and trying to cover up any spittle. your mom gently pats him on the back, still staring at her phone, not even listening. typical.

not sure how to follow this up, joel just shrugs and puts on a stoic face. "sorry to hear about that, sweetheart. what a shame."

you'd be lying if you said that didn't make your heart flutter just a little.

you've attuned to the general framework of home again. you've noticed a few other things, too. first, your stepdad seems to be taking a whole lot of evening shifts. second, your mom seems to be out when he's out, too, but always manages to slip in just before he gets home. finally, if there's one thing you know about joel, it's that if he's working an evening shift, you can pretty much guarantee that he's gonna be at least an hour later coming home than he says he'll be. more often than not, two. you've been here for sixteen days, and in the eleven days he's worked late, he's been late late. and this morning, joel said he wouldn't be home till at least 9pm.

it's only 5pm, so you think absolutely nothing of it when you pull up your favorite porn site, careless about keeping your bedroom door closed.

sometimes it takes you a long time to decide on what porn to watch. sometimes you want the release, and just need something that'll get you there quick. and then there are some days where you know exactly what you want. you know exactly how you want it, and you know just where to find it.

you've got an incognito browser up as you scroll through the page till you find the section you're looking for. click open a couple of videos in separate tabs. skip the ads.

place the laptop beside you, choose one to start with, and watch as the scene unfolds.

you need this. it's only been a couple of weeks since you've gotten laid, but you and your most recent fuck buddy have more or less broken up and you are extraordinarily horny, with no outlet besides your hand (and, technically, your trusty magic wand, but you forgot to bring your charging cable and she's only got so much life in her).

you focus on the scene, slowly dragging your fingers along your pussy lips, your other hand pinching and twisting at a nipple. you listen to the moans on screen as you tease yourself, dipping a finger into your tight, wet heat, and then adding another. the friction begins to build, and the pressure you're putting on your clit is just right.

"fuck", you let out a breathless moan as you start finger fucking yourself in earnest. your hips are stuttering and you feel it building so deliciously and you absolutely don't hear the knock on your door and the slight clear of a throat.

and then you register it, a couple of moments later.

you look up from your laptop screen and towards your door and you see your stepdad, cup of coffee in hand, and he's staring at you with an expression you can't parse, one eyebrow raised.

you buffer, taking a moment more for you to react to him, and you manage it in the worst possible way.

"fuck!!" you shout, slamming the laptop shut and practically flinging it away from you, pulling your hand from under the sheets and not-so-subtly wiping your slick on your duvet, and pulling your top back down over your tits. it's all done in a split second, and it was neither low-key nor quiet. you know your face is growing more flushed by the moment, and you can swear joel is actually smirking.

you stare each other down before you finally speak, "what are you doing home so early?"

"i live here," joel shrugs, takes a sip of the coffee, and then realises he might sound like a bit of a dick. "just- uh. just found out some... shitty news. decided to take the day off."

you almost forget the situation, quick to voice your worry--"are you okay joel? what's going on?"

he snorts. opens his mouth and closes it, as if he's decided better of it, and then opens it again. "just found out your mom's been stepping out on me. well. thought it was true for a while, but my brother just saw her with some guy. guess that's all the confirmation i need." he laughs, wryly, and his smile is dangerous.

"well shit," you say. it doesn't surprise you in the least, but you're not sure if it'd be better or worse to acknowledge that, and then you immediately remember your newest stepfather just caught you masturbating and you're deeply self conscious again.

"i'm really sorry, joel, but you've clearly-" you clear your throat, "caught me at a bad time. is there something i can help you with?"

he looks you up and down for a moment, and you can swear he's looking at your mouth for a second longer than you'd expect.

"well," he says, "i'd come up to see if you wanted anything for dinner. i was gonna order takeout."

there's a long pause.

"but now i'm curious about what i interrupted."

your eyes widen.

"let me see your computer. i wanna know what you were watching that you're so embarrassed of."

you immediately grab your laptop close to you and shake your head. this is something joel cannot see. "absolutely fuckin not," you tell him, and his smile gets sharper.

"i wasn't askin', sweetheart."

there's something dangerous about him now, and even though it frightens you, it's somehow exciting, too. commanding. persuasive.

he puts his mug down, and you barely think about what you're doing when you hand him the laptop, type in the password, and turn it around towards him.

you can't bare to look at the screen at the same time as him. it's fucked up and weird and he'd have every reason to avoid you forever after this, but there's a small (but persuasive) part of you that's telling you that this is a line he's willingly crossing, and there's a charge beneath it, and maybe you could get from him exactly what you want.

you study his face as he scrolls down the page. you hear him click, but no sound starts playing--he must be looking at the other tabs.

his eyes widen, and you can hear your heartbeat pounding as you watch his face.

you want him to say something. you need him to say something.

he hits play on one of the videos and the room is immediately fills with the sounds of slick flesh and moans and cries of "oh, daddy, oh daddy please--"

it's only then that he looks at you.

"well aren't you a filthy girl, hmm?" joel ridicules, "and don't think i don't notice the trend with these little videos of yours."

it's humiliating. you almost expect to die out of embarrassment right on the spot.

"look at some of these titles," joel continues, "stepdaughter gets fingerfucked by stepdaddy, stepdaughter's pussy pumped with daddy's cum ASMR, jesus christ girl-" he laughs, incredulous, "letting my stepdaddy breed my little hole".

joel's staring you down and you still haven't said anything, and that just won't do.

"these the usual kinda thing you like to touch yourself to? or is this a new subject now that you're home, spending time around your stepdaddy?"

"i-" you start, "i don't know, i-"

it's not an act, you're pretty fuckin frazzled, practically cocooning yourself in your covers and you shrink back in shame, and this seems to amuse joel to no end

"how's this, sweet girl," he says, and you realise he's been getting closer and closer to you and now he's seated only inches from your bare legs and pussy, still covered up with your blankets, "you tell me to stop, and i'll leave this room right now and close the door and we can pretend i never saw anything here-"

"no!" you cry out, and then slap a hand over your mouth, eyes wide at yourself while joel starts to chuckle.

"or," he continues, "you can let your stepdaddy make you feel real good."

"yes-" you cry, and not a moment later, the blankets are being pulled back and he's stroking two thick fingers along your cunt.

"there's a good girl," he says, and actually groans as he dips into you, collecting your slick, "so fucking wet for me. it is me you've been thinking about, ain't it?" he asks.

"yes joel," you say, because it's the fucking truth. you've been thinking about him nonstop for a while now, thinking about how his muscled arms look in those stupid threadbare t-shirts, thinking about the sigh he makes when he's had his first sip of a cold beer, thinking about the silver of his hair, the brown of his eyes, and the mere idea of what his cock might taste like. "i've wanted you to fuck me since i first met you."

he lets out a fuckin growl and presses his fingers into you. "such a cute little pussy, already dripping for me, huh?" he moans, and it's two digits pressing into you, but you've been working yourself up for a little while now and you're already swollen and wet and they slip right in. he finger fucks you for a moment before turning back to the laptop.

"which one's your favorite?" he nods at your screen, "which one do you watch and wish it was happening to you?"

you swallow and click back to another tab.

"letting my stepdaddy breed my little hole?", he snorts, "you really are a dirty girl, aren't you? get up off the bed." he commands.

you obey, standing up and kicking off the panties still around your ankles.

"and take that top off," he commands, and you do, pulling your top up over your tits and melting at the sound of his groan at seeing you bare for him.

he sits down on the bed with his legs spread, jeans still on. "you come sit here by daddy's lap," he says, and you do, sitting in between his thighs, inching back ever so slightly until you could feel his hard cock straining against his pants.

he runs his fingertips down your body, down your breasts and torso, dipping into your bellybutton, before drawing little circles on your hips.

'hit play," he says, and you grab the laptop next to you and resume the video.

he copies the video, rubbing one hand along your pussy and the other holding your thighs open.

"that's it," he coaxes, "keep those legs open for me, yeah?"

you're about to agree, when he starts stroking little circles around your already stimulated clit and the ability to speak leaves you. all you can do is focus on trying to keep your legs open, but your thighs are already almost quivering and he only chuckles.

"barely even touched you and you're already stupid."

you tried to nod and let out a sad whimper, tipping your head back and resting on his shoulder. he keeps his thumb pressed on your clit while he pumps his middle and index fingers in and out of you. it's so wonderfully, deliciously wrong. it feels addictive.

"you're doing so good, sweetheart, fucking on daddy's fingers like that," he praises, and it sends another spark of electricity building in your centre. encouraged, you start rocking your hips towards him, meeting each thrust of his fingers. "ready for another one?" he asks, and you nod vigorously.

he takes a moment to hold open your pussy and lean over you to look at it, stroking his fingertips along the outer lips, gathering some of your arousal, and prodding back your hood to get a little direct contact with your clit that leaves you writhing and gasping. he's smirking again, and presses a third finger into you. he curls them upwards, fucking the digits into you so nicely, and you enjoy the sensation as your arousal builds and builds and builds and-- as you come, you white out for just a moment, and as you come back into reality you can hear him speaking to you, "oh you're clenching so tight on my fingers, messy girl, look how you're dripping so nice down my fuckin' wrist. you're a nasty little slut, just like your momma huh? but i know you're gonna be a good girl for daddy, ain't ya?"

you continue to grind on his hand as his fingers stay buried in you, as you ride out the rest of your orgasm. only when you still does joel pull his fingers out of you.

as if hypnotised, he examines the arousal coating them. then, quick as anything, he pops his fingers in his mouth and sucks off your slick, immediately looking sheepish as though this was the only line he'd just crossed.

as quickly as he had become shy, he switched back to overt confidence. "y'just taste so good, sweetheart," he says, and then starts stroking your pussy again. "you're gonna let me have a proper taste, aren't you honey?"

you nod helplessly. it's so fucking good, it's too fucking good.

he scoots out from behind you and you buckle a little, toppling back onto the space he left. he's in front of you now and presses your thighs apart again, dropping to his knees on front of the bed's edge. he runs his tongue up your inner thigh, chuckling at your whimpers as he bites and nips at the sensitive skin. he takes a tentative lick, drawing his tongue towards your clit, circling it gently, and then dipping back before pulling off you for a moment.

"y'taste so fucking nice," he breathes, and his exhale on your slick pussy is exquisite. "i could just drink you up."

he presses the hood of your clit back once more, leaving his thumb there, applying perfect pressure as he flicks his tongue directly on that bundle of nerve endings and you feel like you're on fire.

"fuck, joel, yes-" you cry out, but he pulls back and shushes you.

"shhh," he says, "you don't call me joel right now, baby."

"i don't-?" you say, taken aback by the sudden lack of contact. then it clicks. "daddy-"

he smirks, "that's a good girl, sweetheart. wasn't too hard, now, was it?"

"no, daddy," you agree, and he's already diving back in, pressing his tongue into you in long strokes, letting you grind against his nose, his lips, the scratch of his cheeks, every movement he's making is so fucking perfect.

as he devours you, he presses his fingers into you again, and then you can't help yourself. you rut up on him, totally unable to practice anything resembling self restraint. in between strokes of his tongue, he pulls back and tells you, "i'm gonna need at least one more from you, baby, before you even get to think about sitting on this cock."

you let out a crazed whine, feeling joel's chuckle as he dives back in, eating your pussy like he was made to do only that.

he continues to build you up and up and without warning, you reach your peak again and come all over his face, your wet pussy drenching him and he closes his eyes and eats you through it like a man starved.

"fuck, baby," he says, "you taste so damn good, i could do that all day long."

you're splayed out, totally bare, the slick on your thighs cooling with the lack of contact. joel's looking you up and down, admiring your flushed body as he starts to undo his belt and drop his pants, your stomach flipping at the soft thunk of his belt hitting the floor.

you could feel, through his jeans, that his cock wasn't small, but you sure as fuck didn't anticipate just how thick and heavy it would hang between his wonderfully muscled thighs.

"you'd better get over here and fuck me, old man," you tease, and he snorts, before pulling you towards him by your ankles and landing a smack on your bare pussy.

"watch your manners, girl," he sneers.

"fuck!" you cry as you ride out the sensation, and he moves to slap you again, but your thighs are so slick his hand slips when he makes contact and accidentally presses you just right on your overstimulated clit, and to the surprise of both of you, you come again instantly.

he watches you, wide eyed, as you scream and your pussy clenches around nothing.

"you're just too easy, sweetheart," he laughs, "can't believe that little boyfriend of yours was such a bad lay when you're so goddamn easy. barely have to touch you and you're coming again and again for me."

"he'd just put it in, give it a couple thrusts, groan, and roll over," you snorted, loving the way joel's jaw clenches at your words, "besides, i prefer an older man."

"that's a damn shame, honey," he growls, "but i'm sure we can get ya taken care of."

you both realise at the same time that the video is still playing, as some particularly loud moans come through the speaker. you look over, and you swear you can see joel's eyes dilate as he watches.

that's a good girl, the man in the video croons, taking all of daddy's dick. wanna breed you full of me, fill you full of daddy's cum, you'd like that, huh?

you swallow and look back at joel. he looks ravenous.

"you love watching such dirty shit, don't you, baby?" joel asks, and starts teasingly rubbing your swollen clit again with his forefinger.

"yes daddy, please-" you agree, trying to chase the sensation, "please, i need your cock daddy, fill me up just like that-"

he lines himself up, notching the head of his thick cock at your entrance, and you're practically vibrating with need. it's not a want, it really is a need, if you don't have his cock right now you're probably gonna die and you need it you need it you need it so fucking badly

he laughs, and you realise you said all of that aloud, but you don't even have the capacity to feel truly shameful right now, you just need to feel him.

"c'mon, jo- daddy," you whine, "gotta feel you-"

"uh-uh, sweet thing," he chides, "i think you need to beg for it. you've got no manners, and knowing it's your momma who raised you it's pretty clear why, but you need to learn how to be a good girl. daddy's gonna teach you how to behave right here and now. got it?"

you let out a sharp exhale. "yes daddy."

"now beg."

two words shouldn't have such an ability to wreck you, but they do, and before you know it, you're rubbing your drooling pussy up against his cock head, rutting against him, begging and pleading-

"please, daddy, please fuck this wet pussy, you know how wrecked you've made me, turned me on so good, made me drip for you, made me come again and again on your fingers, i just wanna make you feel good, wanna take that cock, take everything you have to give, fuck me hard and fast and please, daddy, please--"

he cups your chin for just a moment, stroking a thumb along your jawline.

"that's better," he soothes, "what a good girl," and then he's slamming into you.

good fucking god he's huge, and you can swear you can feel every ridge, every vein, the swell of his shaft, the notch of his head, he's stretching you out deliciously.

you tilt your head back, leaving your throat bare, and let out a rough plea of, "choke me, daddy," and he doesn't need to be told twice, wrapping his hand around your neck and putting pressure in exactly the right spot. you can already feel the haziness building, and his thrusts keep coming fast and deep and you can feel the head of his cock brushing against your cervix.

"jesus christ, girl," he whines, and his thrusts start to falter a little, "you're gonna be the death of me. letting daddy use this nice little pussy just so he can feel good-"

his words begin to tip you over, and you know what you want-

"come inside me, daddy," you choke through the pressure around your throat, "fill me up, make yourself feel good, give it all to me-"

that does him in, and he lets out a strangled moan, coming inside you right as you come one last time, walls clenching tightly around his throbbing cock.

he releases your throat, and you both lay there for a minute, both totally fucked out.

after a minute, joel gingerly pulls out of you and lets out a weary groan.

"gonna be the death of me, woman," he snorts, and walks to your bathroom to clean himself up. he comes back a minute later with a cloth. you're expecting him to wipe you up, but first, he takes a moment to examine the cum that's dripping out of you.

"look so pretty like this, sweetheart," he smiles, presses his cum back into you, and then wipes down your slick thighs with the cloth.

"shit, joel-" you say, "who'd have thought you had that in you, old man?"

he rolls his eyes but he's still smiling, and then you sit together for a minute in comfortable silence. joel stands up after a while and grabs his coffee mug. takes a sip that you know must be cold by now, but he seems unbothered.

before he can leave, you stop him. "so-" you ask, "is this a one time thing, or?"

he shrugs, seemingly indifferent. "no reason i need to let your momma know what i know yet. and i reckon there's a lot more fun we can have before that happens."

you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, and your shoulders relax.

"good." you say, and joel smiles.

"good," he repeats. "now, i know i've worked up quite an appetite and i'm guessing you might have, too. you pick the takeout, i'll go pick it up."

"thanks, joel." you smile, and you're already thinking of the next time as you scroll takeout options on your phone.

that's it. you're fucking addicted, and goddamn you can't wait for your next hit.

#joel miller smut #tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #joel miller x f!reader

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corneliaavenue-ao3 · 4 months ago

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Summer's a Knife (a graveyard fic)

Graveyard fics are fics that I started and will never return to. Some are vague outlines, some are 4 sentences, some are 40 pages. But if they haunt me, I want them to haunt you too.

I am actually sad that this became a graveyard fic. But I truly cannot write it anymore. I wanted to release this first chapter in May of 2022... you see how well that went for me.

This is the first summer after the war from Ginny's POV. It is sad, it is romantic, it deals with grief. It was going to have flashbacks to Ginny's sixth year. It was going to have 4 big chapters and a small epilogue, each chapter focusing on a month. It was going to be one of my favorite things I wrote. Unfortanetly, I don't feel that way anymore.

May (chapter title: so long daisy May) is the only complete (non-edited) chapter. I knew what I wanted to write in June (the best and worst day of June), no clue what July (I've been down since July) would bring, and an idea for August (August slipped away)

I even had a playlist made

Chapter 1 is below the cut because it is 10k words, and I am giving it all to you. After that I will explain the rest of the vibes of the fic with some snippets I wrote. Sorry this is a LONG POST.

You say that we'll just screw it up in these trying times. We're not trying.

If I bleed, you’ll be the last to know

So Long Daisy May

Ginny’s bloodstained trainers echoed on the cobblestone path to her Great Aunt’s house.

Once again, she was sent away for being too young. It wasn’t that long ago her parents were begging her to leave, to come back here for safety away from the final battle. Harry gave her a look that he didn’t want to see her either. She stayed of course. Fought in the war that was her fight as much as any other member of her family’s fight. Probably even more than most of them to be honest.

Now the war was over, she was sent away again. Her mum didn’t want Ginny to stay at Hogwarts any longer than necessary, wary of any lurking danger from Death Eaters still roaming the grounds. The Burrow was not safe yet. Her dad, Bill, and Charlie left soon after Voldemort fell to ensure that their home would be safe for them to come home. Molly Weasley could not bear to convince George to leave his twin’s side in the room of all the deceased. Ron was off somewhere once again, probably conjoined to Harry and Hermione’s sides, unbearable for them to separate.

That is how Ginny ends up with Percy of all brother’s returning to Great Aunt Muriel’s cold mansion that foggy, early morning.

Percy took a moment to knock on the front door. Ginny was planning to just walk inside, finding herself too tired to care about politeness and proper etiquette.

The front door swung open 30 seconds later, a small house elf stood in the entryway.

“Hey, Milsey. We were sent here to update Muriel and wait it out until the Burrow is safe,” Ginny said.

Milsey bowed down, “Of course, anything for Prewett blood.”

Ginny didn’t even try to hide her eye roll. She could practically hear Hermione in her ear ranting about House Elf Welfare.

“You don’t need to bow for us, Milsey,” Percy said. The first words he said aloud since their mum sent them here. Ginny did not know what to make of Percy anymore. He was the only brother who noticed anything was wrong with her during her first year at Hogwarts, and then he was the only one who checked up on her during her second year. Then he stopped caring about her. Ron told her that he got a letter from Percy telling him to stop being friends with Harry during his fifth year. She didn’t even get that. She could not understand how he could ignore his family for two years, and then come back begging for forgiveness.

Fred had forgiven him.

The thought of Fred made her entire insides clench. She wanted to vomit even though she had not had anything to eat in hours.

Percy walked through the front door, Ginny closely following.

“I am 109 years old, I just can’t have people showing up to my house unannounced at the crack of dawn. I have not even finished my tea yet this morning. Ginevra, your shoes are filthy. Take them off before you step on my Egyptian Rug, it is older than me and made from Sphynx fur,” Ginny’s aunt said in one breath.

Muriel stood in the doorway, wrapped in her silk nightgown, arms folded, looking very unpleased to see her niece and nephew. “And where is Molly? I need to speak with her about her inability to raise polite children who give warning when they are going to visit their aunt!”

Ginny felt Percy’s hand wrap around her bicep, warning her to not make a retort. “We will make sure we give you notice next time we visit, Auntie Muriel. Thank you for letting us pop in this morning,” Percy said, using his trademark pompous voice.

Muriel grunted, "I missed you Percy. You were always the most respectable Weasley. The Prewett blood runs strong in you."

Percy squeezed Ginny's arm again as a reminder to stay calm. Ginny turned and gave him a look that read something like I’m not a baby, get your annoying hands off of me. She wasn’t sure he quite got the message, but he removed his hand anyway.

“We are only here until dad gives us the all clear to go back home. I will clear out all of our things we left in your spare rooms. Your favorite Weasley can update you on what has happened in the last 24 hours.” Ginny turned, not even sparing a glance at Percy to see his reaction to the news that he would be the one updating the family about Fred’s death. She crossed over the sphinx rug and stormed up the stairs, making sure to leave dirty footprints with each step.

Her room was first. Her trunk sat in the middle of the floor, a few articles of clothing scattered across the floor, but mostly still packed. She didn’t want to admit it to her mum at the time, but she kept her trunk packed in case they needed to make another quick escape. Now, it seems so frivolous caring about her things when her family is now forever torn apart.

She quickly gathered her clothes strewn around and shoved them into her trunk. Levitating her trunk out the bedroom door and into the hallway.

The Ministry of Magic has more to worry about at the moment than some underage magic.

Her parent’s room was next. Unlike Ginny, they did not have their trunks already packed from school, so they did not bring much from the Burrow. Ginny noticed this on her third day at her aunt’s house when her mum had not changed robes. Looking around the room, Ginny gathered what little items were there and put them into her own trunk.

The twin’s room was last.

Ginny took a deep breath, bracing herself before pushing the door open slowly. Unsurprisingly, the room was a mess. Weasley Wizard Wheezes products piled in boxes on the floor and stacked on top of the bed. Mail in orders haphazardly organized in some system that only made sense to George. In the corner was Fred’s belongings frozen in time, never to be touched by him again.

Flashbacks to the Great Hall flooded her brain.

The smell of burning smoke clogged her nose. Seamus guided her back inside from the courtyard into the entryway of the Great Hall. Everything was too quiet. The emeralds littered on the floor cracked under her step, echoing against the stone walls. Suddenly Bill was there, pulling her from Seamus into his arms. He was crying. Why was he crying? He led her to the middle of the Great Hall where her family was huddled together. She counted the amount of heads, realizing two were missing. Slowly she approached her mum, who was kneeling on the ground in front of - NO.

Ginny stumbled, tripping over a box of sparklers on the ground. Her knees crashed into the footboard of the bed. A spare sparkler fizzled on the ground then ignited the entire box. An impressive explosion lit up the entire room, burning an imprint on the ceiling. Smoke filled her lungs. Spluttering, Ginny sunk to the ground, trying to catch her breath.

Breathe in. Breathe out. In and out. Quicker. Faster.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

She felt herself start to hyperventilate. Her throat clogged up, unable to suck in deep enough breath to fill her lungs with oxygen. Tears blurred her vision. Pressure built in her head, she felt like she was submerged underwater. Unable to catch her breath. Drowning in her tears.

Arms wrapped around her, pulling her close. For a second, she thought she was with Bill back in the Great Hall again before realizing that was not the brother holding her.

“It’s alright, Ginny,” Percy soothed her.

Sobs wracked her body. She was exhausted. She could not keep them in any longer. Tucking her head into Percy’s chest, Ginny cried for her brother. She would never hear Fred tell another joke or have a late night race on the brooms. Her whole body ached. Several hours after his death, she finally felt the magnitude of the loss of Fred.

Percy scratched her back, lightly tracing his fingertips down her spine, soothing her. Just like he had the time she broke down during their trip to Egypt. Slowly, oxygen inflated her lungs and her sobs lessened. Her breath slowed back to a stable rate.

"Thanks, Perce," Ginny said when she finally trusted her own voice.

"Don't mention it," he shrugged. "How about you get some rest, I will clean up the rest of this room."

Ginny was too tired to protest. Pulling herself to stand, Ginny nodded at Percy before slowly making her way back to her guest bedroom. She didn't even bother changing into fresh clothes before crawling into bed. Curled into a ball, she pulled the covers tightly around her.

Her thoughts drifted to the same person she dreamt about for the entire year before the blackness wrapped around her, pulling her into a deep sleep.

Hours too soon she was gently shook awake. Groggy eyes opened to her father smiling down at her. He aged so much within the last year. What red was once in his hair has turned primarily gray, fresh wrinkles were etched into his face. Ginny flung her arms around his neck.

“It’s safe to go home now.”

“Where’s Percy?” Ginny asked, hating how childish her voice sounded.

Her dad stroked her hair, “Already home. Let’s join him.”

Her dad grabbed the trunk on the ground and Ginny’s hand, side-apparating her to the Burrow. Teaching the sixth years how to apparate was not a priority this past year. Just another flaw in her education from the last 9 months. Her landing was not soft. Stumbling a few steps, Ginny stood at the top of the hill, just inside the ward line.

“Everyone else is inside,” her dad said.

Stumbling over herself, Ginny ran down the hill to her home. At first glance, the Burrow looked the same as the day she left it. But as she got closer to the front door, she noticed more things amiss. The treeline looked different like a few branches were knocked away. The grass was scorched yellow like someone burned it. Windows were cracked or blasted open with missing shards of glass.

The front door groaned open with her push. Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat together, heads bent down, all snapped up at the sound of her entering the kitchen.

“Ginny!” Hermione smiled, standing to embrace her in a hug.

Ginny squeezed her friend back. She didn’t get to appreciate seeing the three of them at Hogwarts. Hermione was much thinner than the last time she saw her. They all were.

Ron embraced her next, giving her a pat on the back. She let go and looked over at the end of the table where Harry now stood.

“Hi,” Harry said.

He looked good. Thin like the other two, but still handsome. He had somehow gotten taller over the last year, his hair long, messier than she had ever seen it. The dark rings around his eyes and his hollow cheeks emphasized his green eyes. Staring at her the same way he had a year ago, like he was staring into a brilliant light.

Her heart skipped a beat.

But in the next heartbeat, they were crossing the room to one another. His arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders, hers around his waist. Pulling each other close. She pressed her ear against his chest.

He's alive, heart is beating, lungs are expanding with each breath.

Alive. Alive. Alive. Alive.

The stairs creaked, alerting them to the presence of another Weasley member. Ginny pulled back from Harry just slightly, not completely breaking contact, as George entered the room. Slowly, he crossed the room, giving Ginny a quick pat on the head before leaving out the back door. Reality sunk back in as she watched the back of George’s head.

Fred's dead.

Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead.

She felt her throat start to clog again. The unbearable feeling of loss started to overwhelm her. Slowly, she pulled away from Harry. She could not lose it again, especially not in front of the others who went through so much more than she had. Ron also lost Fred, and he wasn’t breaking down at the sight of George.

And George, who would see Fred’s face whenever he looked in the mirror, did not deserve Ginny breaking down by looking at him. It made her feel like an awful person for almost losing it. No one needed the stress of taking care of her while they too were struggling.

“He hasn’t said anything,” Ron said, filling the silence. Ginny realized her eyes had not left the back door George exited. “Charlie went back to Hogwarts to convince him to leave. He got back maybe 20 minutes before you did.”

Ginny wouldn’t know what to say either when everyone looked at you like they were seeing a ghost.

“Where’s everyone else?” Ginny asked.

Ron nodded to the back door. “Bill and Fleur are out back. They checked the house for curses, but haven’t finished the rest of the property.” He pointed to the stairs next. “Mum’s up in her room. I imagine now that dad is back, she will spend the rest of the day in the kitchen. She shares her love through food, you know. And I think she has a lot of love she will want to share.”

Ron’s prediction that Molly Weasley would cook a feast for dinner was not far off. A few hours later, everyone was crammed at the table, along with enough food to feed them for days. Harry sat next to her with a plate stacked full. Throughout their meal, they exchanged casual brushes and quick glances.

“What are Kingsley’s plans with the Ministry?” Harry asked her dad as he passed the salad bowl to her.

“There is a lot to figure out. The Ministry was corrupted, that is no secret.” Percy kept his head down, avoiding the gaze of his father. Arthur took a bite of his chicken before continuing, “It is fair to assume there will be trials, but those probably won’t occur until later this summer. First, the physical damages of the war need to be fixed before the government can fix itself. Kingsley is working with Gawain to assess the damage first.”

“Do we know how many people lost their lives?” Bill asked.

Arthur shook his head. “It is unclear. There are still those unaccounted for in addition to those in critical care at Saint Mungos. But right now the number is at 43, not including Death Eaters.”

The clattering of silverware halted. Silence overcame the table as the magnitude of the battle overcame them.

“Excuse me,” Harry stood, tossing his fork on his half finished plate of food. He crossed the kitchen and made his way up the stairs, not bothering to look back at any of them.

Ron silently stood too, following Harry up. Hermione paused, eyes following Ron, but she stayed in her seat. “He will be fine,” Hermione reassured the table, not making eye contact with any direct member of the Weasley family as she spoke.

The table remained awkwardly quiet for the rest of the meal. Fleur spoke of Shell Cottage to fill the silence. Ginny excused herself to her room as soon as she felt appropriate to leave.

“I will be right back,” Hermione said as she passed Ginny’s bedroom door later that evening, two plates of food balanced on her arm.

Ginny nodded and continued to get ready for bed. By the time Hermione returned, Ginny had already tucked herself into bed, facing the wall. Hermione silently dressed for bed. “Goodnight, Ginny.”

Her circadian clock was off. Even though her entire body felt exhausted, Ginny lay awake staring up at the cracked ceiling of her own bedroom for hours. Sleeping at Muriel’s threw her off. In other circumstances, she would have taken this opportunity for a night flight. But she didn't feel safe flying alone tonight. Her mum would also be worried sick if she found out Ginny went out alone unsupervised in the middle of the night. Ginny did not need to be an added reason for her mother's stress right now.

So instead she shifted in her bed, trying to drift off to sleep. Counting Hermione's rhythmic breaths as she slept on the cot next to her bed.

One.

Two.

In.

Out.

Ginny tried to prevent her thoughts from drifting to anything depressing. No Fred, no Hogwarts, not even her childhood home. So instead she tried to make her mind go blank, to think of absolutely nothing besides the sound of Hermione’s breath.

Her counts of Hermione’s breaths quickened. “No, please no!”

“Hermione?” Ginny leaned over the edge to peer down at her friend. Her face was twisted in distress. The faded quilt was thrown off her body as she tossed and turned in her sleep. “It’s fake! Please stop!” a blood curdling, terrible scream escaped Hermione’s lips.

Hermione bolted straight up, eyes widened in fear, her hand reached for her right forearm. Ginny crawled out of her bed, squeezing next to Hermione on the cot. Tentatively, she reached out, stroking her back.

Hermione flinched away from her touch before finally relaxing. She tugged the sleeves of her jumper down her arms and pulled her knees into her chest. Ginny continued to try to provide comfort to her friend.

After a few minutes of silence, Hermione finally looked at her. “Sorry.”

Wrapping Hermione into an embrace, Ginny whispered, “You have no need to apologize. I wasn’t even asleep.”

Hermione hummed. “Bellatrix, well…” she trailed off, staring out the bedroom window. The quarter moon provided minimal light in Ginny’s bedroom, so Ginny could hardly make out the look on Hermione’s face. “Nevermind,” Hermione finished, pushing herself away from Ginny, standing. “I’m going to go sleep upstairs, so you can get some rest. Goodnight Ginny.”

She grabbed her wand and bolted out the door, leaving Ginny all alone.

Ginny sighed and crawled back into her own bed. She punched her lumpy pillow, trying to find a comfortable enough position to drift off to sleep. With Hermione gone, she lost her distraction from letting her mind run wild. Now, thoughts of Bellatrix infiltrated her head.

Chaos reigned. Flashes of lights of every color surrounded her. She fired off spells at any person still cowardly enough to hide their face behind a mask. Harry was dead, but Tom had not won. She would make sure of it. Ginny caught sight of her wild mane of black hair before she saw her face. Firing off a cascade of curses, each aimed for Tom’s right-hand woman, each somehow deflected with ease. Bellatrix gave her a wicked smile, and for a moment Ginny wondered if Bellatrix knew exactly who she was and why she was so distraught. Hermione and Luna joined her side to fight Bellatrix. A streak of green passed her head, and for a moment, Ginny thought she would finally be at peace.

All good judgment she made hours prior about not flying tonight was out the window. She needed out.

Shoving her feet in her trainers and grabbing a jumper to combat the cool May evening air, Ginny quickly slipped out of her bedroom. Taking the stairs two at a time, pushing open the backdoor, and sprinting the moment she stepped out into the night.

With no one to tend to it in over a month and Death Eaters to trample it to the ground, the orchard was a disaster. Apples littered the ground, the sweet fruit squashed underfoot. The burnt grass damp with dew.

The broom closet smelled musty. Thankfully, it appeared untouched. Ginny grabbed an old Cleansweep, swinging one leg over the handle in a fluid motion. Her feet firmly placed on the ground, inhaling the cold air, she pushed off into the dark sky.

The common phrase “It’s like riding a broom,” never fit so eloquently. Months away from the sky, and it is almost like she had never left. She pressed her chest closer to the handle to center her gravity, and she was soaring. Past the treeline and the top of her home, she flew lazy laps. Circling the property, spiraling in the open air.

Her lungs expanded with cold air, her heart kicked faster with adrenaline, and her mind forgot old haunts. She felt invincible. She felt alive.

Slowly, she looped closer to the ground.

She noticed his dark hair first.

Once she flew within earshot, Harry started to speak. “Imagine my surprise to be awoken in the middle of the night to the sound of your brother snogging.”

For the first time in days, Ginny smiled "I hope it wasn't with the picture of Aunt Muriel he keeps stashed under his pillow.”

A laugh escaped Harry’s lips. It was one of the most joyous sounds Ginny ever heard. "I think he finally has reason to dispose of that picture."

“Oh?” Ginny questioned, the tips of her toes grazing the grass as she hovered closer to him.

The corner of Harry’s mouth quirked up, “Your brother is snogging Hermione Granger.”

“When did that happen? Oh, you haven’t been stuck third wheeling them this entire time have you?” Ginny asked, sympathetically patting Harry’s arm.

Harry looked down at where Ginny was touching him, slowly moving his other hand up to give her fingers a gentle squeeze. Ginny sucked in a breath.

He shook his head, letting go of her hand, “They didn’t snog until yesterday.”

“But yesterday was the ba-”

“Exactly,” Harry said, interrupting her. “How long have you been out here?”

"I couldn’t sleep, and Hermione had a nightmare,” she said, shaking her head. “It was Bellatrix. That's all that I know."

A dark look crossed Harry’s features. "I can only imagine."

Ginny did not push further. It wasn't Harry’s secret to tell, nor was it her's to know.

Instead, she slid off the Cleansweep and took a seat next to him. Enough space to not touch, but enough to feel the electricity between them. The hairs on her arm stood straight up. All day, tension wrung between them. Each touch sparked every nerve in her body. For months, she dreamt about what she would do when she saw him again, and now she was too overwhelmed to act.

They sat in the silence, staring up at the stars. As each second ticked by, she became more and more unsure how to express how much she missed him. Harry shifted beside her, and Ginny braved a glance to peek over at him only to find his bright, green eyes focused on her.

He hesitated for only a moment before his signature look of determination swept across his features. A look found right before doing something brave and stupid.

And then he kissed her.

If Ginny thought it was easy to return to flying after time away, nothing compared to kissing Harry. The feel of his mouth slanted against hers felt like coming home. Nothing was more natural. An instinct. Just like the instinct of Harry’s hands to wind in her hair and hers to press against his chest.

No words were said aloud, but so much was shared within one kiss. They were always good at having silent conversations. A single look. A single touch. So many emotions and thoughts expressed between them in those moments.

His hands in her hair. I missed you.

Her hands wrapped around his waist. Please don’t go again.

Their lips pressed together. I need you.

Eventually they broke apart after what could have been several days. Ginny always lost track of time when Harry kissed her. Pulling away, Ginny let out an uncharacteristic giggle, relishing in the warmth of an alive Harry.

She shifted her weight, leaning against his side. Her head rest on his shoulder. His arms snaked around her waist. Slot against one another like no time had passed since those days spent by the lake.

That is where they stayed until daylight broke over the horizon.

Days were quiet. Planning funerals drained livelihood out of the Burrow. Ginny found herself helping where she could. Her mum was constantly cooking in the kitchen, so Ginny would help clean. She didn’t speak, she kept her thoughts to herself. When Harry was in the room, they moved like they were dancing. Never touching.

Nights were loud. Hermione would leave her room after everyone officially went to bed to join Ron in his. That was when Ginny would sneak out to fly. Harry would join her minutes later, some joke on his lips about Ron and Hermione and how he wished maybe they went back to fighting. Then they would fly together or sit and talk. Eventually, they would fall asleep under the stars pressed into each other's arms, waking just at the crack of dawn to sneak back into their respective bedrooms.

One bright morning, Ginny followed the scent of fresh breads and sweet sugar down to the kitchen. Her mum hunched over the oven, a faded floral apron tied loosely around her waist. Ginny would not be surprised if she barely missed her mum waking up to slave away in the kitchen right as her and Harry were sneaking back into their beds.

“Morning, mum,” Ginny said, giving her mum a squeeze around the waist.

“Good morning, dear,” her mum replied, leaning into her hug. “I would like you and Charlie to run some errands for me today.”

“Sure,” Ginny said, stealing a pastry from the counter. “What do you need?” She asked, mouth full of scone.

Her mum turned back to the oven to pull out a fresh pie. “I would love it if you could run some of these breads to some families for me. The Browns, the Deacons, and the Rivers. I believe Deacon’s daughter was in your year. Sophie was it?”

The scone in her mouth went stale. Bile rose, burning her throat on the way up. Ginny grabbed a napkin off the counter and spit out the mushed up pastry. “Yeah, Sophie,” Ginny’s voice wavered. She cleared the acid from her throat, pushing the sound of late night giggles about Hogwarts gossip out from her head. “I can do that for you. Where’s Charlie?”

After wrangling her second eldest brother from the yard, the pair apparated, Ginny tightly wrapping her hand around Charlie's arm, to the home of Ron’s ex girlfriend.

Ever the introvert, Charlie left her to do all the talking and condolences.

After giving her final sorrows to the Brown Family, Charlie grabbed her arm and apparated them to the small Wizarding village the Deacon’s lived.

Ginny stumbles forward as her feet crashed into the stepping stones of her dead dormmates home. Steadying herself, Ginny wondered if she would ever get used to apparition. Flying makes sense. Apparating does not.

Grabbing her brother’s arm, she turned him to face her, “Listen, let me do this house alone, yeah?”

Charlie gave her a look, questioning her judgment. “You know you aren’t of age and mum would slit my throat.”

“Please. She was my friend.”

Something in her eyes must have given enough reasoning to Charlie to let her go alone. “I will wait over at the shop across the street. Meet me there when you’re done.”

Ginny pulled him into a hug, wrapping her arms around his thick waist. Charlie was the closest of her siblings to her own height, so she could rest her chin on his shoulder during the embrace. “I won’t be too long.”

She turned away from her brother, the pie her mother gave her rest carefully on her arm. Steadying herself with a shaky breath, she knocked.

A moment passed. And then another. Ginny held her breath as she waited. Maybe she would not have to face them. Maybe she could set the pie down on the step and turn her back and run away from the grief inside the home. But before Ginny could follow her intrusive thoughts, the door opened to a beautiful woman with short auburn hair and laugh lines carved into her face even though she looked as though she had not had a reason to laugh in a long time.

“Hello, my name is Ginn-”

“Ginny come in,” Sophie’s mum invited her in, opening the door wider for Ginny to slip inside.

She shouldn’t be surprised that Mrs. Deacon knew who she was, a classmate of her daughters, a Weasley, a blood traitor whose family housed The Boy Who Lived for years. Ginny did not want to know what the exact reason was that Mrs. Deacon recognized her.

“My mum made this for you,” Ginny said, offering the baked pie that would never fill the Sophie-sized hole in her heart.

“Thank you, that is very sweet of her and sweet of you to drop it off.”

Sophie’s mum took the pie and set it on the kitchen counter filled with other condolence foods. Ginny felt nauseous at the sight.

Ginny sat on the gray loveseat and turned away from the sight and took in the room around her. Light cascaded in and reflected off of the framed photos on the cream wall to brighten the room. Photos of Sophie and her little brother, Samuel, were everywhere. Together with a woman, who must have been their grandmother, standing in Diagon Alley. Sophie singing in the frog choir with her hair tucked back in her signature butterfly clips. Sam tugging on a much younger Sophie’s hair and running away. All moments forever to cycle on repeat, but to never be updated again.

The bile that she swallowed that morning began to rise again.

“Would you like something to drink, dear?” Mrs. Deacon asked, pulling Ginny out of her reverie.

“No, thank you,” Ginny replied, even though she could probably use a glass of water or a shot of firewhiskey.

A grunt from the door leading to the hallway alerted Ginny of Mr. Deacon’s presence. He was a tall man, not as tall as her own father, but much wider. He worked for the Ministry’s Portkey Office. Sophie often boasted about all the places her father traveled for work, and Ginny could see it. A man like him did not belong behind a desk.

“Elric, this is Ginny. She is,” Mrs. Deacon paused, “She was one of Sophie’s classmates.”

Ginny stood to her feet, “Mr. Deacon, I am so sorry for your loss.”

Mr. Deacon waved his hand, his other rubbing his sternum like he too struggled with gastric reflux at the reminder of Sophie.

“I too am sorry for yours. I heard you lost a brother.”

The grief of losing Fred washed over her again like a wave that quickly retreated into a cool, cold nothing. “Yes, I did. Thank you.” Ginny sat back down on the couch. The Deacons sat across from her, gripping each other’s hands.

Silence swept over the room like a cloak. Thick, warm, and suffocating.

Ginny broke the silence first.

“Sophie was-,” Ginny paused, clearing her throat, “she was a beautiful soul. Her voice lit up the dorm room. She would sing under her breath and she studied and then belt songs in the shower. She was wicked at potions and brilliant at Gobstones. She was one of my best friends, and I am so sorry for your loss.”

The all too familiar prickling sensation behind her eyes grew. Rapidly blinking, trying to keep the tears at bay, because she had so much more to say. So she pressed on. “I was there,” Ginny said, looking up to meet Mrs. Deacon’s eye.

The scent of smoke encroached her olfactory system. The feel of Sophie’s manicured hand in her own haunted her skin.

Ginny ignored the memories and pressed on. “When You-Know-Who asked for a pause, I went out to the ground to help.” The words recover bodies left unsaid. “I saw her lying there. She was alive, and she was asking for you. She loved you so much.” The tears building in her eyes escaped, rolling steadily down her cheeks.

"They told us her body was recovered during The Silent Hour, but never by who," Mr. Deacon said, tears brimming his eyes. “Thank you, Ginny.”

The guilt bubbling in her gut was interrupted by footsteps bounding down the steps. Little, 12-year old, Samuel Deacon slid into the room.

“Ginny!” Samuel shouted, eyes filled with joy as though he were seeing a hero. And to him he probably was. She had not seen him in months. Thankfully, Samuel was long gone from Hogwarts during the battle, but the last time she saw him was forever ingrained in her brain. The memory seeped through her pores.

“Pain does not last forever,” Amycus Carrow said to a room full of scared students. “But the memory of it does.” He sauntered across the front of the entrance hall, each step deliberate to draw out the dramatics of what he was saying. Ginny guessed he got this schtick from Tom. “Which is why it makes such an excellent punishment. You remember the pain, so maybe next time you won’t misbehave.” He turned to face her, smiling like a Grindylow ready to to entangle their prey within their long fingers.

“Now can someone please tell me which illiterate idiot graffitied the walls?” Amycus’s voice echoes through the hall. Dozens of eyes stayed focused on the floor. “Was it you?” A finger pointing at a short Hufflepuff boy standing over in the corner. His eyes widened at being called out for a crime he never committed.

“No,” the boy stuttered.

“I don’t believe you,” Amycus sneered, clenching the collar of his cloak, dragging him out into the open. “What’s your name, boy?”

“Sa-Samuel,” the young boy managed to stutter out.

“Well, Sa-Samuel, I hope you remember to never misbehave again.” With those words, Amycus lifted his wand.

Quickly shoving her hand into her bag, fumbling around searching for the jar of paint stashed at the bottom. Her fingers found the cool glass and she yanked it out and threw it at Amycus’s feet.

He turned to meet her, and grinned. The Grindylow caught his prey. “I see I found the illiterate idiot.” He turned his wand to her face, “Crucio.”

“Sam, it is good to see you,” Ginny asked, voice overly pleasant.

To Ginny’s horror, Mrs. Deacon said, “Samuel has told me a lot about you.” She smiled too warmly at her. Like she wasn’t the reason Sam was not almost cursed in the first place. Like she wasn’t the last one to see her daughter alive. Like she deserved forgiveness.

Ginny’s stomach turned and threatened to spill out on their carpet. She needed to leave.

“Thank you so much for your hospitality. I do need to get going.”

Both of the Deacon’s stood immediately.

“Of course,” Mrs. Deacon said.

“Let me walk you out,” Mr. Deacon said.

So Ginny let herself be ushered out. She kept her mouth clamped shut. Afraid to vomit out words along with her guts.

As she reached the door, Mr. Deacon stopped her, “Sophie’s funeral is set on the thirteenth. We would love it if you could make it.”

Ginny couldn’t trust her words, so she nodded in agreement, and burst out the front door. As soon as the door closed, she broke out into a sprint, down to the corner shop where Charlie should be waiting for her.

He was leaning against the side wall, lazily smoking a cigarette.

"Take me home." Ginny said, walking past Charlie.

"But we have one more-"

"Take me home."

Charlie paused before grabbing her arm and spinning on his heel. They arrived in front of the Burrow a second later. Ginny sprinted to the broom shed. Grabbing the closest broom, not even checking whose it belongs to, Ginny kicked off of the ground.

She lapped the Burrow several times, streaking by as fast as the broom allowed her. Up in the air, she could blame her tears on the wind in her eyes instead of the guilt she felt in her heart.

That night, she did not fly.

Hermione snuck out of the room, but Ginny stayed in her bed. Waiting. A soft knock on the door alerted her of his presence. Her bed shifted from his added weight.

They avoided each other that day. Well really, Ginny avoided him and everyone else. Hiding in the sky, and when she was called inside by her mum, she hid in the kitchen. Charlie did not say anything to her, which was a blessing. Her mum did comment on the extra pie brought up, but a quick lie that the Rivers were not home avoided anymore questions.

Harry’s arms snuck around her waist, pulling her against his chest. She tucked herself under his chin as he pressed his nose into her hair. Her hair was still damp from the shower she took earlier that evening, but she knew Harry would not care. In fact, he probably preferred it. The scent of her shampoo freshly washed into her hair. It calmed him.

She wondered if he was struggling with what was going to happen tomorrow as much as she knew she would.

But she did not ask.

Slowly, his breaths evened as he fell asleep behind her. And Ginny fell shortly after.

All mornings have been quiet since the battle at the Burrow. But none compared to this one. Outside, the morning fog was thick and suffocating. Inside, so was the silence.

Weasley family members dressed in black to bury their loudest family member.

When it was time, her father led the family to the grave. Walking in a line to the apparition line on the edge of the Burrow property, and one-by-one apparating to Fred’s final destination. Ginny stood and watched as her loved ones disappeared with a pop. Her dad stood by her side and lifted his arm.

“Ready?”

No.

“Yes,” she said, gripping his arm.

The graveyard was busier than she expected. Her family is large, but so was Fred’s impact.

Old classmates of his, old teammates, old co-workers lined the chairs in the back. Professor McGonagall could be seen from her tall witch’s hat. Hagrid stood off to the side, already loudly sobbing. Ginny felt her tears join his.

She made her way to the front and sat in her seat nestled between Ron and George. The same small wizard that preached at Dumbledore’s funeral and Bill’s wedding stood in the front. A twisted thought crossed her mind about how busy that man is during this week.

And he talked in platitudes. He talked about his sacrifice, how he was a light in the family. But never really about Fred. Ginny wished she had taken the time to write something, then maybe Fred would have gotten the send off he deserved.

George gripped her hand near the end of the small wizard’s speech. “Are you ready to see some magic?”

Ginny grinned, a warmth spreading across her chest. “Always.”

George grinned back at her, reaching into his pocket, pulling out his wand. With a small flick of his wrist. A bang behind the gravestones went off.

Gasps wrang out from behind her. Aunt Muriel gave out a shriek of terror, as fireworks lit up the foggy sky.

Sparks flew above her, spelling out the initials F.W. And for the first time all week, Ginny was crying, but she was not upset by it.

After the funeral, the mood was much brighter, the fog outside lifted with the smoke of the fireworks, and Ginny could feel like she could breathe again.

Slowly, the crowd began to thin. Angelina grabbed George’s arm and loudly declared that they were going to the Leaky to celebrate Fred’s life and a group followed her. Bill, Charlie, and Fleur followed shortly after them. After a moment of contemplation, Percy followed suit.

Her mother gave her a kiss on the cheek before heading further into the graveyard to where her brothers lay. Her father followed a few steps behind her.

Ron and Hermione were still sitting in their seats. Their chairs were now pushed impossibly close together as Hermione almost sat on Ron’s lap with her head tucked against his chest, and Ron’s face pressed into her hair. Masking the tears that he was shedding.

Ginny steadily made her way up to Fred’s grave. Ash sprinkled the grass from the firework show. She lowered herself to the ground, sitting to the right of the gravestone.

“Hey, Forge,” Ginny murmured, closing her eyes and resting her head on the stone. “Miss you.”

Ginny slowly descended down the stairs, unsure exactly which one would creak under her step. She wasn’t sure who would be worse to alert of her late night excursion: her mother or her great aunt.

All she wanted to do was see them and not just take Bill’s word for it that they were safe. Luna. Dean. Hermione. Ron. And of course Harry. Mum nearly locked her in her bedroom when Ginny asked to go to Shell Cottage.

So now she was sneaking to the fireplace in the middle of the night to floo her way over to Shell Cottage. A task significantly less dangerous than any of the times she snuck out in the middle of the night this last year.

The third from the bottom step let out a loud groan.

“Shit.”

“Going somewhere?” A voice from the top of the stairs called down to her. Thankfully, it was the person who would most likely go with her on this adventure.

“I thought getting some nice fresh, saltwater air would be nice at this time of night. Want to come along?” Ginny asked, nodding her head to the living room.

Fred quickly descended the stairs, uncaring if he woke the entire house along the way.

"Is that the plan then? Run off to Shell Cottage without letting anyone know where you're going?"

"You know."

"I know because I caught you sneaking out," Fred retorted. "And when mum and dad wake in the morning and find your bed empty? What will you do after they chain you to your bed?"

Ginny rolled her eyes, "They won't tie me to the bed."

"No, probably not, but you won't be let out of their sight. And when the time comes when it is important for you to sneak out, you won't be able to."

"What do you mean?" Ginny asked, hating that she didn't understand.

"I'm saying, wait. Wait until something big. I will go with you then. Not when you're sneaking out to see your boyfriend."

"Ex-boyfriend."

"I didn't realize you were sneaking off to see Thomas. Don't let me stop you then," Fred teased.

"Oh, shove off," Ginny said, pushing his shoulder.

Heavy footsteps pulled her from her thoughts. Harry stood above her, head of messy hair blocking the sun. He held his hand out, an offer to help her up.

She took it, pulling herself up and into his arms in one fluid motion. He enveloped her in a hug, holding her tight against his chest. Ginny breathed in the scent of him. Woodsy and cool, like the morning air in the autumn.

Reluctantly, she detangled herself from him, keeping her hand intertwined in his. There they stood, hand in hand, staring down at Fred Weasley’s grave.

Fred Weasley

1/4/1978 - 2/5/1998

Mischief

Harry gave her fingers a squeeze before letting go. He bent down in front of Fred’s grave. He paused for a second, before pulling out his wand, waving it carefully. A bouquet of daisies appeared in the dirt. Fresh and white. Harry stood, reaching back for her hand, but refusing to look at her.

“Hermione and I went to my parent’s graves on Christmas. She did this,” Harry said, waving his hands at the flowers on the ground, “I thought Fred deserved some too.” He bent down and picked one from the ground, “Daisies mean new beginnings.”

He shifted his weight, "or at least that's what Hermione told me when she showed me how to do the spell."

Ginny’s gut twisted into a knot. "They're beautiful," was all she could muster out. She wasn't sure she wanted a new beginning. She wanted to start all over.

"For you," Harry said, handing her a single flower.

Ginny smiled and accepted the pity flower. Harry didn't believe in the pity flowers either, but it was thoughtful, so Ginny tucked it into her pocket.

When she got home later that night, she tossed it into her windowsill. With hope that maybe the rest of the summer improved from the beginning.

The next several days were spent in mourning. Traveling from funeral to funeral.

Colin’s funeral was hard because she spent 30 minutes before leaving being coached by Hermione on the intricacies of a muggle funeral. Obviously, no fireworks like Fred’s nor an ablaze casket like at Dumbledore’s. But instead a metal contraption that would slowly lower his wooden casket into the ground.

She sat near front on the side with Neville and Seamus on either side of her. Harry with Ron and Hermione in the back, trying to keep attention off of them as much as possible.

Ginny grieved for her friend. Her Herbology partner. The person who never tired answering her questions about the Muggle World. The same sinking feeling that ebbed and flowed in her since the battle came back. She was the reason why he lost half of his first year lying petrified in the hospital wing. Tom was the reason he lost the rest of his life.

Tonks and Remus’s funerals were next. Members of the Order carried both caskets. Kingsley had tears streaming down his face with Tonks’ casket on his shoulders. Her dad looked more tired than usual under the weight of Remus’s casket.

Only one other gravestone stood in the ground on the plot of land. Tonks’ final resting place lay next to the empty grave of her father whose body was never recovered.

In the last row sat Andromeda cradling a young Teddy Lupin. Remus showed her a picture of young Teddy when he visited the Weasley’s at Muriel’s place. Then, his hair was a bright orange. Now, it lacked any sign of vibrance, instead he wore Remus’s signature sandy hair.

Next to Andromeda sat Narcissa, poised, dressed head to toe in expensive black robes. Looking every bit out of place Ginny is sure she felt.

Harry did a double-take after he noticed her next to his godson. Ginny reached forward and laced her fingers with his, offering a squeeze of comfort. On the other side of Harry, Ron pulled Hermione closer to his body.

Instead of the small wizard, Kingsley stood in front of the graves and gave a speech about hope and love and loss. A personal story about Tonks catching a death eater by tripping on top of him was interrupted by wails coming from the back row.

Little Teddy’s uncontrollable sobs echoed in the cemetery. Andromeda tried shushing him to no avail. Narcissa stood, offering a hand, a moment passed before Andromeda passed over her grandson to her sister. Narcissa carried Teddy further away from the funeral and whispers of the guests.

“She has no right,” hissed Ron.

“It’s fine,” Harry replied, his leg bouncing, looking everything but fine.

Kingsley continued on with Teddy’s sobs quieted by distance. Ron kept anxiously looking over his shoulder back at Narcissa while Hermione stared straight forward. Harry leaned forward in his seat, releasing his grip on her hand.

Ginny, for her part, kept listening to Kingsley and silently wondered if she would ever fully understand what happened with those three last year.

The funeral ended with Kingsley and Gawain Robards casting golden sparks at the pair of caskets before they slowly descended into the ground.

Gradually, the crowd began to thin out. Narcissa carefully returned to her sister’s side off in the back, swaying back and forth, cradling a sleepy Teddy in her arms.

Harry stood and started to make his way back towards where his Godson was.

“Mr. Potter. May I have a word?” Gawain Robards asked.

Harry froze momentarily, and Ginny wondered if he was going to tell the Head Auror to fuck right off before he calmly nodded. Robards stuck out his hand, leading Harry away from the crowds, in the opposite direction of Narcissa Malfoy.

Ginny stood frozen next to Ron and Hermione, both just as conflicted as she felt on whether they should eavesdrop on Robards and Harry’s conversation or confront Mrs. Malfoy.

Her mum approached the Black sisters. Ginny snuck over to the back, Ron and Hermione following her closely, ready to witness whatever drama could unfold between Molly Weasley and Narcissa Malfoy. But instead of sharp words or curses shot from wands, her mum swept both Andy and Narcissa into a warm embrace

“I am so sorry about your sister,” Mum said, pulling away from the Black sisters.

Narcissa placed a hand on her mum’s arm, “We do anything to protect our children.” She gave Andromeda a curt nod and took a slender finger to brush Teddy’s cheek. “I won’t intrude any longer than I meant to. It was good to see you, Andy.”

With a pop, Narcissa disappeared.

Harry stormed by a few seconds later, Robards still standing where Harry left him, hand rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“Harry?” Hermione’s voice questioned.

“Later,” Harry shortly replied before apparating off, not even sparing Ginny a second glance.

Hermione sighed, turning to Ron. “Ready?” Ron gripped her hand and then both disappeared with another pop.

“Wanker,” Ginny muttered under her breath, “You were supposed to apparate me home.”

Kicking a rock on the ground, Ginny begrudgingly walked back to where her mother was now rocking Teddy.

On the thirteenth, Ginny dressed once again in black. Hermione and her traded their black robes so they were not wearing the exact same outfit to every funeral they attended. By the fourth day of funerals, Fleur was offering her wardrobe to them as well, altering her clothes to fit their bodies.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione attended every funeral, each of them feeling like they owed it to the witch or wizard who lost their life. Just yesterday, they attended the funeral of a Slytherin fifth year girl that none of them had even met. Ginny joined them most days. Harry side-along apparating her to the graveyard. Occasionally, other members of the D.A. would be in attendance and Ginny would stand next to them.

Harry planned on arriving right before the funeral started, but Ginny wanted to be there as early as possible. Hermione’s heels clicked as she walked down the Burrow steps into the kitchen. “Ready, Ginny?”

Together they apparated to a large wizarding cemetery. A place where thousands of purebloods were buried before. A place that currently had an unusually high amount of fresh mounds of dirt and 6 foot holes due to the significant amount of deaths during the war.

Ginny found her dormmates immediately. Jessica embracing Elise with Athena rubbing circles on her back. They all looked up as Ginny and Hermione approached the trio.

Jessica let go of Elise to engulf Ginny into a hug. "I am so sorry about Fred, Ginny."

"Thank you, Jess."

Jessica paused before wrapping Hermione in a hug as well.

Athena pulled something out of her pocket and placed it in Ginny’s hand.

"Here."

Opening her palm, Ginny felt that familiar tug of her gut. In her hand was a green butterfly clip, similar to the ones Sophie often donned in her hair. Looking up, she saw her roommates all had one clipped in their hair as well.

"Thank you," Ginny choked out, clipping her loose strands back.

"Do you want to sit with us?" Athena asked Hermione.

Hermione shook her head, "Thank you for the invite, but Ron and Harry should be arriving soon. I will sit with them in the back. You four should sit together."

Hermione gave Ginny’s shoulder a squeeze before walking to the back row of chairs.

The funeral started not too long later. Ginny pressed between Athena and Elise near the front. The four dormmates held hands the entire time, offering gentle squeezes of support to one another as they buried their friend. Little Samuel Deacon sobbed throughout the entire procession, and Ginny wished nothing more than him to have his sister back.

Ginny stayed back after the funeral to watch Harry approach the Deacon family. It was something he did after every burial, apologize to the family. Ginny wished Harry understood that Sophie’s death was not his fault.

Samuel turned away from his parents and gave her a small wave. Ginny lifted her hand, but turned away. The nausea associated with Sophie was churning in her stomach once again.

That night, with her back pressed against Harry’s chest and one of his arms draped across her churning stomach, she lay frozen still.

"You okay?" Harry murmured in her ear.

She wasn't, but she couldn't admit that secret out loud. Especially to the person who carried so much more guilt than she could even begin to imagine. So she lied.

"I'm fine."

Harry had no reason to believe her lie, since it was his favorite lie to tell too. But he pretended for her, pulling her closer to his chest, pressing his lips to the back of her skull.

Not shortly after, his breaths evened out as he was lulled to sleep. Ginny’s brain was ignited on fire, keeping her awake.

“I know, it’s going to be alright,” Ginny lied. Sophie continued to whimper in pain. Ginny could only bear to look at her face, scared of what the rest of her crushed body may look like.

“I want to go home,” Sophie cried out, tears leaking down her face. Ginny felt tears well up in her eyes too.

A sound from behind her drew her away from her dying friend. Ginny couldn’t see anyone, but something in her wanted to get up and follow.

Sophie’s weak cough drew her back in. Blood tinged on her lips, her face losing color as each second passed. “Will you stay with me until I go?” Sophie asked, her voice childlike. She is just a child, Ginny realized. At 17 years old, there was so much Sophie never experienced. So many people Sophie was leaving behind. Ginny’s gut flipped realizing this is why her own mother wanted her to stay hidden.

“Of course,” Ginny choked out.

Sophie’s fingers managed to find Ginny’s. “It’s okay, Gin. You were one of my best of friends.”

Ginny snapped herself out of the memory. Harry still wrapped tightly around her, his heat radiating off his body suffocating her. She wrestled herself out from underneath him, desperately trying to not wake him. She needed fresh air.

Barefoot in the grass, Ginny padded to the paddock and grabbed her broom. She took flight and hoped the night air could cool the fire she felt in her brain.

As the sun began to crack streaks of light in the sky, Ginny crept back into her bedroom. Harry softly snored in her sheets. Ginny smiled as she slid back into his arms. She had been awake for nearly 24 hours, her brain was finally exhausted enough to finally fall asleep.

With no more funerals to attend, the rest of May trickled by. Everyone was stagnant with grief, finding it difficult to progress on. Charlie was growing restless, staying now at Shell Cottage with Bill and Fleur, but not feeling like he could abandon the family back in Romania just yet. Every time he mentioned the country, her mum would burst into tears.

Percy was just there. All the time. He and her dad would attend work, but then he would always come back to the Burrow instead of his own apartment.

Ginny sat with George most days. They had a quiet understanding that talking was the last thing either one of them wanted to do. A few days a week, they would go to Weasleys' Wizards Wheezes and organize the mess. Some days, Lee Jordan and Angelina Johnson would stop by and help up, filling in the silence with endless chatter. Other days, the pair would sit on the front counter, passing back and forth a bottle of butterbeer with the radio blasting Wizard Rock in the background.

Ron and Hermione were wrapped around each other at all times of the day. One couldn't even use the toilet without the other hovering nearby on the stairwell.

She had not seen Harry in days due to conflicting schedules. He would fall asleep in her bed after a long day of performing bullshit politics with Kingsley, and Ginny would join him after her nightly flight. When she finally rose in the late morning, his side of her bed would be cold.

Moments alone were rare, and those moments were spent exploring each other's bodies instead of exploring each other's thoughts. They were two vastly different novels only sharing a page with one another and then snapping the book shut before either one could read any further. So Ginny came to her own conclusions.

The burn marks on his thighs were fresh as though his escape dragon from Gringotts scorched him. The ribs she traced with finger in the dark told her that food was scarce. The lightning shaped scar on his chest told a horror story she didn't want to touch with a ten foot pole. The erythematous circle branded into his chest was the most confusing part of his story.

Ginny hated to think what conclusions Harry was drawing from her body.

On a cool evening in late May, Ginny decided to actually retire to bed at a reasonable time. The sky had opened into a massive thunderstorm which was not relenting any time soon. Harry and her had played a round of Exploding Snap earlier in the day to pass the time.

"Are you falling asleep with me tonight?" Harry asked, bare legs crossed on her bed, his hand propped behind his head. He looked so casual, like her bed was his own.

"Only if you promise not to snore tonight," Ginny teased.

A pillow flew at her face. Ginny snapped it from the air and threw it right back into Harry’s face. With glasses askew and a smile tugging at his lips, Harry reached out a hand to her.

She eagerly took it, being led to her own bed.

Ginny melted into Harry’s side, his hands immediately resting on her hips pulling her close. She tilted her chin to slot her lips against his.

This part was easy. Harry’s body was a map she had traced and memorized a year ago, and, during the quiet dark nights in her dorm room, she recited to herself.

His lips were soft and chapped. Teeth grazing her own lips, threatening to roughen her up with a bite or two. His chest pressed against her own. His hands, one always wrapped around a strand of her hair, tugging her whenever she pressed up against him just right. His strong thighs, one always slotted in between her legs.

That was the mantra she replayed in her head over and over while her fingers wandered down her skin last year.

But now, in the dark of her warm bedroom, it was Harry’s fingers trailing down her body.

“You’re perfect,” Harry murmured into her collarbone as she moaned his name.

Ginny came undone with the touch of his fingertips, her world bursting, once again, into a fire. Her insides ignited for Harry. She felt far from perfect, but with Harry she felt alive.

Her hands worked to remove his faded T-shirt, eager to return the favor. Fingers trailed down his chest, avoiding the new scars on his body. She wrapped her hand around his length and Harry’s breath hitched, a noise escaping his mouth that Ginny wanted to bottle up and savor forever. He never had to say anything to her ever again as long as he kept making that noise.

“Ginny,” Harry moaned, “I don’t think I will last much long-”

Ginny shut him up by capturing his mouth with her own. Teeth grazing his swollen lips. With a few more pumps, Harry shuddered about another moan that made Ginny’s toes curl.

Harry blinked his eyes open, green irises hidden behind his black pupils, staring hungerly at her. He pressed lazy kisses along her jawline, nose, forehead, before finally catching her lips. “You make me forget everything bad,” Harry sighed into her lips.

Ginny’s insides turned cold, the blazing heat evaporated and replaced by an icy tundra. She wasn’t sure why, Harry’s confession or the idea of forgetting, losing memories.

“Goodnight, Harry,” Ginny said, hoping to prevent any more confessions from slipping through his loose lips.

“Night, Gin” Harry replied softly.

Harry’s bare chest rose and fell with each breath, and Ginny wished nothing more than the ability to join him in unconsciousness. Her finger traced the lightning bolt on his chest, her own chest tightening with memories of that day. She thought she lost him. The final blow in a series of blows that kept hitting her over and over again that night.

With everything she lost, she had to keep taking steps. One at a time.

One breath in. One breath out.

Ginny glanced out her window. The rain had slowed to a trickle. The blooming daisy sitting in the window sill caught her eye. She bolted up from her bed, grabbing the flower on her way out the door.

The orchard was still a mess. Her mum had removed the destroyed flowers, but all that was left was upturned earth. Falling to her hands and knees, Ginny dug in the soil. A wand would have made it easier, but she did not want easy.

Taking a step back and admiring her work, the daisy Harry had given her now rooted in the soil of the orchard. Alone. With a promise of growth.

To new beginnings.

The best and worst day of June (chapter 2)

If May trickled slowly like the water on the River Styx, June crashed in like a tsunami under Poseidon's rage.

The back door slammed close after George drunkenly stumbly out

Maps of Australia and pictures of the brain were pinned up on her walls. Gwenog Jones’s face was covered by a colorful poster highlighting the anatomy of the brain.

“Do you need any help?” Ginny asked.

Hermione tutted, wrapping her hair into a bun and sticking her want through it. “I wouldn’t mind a fresh pair of eyes. Thanks.”

Ginny picked up one of the massive textbook with a brain on the cover Charms of the Central Nervous System: Don’t be Nervous! Opening to the back glossary, Ginny scanned the O’s until she found what she was looking for.

Peering over her shoulder, Hermione said “I didn’t obliviate my parents’ memories. I blocked them.”

“What’s the difference?”

Hermione stood from the bed and walked over to the brain poster covering Gwenog’s face. “Obliviation destroys old memories. Burns them. That is why Gilderoy Lockhart will never fully recover because so much of his brain was destroyed. If little bits are taken then there is some neuroplasticity and ability to regenerate what was missing, but if I took 17 years of my parents' lives from them, I would never be able to get that back.” She paused, staring off into the distance, as though she was realizing the challenge she could be facing instead.

Shaking her head, Hermione continued. “So instead of taking away their memories, I hid them behind a wall.”

“The hippocampus stores memories,” Hermione said, pointing to a part of the brain that looked nothing like a seahorse. “So that is where my parents’ memories are being blocked. I just put their old memories behind a wall and put new memories in front of that wall.”

“There has not been a whole lot of research, but in theory, worst case scenario, if I remove their new memories too quickly, I could cause their brain to blow.”

“I’m sorry what?”

“Not like pew pew,” Hermione said, mimicking an explosion. “More like, their brains would swell to fill in the space of the memories that I took back. Which could cause their brain to expand and possibly herniate causing a stroke."

She mindlessly flipped through the pages of the textbook, hoping something would give her hints about memory and memory loss.

Ginny drops comments every now and then about memory loss

She is not very happy that Hermione took her parents memories

“What are you planning on telling your parents when you see them?”

“That I am their daughter and I had to keep them safe.”

“Do you think they will understand?”

“From personal experience, amnesia and having your memories taken from you can be very traumatizing.”

“This is different from the diary, Ginny. I was trying to keep them safe.”

As we will find out in a later chapter, Ginny is not talking about the diary

"Are you going to go with them?" Ginny asks on a warm night.

"No, I don't fancy facing another Winter so soon," Harry replied

And there it was. A hint about what he had faced this past year, but neither one pushed forward. She could ask, and he might answer, but then he might ask the same of her. And that was something she did not want to answer. Some Gryffindor she is.

Harry tells her everything about the horcruxes and how we was one for the last 16 years of his life.

Ginny tells Harry very little about what she experienced this last year.

Hermione goes up to switch beds like they do every night and when Harry is lying next to her, she dreams about him. But when he talks she hears Tom. When she wakes and Harry is laying right next to her, she freaks the fuck out.

The next day she runs away to Lunas

Luna “I always liked being outside. Now I love it even more. It is open, and bright. I’m not a big fan of the dark right now.”

“If you want to talk about it, I will happily listen.”

“Ginny, you are such a good listener, but not a very good talker.”

“You should tell Ron that. He says I never shut up.”

“Oh no you talk, you just don’t talk about what is bothering you. You ask questions about me or how other people are doing, but when people ask how you are doing. You deflect. You talk about how Quidditch is going, or how your family is. But never you.

A few nights later, Harry joins her out flying, and that is when she admits that she is afraid that she was never in love with Harry, but she was attracted to the horcrux within him this entire time.

Harry has to put his big boy pants on and try to be emotionally mature hearing that from her. (Boy does not do a very good job, but at least he is trying)

He tries to get her to open up more about what happened to her and slowly we start to see some things

She picked up a strand of grass, carefully pulling it apart into two separate pieces. A simple distraction. "What do you know of last year?"

"Only what little Neville has told me."

"I'm sure what he told you paints the picture of what happened," she shrugged. She couldn't meet his gaze, she stared at the grass in her hand, delicately tying it into a knot. His hand reached for hers, fingers intertwining. He squeezed her hand gently, reassuringly. Offering support.

---

She is hiding. She doesn’t want to talk to Harry, or see her mum’s broken face. So she is hiding in the one place no one would look.

Laying on Fred’s bed, she could finally be alone.

***enter depressing thoughts here***

---

On June 22nd, she dreams of Tom. She always dreams of him on this day. Their anniversary of meeting face to face in a chamber meant to be a secret. She wants to ask Harry if he remembers, but she doesn't dare for the fear of what he might say.

I forgot.

Lucky you.

So she keeps this nightmare to herself just like she kept the past year to herself. She felt like she was slowly becoming a chamber full of secrets herself.

That night, with her back against Harry’s chest and one of his arms draped across her stomach, was the first time she felt brave all day. In the dark where he couldn’t see her face, when they were alone, unlikely to be overheard since the house was asleep. She finally muttered the truth that haunted her.

“I'm the reason Sophie's dead.”

The only indication that Harry heard her was the pause in his breath. Harry’s arm tightened, pulling her impossibly closer to his chest. And because he understands her perfectly, he does not suggest that she possibly could not be a murderer, he asks a different question.

“Why do you think so?”

She inhales slowly, calming down her nerves. “I left her on the courtyard. We were fighting together, Colin and Seamus were also there. Spells were flying everywhere, and I lost her in the crowd. There just was so much chaos. Then a death eater was in front of me, I think it was Avery, firing curse after curse at me,” Ginny paused, flashes of that night playing over and over in her mind. “I fired a reducto at the arch above his head and it collapsed on top of him. But it caused a lot more damage. It wasn’t much later that Voldemort called for a pause.

“After, well after, I went inside,” Ginny said, skipping over finding out about Fred’s death, “I went out to the courtyard to find survivors. To help. That is where I found her. Underneath the rubble that I caused.”

"You couldn’t have known.”

But Ginny felt like she should have known better. She knew innocent actions have consequences after surviving her first year

I've been down since July

In the cracks of light, I dreamed of you

The Great Depression

Pieces of her life were black. Dark and missing and forgotten. She had soared to unimaginable heights to try to find them, but every time she thought she heard a whisper of a memory, it turned into his voice mocking her, or worse, her own voice laughing at her.

Hermione and Ron come back from Australia

Hermione apologizes to Ginny because her mum cannot forgive her. Her dad had to play mediator in the argument.

Her parents are coming back to England eventually, but not yet. They wanted more time before returning home.

Ron and Ginny conversation

"It's supposed to be easy. Harry and me. How it was before."

"What did you used to talk about."

"I tried prying once to know what he was up to with Dumbledore, but Harry not so subtly shut that down quickly. So we stuck to safe topics. Quidditch, O.W.L.s, how maroon definitely isn't your color."

Ron scowled.

Criminal Trials get announced for the Death Eaters and the date

A brown owl flew into the kitchen, dropping off the newest edition of the Daily Prophet on Hermione’s plate. She reached into her shorts pocket to trade a knut for the paper. Ron fed a small piece of his breakfast sausage to the owl as compensation as well. The owl gave a satisfied hoot before flapping its wings and flying out of the kitchen window.

Ginny pointed her fork at her brother. "Who was the person I suggested you snogged for practice?"

"Are you seriously asking me security questions right now?"

"The Ron Weasley I know would never voluntarily give up some of his breakfast."

Ron stabbed his fork in another piece of sausage, taking the whole thing in his mouth, "Yeah well I've matured."

"Oh! They released the dates for the trails!" Hermione shouted, interrupting them.

Ron looked away from her and turned back to his girlfriend. “When’s Malfoy’s?” He asked, kindly swallowing his food before asking.

The Carrow trials get announced for like August 13th, making sure that they are AFTER Ginny's birthday which makes her an adult, therefore, she is required to speak at them if they summon her as a witness

yeah this was done intentionally, fuck the ministry for forcing my girl to have to relive her trauma

Harry’s birthday

Ginny gets drunk at Harry’s party

I love you, ain't that the worst thing you’ve ever heard?

August slipped away

Ginny’s birthday

Carrow trials

Amycus was a man. He only understood pain in tears and in blood. He didn’t understand that to girls blood meant nothing more than washing their sheets that night before bed. He didn’t understand that girlhood was pain, or that tears could be shed from grief or laughter.

Alecto was a woman. She understood that trauma of girlhood because no matter how horrid she currently is, she was a victim of it too. She understood how to torture a young girl scared of her past. She knew how to weaponize memories, or the lack thereof, so that Ginny could continue to torture herself without Alecto lifting another finger.

Ginny turned to the other side of the courtroom where Amycus Carrow sat. His face emotionless, but his muddy eyes filled with glee, like her reliving her torture was *erotic* for him.

She felt her heart quicken. Calm down.

Breathe in and out.

"Her brother told me."

Her mind brought her back to the floor of the DADA classroom. Those same hungry brown eyes staring down at her, his wand still raised. Every one of her nerve endings felt like it was on fire, every synapse filled with ice. Her mind bounced from one area of her body to the next, unable to focus on what body system hurt the most. Amycus lowered his wand and sneered down at her, "I know Alecto makes you forget her detentions, but I want this one to be unforgettable."

The courtroom was silent. The judge leaned forward in his chair, "Can you please further explain, Miss Weasley?"

Breathe In.

Out.

In.

Out.

• So since I never actually wrote what happened to Ginny during her time with Alecto, I will tell you all now. Alecto would erase Ginny's memory after every detention. Often times, the detentions were tame, because the punishment was the fact that Ginny was slowly losing her mind and she felt like she was reliving her first year at Hogwarts. Alecto figured out that Ginny was the girl in the chamber (because how would people not know this information? like Ginny wrote her suicide note on the wall in red paint) and used that to torment her. Also tying in the fact that Amycus was still torturing my poor girl with the cruciatus curse, Ginny was going through it. And it is not like she could really tell anyone what was happening to her because she didn't know what was happening to her. She eventually pieced it together.

• The coming together of Harry and Ginny officially

You'll Have New Septembers

The epilogue where Harry sends Ginny off on the Hogwarts express

#graveyard fic #hinny #ginny weasley #i could just upload the first chapter.... but that also feels like a disservice to the rest of the fic #Spotify

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southeastasianists · 1 year ago

Text

On a Saturday night, outside a dark building in Smithfield in the south-west of Sydney, the street is deadly quiet and deserted.

On one side of a driveway is a kitchen wholesaler; on the other an auto parts dealer.

But right at the end of that driveway, through some roller doors, is a huge hall teeming with life and activity.

The people gathered here tonight have travelled from all over Sydney to meet.

They share a proud culture and language.

But they also share the experience of horrific human rights violations.

Theirs is a story not enough Australians know about.

Torture, famine, killings

More than 100 members of the Timor Chinese Association of NSW (TCA NSW), whose cultural background is Chinese Hakka, are gathered in the Sydney warehouse.

Each of them grew up in Timor-Leste, known as East Timor before the country gained independence in 2002.

Most lived through the civil war following the country's decolonisation from Portugal in 1974 and then under years of Indonesian occupation, which lasted from December 1975 to 1999.

During this time, it's estimated that between 100,000 and 180,000 Timorese people died. Many were also victims of human rights violations including displacement, sexual violence, torture, famine, detention and killings.

Hugo Fernandes, director of Timor-Leste's Centro Nacional Chega (Centre of Truth and Reconciliation) is the co-editor of the Chega report, the first official document of the atrocities experienced by the people of East Timor.

He says the Timorese Chinese community were targeted during Indonesia's invasion of East Timor because of suspicions they were communists.

In 1965, half a million people died in a coup in Indonesia in the mass targeting of communists.

The biggest atrocities that happened to the ethnic Chinese community in Dili occurred in the first week of the Indonesian invasion in 1975. It's believed that up to 40 Chinese civilians were killed during this time.

Manuela's story

That first week of invasion began on December 7, 1975. It's a day Manuela Jong, who now lives in Sydney, remembers well.

She was eight years old in 1975 and living with her family, including nine brothers and sisters, in the district of Colmera, Dili.

She recalls the knock on the door, soon after the Indonesian army parachuted down just outside her house.

"My dad was holding my brother's hand as they walked, probably about four or five steps away from all of us," Mrs Jong tells ABC RN's History Listen.

"The soldiers start shooting them from behind. And straight away my dad was rolling on the floor and we [were] all watching.

"My mum was screaming and said all in Chinese, in [the Timor language] Tetum, but they didn't understand … 'Come, come, come back and shoot all of us.

Mrs Jong's father was killed, but her 17-year-old brother survived.

Later Mrs Jong, her pregnantmum and siblings took turns digging a shallow grave to bury their father. As isthe local custom, they planted a banana tree in the same spot.

Witness to mass execution

Yi Jung Fi, a Chinese Timorese man now living in Sydney, was also in Dili on December 7, 1975.

Only 12 years old at the time, he remembers hearing gunfire and seeking safety at night under his parents' bed.

"[My] parents said best to sleep on the ground, because if there's any shooting, you're less likely to get shot," Mr Yi said.

"We saw one [soldier] was hanging on the coconut tree, dangling there. So we know the Indonesians are here."

Mr Yi's recollection of that day is disturbingly visceral.

"During the invasion, the smell, the smell was incredible. You could taste it. "They tried to burn the bodies. I remember that smell," he says.

In 1984, another Chinese Timorese survivor, Chong Kui Yan, recorded a testimony for Amnesty International in which he said he saw 40 men killed in the first two days of the Indonesian invasion.

Mr Chong witnessed mass executions at the Dili wharf, where groups of East Timorese people and ethnic Chinese civilians were shot and pushed into the sea.

The Chega report noted that dozens of ethnic Chinese were executed near the harbour between December 7 and 9, 1975.

In his testimony, Mr Chong said that on the morning of December 7, Indonesian soldiers forced him, his pregnant wife and child, and all occupants of an apartment block called the Toko Lay, out onto the street.

He was among a "work party" who were then taken and forced to dig graves to bury Indonesian soldiers. The following day, they were taken to Dili wharf.

"At the harbour were many dead bodies," he said.

"We were told to tie the bodies to iron poles, attach bricks and throw the bodies in the sea.

"After we had thrown all the bodies in the sea, about 20 people were brought in, made to face the sea and shot dead. They were Chinese people who lived in Colmera."

The Amnesty International report also described how one father had to throw his own son into the sea.

There were roughly 4,500 Chinese in Timor in 1960. By 1980, following the civil war and the first five years of Indonesian occupation, that population had more than halved.

The fear of violence and retribution by the Indonesians meant victims rarely spoke about their experiences outside their immediate family.

Sometimes people learnt about the fate of their friends and extended family years later, and often only once they had left East Timor.

Reconnecting in a new land

Many of the people who survived the violence in East Timor managed to flee to places like Taiwan, Portugal, Macau and Australia.

In Australia, the first refugees from East Timor arrived by merchant ships in Darwin in August 1975.

Between 1976 and 1986, more than 2,000 Chinese Timorese sought refuge in Australia. Most settled in Sydney, but also in Darwin and Melbourne.

Lai Li Shao Lorraine, who was born in Dili and had been sent to a Sydney boarding school in 1970 before the Indonesian invasion, remembers seeing on the TV news the first refugees arriving in Australia.

It was a powerful time for Mrs Lai, who'd had little communication with her family prior to the civil war and invasion, and didn't know how many of them had survived.

"We found out where they were. All the people, we know each other," Mrs Lai says.

Some were reunited with friends and family in Perth, Melbourne, Darwin and Sydney. The drive to share news from home and talk about their journeys to get to Australia is what led to the formation of the Timor Chinese Association of NSW.

Forty-five years later, the close-knit community is still connected.

In that huge hidden hall in Sydney, the close friends gather monthly to celebrate each other's birthdays, or to come together for celebrations like the Moon Festival or Chinese New Year.

Mrs Lai is passionate about her community that has reunited in Australia.

"I'm very happy because we're all refugees and Timor is not that big, and so we all know each other," she says.

"All my school mates from Timor are all in Sydney."

At their meet-ups, everyone brings a plate of food, and there's free flowing beer and tea, dancing and live music.

"We're still together," Tony Von, the association's president, says.

"Every Timorese comes back together this way."

#Southeast Asia #East Timor #Timor Leste #Indonesia #Invasion #History #Refugees #Human Rights #death cw #torture cw

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dominickeating-source · 7 months ago

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SFX Issue 134 (2005)

LOOK WHO'S STALKING...

THE SFX STALKER ASKS THE QUESTIONS THAT REALLY MAKE THE STARS GO..."FREAK!"

DOMINIC KEATING

For four years, Dominic Keating played Star Trek: Enterprise's token Brit, Malcolm Reed. But now that's gone down the crapper, he's back in Blighty.

Dominic, you've got a posh name. Are you very posh? "Semi-posh. My Mum's family is quite posh. My Dad was a very rural lad from the wilds of Ireland. I come from quite a dichotomy. My grandfather was a Brigadier OBE, but my grandfather on my dad's side was a lighthouse keeper." What's the worst trouble you've ever been in? "Oh gosh...at the tennis club disco when I was 13. I was snogging Sally Jinks quite vehemently, and I got this tap on the shoulder. It was the matron of the tennis club. I didn't even turn round but I sort of tipped my lips away from Sally and went 'Sod off!' I was immediately yanked off her and was in a pile of trouble..." I heard that you were in a drag act, to get your Equity card. (Wearily) "Yes I was. I did let that out one time, years ago..." How Method did you go? Did you wear ladies knickers? "I didn't wear the knickers. I had my boxers on. We did a charity gig at the Crypt in Brixton. There's me, a little public school boy, getting changed in the corner with 40 lacerating drag queens. ' What's the matter, didn't they have your size?' It was a hell of an experience, and very strengthening..." If I rifled through your bins, what would I find? "You missed your opportunity. I just took back my flat in London after ten years and I did a huge throw out, and it was remarkable the amount of stuff I found." And the most embarrassing thing you found? "Er...I'd kept a Page Three of Kathy Lloyd that was wrapped up. (Laughs) What a serious pair she had, eh?" Did you put that back in a draw for safekeeping? "No I chucked it out! My fianc�e was there and I went very quiet for a second, and she went, ' What have you found?' 'Oh...nothing!' " Which of the other Enterprise blokes could you beat in a fistfight? "Oh, none! Hmm, maybe John Billingsley [Dr Phlox]...but he's got the weight on me. Connor and Anthony and Scott are big strapping, corn-fed fellas. I'm fairly fit - by English standards - but these guys, they're six foot and all muscle. I'm not even 5' 10". But as they say, diamonds are small...!" Finally, a philosophical question... "Philosophical? Oh you've lost me right there. (Puts on a Vicki Pollard voice) A what? Yeah, but, no but, yeah. Shut up!" Please be serious, Dominic. Okay, here's the question : If there was a fight between a group of cavemen and a group of astronauts, who would win? "Well, it depends on the environment really, doesn't it? But I would imagine the cavemen could kick the living crap out of the astronauts - they're all mathematicians. My money's on the cavemen mate!"

Source: www.dominickeating.com

#dominic keating #the keating cult #interview

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firespirited · 11 months ago

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yesterday I took the bus - needed to find out if my neck can handle it. I had some pretty bad migraines from car rides last year and have got much better at letting the rest of my back do the bracing while walking for example, deliberately trying to redirect all the stress I hold in the shoulders to slightly lower down.

I sat myself firmly in the back, slightly slouched into the chair, hands wrapped around my bag loosely and let the rest of the back handle the bumpy ride.

that part was good progress. I haven't been able to go to physio to have my neck massaged when in pain because the ride there would do more damage than not going at all: disabled life is a lot of catch 22s.

unfortunately, the bus did not loop back as hoped so it was

A/ sit in a crowded place on market day in the cold for 40 minutes for another bus that would take an hour looping around town before it gets to my place

or B/ walk home. we walked home very slowly but it's still energy I didn't have so I'll be cutting a bunch of things out for the next week. These things happen, it's just a faff.

Another energy wipe out was the micro (and not so micro) aggression per minute machine that is S, who was also on the bus. I mentioned her a few weeks ago: she had got herself a bulldog which is bonkers in this climate, I cannot stress enough how wrong this dog felt in person as it rasped and choked, eyes barely in their sockets.

At the bus stop which is just a sign next to a lamp post: S: I just got out of the hospital with covid! it was awful. me: Oh no are you OK? *gets out N94 - I will later forget to remove it even though it's been 40 minutes of open spaces with no people and have a mild panic about this moment and how callous it is* S: i'm fine now me: how did you catch it? didn't you get the booster? S: it's seasonal now, no, no more vaccines, i've done enough, they don't work. me: *confused noises ... sigh* you need to take care of yourself! S: oh I got rid of my dog by the way, he was too much work during the covid thing me: mmm 👀 (don't ask what rid means, don't think about what rid means) // I change the topic to her retirement, the weather, the bus route being interesting and scenic, try to stay on "safe" topics. // S: I'm going on holiday, back to where I grew up, managed to convince my partner by buying his tickets and stuff, it's a lock. me: mmm 👀 (babyman baby man, he has money, dangit you have the worst taste in men) S: *points out the window at a market stand*, that's G, you should go see her, she'll be so happy to see you. me: 👀 (no she won't G is a bully and an asshole who broke mum's heart and is probably the same christian-nice-mean-lady she always was - I will deliberately cross the road going home) S: It's so nice to see you well me: *strangled laugh comes out as a nose squeak* 👀

#saf #personal

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cicaklah · 2 years ago

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picard thots 3x05

wanging on about star trek under the cat

🐈🐈🐈🐈🐈🐈🐈🐈🐈🐈🐈🐈🐈🐈🐈🐈🐈🐈🐈🐈🐈🐈

poor picard, forever alone until the last two weeks when TWO lady loves come back into his life and say 'oh yeah turns out we could have been in love but you fucked it up without realising it'. (not to ignore his current lady love who is the only one with the spine to let him NOT fuck it up without realising he is fucking it up).

(I can't believe we are STILL paying for patstew feeling emasculated in the early 90s. the male ego: not even once.)

Ensign Ro is one of those characters that TNG fans have Strong Feelings about, and I am one of those, because I love Bajorans and Cardassians as the true ds9 stan I am. I love seeing Michelle Forbes in things. I hope she was paid a lot to come reprise the character she's seemingly spent her whole career running away from. I suppose that, and the fact that this is a show named after Picard, that the focus will always be on her relationship with Picard. It was the most interesting part of what we got about her, along with our general introduction to the Bajoran faith and people, but we had 7 years of development of them and none of her, I always assumed she was killed when the marquis were slaughtered by the dominion as a favour to the cardassians. Lucky escape, though of course she got killed off. she had her story beat: time to die. (cash that cheque, never look back).

Anyway, not that Picard would have ever done anything with her, due to being Noble Space Coastguard Man who outranks her by about 40 years, but I quite pruriently like the wow wrong bad hot of that dynamic, in a dead dove way. Like as usual I wish we could spend more time in these characters' heads, because god I love people who fail at starfleet more than anything, they are my favourite characters in any show. The dysfunctional relationship between starfleet and those within it is fruit ripe for picking. Picard breaking the rules to sleep with Ro would be absolutely out of character in the most delicious way, to the point I kind of want to write it. Like that is tragedy, highest nobility and loyalty to an institution vs the desires of the human flesh. Genuinely the best. Awful dysfunctional relationship between man who projects wildly onto a younger woman and the younger woman who clings to older man in authority as symbol of the authority she is a bad fit for. Neither of them ever actually engaging with each other as people, therefore doomed to failure.

At the ~ revelation ~ that omg changelings are EVERYWHERE, when Ro says starfleet is corrupted to the highest level I went "what, AGAIN?" Its been 2 years since Romulans took over the top level of starfleet, and now its changelings. I mean, I still think the changelings have been there for twenty years, since the attempted coup in homefront/paradise lost.

I wish this series was...25% less ambitious prestige tv.

Anyway, glad that Jack said something to his mum that he's fucked and seeing things, but all this red and doors and stuff is synth-as-fuck, and honestly it makes no sense for Jack to be a synth even in this series. They can't do synth stuff without agnes and they ruined agnes by making her borg. it makes me miss narek, my problematic fave though. god, remember season 1? seems so long ago.

(IMAGINE IF SEASON 2 HAD BEEN ABOUT REINTEGRATION OF SYNTHS INTO SOCIETY AND EXBORGS AND JUST IN GENERALY NOT WHATEVER IT WAS GDI)

all these close ups of Jack's eyes is really highlighting that he is DRAMATICALLY miscast as a 23 year old, its just funny now. Man has more eye wrinkles than I do and I'm 36.

as we are introduced to more older characters the more I am changing my mind on gates mcfadden's face lift, I think its so uncanny it keeps throwing me out of her scenes because I keep analysing her face. can't do anything about it, and she does look good...if REALLY uncanny.

Worf and Raffi continue to be good, if a little boring. The timelines are converging. It was nice to see Charlie from Fringe as a Vulcan gone bad though. Been a little bit of a fringenaissance on TV this year, with anna torv in tlou and Charlie in this. more of that please. they deserve better.

I still like Shaw, but I like the bad apple captain trope best of all. Remember when we had Lorca and I got so excited about how Disco was going to be a show about actually working under one of the Bad Captains of the Week from TNG era?! Maybe I'm getting it.

(I also think that there's interesting things to unpack about Shaw and Seven's relationship that PERHAPS I might also write something about because mmmm he's a dick, she's bullheaded, what the fuck is she even doing in starfleet other than falling into the trap that so many failed fleeties have before, deconstruction of the protagonist hero trope, seven deserves better but how can she get better when she is in the military, which cares not for individuality?! Like the dichotomy of man who after trauma finds peace in conformity and playing by the rules, vs the woman who knows that conformity is seductive and ends up seduced by it again, and ends up in this job that she is ill-suited for even if she is technically good at it, because she is essentially self-harming by joining the military, the acceptable collective????

failed fleeties, my absolute fucking favourites. Right in the vein, please.)

anyway are we half way through? I think we're half way through. Wonderful.

#star trek #star trek picard #picard season 3 #picard 3x05 #picard spoilers #picard thots

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gracemisconduct · 11 days ago

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This has been a strange Christmas. The first without my dad. I've always struggled with being explicit about emotion; this is the second major grief in my life, and the first nearly killed me. This time, I'm trying to be open, less self destructive, but man, it's hard work. My mother, still here, is...someone who loves me better from afar. She also struggles to accept that this has happened to more than her. And yet, Christmas, funerals, and the time of year forces proximity, and forces everything that comes with it.

He died in increments, then all at once. I first saw him die a little ten years ago, getting a pacemaker. Then a little more two years later, when he was so breathless he couldn't walk across the small medieval town I lived in. I saw him die a little bit when he was diagnosed with cancer, and when he broke down crying at my wedding. I saw him die most and fastest this year, when he went from visiting China to not having the strength to sit up in bed by himself. And then, all at once, he died.

I never knew there was so much admin involved in death. People would ask how I was; I had no idea. I was too busy sourcing a death certificate, arranging a funeral, writing a eulogy, telling friends and family he'd died, sorting my mum's finances. Every now and again I'd burst our crying. Then I'd stop.

Through it all, two things kept me just about sane; walking, walking everywhere, and fantasy. Good fantasy, bad fantasy. Smut and angst and fandoms and AO3 and all the wonderful ridiculousness of it that teen Grace loved and 20s Grace tried to pretend she didn't. Now I'm in my 30s, no shits are given. It was a balm, a source of humour, a relief. A place of happy endings of all kinds. A lot of BG3. It even made me think about doing a little writing of my own, though we're far from there yet. Thanks, hellsite, for the wonderful wildness of this place. Thanks, makers, for putting your work out there into the world for me to get lost in and cling to like a life raft.

____________

So, who was my dad? He was the most accomplished man I ever knew; nearly 40 years curating Japanese art and metalwork at internationally renowned museums, published books, honorary positions, a photographer, a ceramicist, a singer and more. His eulogy took days to write just to remember everything he did, and we still missed things.

His curiosity for culture, his love of learning, his collecting of obscure facts and bizarre stories, was infectious. It was the golden thread of my brother and I’s upbringing, with weekends and holidays punctuated by museums, bookshops, National Trust properties, standing stones and sci-fi movies, and everything in between. It was this same passion and curiosity that meant his list of friends and admirers was longer than your arm. He was a G.I. and so am I. Yes, I stole his badge.

When we were looking for readings for his cremation, we came across this poem. It's a later addition by Tolkien, written by Bilbo as he travels to the Grey Havens, thinking about his life and what comes next. I think that dad - LOTR narrator, deliver of funny hobbit voices, old hippy - would appreciate it. I hope you do too.

Day is ended, dim my eyes,

but journey long before me lies.

Farewell, friends! I hear the call.

The ship's beside the stony wall.

Foam is white and waves are grey;

Beyond the sunset leads my way.

Foam is salt, the wind is free;

I hear the rising of the Sea.

Farewell, friends! The sails are set,

the wind is east, the moorings fret.

Shadows long before me lie,

beneath the ever-bending sky,

but islands lie behind the Sun

that I shall raise ere all is done;

lands there are to west of West,

where night is quiet and sleep is rest.

Guided by the Lonely Star,

beyond the utmost harbour-bar

I'll find the havens fair and free,

and beaches of the Starlit Sea.

Ship, my ship! I seek the West,

and fields and mountains ever blest.

Farewell to Middle-Earth at last.

I see the Star above your mast!

- J.R.R. Tolkien

notes on grief - chimamanda ngozi adichie

#notes on grief #poetry #words #grief #lotr #bilbo baggins #bg3 #fanfic #coping #writing #tolkien #j r r tolkien #ao3 #dealing with grief #grieving #chimamanda ngozi adichie

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peninsulaisms · 2 months ago

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As a girl from the peninsula, your posts and old photos of the ninch have me ready to bawl my eyes out. I’m from Mount Martha, so you can imagine how absolutely gutted I am after these past couple of years with the council basically pushing for gentrification and holiday-spotification. All these articles calling Mount Martha "Victoria’s answer to Byron Bay" are rubbish. it’s my home, for my family it’s been home since the '40s, and for my girlfriend’s family, it's been home for thousands of years. But now the council and shire are only interested in the cash and leaving us who built this town behind. I don’t know how to live here anymore. Some of my oldest mates are being priced out of homes their parents have rented since before they were born, and the local shops have hiked their prices so high that we can’t afford them. They keep paving over the dirt roads, and now every street is getting snapped up by the rich for Airbnbs or holiday homes they barely use. My mum’s friend from Sorrento saw it turn from a seaside gem into a tourist trap, and I’m scared Mount Martha will end up the same. I just want to live where I grew up, work at the bloody boat club, and afford a house here. Sorry for the rant, but your old photos of Mount Martha took me straight back to my childhood.

fuckin hell mate, mount martha is probably the worst place to be on the ninch right now. i go down there every now and then n the place is absolutely overrun. my grandparents live around your parts, near the estuary. i always imagined movin down there and livin in the hills near the estuary up on one of those unsealed gully roads. now i walk around and all I can see is houses for sale signs that recommend tearin down the family homes and tradie shacks to build luxury mansions. a mate of mine lives down there and a couple of years ago, in that big storm that happened during lockdown, her roof got torn off and her family were in such a bad way (because of the gentrification) that they couldn’t afford to have the roof fixed. they went and lived in a caravan park for almost a year while they fundraised amongst family and friends. it’s getting real bad for yous out on the coast n my heart cries for ya.

“mount martha is victoria’s answer to byron bay” ?? fuck all the way off

may god take away all of our pain n give it to every fuckin tourist who comes here.

#gentrification #mornington peninsula #asks #anti tourism

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alsjeblieft-zeg · 2 years ago

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317 of 2023

What color are your eyes?

Grey.

Is anyone you work with currently on maternity leave or vacation?

No, but one of my teammates is pregnant, so sooner or later she’s gonna go on maternity leave for sure.

Favorite boy’s name?

Joris.

Baked macaroni and cheese or regular?

Ew, macaroni and cheese is disgusting either way.

What’s the first thing you learned how to draw?

A triangle lol.

Name one of your friends’ children:

Davanie. I’ve never heard this name before, I must admit, but it kinda suits her :D

What was the name of your 5th grade teacher?

Our education system doesn’t work like this.

Sterling silver or titanium?

Both, but titanium for piercings so I don’t have to remove everything for MRI scans.

How many hours do you work in a day?

Currently four, twice a week. Normal shift is 8 hours a day, 40 hours a week.

Have you ever been to a casino?

No, but there are some casinos out there. One in my hometown, currently being rebuilt.

Who wrote the last book you read?

Margit Sandemo, I think. She was a Norwegian writer.

What’s the middle name of your bestfriend?

I don’t even remember anyone’s middle names, but my husband counts as best friend to me and his middle name is Jean.

What’s your favorite food?

Waterzooi from the city of Ghent.

How far away do you live from the closest aquarium?

We have Boudewijn Seapark here, it’s about 3 or 4 kilometres from my house, not that far from my work.

Favorite girls name?

Laura and Sylvie, or Monica.

Name one of your candle scents:

I don’t use things that trigger my migraines.

What’s the name of your favorite restaurant?

Chinese Wok, I think. It’s in my city and it serves awesome Asian food.

Are you in a relationship? If so, how long?

Five years and a half, married since last year.

Who in your family has a birthday in January?

No one.

When was the last time you lost power? How long was it out and the cause?

Two years ago, for one hour and the reason was maintenance.

Do you know any twins?

Yes, there are twin sisters who work with us and my mum is one of the twins, too.

What’s your favorite flower?

Tulip, always and forever.

Pick 3 random colors:

Black, green, blue.

Would you ever dye your hair that color?

I had all these colours.

Do you own any underwear that color?

Yeah, lots of black ones and a blue one. No green, though.

Can this be used as a last name?

Colours? I’ve seen “coloured” last names everywhere in the world lol.

What’s your favorite country song?

Excuse me, I think I’m gonna throw up.

Do you drink alcohol?

Not anymore. I’m not allowed due to my condition. I like beer, so I always look for 0% options.

Do you use any food delivery services such as UberEats, DoorDash, etc?

I’ve never heard about DoorDash before, but we do use Takeaway.com and I really like it.

What color is your mailbox?

We don’t even have a mailbox. Just the sliding hole in our door.

What age did you lose your virginity?

I was 24.

Dogs or cats?

Miauwtjes all the way.

Do you know anyone who’s been to prison?

Yeah, I do. Such a shame because he’s a very talented painter.

What’s one thing on your shopping list?

Probably more hoodies or more notebooks. Maybe I’m an addict.

Freeze tag or musical chairs?

I don’t even know what these are.

Where did you go on your last vacation?

Poland. Specifically, the Polish sea.

Have you ever been stuck in the mud?

Not really stuck, but things happened once or twice.

What was the last thing you took a picture of?

The street I used to live on, in my hometown.

Name someone you work with:

Johan.

How far away is the closest Walmart?

Not that far. Only across the whole Atlantic Ocean lol.

Chick-fil-A, Taco Bell or McDonald’s?

McDonald’s by default because we don’t even have the other two in Europe.

Did you ever get an allowance as a child?

Yeah. A small one, but I did.

What food do you see the most of at baby showers?

Never been to any, and I’m not willing to.

Do you know the capital of your state?

I’m European. We don’t have states here.

Have you ever rode on a motorcycle?

Yes, but only as a passenger.

When’s the last time you ate any type of sweet?

Today, a yogurt. It was banana flavoured, so it counts as sweet, right?

Pizza rolls or bagel bites?

Never tried either.

What kind of flooring is in the room you’re in?

Tiles. It’s normal in my country.

Is the internet connection good where you live at?

Very good, but also we pay a lot.

Do you need to do laundry?

Probably, it’s piling up already. Mostly socks and underwear.

What’s your favorite scent?

Vanilla and cinnamon.

Have you ever lived in a hotel before?

Yes, in Knokke. The hotel was okay, but I don’t like this city. It’s so posh, ew.

What kind of pets does your grandmother have?

My grandparents are deceased.

Do you follow any type of trials?

What are trials?

What’s the last show you really got into that you have to wait for the next season of?

None. I rewatch old TV series this time. I was watching new ones last year, but they got cancelled after one season and I’m so disappointed.

SpongeBob or Patrick?

Patrick who? I hate SpongeBob, though.

When’s the last time you saw fireworks?

Years ago. Nothing’s gonna surprise me anymore after that failed drone show XD

Have you ever witnessed a car accident?

Not in person.

Do you own a pair of fuzzy socks?

I do, but I don’t really wear them.

What kind of ice cream is your favorite?

Strawberry or so.

Have you ever been skinny dipping?

No, and I’m not interested.

Sprinkles or frosting?

Muizenstrontjes if ever, but I’m not a big fan of either.

Do you like mushrooms?

Yeah, I do. Just not the forest ones.

How many tattoos do you have?

Two, on my forearms.

Do you own any type of hand sanitizers?

Yeah, I keep them in case there’s no water in public toilets while travelling.

Have you ever worked in a grocery store?

No, I haven’t.

What’s your Subway order?

I hate Subway.

When was the last time you used the bathroom?

This afternoon.

Do you know how to roller skate?

Yeah, I do.

Can you read sheet music?

I can, but with some effort.

How old is your youngest sibling?

She’s 28.

Do you have an Amazon account?

I do, but I don’t really like ordering from there.

What day is payday?

First before the 5th and second before the 20th.

What’s one food your family has at Thanksgiving?

We don’t celebrate it in Europe.

Do you like painting?

Not much.

Have you ever been swimming with dolphins?

No, I haven’t.

What’s your favorite snack food?

Strawberries.

You’re watching Law & Order, is it the regular or SVU?

I’m not watching it, I don’t even know what it is.

What were you doing last time it snowed?

Sleeping. Snow in Belgium, such a rarity.

Do you have to sleep with a fan on?

No, omg. It’s cold here.

Chapstick or lip gloss?

No.

When was the last time you took a shower?

Today.

Do you know how to play basketball?

Do I know? I was in a basketball team when I was younger. Semi-professional.

Name one thing you put on a salad:

On a salad? Do you put it in layers or something?

Do you own anything that’s your favorite color?

Lol. I own a lot of black things.

What’s the last thing you ordered from a Mexican restaurant?

We don’t have Mexican restaurants here.

Do you carry a purse or a backpack?

I can’t see myself carrying a purse, I’m not a woman lol. I carry a black backpack for all my travels.

What kind of soda is your favorite?

Vanilla Coke, too bad it’s not available here and we have to go to France just to buy it.

Have you ever cut yourself shaving?

Yeah lol. I always do, and then I have cuts on my face and I look stupid.

Penguins or pandas?

Pandas.

Do you like your in-laws?

I don’t have any. My sister is not married.

What do you usually do for Christmas?

Eat food, give gifts, enjoy the time with my family.

Have you ever used any type of Aromatherapy?

No, I don’t even believe in such things.

Toe socks or ankle socks?

Jesus Christ. Normal socks, can we?

Who’s your favorite Pokémon character?

Misty, but I don’t even watch it.

What’s the temperature range in your area?

Between 5 and 20°C, on average. Just my guess/basic observation from the last few years.

Does your trash need to be taken out?

We have our bins outside and the special company takes it away once a week.

Nachos or chips and salsa?

No.

What’s the name of your pets?

Cats lol. Victoria and Suzanne.

Have you been around anyone that creeped you out?

Rather such “anyones” were around me.

What’s your Chick-fil-A order?

What? I’ve never heard this name before.

Regular or pink lemonade?

This is not the United States.

Do you know anyone who’s lost their house in a natural disaster?

No, not in person.

What’s your favorite candy?

Haribo, if only.

Chinese or Japanese cuisine?

Both, to some extent.

Colored pencils or sharpies?

Pencils.

Do you own a pair of Crocs?

God no. I’d never wear this in my life.

Have you ever been to DisneyWorld?

No, but we were close.

Does anyone in your family have a birthday in February?

Yes, my aunt who is the younger sister of my dad.

How long does it take for your phone to fully charge?

About two hours.

What color is your hairbrush?

I don’t really need one, I keep my hair short.

Is there any movies out that you want to see?

No, I’m not interested in movies.

Do you know how to run a cash register?

Probably I’d learn soon because I know computers.

Chicken or beef noodles?

Chicken. I don’t like beef.

What year did you get your drivers license?

Never got any. Neurological issues, be like. Nobody with at least a bit of common sense would ever give me a licence.

Do you have any piercings?

Yeah, I have eight.

What kind of makeup do you wear?

I’m not a woman. Lots of assumptions in this survey, do you really think only American girls take them? It’s so excluding.

What’s your Taco Bell order?

There’s no Taco Bell in Europe.

Do you wear any type of shimmer spray or glitter?

No. I don’t see any reason to wear it.

Have you ever lived in a trailer/doublewide?

I don’t think so.

What’s your boyfriends/girlfriends middle name?

My husband’s middle name is Jean, but I think I talked about it in this survey.

Are you into anime?

Not at all.

Pizza or nacho lunchables?

WTF is lunchables?

Have you ever been to a strip club?

No, not interested.

Do you know how to play any instruments?

As far as I know, you need two hands to play any instrument. My left hand is disabled.

Have you ever been inside of a courtroom?

Yes, as a witness.

What kind of restaurants do you eat at while you’re on vacation?

My family lol. Also hotel restaurants.

Did you ever participate in any pageants when you were younger?

Lol no. I would never do that anyway.

What kind of cheese is your favorite?

Gouda. I love me some good cheddar, too.

Does your phone have any cracks or scuffs?

No, but it has scratches.

Have you ever had a professional massage?

Yes, from my physiotherapist. I have them every Thursday.

Which would you rather have, twins or triplets?

No kids at all, thanks.

Do you drink energy drinks?

Energy drinks after suffering a brain haemorrhage would equal suicide.

Can you swim?

Never learnt how to do it, despite being born and raised at the sea.

Make the perfect taco salad:

I don’t know shit about tacos. I barely even know what a taco is.

Have you ever lived with friends or a roommate?

Does my husband count? I’ve had roommates while living in Knokke. No, thanks.

Who in your family has a birthday in March?

My cousin Camiel.

What kind of pasta do you like?

Penne. I also like that pasta dish called Kenny’s Revenge, from our local restaurant Bavet. It’s spaghetti with two kinds of sauce, bolognese and cream tomato with mushrooms.

Do you know how to play volleyball?

Omg volleyball is my childhood trauma, really. Always bruised wrists lol.

How much decorating do you do around the holidays?

None. I only put on a small Christmas tree around Christmas.

Have you ever been on a cruise?

More than once.

At what age did you learn how to tie your shoes?

Eight, I think. It took me long because of poor coordination.

Oreos or chocolate chip cookies?

No, thanks.

What did you dress up for Halloween as a child?

I’ve never celebrated that crap.

Can you count to ten in Spanish?

I can, but I don’t really speak Spanish. I wish I could, though.

Name a character from your favorite TV show:

Demelza.

Do you like going to arcades?

I quite do, we do it twice a year.

What was the last personal care item you bought from the store?

Bandages for blisters.

Airplanes or helicopters?

Both are beautiful, but no.

Have you ever been camping for more than a week?

No, I haven’t.

What kind of meat do you like the most?

Chicken is the only meat I like.

Do you actually stop and pet dogs you actually see?

No, I don’t. I’m not a dog person.

Have you ever been in an ambulance?

Yeah, in the state of emergency.

What’s the craziest thing you’ve found at a hotel before?

Sewing kit, otherwise nothing.

How far is the closest Target?

Across the Atlantic Ocean.

Snakes or spiders?

Spiders.

What’s your Panera Bread order?

What is Panera Bread? We don’t have it here.

Do you have any cool keychains?

Yeah, a little train carriage from my company, a green heart from the labour union and lots of keychains from all my travels.

How old is your oldest living grandparent?

All of them are deceased.

Do you watch movies?

No, it’s a waste of time for me.

Who in your family has a birthday in April?

Me and my sister.

Have you ever had your nails done professionally?

I’m a dude, ffs.

What color Christmas tree do you use?

Green.

What’s your go to dipping sauces?

Fritessaus.

Do you know how to properly pack a U-Haul truck?

No. I’m not even sure what it is.

What was your least favorite math?

Algebra.

Have you ever been published in a magazine?

No, thankfully not.

What color is your snow gloves?

Snow gloves? Why would I need any in the country where it snows once a year for 30 minutes?

How old were you when you last went to the dentist?

In a while.

Do you own a printer?

Yeah, a wireless one.

What’s your Applebees order?

WTF is Applebees?

Do you bring home seashells from the beach?

Yes, I have a lot of them.

What kind of video games do you play?

None. I hate video games, I’m not interested in them, and I have epilepsy on top of it.

Is anyone in your family in law enforcement?

Not that I know of.

How long ago was the last funeral you attended?

Two years ago.

What color is the blanket on your bed?

White and red.

Where did you get your name from?

My dad wanted a name from his dad, but my mum didn’t, so they got to some agreement and gave me a different version of the same name.

Do you wear lipstick?

I’m a dude.

What’s a fruit you dislike?

All this watermelon, mango or melon shit.

What kind of donuts do you like?

No donuts.

Do you know how to braid hair?

I do, but it took me a long time to learn it, and I had to learn it once more after losing functions of my arm.

What’s one accessory you wear?

My wedding ring and almost all piercings.

How many hoodies/jackets do you own?

Hoodies, about 100. No kidding.

What was the last name of the road you lived on?

Oh, you want my address? No way.

What brand of chocolate do you prefer?

Godiva, but I don’t like chocolate.

Nike or Adidas?

Both.

What will your future wedding colors be?

I’m already married.

Do you have a phone mount in your car?

No, we don’t need it.

Make the perfect omelet:

No, omelets are not my thing.

#survey #q&a survey #random survey

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artlifeartblog · 2 years ago

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Page 4

Not only was he mum about this very traumatic event. But being the one with all the power in this relationship he never asked me to leave. Never demanded I get rid of my pocket knife. He never used the knife I gave him to carry on walks home from work to demand that I never threaten his life again. He let me use his car. Alone, many times. After work he would come home with food for me. My favorite sometimes. During my birthday which was 40 days after his life was so closely taken he gave a card and my favorite meal to me. He continued to buy food for the house every week and cook curry chicken when I would get hungry cause it’s my favorite. We worked out together with him asking me if I wanted to join him anytime he went alone. Me literally disabled with a nerve condition in my left leg that is the most painful condition known to science leaves me struggling to walk many days and and unable to work. So their remains an undeniable power imbalance within our relationship which had the character in this next comic he is testing out on me actually been a real, could have easily been removed from his life, easily disposed of as I’m not even on the fucking lease. All it would take is a single text to his landlord and I would forcefully be on the streets. For more than 90 days after I supposedly did the most brazenly harmful thing one could do to someone they live and care for, the threatening ones life using a knife, wielded round like an anime villain, he remained exactly the same individual as the person before his life was threatened. And that makes no sense whatsoever to me. And I am confident it makes sense to not a single human being with average cognitive functions. And how now would he answer to his unchanging behaviors for 90 days after this momentous event? His only recourse was to dig even deeper. And not only continue to lie. Continue to betray shared trust. Continue to burn the bridge we shared for 2 years. In the face of my questions that left logic having no space in his rebuttals he then took up the mantle of someone who is an abuse victim. That’s why nothing changed for 90 days. With absolutely no shame whatsoever left in him, no care for the actual victims of brutality and violence, he casually places himself in their shoes and finds himself to be one in the same as any other victim of abuse. If you ever find yourself in the same situation I faced, looking at someone you lived with for 2 years claim that 3 months ago they were facing the scariest moment of their life due to your actions, questioning in that moment if they would even wake up alive the next day, then I would tell you that you have found yourself a creative writer. And someone who would say anything to anyone about you no matter how true the story was. So long as what they say fits with the narratives inside their mind, they would sell you out and throw away your real human relationship for their fake made up stories. To me I could see that with each new moment he created from thin air he found enjoyment. He found some joy in lying so easily because to him it’s a story. While to me, it’s actually my life. Cause if he was not a ignorant and a way better story teller then maybe he could have created one without so many damn holes. One that someone believed. One that left me behind bars. I thank god for his immaturity and inability to articulate proper story lines that fit with the rest of reality. I can unequivocally state that today was one of the scariest, wildest, most unreal and sad moments I have ever witnessed. Sad to look in the eyes of someone you once looked up to as they struggle to make sense in the face of overwhelming factual evidence the story the themselves claim to be truth. It’s easier for someone to continue to make a fool of themselves to others than to face the facts and admit to themselves that they have done something foolish and are, without a doubt, a fool. Below is his broken toilet and bruised Face. If ever he makes the claim let him answer these and the overwhelming truth of his unchanged behaviors for 90 days after.

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11thsshadow · 1 year ago

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gingersrockstheuniverse:

Donna took a look around, and found the shop to be a bit quaint. Different than what you see anymore. Everything was a bit modern and hip because they needed to keep up the newest trend. A lot of businesses have too in order to survive in the harsh economy.

The redhead didn’t have to worry about any of that since winning the lottery years ago and having planning of money to get by. Doesn’t stop her from temping on the occasion, something kept telling her that it was important.

Taking her tea, she took a sip and smiled. “Yes, we’ll I’ve had a row with my mother.” Donna laughed, shaking her head. “In my 40’s and fighting with my mum like a bloody teenager. You don’t want to hear about nonsense about that. Tell me about you, I’ve been around here before and I don’t recall this shop.”

James enjoyed this customer. Much more livelier than the last bunch of twats that had come round. First one to come around that didn’t talk trash about how ‘not with the times’ his shop was. Or rather the first one who didn’t stir up some trouble, either. Those lot were more common than anything. Not that he couldn’t handle that. “Oh trust me, hearing about other peoples lives is like music to my ears! Well when they aren’t bloody bastards.” James chuckled a bit as he smiled up at the red head. “Sounds like you’re mum is a real piece of work, though.”

James started wiping down other parts of the counter with a wet rag, thinking his answer over, taking a quick glance at the pocket watch in his right pocket. He was sure he’d been here while, but couldn’t recall too much of the minor details. No family, none of that mumbo jumbo. “Oh, I’ve been knocking about but I’ve been here a bit a now. No mum and dad, nothing like that to lean on, so decided to open up my own little shop and here we are.”

@gingersrockstheuniverse from here

Something about the person in front of him seemed familiar. But he'd sworn he'd never seen her face in the shop before. Either way, he shrugged off the thought. No need to dwell too much on thoughts. There was a customer, after all! After the small bit of blood that had gotten on his hands, he made his way back to the dining area. "Right, biscuits, don't get that very often but that's doable!" He said with a grin as he immediately started with the cup of tea first. "Yeah, it's been a bit dead, I'm afraid, not a lot of people come around a tea shop anymore. Not with all the fancy expresso type shops around."

"Pardon my intrusion, but you seem like you've had a long day yourself." James noted the observation out loud as he continued to make the tea, freshly made biscuits, albeit a small few were already set down by her. "Just an observation, kind of a habit I've never been able to shake."

'Don't you recognize her?' The voice in his voice was faint, but it had always been there. He wasn't sure why. "Sorry about the intrustion, miss, here is your tea." James handed carefully placed the tea in front of her.

#gingersrockstheuniverse #;fobwatched;#;A new face;

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missymurphy1985 · 4 years ago

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Reminiscing

Warnings - tooth rotting fluff... And smut. Obvs. Bit of a Daddy Kink thrown in cuz why the hell not?

Taglist (message me to be added!)

@queenshelby @peakyscillian @ntmynouis @margoo0 @janelongxox @being-worthy

You sat in the large armchair, in the big bay window of your Dublin home, blanket over your legs, as you immersed yourself in the latest John Grisham novel. Your husband was out, dropping his sons off back at their mum's after spending the weekend with you. You couldn't help but pinch yourself on a regular basis. Gorgeous husband, amazing young stepsons, even Cillians ex-wife, Lisa, was someone you considered a close friend - the split had been amicable, and she'd encouraged her sons with Cillian to welcome you with open arms. You even met her for lunch a few times a month, much to Cillian's surprise. He was more concerned the two of you were comparing notes than anything else!

Hearing the front door open and close, he smiled as he re-entered the room. Leaning over to kiss your lips, he sank down onto the sofa and picked his own book up from the coffee table.

"How was Lisa?" You asked, taking a sip of your coffee.

"Good - she said she'd call you later, something about a girls night out next week."

"Sounds fun - I'm up for that." You nestled down snug in the chair and continued your chapter. You could feel his eyes looking your way, and smiled internally. You loved the way he just watched you when he thought you couldn't see.

The way your legs hung over the chair, blanket covering your lower half. He smiled, remembering the day you met at the aftershow party for his latest play in Dublin. He was hesitate to go, but the director had convinced him. You were the director, Enda Walsh's niece, and you'd gone along to support your uncle's latest stage production. You knew who Cillian was of course, not that it bothered you. Working as a stagehand part time at the theatre in your teens, you'd met plenty of famous people over the years and frankly most of them were arrogant idiots with egos the size of Jupiter. Cillian was different though. Down to earth, sweet, kind, normal. Neither of you particularly looking for love, but sometimes it happens in the most unlikely of places.

Flashback

"Cillian, this my niece y/n. Y/n, this is Cillian, the star of the show!" Enda introduced the two of you and Cillian smiled, leaning forward to embrace you softly and kiss your cheek.

"I've heard so much about you y/n, nice to put a face to the name." You couldn't help but feel butterflies looking into those blue eyes, and without you realising at the time, Cillian felt exactly the same about yours. You'd spent most of the evening from that point talking about the theatre and what you each loved about it - from the lighting and production side to the audience reactions during the live show itself. You'd seen Cillian in the show three times, you'd been mesmerised by his performance, but this was the first time you'd met him.

The music changed as the night was drawing to a close. A slower number, and the other cast members and production team all took their respective partners to the dance floor. You were both now sat pretty much alone - clearly the only single people in the room!

"Would you like to dance?" Cillian asked, sheepishly. It suddenly felt a little awkward. You looked at him surprised, but found yourself nodding as he offered you his hand and led you to the dance floor. You could feel your uncle's stare as Cillian placed one hand on your waist and took your hand with his other, both of you gently swaying to the music. He was a smooth dancer, never missing a step. No toes clashing together, and the awkwardness melted away as you looked into each others eyes. The rest of the room suddenly becoming an afterthought.

"I've really enjoyed talking to you tonight y/n."

"Me too, you're not like the other actors. You're... Normal!" You giggled lightly.

"I'm boring, you mean?" He laughed in response, you could feel his fingers caressing your waist softly as you continued to sway.

"How'd you feel about dinner one night? We can talk more about how boring we both are?" That smile again.

"You're on. He pulled you a little closer, your cheeks inches apart. He desperately wanted to kiss you there and then but with your uncle a mere few feet away he didn't dare. He knew you were 28 to his 40, and he wasn't sure how his friend would react to it.

"You two seemed to be getting on well?" Enda approached you after the party, and he couldn't help but notice the glow around you after your dance with Cillian. He'd gone to the bathroom.

"He's a nice guy Uncle E, we have a lot in common."

"You know he's 40, and has two kids, right?"

"Uncle -"

"Cillian! So you're taking my niece out for dinner are you?" He returned from the men's room and froze.

"Um.. I..."

"I'm kidding... God you're too easy to wind up!! Have fun!!" Both of you audibly sighed in relief.

"He's an ass..." You smiled as Cillian offered you his arm to link into.

"I have a car outside, I'll drop you home?" You nodded, taking his arm.

You both sat in the back, the driver being given your home address as Cillian pushed the visor up between the driver and you. Privacy. He took your hand, leaning back and kissed the back of it gently. You smiled - your first kiss, but not where you wanted it.

"He can't see us, right?" You asked. He nodded and pulled you closer to him. "So..." Leaning toward you slowly, he gently ran a thumb over your cheek and pressed his lips to yours. You returned the kiss. His mouth opening slightly to gain access to yours, your tongues soon met. It quickly became heated before Cillian pulled away.

"You wanna go home?"

"You want me to go home?"

"Nope."

"Then I'm not going home." Cillian pulled the visor down and told him you were both going back to his house instead before pulling you back against his lips.

****************************************

The memories of that first night were as clear as if it had happened only yesterday, not two years ago. It was so good that you both often got yourselves off to the thought of it when Cillian was away working. Two years on and your lives were simply idyllic.

He made his way over to you in the chair and kneeled down next to you, running a hand under your summer dress and squeezing your thigh.

"You know, I've been thinking..." He leaned closer to your ear, making you squirm. He knew the effect his voice had on you and he played on it daily.

"Dangerous..." You smirked, and he responded by tracing kisses up your back, his hand still teasing under your dress, over your now damp underwear.

"All this house.. and just the two of us.. seems a waste, don't you think?" His fingers gently moving your panties aside and slipping between your folds. Instinctively you opened your legs, granting him access.

"Hmmm....." Your hips rising slightly to meet his fingers. "Are you saying you want a dog, Cillian.."

"Funny, y/n... No.." his fingers were torturing you, caressing everywhere except where you needed him to be.

"Wanna fill me with your baby do you daddy?"

"Hmm.. call me that again..." He smiled, his erection now painfully pushing against his jeans as he dipped a finger inside you.

"Do we have a Daddy Kink, Cillian? Does making me full of your baby turn you on?" You tried to retain composure as a second finger entered you, his hand now pushing them in and out slowly.

"Fuck... Stand up." He ordered and he immediately pulled the dress over your head and your underwear down. Swiftly followed by his own clothing, before he lay you down on the sofa.

"Guess we won't be needing a condom for this then... Fuck me daddy - give me a baby..."

"Coming right up..." He kneeled back down next to you and parted your perfect legs, before sinking two fingers back inside, rubbing your clit with his thumb. It wasn't long before you were writhing under his touch, calling his name as you came hard against his hand. He moved over you, quickly turning you over so your pert behind was up in the air and you were gripping the arm of the sofa in hot anticipation. He pushed inside, feeling you for the first time without a barrier - no other contraception had suited you, so you'd stuck with condoms - and he groaned as he filled you completely.

"Jesus... God yes.. right there Daddy...." He picked up the pace at your words, thrusting into you like a man possessed.

"Fuck this is tight baby... I'm not gonna last long like this..."

"Fill me up Daddy.. make me pregnant.. give me your baby..." He couldn't hold back after that, and came hard, filling you and sending you into your second orgasm. Breathing heavy, he stayed in until he was completely spent - not daring to waste a drop.

"Lay on your back y/n... Legs in the air.." you did as he asked, confused. "Helps the whole process apparently."

"So you meant it then?" You smiled as he knelt beside you again, swirling a hand over your belly.

"What, that I want to see the love of my life's body swell with my baby inside? Damn right I meant it y/n.. nothing would make me happier than a baby with you." You were grinning now, as he leaned in to kiss you.

"Love you Cill."

"Love you more mama." The sound of him calling you that made your heart swell. You couldn't wait to hear your baby call it you too.

#cillian murphy #cillian smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x smut #cillian x fem!reader #cillian x daddy kink

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ffjj5 · 3 years ago

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I got some Jimin inspired ink 😊

Now I know for some this may be corny but do you know what? I don't care...a few years ago I would of cared and that's what stopped me doing so many things. But a combination of many things including the pandemic and entering my 40's I have had much more of a f**k it attitude.

Starting to write on here and being a vocal supporter of Jikook was one of the steps I took to doing what makes me happy and I'm so glad I did as I have met some some amazing people of this platform who have made me more confident to voice how I feel.

My daughter has also been a huge driving force for me as she is 21 and confidently out there unapologetically living her life the way she wants to, she doesn't buy into the stereotypes of being female, she plays computer games, rarely wears make up (no shade to those that do 😃, ) voices her opinion and herself has at least 10 tattoos, including a BTS one. So I thought if she can do it then so can I!

Jimin is my bias but more than that he is an inspiring young man, as all BTS are. He is a killer dancer, an amazing vocalist, he has the kindest heart but doesn't suffer fools ( a very Libra trait), is skilled in martial arts and he loves his Jungkookie with his whole heart. Not to mention a fellow October baby and Libra. The bond all these guys have together is something special 💜

So for my birthday, October 2021 I took the plunge and got my first tattoo. My best friend, my daughter and my mum are all born on the 13th of the month and my mum's birthday is the 13th October so it seemed like it was meant to be. I expect by now you can guess what the tattoo was....

Some people understand the additional reference besides the important birthdays in my life but many see it as simply a number that is important to me.

Today, as a mothers day gift, I got another tattoo, not BTS inspired but certainly they have helped this 42 year old women to love herself and do what makes her happy. Even if that is having a rather stingy tattoo on her hand...I don't know how Jimin could deal with the pain from his Nevermind tattoo over his ribs!

It is mine and my daughters birth flowers 🥰

#jimin #tattoo #never too old to get your first tattoo #live unapologetically #love yourself

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capevans3000 · 4 years ago

Note

i have a Chris Evans x reader fluff request 💗🥺 // you’ve been dating Chris for sometime and you both decide it’s time for his family to meet yours so they spend the holidays with you. Reader is nervous and being a perfectionist but it all works out well. Xoxo

Hi Anon! My apologies that this took so damn long. There's absolutely no excuses. I'm sorry! :(

I changed the story a little, to commemorate Chris' birthday. I hope you still like it and that it's fit for your request! Thank you for waiting for this.

*Please pardon all the mistakes in this one.*

---

Today was a special day. You opened your eyes and smiled at the sight next to you. 40 years ago before you even existed, God had brought this wonderful, beautiful, absolutely sexy human being into Earth. Who knew, this one-of-a-kind man would one day be lying next to you. You took a moment to take in the sight, like you did every day since four years ago. His bare chest, his muscular arms, his luscious eye lashes. You knew behind those eye lids were sparkles from the sky, a view, no matter how often you’d look, you’ll get lost in. You planted a gentle kiss on his forehead and crept out of bed.

The morning sun was just coming into view from Chris’ windows. Quickly and quietly, you got into the groove around the kitchen. You had opted to cook for him for his special day. It was also going to be first time both of your parents were going to meet each other and you wanted everything to be perfect. There were no room for errors today.

You were so engrossed in not getting Chris’ eggs burnt in the pan that you missed his gentle voice calling out to you. You smiled when you felt a pair of hands wrapped around your waist. “Hey, love.” Chris tightened his hug around you and sniffed your hair before planting a sensual kiss on your bare neck. “You smell so lovely.”

“Are you sure it’s not the eggs?” You joked.

“I’m pretty sure it’s you.” Chris was still trailing kisses around your neck.

You turned the fire off and looked at him. “Happy birthday, my awesome man.” You tip-toed to kiss him on his lips. Before you could let go, Chris had lifted you up and spun you around before sitting you down on the kitchen island. With his hands on your face, he deepened the kiss. It may have been five minutes, it may have been five hours when the both of you finally let go of each other. You often find that time was warped when you were with Chris. “Thank you for my birthday kiss.”

With a quick lift, Chris picked you up and placed your feet on the floor. You turned away and smiled. The cold eggs were evidence how long the two of you were making out. You quickly popped the eggs into the microwave to heat it up while Chris sat down on the bar stool. Unbeknownst to you, he was admiring you as you busied around the kitchen. Chris smiled to himself. His birthday or not, you were the best present he could ever ask for.

“Chris, I know it’s your birthday, and I promise I will make it up to you tonight, but could I have the kitchen to myself today? I got to prepare dinner for our parents, and I really want everything to be perfect. I have to make sure that the potatoes are mashed, the carrots are washed, the – “ Chris stopped you before you could carry on.

“Y/N. You’re perfect. And our parents are going to love each other, I promise.” Chris assured you again.

“Yeah, I know they will, but it would be their first time meeting, I just want them to have a good time tonight.” You murmured nervously.

“Hey, love. Look at me.” Chris gently caressed your cheeks. “Everything will be all right, I promise.”

As agreed, Chris busied himself in the living room while you had the kitchen in a storm. You hardly noticed the time until Chris came in and informed you he was going to pick your parents up from the airport. Scott was going to pick Lisa. You nodded and took a quick look at the dining table where everyone would be convening tonight. You rushed to the room to wash up. You changed into your dress and sat down to put on some light make up. Just when you were about ready, you heard the door opened and happy voices filling the room.

Excitement overtook your nervousness as you entered the living room. “Mum, Dad!” You cried as you rushed forward to give your parents each a hug. Chris stood at the side, happy to see the reunion before him.

“Hello Princess.” Your parents smiled. It was the first time in years since you’ve seen your parents. Before you could even sit down to catch up with them, the door opened again and Scott and Lisa emerged.

You smiled again. Chris had came next to you and gave your hands a squeeze. The both of you approached Lisa and Scott. “I’m so happy to see you, Lisa.” You smiled and hugged Chris’ mum. You turned to Scott and gave him a quick hug too.

Chris had found you again and intertwined his fingers with yours. He introduced both your parents to one another. You sighed a smile of relief when you saw the three adults greeting each other. The moment you were nervous about was finally here. You turned to look at Chris, who was beaming at you.

“Hey, Mum, Mr and Mrs Y/L/N, why don’t we all adjourn to the dining room?” Scott called out. “I heard Y/N had personally made a spread for everyone tonight.” You smiled at Scott and mouthed a quick thank-you.

All your nervousness was quickly dissolved when you saw how happy your parents were with Lisa. The three of them were chatting like they’ve known each for years, never mind the fact it was their first time meeting. Your cheeks were tired from smiling so much as you observed the scene in front of you. You felt Chris reached out to you from under the table to give your hand another quick squeeze. You smiled even wider at Chris. He was right, your parents does love each other and you were so thankful.

Before dinner ended, Scott suggested everyone to raise their glass to give Chris a toast. You turned to Lisa and held her hands. “Thank you for raising such an amazing son, Lisa.” You said, your eyes teary. Lisa looked at you and her eyes were teary too. “And I thank your parents for raising such an amazing girl for my son.”

---

When the two of you were finally alone in bed that night, you jumped on top of Chris and rested your head on his chest.

“I’m so glad everything went well tonight.” You smiled into his chest.

“Thank you, Y/N.”

You lifted your head to look at Chris. “What for?”

“For being you. For being mine.” Chris caressed your cheeks.

You smiled and rested your head on his chest again. “Happy birthday, Chris.” You whispered.

#anon request #chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans birthday celebration 2021

99 notes · View notes

angstsfordays · 4 years ago

Text

Beautiful Pain (4)

Chapter Four- Now or Never

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced! Reader

Summary: Post-Blip, you started to feel lost when most of the Avengers team are gone. Coping with your loss, you still find hope in the connection with your remaining friends. However, it is not easy as everyone is trying to figure their lives after the Blip.

Having a long history with Bucky ever since you both saved each other from Hydra, you were still glad you had Bucky after all this time. However, as you try to give Bucky space to find himself after being pardoned for his past, you start to wonder if you should ever cross the line of friendship before it’s too late.

That thought might have to be put on hold though, when you, Sam and Bucky find yourselves having to deal with threats that continue to rise in a post-Blip world.

Chapter synopsis: Your supposed ally leads you to an unlawful nation where danger lurks at every corner. Bucky starts to see you in a different light.

Warnings: Sexual objectification. Very bad undercover work. Calling Sam daddy. Sexual innuendos.

Word count: 4.8k

Notes: I am very humbled that people have been enjoying the story and liking it so far! This means to me a lot as a novice writer! ☺️

I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, felt like I got more to expand for the Madripoor episode. I love to know what y’all think of it so far! 😘

The tag list is still open! Let me know if you want to join with a message or comment in the chapters!

Previous: Prologue | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three

Next: Chapter Five

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As Zemo made arrangements on his end, you did not know what to expect. You, Sam and Bucky were brought to the tarmac of a small private airport, your attention was brought to the private plane that Zemo was leading you towards.

Sam made a comment on Zemo’s wealth and the latter explained that he was practically royalty before the Avengers destroyed his country. Touché.

You took the seat right across from Zemo and you couldn’t help but put your guard up around the man. He could sense the tension all over your face and offered champagne to which you declined. You wanted to make sure you were fully sober around this guy.

As you looked on at the exchange he had with his steward, he almost looked decent for a moment. You wouldn’t have thought of this guy to be a manipulative and scheming man that caused that chain of events many years ago.

“You don’t know what it’s like to be locked in a cell.” Zemo started off after having a sip of his champagne. He then paused in his actions as he looked over all of you and corrected him.

“Oh that’s right, you all do. My apologies.” Rolling your eyes, you crossed your arms as you leaned into the comfort of the plush aeroplane seat.

Sam tried to get Zemo to start talking but the baron brushed it off for a moment as he looked at a book in fascination. As Zemo brought up a familiar notebook, he asked who Nakajima was.

Your eyes perked up at the familiar name and you immediately turned to look at Bucky who instantly pounced on Zemo and grabbed him into a chokehold. Bucky warned him not to touch his notebook or he would actually kill Zemo, probably with his bare hands.

As Bucky settled down in his seat once more, you gave him a knowing look but he averted his eyes to avoid eye contact. The conversation then took a more light-hearted turn as Sam tried to describe how Steve noted down his suggestion of the Trouble Man soundtrack in the notebook that now was passed onto Bucky.

Sam asked if Bucky liked it too and the super-soldier replied that he liked 40’s music to which Sam look almost offended that Bucky didn’t share his taste in music. Bucky looked like he didn’t even want to bother but he clarified that he indeed liked it just to get Sam to back off.

Zemo decided to join in the conversation and put his two cents. Sam was surprised at how Zemo managed to eloquently describe the music style. Afterwhich, Sam went on to say how everyone loved Marvin Gaye while Bucky agreed that he did too.

Sam added that Steve adored the singer too. Hearing this, Zemo commented that Bucky must have looked up to Steve very much.

Yes, we all did. You wanted to add that in too.

Zemo, however, then took the liberty of giving his view on Steve. He talked about how dangerous it could be to idolize super soldiers like Steve and start to disregard their flaws, thus allowing him to not be held accountable for the repercussions that stem from his actions. Even if that meant the formation of movements, the fighting of wars, the loss of innocent lives.

Sam gave him a warning to better stop talking but Zemo continued on. When Zemo noticed how you started shaking your head in dissatisfaction, he gave a light chuckle before speaking directly to you.

“Miss Y/N. Contrary to my own personal views on enhanced individuals, I do find you fascinating, The files I read on you only make me more curious. Can I ask some questions?” You could feel the attention being put on you in the room and you grew slightly uncomfortable.

“What do you want?” Hoping to act nonchalant to mask your nervousness, you crossed your legs and leaned back into your seat.

“You have no family history. You grew up in an orphanage, am I right?” Nodding at the facts he laid out, Zemo carried on.

“You couldn’t have possibly been experimented on. You have gotten into any accidents?” You shook your head in response.

“Chemical exposure, radioactive bites, cosmic ray exposures….those are the possibilities that an ordinary person could obtain superhuman abilities according to the theories online.” Unimpressed, you continued to shake your head at him.

“Tell me. I’m curious.” You couldn’t entertain the likes of him but seeing how he was leaning in to wait for your answer, you gave an indifferent expression before speaking.

“It appeared out of nowhere. Someone committed arson in the local convenience shop where I was at the time. I was trapped with the elderly shopkeeper and I thought we were both going to die. A burning beam was falling onto us and I thought that was the end. I suddenly emitted a burst of energy that managed to put own the fire and incinerate the beam into ashes.” As you retold your story, memories of your fear from that time came back.

“The shopkeeper lost consciousness but I saw everything. I wasn’t sure if it was me but I ran away. I couldn’t’ return to the orphanage because I was afraid the police would find me. I lived on the streets for a week before my powers manifested again.” Your eyes fall to your fidgety hands, cracking your knuckles as it gave you some sort of relief.

“A kid was crossing the street without his mum knowing and a car was speeding on the road. I tried to reach out and pull him back in but the car was just inches away from us both. I caused a scene that couldn’t be ignored. S.H.I.E.L.D managed to find me and took me in.” Zemo’s eyes were tracking your every movement and expression in a way that Bucky didn’t like. As if you were something up for display and Bucky put his foot down.

He was getting protective of you and did not want Zemo to harbour any hidden intentions. Who knew what Zemo was thinking of?

Zemo spoke up before Bucky had the chance.

“Fascinating just fascinating. It’s like your powers had been dormant inside you all along. Are you even human?”

“Last time I checked, my blood is still red.” Your sarcastic response earned a laugh from Zemo and he stroked his chin as he continued to observe you quietly. Sensing he had more thoughts in his mind, you returned the questions back to him.

“You hate enhanced individuals so much, would you get rid of me if you had the chance?” Growing a smirk, Zemo wasn’t expecting you to ask him that and he was more than eager to give his reply.

“I am undecided, but you’re different. I can see you are more discreet than the others, just like Bucky over here.” Zemo made his final remark before he moved on to talking about the location that you were headed.

His words sunk in and you kept on thinking about how he hit the nail on the head.

Yes, you had to be more discreet. You could never proudly show off what you had, instead, you had to keep yourself hidden in order to protect yourself.

Recalling your S.H.I.E.L.D days, you remembered how you were told to keep your powers on a low profile by Director Fury himself.

Your lab results came back and it was discovered that you had a special gene in your DNA that could be identified. There weren’t any references or connections to existing research and findings so you were viewed almost as an abnormality.

It was then later discovered that your powers were connected to your life force and if you ever over-exerted yourself, you could possibly die. That almost happened back during the civil war between the Avengers. It was the first time you ever used your powers on a larger scale and you had even passed out at the end of the battle.

You remembered waking up in a hospital bed on the raft.

When you found refuge in Wakanda, you got to learn more about your powers with Shuri’s help. She believed as long as you trained your stamina and built up your strength, you could control your powers without ever worrying about being drained. That’s how you found yourself the privilege to receive special training with the Dora Milajae under King T’Challa’s request.

You definitely owed the Wakandans big time.

Seeing how you were uncharacteristically down, Bucky wanted to check in with you out of concern. However, he chose to restrain himself, thinking that you probably one to be left alone. He wished he could do more for you like you do for him.

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Before you knew it, you landed in Madripoor. An island nation that was lawless and dangerous, yet home to the darkest of black markets and underground businesses. Zemo said that all of you could not go in as yourselves and had to basically go in undercover.

You couldn’t hold back your laughter when Sam changed and came out in a fancy printed suit. He was to act as a real life promiscuous and rich man who really could have been his doppelgänger when you saw a picture of the man.

However, you weren’t one to laugh when Zemo asked you to act as one of Conrad Mack aka Smiling Tiger’s fling for the night. When you first received your outfit, you threw it back in Zemo’s face.

You were not the most comfortable with sexy and revealing clothing personally so you couldn’t imagine yourself wearing it at all. Zemo tried to convince you that Smiling Tiger’s women were all of a certain type so you had to go through with it in order to fit in.

Letting out a groan, you snatched the little champagne dress with an open keyhole back. The front was designed to give a loose look that shyly reveals your cleavage. The dress held onto your shoulders with thin straps and it overall gave the impression of a silk slip dress.

When you put it on, you wiped your clammy hands on the silk material and grimaced at how it barely covered your ass. You were grateful that the shoes you received had thick block heels as you had forgotten how to even walk in high heels anymore.

Swiping on the red lipstick for the final touch, you took a deep breath to calm your nerves as you looked in the mirror. You got this.

Stepping out of the changing room, you were met with the full attention of all three men and you put a finger up to warn them of making any unneeded comments.

“Damn Y/N. I mean this in the nicest way possible but this is an entirely different look for you. In a good way, of course.” Sam tried to compliment you seeing that you weren’t fully into your outfit.

“Thanks, Sam.” You knew his intentions were always pure and good, so you didn’t mind it much. As he and Zemo went off to discuss something, you saw that Bucky was still looking at you intently. He must think you look weird, you thought.

In all the years that Bucky have known you, it was the first time he has seen you looking like this. You always had gone for casual and comfortable looks in your daily life. The only time he has seen something different was when you put on your tailored suits for formal events.

He had to do a double-take when he saw how the little dress number hugged your figure in the right places.

Bucky knew he shouldn’t continue looking but his eyes fleeting quick glances when you were looking elsewhere. He always felt that you were one of the most beautiful people he knew on the inside, the fact that you could look past what he did and accept him for he was. He never felt that he had to pretend to be fine when you’re around because you were there to accept him for better or worst.

Seeing you now stirred up a different feeling inside of him. Why did you suddenly seem so attractive this time? He did not want to be that guy who viewed women differently because of the way they dressed. In fact, he was never the kind to like someone because of the way they look but more of how they make him feel.

However, observing how bashful and shy you look in front of him, Bucky suddenly felt rather nervous himself. He saw you taking a step towards and he swore his breath hitched as his mind was registering this scene in slow-motion.

Your hands came up to put his dog tags inside his black shirt before going for the zipper of his jacket. Your eyes fleetingly met his for a moment before you started saying something.

Bucky wasn’t able to process it as he was entirely focused on how you were casually helping him as you normally did, but his mind can’t help but think of it as an intimate gesture.

You continued to buckle up the belts of Bucky’s harness and couldn’t help but to relish in the act of caring for him. This was probably the only time you could fulfil your feelings of wanting to be close to him without crossing the line.

“All done.” Once you have adjusted the straps on his shoulder to make sure they were comfortable, you glanced to see Bucky looking down at you in a daze.

“Hey Buck, you there?” Calling for his attention, Bucky snapped back to reality as he saw you staring at him with a curious doe-eyed look. Clearing his thought, Bucky scrambled to recall what you had said and just continued looking at you in question.

You went on to ask if the straps were comfortable to which he nodded curtly. You grinned in satisfaction for a short moment before it fell into a tight-lipped smile.

“Bucky, are you really ok to go into character? I know how hard you worked to get away from all of that.” Implying how he had to act like the Winter Soldier for this undercover mission, Bucky took a deep breath before answering you.

“I’ll be fine. It’s just for this mission.” You just silently nodded at his words before signalling that you two should get a move on.

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All of you were heading to Low Town as Zemo named to find his informant, Selby. Zemo reminded everyone to stay in character regardless of the situation, if not the mission would be compromised and your lives could be at risk.

Zemo gave you a personal warning to avoid using your powers if possible. If your powers were revealed publicly, there was a high chance you were at a bigger risk than the rest because people would want to take you for their own.

It was not every day an enhanced individual with superpowers walks into Madripoor and you would definitely become a prize to be coveted.

You were first greeted by the hustle and bustle of the nightlife crowd. The neon signs lit up the incredibly dark streets followed by the loud booming music that could be heard from some of the places that you passed. Your eyes were focused on Zemo’s back as he led all of you to the location, refusing to make eye contact with anyone else.

Entering the crowded bar, you could hear Zemo speaking Russian to Bucky. You weren’t familiar with the language but you could make out one world, Soldat.

Sneaking your arms around Sam who was caught off, you gave me a pointed look that told him that the undercover work starts now. He gave you a brief nod before rolling out his shoulders and you pressed yourself closer to him, putting your acting face on.

All of you stood by the bar where the bartender greeted all of you.

“Hello, gentlemen. Wasn’t expecting you, Smiling Tiger.” The bartender nodded to Sam. His eyes moved over to meet yours before greeting you, Miss. You gave your best smile in return.

“His plans changed. We have business to do with Selby.” Zemo told the bartender. You could see the shift in his eyes and saw someone from out of the corner of your eye moving away. Shifting your stance, the bartender didn’t acknowledge Zemo’s words and glanced back to you again.

“New face?” His comment was directed towards Sam but seeing how Sam was hesitating, you realised that he hadn’t had much experience with undercover work at all. He was a military man not a spy or agent after all.

“Hopefully, the last.” You giggled shyly and looked up to Sam with an affectionate gaze before giving the bartender a wink.

The bartender nodded curtly before asking Sam (Smiling Tiger) if he wanted his usual. Sam nodded silently in an efforts to prevent himself from doing anything out of character.

You caught Bucky looking at you as he leaned sideways on the counter. Your silent exchange was a way for you two to check in with each other and a brief smile mirrored on both of your faces before you turn to see the bartender taking out a snake from a big jar.

Trying to control your expression at the disgust coming up your throat, you subtly swallowed heavily at the sight of how the bartender slit the snake open. Sam who had his back turned for a brief moment was shocked to see what was presented on the counter in front of him.

Zemo tried to continue to put on the act and acted like it was nothing out of the ordinary. Your global knowledge and several visits to Asia made you realised why this was the Smiling Tiger’s favourite. Snakes infused into wine was touted to be an aphrodisiac to help a man increase, ahem, stamina.

Bucky felt almost bad for Sam and looked away briefly. You could see Sam gulping down nervously when the bartender added the finishing touch to the drink and you gently rubbed his arm for emotional support.

“I love these.” Sam managed to say through gritted his teeth and clinked his glass with Zemo. Your own bile almost resurfaced and you quickly turned your head to hide your nervous gulp.

Putting up a thumbs up awkwardly, you wanted to facepalm when the bartender looked back at Sam with a dubious expression.

You knew you needed to do something so everyone’s covers won’t be blown. Putting on a sly smirk, you let a hand move up Sam’s chest slowly and sensually before resting it where his heart was.

“Looks like you and I will be in for a long night.” Adding a slight giggle, you pretended to act shy after you spoke your words. Sam was trying his hardest to not look bewildered at your act while Bucky was trying to suppress a sudden wave of annoyance that washed over him.

He knew that this was an act but he still didn’t like it for some reason. He had to admit that he was not expecting you to get into character so well, seeing that this image you were presenting was the furthest cry from who you actually were.

The bartender looked slightly less suspicious of all of you before he went away. You could feel Sam heaving a sigh of relief beside you and you did the same alongside him.

Another man came up to Zemo, telling him of how he was unwelcomed in the area. Zemo putting up a cool façade, explained he had no business with someone named the power broker. Zemo restated his business here once more before the guy left.

Zemo explained that the power broker runs Madripoor and it was best you all stayed under his radar. Moments passed before another guy came up behind Zemo and Zemo turned to Bucky talking in Russian once more.

The instant the man placed his hands on Zemo, Bucky went into winter soldier mode. Everyone’s attention was directed to the scene happening. The whirling sound of Bucky’s vibranium was heard clearly as he was nearly crushing the man’s hands and went ahead to knock him over.

More and more people started to gather fool’s courage to take on Bucky. You saw how he easily took down everyone with barely any sweat.

“Didn’t take much for him to fall back into form,” Zemo commented to you and Sam, and in all honesty, you wanted to choke him like what Bucky was doing to another guy on the bar’s counter.

Hearing the continuous clicking of guns from everyone in the bar, your senses were now alert at the possibility of having to break character and use your powers.

“Stay in character or the whole bar turns on us.” Zemo whispered into your ear and grabbed onto your hand before you could even think of doing anything.

Zemo got Bucky to back down and the bartender told you all that Selby was ready for your visit. Sam checked in with Bucky to which he responded with a curt nod.

As you made your way along the back end of the bar, you could see the stacks of cash all over a table and the armed guards that filled up every corner of the room.

“You should know, Baron. People don’t come into my bar and make demands.” Selby turned out to look like what you would imagine her to be. She sat comfortably on her couch with a dominant presence and seemed like she was not someone easy to deal with.

Zemo tried to reassure her that he was making offers not demands to quell her mood. Selby asked how Zemo was able to escape from prison and Zemo replied smugly on how people like them always found a way.

As Zemo tried to shift focus onto the order of business, Selby wasn’t still into it. Making a comment about Sam’s taller than usual height, Sam not knowing what to respond just nodded in silence.

She even purred at him teasingly before her eyes landed on you.

“Who’s this pretty little thing you have here? Where are you from?” Selby’s eyes narrowed in as you sense everyone starting to look flustered by the unexpected question. You were just meant to play a background character but didn’t expect the sudden attention.

Biting your lips into a furtive grin, you snaked your hands around Sam’s biceps. “Daddy picked me up from the club that I was working at. He says I am his one and only now.”

The men all tried to stop their jaws from dropping to the floor at your sweetly coy act. Who were you?

“Hmm…” Selby hummed while she looked you up and down. “You can do better, sweetie,” Selby remarked smugly before giving a subtle gesture to herself.

Lips forming into an ‘o’, you feigned a surprised reaction at the flattery. You tried to send a flirtatious look back so that Selby would be in a better mood.

Your act was rewarded when Selby grinned wider and asked Zemo for his offer. In exchange for information on the super-soldier serum, Zemo was willing to trade Bucky in pretence. He added how he would give Selby the codes word to control Bucky, treating him like an object.

A wave of anger started rushing through you as the scene unfolded and you glanced to see how Selby became more intrigued.

“Hmm, I have plenty of strong men already working for me. What else can he offer?” Zemo was taken aback by Selby’s words, thinking that she would already be interested in Bucky.

As the men were grappling to come up with a good response, you went on your first instinct and spoke up.

“Well he is rather handsome, isn’t he?” Everyone’s focus turned onto you and you took a breath to continue as Selby gave you an expecting look.

“Not as handsome as my daddy here but-” Walking around Sam, you headed towards Bucky who was trying to look unbothered but dying of curiosity on what you were about to do.

“He seems like fun to play with.” You purred as you gazed at Bucky’s profile. You gestured for Bucky to face you and could see how he was still staying in character. Running your fingers down his five o'clock shadow, your eyes glinted as you batted your lashes flirtatiously before looking over your shoulder back at Shelby.

“You can’t help but imagine having a good time with him. Super soldier serum should have some perks, no?” Your hidden innuendo was loud and clear to everyone in the room. If this didn’t appeal to Selby, you didn’t know what will.

Sam was trying his hardest to maintain his expression as he couldn’t believe his ears. Never in a million years would he think the sweet and innocent Y/N he knew actually dared to speak like that.

Bucky did his best to tighten his jaw and continue his stoic facade to hide the shock from what you had just said.

Never did he thought you would take the situation to such a turn. Your improv was unexpected and he couldn’t believe the woman in front of him was actually you.

Your sudden bold and cheeky persona was doing something to him. Your innuendo about him started to make him feel hot in his ears. Bucky had to clench his fist tightly to get himself to hold it together as he felt his heart racing out of nowhere.

He didn’t know what was happening to him but he knew you were having some sort of effect on him.

“Of course, that’s my silly opinion.” Turning to face Selby with a mischievous smile to keep up your character, you noted her looking at you thoughtfully as she rubbed her chin.

“Not just pretty but you’re witty, aren’t you?” Selby noted as she grinned like a Cheshire cat. Satisfied with your input, Selby then revealed what she knew about the super-soldier serums.

Apparently, there was a doctor, Dr William Nagel who has been helping the power broker to create the serums here in Madripoor. When Zemo tried to probe further about Nagel’s location, Selby decided that Zemo was overstepping.

In the very next moment, you could hear a vibration of a phone and saw Sam reaching out to his jacket.

Great, all of your covers might be blown. Selby demands that Sam answered it on speaker. The tension in the room could be cut with a knife. To carry on the act, Sam reluctantly proceeded to answer the phone.

A woman’s voice came up and in the next sentences spoken, you realised that she was his sister, Sarah. Oh boy, this wouldn’t end well. You closed your eyes in prayer as you hoped it can go over smoothly.

Taking a sharp intake of breath, you looked to see Bucky glancing down in shared unease. Sam was doing his best to make sure his cover won’t get blown. You thought all was going well but when you heard Sam’s name from Sarah, you knew you were all toast.

Selby immediately called for all of you to be killed and in that moment, all hell broke loose. Selby got shot in a blink of an eye and her guards were up in action. Bucky pushed you behind him protectively as he fought off Selby’s men.

Once all her guards are dealt with, Zemo called for weapons to drop and you took the back exit.

Making a swift escape, all of you tried to play it cool while taking long quick strides. The sound of the first gunshot made you jumped and sprang into a run. You saw Zemo took off in another direction but you didn’t have time for him.

You, Bucky and Sam decided to sprint ahead. “I can’t run in these heels.” Sam cried out and you retorted in annoyance.

“How do you think I feel? Mine’s twice as taller than yours!”

Bucky reached over to grab your hand and interlocked your fingers together. His super-speed was practically lifting you off the ground, dragging you like a rag dog.

"Hey! What the hell man? What about me?" Bucky ignored Sam's whining and focused on not letting your hand go.

Not knowing where you are headed, a sense of dread started pouring on you and you grew anxious by the second. People on motorbikes were starting to drive up behind you three.

You were wondering if it’s time to not give care and actually use your powers for real this time. All of a sudden, the two people on the bikes behind you have been shot by someone from above and you stopped in your tracks to locate that individual, fearing you were next.

Zemo reappeared from the shadows and claimed that you all might have a guardian angel.

“Drop it, Zemo.” The familiar voice brought relief as you matched it to the face that emerged into your sight.

Your smile at the thought of a friendly face faltered when she continued pointing a gun towards all of you. Sharon didn’t seem as pleased as you were. Turns out she had to fall off the grid and found herself in Madripoor after the turn of events many years ago.

"Y/N, is that you?" She took a double-take on you, probably not used to seeing you dress up like this.

"Hey." You awkwardly replied. The moment didn't last as Sharon trained her eyes on the men and continued to be hostile.

Your heart dropped as you hear her telling of how she was unable to be in contact with her family anymore. She had become a fugitive and still is. An immense amount of guilt washed all over you when she retorted about how she wasn’t backed by the Avengers.

You weren’t batch mates with Sharon back in S.H.I.E.L.D academy but you became friends when you crossed paths during work. You could not believe you haven’t reached out to her all this time.

Bucky pleaded with Sharon for her help and Sharon gave a thoughtful look at all of you. When she saw you with your uncomfortable expression, she gave a sighed and stated that she wasn’t done discussing the topic.

Offering refuge in her place at High Town, all of you accept it.

You sat beside her in the front and the two of you exchanged silent looks before she started the engine. What were the odds of seeing her again in Madripoor?

You hoped to be able to get a chance to talk to her later.

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Tag list: @tanyaherondale @spookycereal-s @cataves @conflicted-noxsirius

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x oc #bucky x you #tfatws #marvel fanfiction #the falcon and the winter soldier #bucky barnes #beautiful pain #angstsfordays #bucky barnes fanfiction

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