#and all in all me and my mum just STRUGGLED we fought A LOT and not petty rows either they were really emotionally heavy all the time

[hella1975]

.

#be deadly fucking serious rn PLEASE whatttt. that post that's like 'parents will say something that shapes you as a person #but for them it was just another tuesday' like WHAT JUST HAPPENED #basically if you've been following me since i went to uni then you know first year was an... interesting time for me and my mum #we rowed all the time and it's the most unsettled our relationship has ever been and i do truly believe it was just some unfortunate #external factors like me leaving home would rock the boat enough it was always gonna rejig our dynamic #but on top of that i was her LAST child to fly the nest which she hated AND my sister was in germany being insanely dependent on my mum #so i got sidelined a lot which was shitty at the time but i get it now like im still a bit bitter bc being the eldest everything my sister #does is an exciting first and our age gap means typically our academic big moments tend to cross over #so my a-levels happened during her first year of uni so for me a-levels were the biggest thing ever but ofc her thing was bigger #but when she did HER a-levels it was the biggest thing ever and i was /just/ doing gcses etc and germany was the same #like it was JUST my first year of uni bc meanwhile my sister was living alone in a foreign country. so that sucks and my mum was #defo focused on my sister and i wasn't in a position to be like 'hey i know it doesn't seem like it now you've got one kid through it #but going to university and settling in for the first year is still an insanely stressful and lonely time so please pay attention to me' #and all in all me and my mum just STRUGGLED we fought A LOT and not petty rows either they were really emotionally heavy all the time #and basically what's caused this post is that she said about america 'it'll be the longest ive been away from you' #and i know what she meant like a month out of england is the biggest thing ive ever done and im not even in EUROPE so this is huge #but i kinda said like 'im pretty sure i went a month in first year a couple times without visiting?' AND I MEANT IT CASUAL #BC I AM PRETTY SURE IT'S TRUE LIKE I WASNT EAGER TO GO HOME I WENT SOME WEEKS NOT EVEN RINGING #which REALLY shows how strained it must have been at the time. and she responds with confusion so i pointed out that first year #wasn't a great time for us and again still being casual bc it's such a fundamental truth for me that first year was Bad for me and mum #and she just blinks at me like 'what are you talking about' what. WHAT. like i knew she wasn't paying much attention to me then #but it made me MISERABLE for an entire YEAR like boom can testify bc they had to deal with my bs over the phone the entire time #and my mum just. didn't even notice that we weren't doing well. what. what the fuck even..... baffled by this actually #like i am REELING from this i feel like she just tipped the fundamentals of my world with that #hella goes home

[heyidkyay]

I guess I’ll take this pain, instead of your name |

Part Twenty-Four - Part B

A/n: Hey, Part B is finally here!! It was a struggle to write but I'm so grateful to know that a lot of you were looking forward to it! Means so much. Again, like the previous part, this will be a collection of flashbacks! Please read the warnings on this one! Hope you enjoy x

Summary: In life, things changed. The boys you'd once grown up with were men now, and famous ones at that. The type that toured the world and had millions of adoring fans.

The five of you shared a shit ton of history. But you also shared a lot of mixed emotions for one of them in particular, a certain drummer.

Warnings: Lots of swearing as per usual, talks and acts of violence, abuse and sexual assault mentioned, description of sick/blood

Masterlist

“London?”

I nodded, eyes fixed firmly on the hands I held in my lap.

“London?!” Matty exclaimed again, only louder this time. He’d stopped pacing to stare down at me. The rest of the boys who had gathered on the sofa were all strangely quiet.

“Yeah, Matty. London.”

“The fuck she want to send you there for?” He argued back, and although I knew his anger wasn’t directed towards me, rather the situation at hand, I still couldn’t quite look him in the eye. 

Things at home had gotten… worse. Not that I’d ever let them know. And although I didn’t want to leave the lads for the summer, I didn’t think I could handle staying there another second longer.

“My nan’s down there. Reckons it’ll be good for me, to get away.” I told him in reply, unable to help the small shrug I gave before I begun biting at a loose thumbnail, “It’ll only be for a week or so.”

“But, but what about the EP? And our gigs!” Matty fought back and, honestly, I was all too thankful for the moment when I heard Hann intercept the start of what would only be another long spiel.

“It’s not like she can really tell her mum no, mate. Besides, it’s like she said, it won’t be for long. We’ll still have the rest of the summer.”

Hann looked around at the rest of the boys, hoping to see their nods. He sighed when Matty only continued on, as though he hadn’t even said a word.

“You can stay here! Lou’ll be in Spain with Dad, Mum’s still filming so she won’t even notice- not that she’d mind.” Matty started to plan, glancing towards the rest of the room for some sort of approval. “It’s a good idea, ain’t it? That way, we can all still be together.”

I exhaled, not quite a sigh, “And what do I tell my mum, when my nan phones her up and asks why I’m not there?”

Matty groaned in agitation. “Tell her to piss off! And that you’re spending the summer with your mates.”

I wish it was as easy as that.

“Matt.” Ross cut in with a certain gruffness that made Matty pause. Ross turned towards me afterwards but I couldn’t force myself to look back at him, eyes trained somewhere to the left of his head.

Ross wasn’t stupid, I knew that much. In fact, none of the boys were. But Ross was also obnoxiously observant, more so than most, and I knew that during the last few months he’d been taking notice of more things than not. He was catching on. Brushing off my excuses. Listening to the lies I weaved into truths and narrowing his eyes. He knew something was up.

“B,” He called to me- short for George’s nickname I supposed, but he hardly ever used it. My eyes skitted between his own, then away again in fear he’d be able to see it all written as plain as day across my face. “Listen, if you wanna go down to London, then go. Ignore this twat-“ Matty squawked indignantly. “The band stuff, the gigs, they’ll all still be here when you get back.” The ‘we’ll still be here’ went unsaid, but it was heard. “Only a few weeks, just like you said. If your mum wants you down there, must be a reason, ey?”

I wiggled my jaw. If only it was that simple, I thought, but simply shrugged again. “‘Spose.”

“What, so you actually wanna go?” Matty cut in, looking almost betrayed, always one for the dramatics. “Just leave us here, when everything’s finally fallin’ into place?”

I frowned at him, “No, I don’t wanna go. But-” I don’t want to stay in that house any longer.

“Exactly! Just tell her that then, babe!” Matty rushed out before I could even think of an end to that sentence, “She’ll understand, let you stay, and then we can have the entire summer, yeah?”

He was grinning so wide, it was hard to do anything but just nod in defeat. Ross and Hann shook their heads at him as they huffed and drew themselves up onto their feet.

“Alright, can we get to startin’ practice now then or is this family meeting still happening?” Hann not so subtly suggested, quirking a brow at the lot of us. I was just grateful for the opportunity to cut my loses and run, Ross was already moving over towards the amp, and Matty was nodding his hasty agreement.

“Gonna grab some drinks first though.” The curly haired singer added, and he darted out of the garage before Hann could stop him. I chuckled under my breath at Adam’s pained expression and settled further into the settee, making myself comfortable there. It was then that I caught George’s eye though and he jerked his head over towards the driveway, a quiet indication.

I chewed on the inside of my lip before I ultimately nodded, holding back a sigh. He got up first and then I followed, ignoring Hann’s exasperated huff and the lingering look I felt from Ross.

I thought that’d been it, the London topic dropped. But luck was never on my side and even though I had no idea what George would possibly have to say on the subject, I could see that he’d been far too quiet in there. Something was coming.

He wandered a way away from the garage door, slipping round the side of the house and towards the garden gate before he finally stopped, pausing to settle against the low brick wall there. It was a place we often favoured whenever we wanted a breath away from the others, sheltered by overhanging trees and bushes, you could sort of feel invisible there.

George was quiet even as he tugged an already opened pack from his jean pocket and plucked a cigarette from its case. On impulse I pulled out my lighter and flicked it open for him, lighting the end like I usually did.

“How’s Steven doing?” He asked rather abruptly, so much so that a wad of spit caught in the back of my throat at the question and I had to fight not to choke.

“Why the fuck are you asking me that?” I retorted, swallowing harshly and catching my breath.

He didn’t look at me, eyes hard and focused on the opposing wall. He shrugged a shoulder lazily, but I knew better. “You never mentioned London.”

“And what the hell has my mum’s dick of a boyfriend got to do with London?” I sputtered back heatedly, already knowing the answer.

George levelled me with a look and inhaled slowly, gaze finding mine.

“You know what.”

I scowled and folded my arms promptly across my chest. “Fuck you.”

He rolled his eyes at my reaction and billowed out a breath of smoke above us, handing me the fag in quiet offering. I shook my head. He sighed.

“I thought-”

He tried, but I quickly shut him down, “Fuck what you thought, you don’t know a thing.”

George held a single hand up in mock surrender, ash falling with it. I steeled my gaze on the thick cement tiles below us.

“Not claiming to, Birdie.” George said in his usual tone, unaware of what that nickname of his did to me. “But I know something’s up. Reckon the guys are noticing things too.”

I rubbed the curve of my arm subconsciously, knowing there was truth in his words.

“What do you want me to say?” I asked exhaustedly, all the fight I typically had had been drained from me. 

The question had been mostly rhetorical, but George wasn’t the type to care. “The truth.” He answered and I could feel his stare trained on me now.

“The truth?” I scoffed tiredly, the bitten flesh of cheek I so often ground between my teeth was scarred, bumpy as I pressed my tongue to it and thought the whole thing over.

‘Truth’ was something we’d taken to using for a while now, in the buzzing hum of our frequented cafe, within the confines of the shed at the end of my garden, sprawled on his bedsheets whilst getting high. It’d started after a small falling out I’d had with Vicky a few months prior and had continued on almost unconsciously.

Now though, I didn’t know what to tell him, what truth to acknowledge. What he wanted to hear.

George mimicked the low hum I made, cigarette pressed between his lips but otherwise unmoving. “Who’s idea was London then?”

“His.”

We both knew who I was talking about.

“Right.” George nodded once, “She just agreed then?”

She, being my mum. I dipped my chin, a silent confirmation.

His thumb was tapping away at the jut of his knee now, a rhythmic tic I often stilled with a hand covering his own. I couldn’t find it in myself to reach out and touch him now though.

“Why’s he want you gone?”

In truth, I really didn’t know. Maybe I’d gotten too much. Perhaps he’d gotten fed up.

“Think he has better things in mind than having me hang ‘round all summer.”

“You want to go?”

I let his question hang there for a moment. I was toeing two sides of the line with my answer. To go would be easier on everyone, I’d see my Nana, get to explore a whole other city, and have the chance to escape them. But being away also meant leaving the boys.

George didn’t mind not hearing my verbal reply, I think he already knew my answer. He just wanted to be sure of it. He went on, “My mum’s back in town next week.”

A truth for a truth.

“You never mentioned it.” I said, picking at a fraying edge on my denim shorts.

He gave a slow shrug, “You never mentioned London.”

“Only found out a couple days ago.” He raised a brow in return, thinning his lips. I sighed, “Alright, I should’ve said something sooner but I was thinking it over.”

George hummed, “Dad only told me this mornin’.”

Maybe that’s why he’d been so reserved since we’d met up. The whole way to Matty’s he’d barely spoken a word, but I’d been overly anxious, knowing I was planning to tell them about London, which meant that I’d been talking a mile a minute- an attempt I often used to cover it. 

“What are you gonna do?” I asked him, peering up at his solemn features through a lock of fallen hair. 

“What I always do. Stay out of her way.” He told me honestly before he took a longer drag. I watched his chest rise with it, observed how his eyes fluttered slightly. He was always so interesting to watch.

“Could come to London with me. Hide out there.” I offered and was met with the slight quirk to his mouth, he was amused by my words. “I’m serious!” I reiterated and bumped a shoulder against his arm, “Me and you. Together. Nana loves strays.”

George just laughed at that and I couldn’t help the soft smile I made at the sound. “Sod off.” He told me around a chuckle, “London does sound nice though, be good for you I reckon.”

“For us.” I insisted, the idea fully lodging its way into my brain now. “Come on, G. Don’t you think it’d be fun?”

“Yeah sure, but the wrath Matty would rain down on us fucking won’t be.” George snorted, shaking his head at me softly.

“So?” I pestered again, shuffling round on the wall to face him properly, shin pressing against his outer thigh. He glanced down at it and then away, inhaling again. “I can phone her when I get in,”

“Phone who?” George interrupted just as my fingers found the flannel he’d thrown on that same morning. I toyed with it, rolling my eyes.

“My Nana! Keep up.” I huffed at him, “I’ll phone her, ask if she’d be okay with you coming along too and you can just tell the guys you’re being held hostage by your mum, she wants family time, forcing you to go and see an aunt or summat.”

George was wearing this barely there smirk, one I recognised as a crack in his usual stoic resolve. I was wearing him down.

“Think about it, G… You can avoid your mum and waste half your summer away with me.”

I raised my brows at him, hopeful, but he just stared back at me.

“And what would I tell my dad, my mum?” He retorted, finally stubbing out the end of his cigarette and flicking the butt of it into the soil behind us.

“Tell your dad we’re going camping. All of us. And we can leave before your mum gets in.” I explained, in full out planning mode now. I could see it all coming together in my head and tugged on the cuff of his sleeve in excitement. “Come on, G. Please? Be our little secret.”

George’s gaze trailed over my face, his expression as serious as my own. “You really mean it, don’t you?”

I tilted my head, confused by his sentiment. “Of course I do. If I could, I’d take you everywhere with me. It’s us against the world, G. Always.”

He cracked the tiniest of smiles, an action I knew he had no control over, and it only seemed to grow as I matched it. I had him.

“So we’re really doing this then?” He breathed out in amused disbelief. I nodded with a painfully large grin as I wrapped my arms around his neck, leaning in closer.

“Best believe it.” I replied just as he knocked his forehead against mine. Both of us unable to bite back our smiles.

“London.” George whispered.

“London.” I mimicked, marvelling at the very idea of it.

To think, I’d been dreading this entire conversation. How things so quickly changed.

And change they would…

—

“Yeah, yeah!” I prattled away, hardly holding back my anticipation. 

I’d been back barely five minutes before I’d hurried over to the landline, having snuck in through the back gate and shuffled up the drainpipe to my bedroom. I’d waited until I heard the front door slam then made a run for it, scurrying down the stairs and almost throwing the phone off its hook in my hurry. I had half hour until mum was due back from wherever she usually pissed off to, and didn’t have to worry about Old Steven seeing me as he’d just left for the pub.

“‘Course I’m excited, Nana. Haven’t seen you in ages!” I told the older woman, warmly, through the phone, twirling the chord around my finger as I did. 

She was rambling away now, had been ever since I’d said hello. She’d been gruff in her answer at first, having thought I was one of those poxy telemarketers she could often never shake, but was over the moon to know it’d been me once she’d heard my voice. 

Apparently she was rather excited to know that I was coming down to visit, though she hadn’t heard a word of it until I’d brought it up then- fucking mum. Still, she told me she’d set up the spare room and let my aunt know too, she sounded just as pleased as me. It was then that I thought it best to try and bring up George.

“Aunt Del will be so pleased to see you, love. Have to cook up something proper for when you arrive too, won’t I?” 

I smiled fondly at her voice, her heavy accent so different to mine. “Don’t have to go to too much trouble for me, nan.”

“Oh bugger off, you daft cow! My granddaughter’s comin’ to see me, I’ll do as I please.” Nana scoffed and I bit back a giggle.

“Alright.” I appeased her, then she asked what day I’d be heading off. I thought it over for a second, knowing that G’s mum was due back Sunday night, so that morning probably gave us enough time to set off and make the train. “Sunday, Nana.” I replied and she hummed, but before she could say anything in actual reply I was quick to mention the deal-breaker. “Actually Nana, whilst I still have you, I um, I was meant to ask you something. Just, I don’t want to put you out or nothing…”

“Sweet, you’d best spit whatever ask you have out ‘fore you swallow your own tongue. I ain’t gettin’ any younger and the days ain’t gettin’ any longer. So out with it.” She demanded. She was just as I remembered, headstrong to a fault and overly blunt. The woman said what she pleased and if you didn’t like that then you’d simply have to deal with it, nowt to do with her.

I huffed a mirthful chuckle, “Sorry.”

“None of that now, sunshine. Tell me what you’re after.”

“See, I have this friend…”

“Oh, a friend, is it? Let me guess, this friend of yours, they headed down my way too?” She never missed a thing that woman, I’ll give her that.

“Might be.”

Nana laughed and I could hear her shuffling about, probably in the kitchen from the sound of pots clinking in the background. “Just like your father, I tell you. Cheek on the pair of ya.”

My heart caught at her words, no one spoke of my dad. To hear that I was similar to him in any way, well that paused my whirling mind for a split second. 

Though to my Nana, it had just been an off handed comment, a slip of the tongue, because she was already breezing on by whilst I fought to catch up.

“Tell me about this friend of yours then. They nice? Treat you well?” Nana pestered, last she knew of my life here up North was my closeness with Vicky and my lingering eyes which were often casted towards her older brother, Jamie. How things had changed.

I smiled at the questions and thought of George. He was a hard person to describe in truth. There wasn’t a thing I disliked about him. There were things that annoyed me about him, sure- he was one of few people who knew exactly what buttons to press- but describing George, well it sort of felt like describing myself. That, plus, I didn’t want to give too much away.

“He’s nice, Nana.”

She hummed and I heard the sweet drawl to it, as though she was grasping at something. The sound made me flush a tad. “He’s nice, is he?”

Put my foot right in it there. Could’ve tried getting away with it by being vague, have her think it was a girl ’til George’s ginormous self gangled his way through her door, but nope.

“Yup.” I popped back, too far gone to backtrack now. 

My feelings towards George were honestly a confusing mountain of mess, but they had yet to make me force him away. Hearing my nan allude to something of the like did not help at all.

“Hm, and he’s wantin’ to follow after you, is he? Down ‘ere to see little old me.”

I shook my head even though she couldn’t see. “It were my idea. I-”

She stopped me short, “No need to explain, dove. He sounds like a very nice friend, this boy. One you’d like to keep near I assume?” I hummed noncommittally and could hear her devious smile, “Handsome is he?”

“Nana.” I droned out, regretting ever having even mentioned it now. Should’ve just surprised her, at least then she wouldn’t be teasing me like this. Actually, scrap that. That was a complete lie. She so fucking would.

“‘Course he can come along, love.” She allowed, relenting with her teasing a tad, or so I thought. “Just got the one spare room though, so if you don’t mind putting up with him for a couple nights… or I ‘spose I could just make up the sofa.”

“Whatever’s easiest for you, Nana. And thank you. I,” I inhaled slowly, the sound sharp in the quiet of the house, “I really do appreciate it, you putting me up and that.”

“Nonsense. Always worryin’ ‘bout you up there, that mother of yours never phones.” Nana tutted. If she only knew that half of it, I thought to myself. “But anyway darlin’, there’s nothin’ to thank me for, only way you could is with a pack of Rothmans Blue- Superking, mind.”

I snorted to myself, “Consider it done. Sunday paper, too?”

“Oh, you know me so well. Daily mail, none of that other shite.”

I mouthed the last few words as she spoke them, knowing that they’d be coming, and grinned when I was right. 

“‘Course not.” I said with a smile, “If you need anything else picking up, call this time Saturday, yeah?”

“You got a schedule or somethin’ there, lovie?” Nana joked, laughing lightly even as my own smile faltered slightly.

“Something like that.” I murmured, then thought I heard the key turn in the front door. 

My head snapped towards the sound, sheltering the phone against my shoulder to listen in closer. 

Yeah, someone was definitely home. 

Wary, I hurried to say my goodbyes, “Listen Nana, think that’s mum headed in now with the shopping. I’d best go and help her.”

“Shoppin’? This late?” Nana questioned but I was already standing, bouncing from foot to foot, praying to every star in the night sky that it was mum and not Steven.

“Yeah, she had a late shift tonight. Is that alright, Nana? I’ll call before I leave Sunday, okay?”

I was fretting now, heart racing as the door hinges begun to squeak.

“‘Course it is, love. Say hello to your mum too, won’t ya, sweetheart? And I’ll see you Sunday.”

“I will, love you.” I rushed out and was left with the beginnings of a smile when I heard her parrot it back to me. I hung up just as the front door slammed closed and jumped towards the kitchen sink like a trapeze artist would a free-falling rope. More than grateful to see that there were a few cups littering the basin.

I was washing up just as she walked in, I heard her paused in the archway, probably surprised to see me down here.

“What you doin’ that for?” She asked me and I glanced over my shoulder, holding back a shaky breath whilst I flashed her smile.

“Just thought I’d be helpful, mum.” I replied and turned back to the task at hand to subtly release the balloon of air that’d been swelling in my chest.

She hummed indifferently and tossed her purse down onto the kitchen table, “Steve in?”

I shook my head, “Wasn’t here when I got back.” Liar.

“Right.” She worked her jaw, staring off into space before she headed over towards the fridge, plucking up a cider. “Gonna run a bath, back’s been killin’ me. You alright to make your own tea?”

I swallowed back the hollow laugh that wanted to escape me, I always fixed my own tea. Did everything myself. “Yeah, mum.” I told her instead of voicing that though, choosing not to glance her way again.

“Right.” She repeated and then I heard nothing for a few beats before her feet were wandering out of the kitchen again and up the stairs.

I let myself slump against the counter as I listened to her disappear, hands covered in soap duds and not caring for the water that dripped its way down my forearm. I let my eyes fall close for a brief minute. That’d been too close for my liking.

—

I told George of the talk I’d had with my nan, along with the plan, the next day. We’d leave about nine, Sunday morning, to try and make it to London before the rush of lunch, and my Aunt Del would then pick us up from the station soon after.

We’d been sat on the school playing fields, waiting for the rest of the guys. Just lazing about there, seeing as we only had a couple days before school finally let out. Days like these were always the best kind though, when the teachers gave up on teaching us anything and just stuck a film on. Hoping it’d quiet our ever growing excitement. Did it fuck.

“I didn’t think you were being serious!” George exclaimed with a light laugh once I’d finally finished, eyes wide as he glanced down at me. I was sprawled out on the grass, head in his lap.

“Of course I fucking was! Do you not know me at all?” I replied in the same tone he’d used, titling my head back to exaggerate my own eyes. “We said it! We agreed!”

“So? I said I’d pull the plug on Matty’s life support machine if he ever ended up braindead, don’t mean I’ll actually do it.” George snorted right back, hands toying with the ends of my hair.

“Well, he’s not far off, is he?” I teased, even though Matty wasn’t around to hear. “And besides, I’m not Matty. I’m me. And you,” I exaggerated, pointing a finger up at him, “can’t say no to a face like this.”

“When d’you get so vain, ey?” Was all that George replied. I rolled my eyes and huffed.

“Please, G. Nana’s excited to meet you now. Can’t let her down, can you? Imagine what it’ll do to her poor old heart.”

He dragged a thumb across my lip, wiping the pout I wore right off my face. The surprising action didn’t deter me though, neither did the sickening butterflies I felt.

“Heartless heathen. Just watch this space,” I told him in false seriousness, “See when I turn up all alone and she’s devastated. So utterly heartbroken.”

“Oh shut up, would you?” George huffed, tugging on a strand of my hair and rolling his eyes at my scowl. “I’ll go.” My face quickly morphed and I knew he saw it when he leant in closer to cut off whatever I’d been about to say, our noses a breath apart. “But, only if you help me break it to the boys- my dad as well.”

I mulled it over, “I could do that.”

“You say that now.” He chuckled down at me, brown eyes dancing between my own before he pulled away and glanced over to see the boys headed our way.

To say that the rest of the band had taken the news of George’s departure easily was an utter lie. As expected, Matty had gone off on one, all grumpy and disheartened. Hann had sighed, but said that they could put off any recording sessions for a week or so. And Ross had just sat there grinning lazily at us like a overweight cat stretched out in the sun, unbothered by it but also looking a little too smug for my liking. 

I’d narrowed my eyes at him but said nothing.

George’s dad on the other hand was a whole other story.

I’d only met the man twice. Once when he’d caught me up in George’s bedroom, splayed out on the floor after having fallen out of a handstand his son had dared me into. Then a second time in the supermarket on the high street, I’d been grabbing food for the house seeing as no one else could be bothered, and he’d been on the phone to someone or other, heatedly whispering away. We’d caught each others eye, gave a strange awkward wave, then sped off down separate aisles. 

I’d been mortified both times. Not the best impression to have left on anyone, let alone your mate’s dad.

Still, I’d agreed to help and so now here I was. Sat in George’s kitchen, him at the stove, me perched by the table, both of us waiting for his dad to come home from work.

I was biting at my knuckle nervously, eyes trained on the door, George swatted my arm when he finally noticed, passing by me to pull a pack of pasta from out of the cupboard. “Why’re you so worked up? He’s harmless, plus you’ve met him before.”

Harmless, that’s how Matty often described George. I wondered if the two of them were much alike. Like my dad and I.

“I’m not.” I defended, but was levelled with a look telling me to cut the bullshit. “Fine, I just- I don’t know! Okay? Will you just run me through the story again?”

George chuckled to himself, pouring pasta shells into some salted water. “I’ll start, hint that a few of us are wanting to go camping. He won’t ask who, but if he does just say the lads. Like Hann and that- don’t mention Matty though, they’ve met.”

“He doesn’t like Matty?” I questioned with a pinched brow.

George’s shoulders moved with an unsure shrug, his back to me as he checked on the sauce he was making. I found it strange how I never knew he could cook til now. Or at least I hoped he could, I was supposed to be eating this.

“Nah, not that he doesn’t like him. Just thinks he’s a bit…” He replied, searching for the right word.

“Over the top? Eccentric? Loud?”

With a snort, George nodded. “Yeah. So, just be wary.”

I hummed, fiddling with the coasters that sat nearby. George’s house was nice, looked hardly lived in but it was tidy and inviting. Nothing as extravagant as Matty’s, but not quite like mine either. His family did well for themselves, you could see it.

“You don’t have to do this, you know. I was just pulling your leg earlier.” He told me after a minute or two had passed in quiet.

I shook my head. “I said I would, didn’t I? Don’t go back on my word.” I ridiculed, giving him a knowing look as I thought back to his first agreement over the trip to London. George just rolled his eyes at me and turned back towards the stove again. 

Besides, I thought to myself, I was here now. Might as well.

The telltale sign of a car pulling up onto the drive sounded then and my eyes widened on their own accord. “Oh shit.”

I was regretting everything now. I had no idea how to act, or what to say. I wanted to crawl under the table and hide until it was safe to come out again. My mind screaming at me to just make a run for it before I fucked the entire thing up.

I was sat staring a hole into the kitchen door, just waiting anxiously, when George carded a hand through my hair. I hadn’t even heard him approach.

“Don’t stress.” 

I glanced up towards him, then blew a heavy breath out of my nose, letting my forehead fall against his stomach.

“How can you say that? I’m freaking out, G.” My words were muffled by his t-shirt and so I felt it when he gave a muted chuckle in return. Strangely, the movement soothed me, but the gentle hand he held to the back of my head helped too. 

“You’ll be fine, B.” He murmured out into the kitchen and I pulled away when I heard the front door rattle. “Besides, when have I ever let you down?”

I released a shallow breath and then plastered on a more convincing smile. I caught George’s hand in mine just before he went back to watching the boiling pot and squeezed the digits, he returned the gesture kindly. I was thankful to have him, I realised in that moment, the easy way we worked only just hitting me then.

George was back by the stove when the kitchen handle turned and we both glanced over in the direction of the door to watch his dad walk on through it. The man was tall, that was the first thing I noticed, he had to duck his head to wander through the frame so that he wouldn’t hit it, and he also looked a lot like George. They shared the same eyes.

“Oh.” The older man paused when he spotted me at the table, slowing his movements ever so slightly to process it. It seemed that syllabic reactions were also something that the pair shared too.

“Hi, Mr Daniel. Hope me being here isn’t too much of a bother.” I greeted him, trying for polite, my voice was quieter than I expected though and I noted the way George’s furrowed brow turned towards me when he heard it too.

George’s dad stepped further into the kitchen, placing a carrier bag down on the kitchen counter before he walked over to drop his briefcase onto a wooden chair.

“Not a bother.” His accent was peculiar, it held a hint of, what I could only assume to be, Dutch, that was overpowered slightly by his low speech. “And I’m Jules, no need for formalities. You must be Y/n.”

I nodded and gave a smile when he quirked one of his own, however tiny. “I am, it’s nice to properly meet you.” I told him as he propped himself into the seat sat opposite me. 

“Yes, I agree. Though I have heard a lot about you, George has spoken of you before.” Jules informed, analysing eyes flitting over to where his son was stood, pretending to be absorbed in his cooking, before they settled back on me, “He speaks highly of you.”

A genuine smile broke out across my face then and, unable to stop it, I glanced down to my lap in hopes to hide it.

“That’s kind of him.” I laughed softly and was pleased when George’s dad chuckled along with me, it was a resonant sound one that came from deep within.

“My son’s a good boy. A kind one. I hope he’ll turn into a good man also.”

The look he casted George was sweet, one I couldn’t relate to but adored all the same. This man held his son in high regard, he loved him.

George decided to grace us with a bit of input then. “Are we done talking about me now?” He quipped, looking a bit self-conscious which was new. “Just waiting for him to start telling you my most embarrassing moments or pull out the baby photos.”

I flashed his dad a hopeful grin, “I’d love that.”

Jules just laughed and glanced towards his son. “I like this girl. Where did you find her?”

George shook his head in retort, rolling his eyes but not hiding his fond smile. “She found me.”

The two of us shared a look then and laughed- he had a point.

“Oh?” Jules said, questioning gaze jumping between the both of us now.

“I heard him play. At school.” I acquiesced the older man’s wondering and instinctively he knew I was talking about drumming. “He was hiding away in the music room when I’d been walking past, decided to poke my head in.”

“Ambushed me, more like.” George scoffed, a tea towel slung over his shoulder, looking every bit like the chef he was feigning to be. 

“I did not!” I gasped.

George laughed loudly, I was marvelled by the sound but I didn’t let it put me off upholding my honour. 

“You did.” He affirmed, “Gave me an address on a piece of paper like some slick gangster and told me to be there.” 

“I- it was-” I tried to find the right response but he had me there- although, slick gangster was quite the compliment if I was being honest. “I was just trying to be helpful! Besides, you hardly said a word to me. I thought you hated me at first!”

George quirked a brow, as though this was a surprise to him, maybe it was.

Jules cut in, his question held a hint of mirth, “An address?”

George glanced towards his dad and nodded once more, “For the band. That’s how I joined.”

“Ah.” George’s dad sounded, “Are you in this band too?” He asked me.

George snickered and I tried not to glare at him as I answered Jules. “No, just the boys. I keep them all in order though.”

“The world would crumble without a woman in charge. Count yourselves lucky.” Jules sent a grin towards his son, it was toothy and I noted that the fine lines around both his eyes and mouth resembled those I’d seen on George. His familiar eyes found mine next, “Do you play though?”

I shook my head, if only. “I can play a few chords on the piano but I’m no Chopin.” Adam’s doing, that. 

“Sing?” Jules questioned and I found myself wringing my hands beneath the tabletop.

“A little. Not in front of people though.” I told him honestly, not paying mind to the pause George made or the way his expression deepened. “It’s something of my own.”

Jules looked to me then, really looked at me I mean, and dipped his head in an earnest understanding. “Some things are meant for the heart, these are the things that keep us grounded.”

I nodded too, thankful that he could relate in some way, and the kitchen settled into a peaceful lull for once. No nervous energy to be found. George turned his back on us to drain the pasta and stir a pot.

After a few muted minutes filled with George just puttering about, he padded his way over and placed two plates before his dad and I. We thanked him and he returned with one of his own as well as a bowl of grated cheese. He and his dad tucked right in, loading up on the mountain of parmesan, I however passed.

George cleared his throat once we’d all settled in, his foot finding my ankle beneath the table. I peered over to him but he was still staring down at his dinner. “I forgot to mention, dad. There’s this trip coming up.”

“At school?” Jules asked him, not noticing George’s awkward stance, the way his shoulders were hunched over his plate. I nudged my knee against his encouragingly.

“No, um just a group of us. To celebrate the end of the year.” He replied, having paused in his eating now to watch his dad’s reaction, who was still chewing happily away. “Camping.”

That did catch the man’s attention. “Camping?” He mimicked, one brow raising as he looked to George. “Where?”

“Down by the coast. Margate way.” Wow, he’d really thought this through.

His dad hummed around his next mouthful, then turned to me. I tried not to falter under his attention and the sudden pressure I felt. “Are you going, Y/n?”

I swallowed. 

“I am. It’s a big group of us. Seven or so.” I replied. In truth, there was an actual trip happening with some of the kids in our year- Vicky was actually going. They were all headed to some festival, a few of them camping out there, others staying in hotels nearby or with mates. When Matty had first heard about it he’d wanted to tag along, but then he’d saw the lineup and thought better of it.

“And your parents don’t mind?” Jules prodded, ignoring the sharp look George sent him.

“My mum is looking forward to the peace.” I joked with a soft chuckle, aiming to ease some of the nervousness I felt. “But she doesn’t mind, as long as I keep in touch and stay safe.”

God, I’d really pulled that one out of my arse, hadn’t I?

Jules seemed to buy it though and hummed again, folding his hands together. “When is this?”

“Next week, they’re leaving Sunday.” George answered, taking a sip of the drink he’d made us earlier.

“Your mother-” His dad attempted to say but George was swifter, “I know, that’s why I’m asking you now.”

Jules didn’t look too happy about the interruption or having been put on the spot, but didn’t comment on it, nor did he add to George’s explanation.

“I could call her, mention it.” Jules murmured, thinking it over as his eyes passed over his son’s. “But I don’t think she will mind. As long as you have fun, ah?”

The older man grinned and I felt the tightness in my chest loosen, going back to my food as the duo continued to talk more about the trip and then the football match that was supposedly on later tonight. 

I smiled to myself, figuring that this was probably the most normal family interaction I’d been apart of in a long time. And my smile only grew when George trapped my ankle between both of his feet, a silent acknowledgement.

He walked me home later that evening, hands in our pockets after having said a quiet goodbye to his dad, who’d looked just about ready to nod off on the sofa. 

It was quiet out and the walk was short so we decided on taking the long way, talking amongst ourselves, me staring up at the stars, him kicking at the pebbles we passed by.

“You never mentioned singing before.”

George’s sudden mention of the earlier topic faltered my step briefly, but I kept looking on. “Not something I tell most people.” I replied with a lazy shrug.

“Why?” He asked me, and if it’d been anyone else I’d’ve told them to mind their own. But this was George. George who new more parts of me than most. Who knew and didn’t judge. Who never whispered a word of it to anyone.

I rolled my lips against one another. “It was just something I always shared with my dad.”

George didn’t say anything for a minute or so, probably mulling it over, thinking of something to say. People always got so tense whenever I mentioned him. Death made people weird.

“You any good?”

That ask prompted an unexpected laugh from me and I peered over at him with a bright smile, teeth brushing against my lower lip. 

He knew me so well. I didn’t need pity, apologies, sympathy. 

“The next Britney, me.”

George grimaced and I chuckled some more before gazing down at my feet.

“I don’t know. My dad liked to hear me, said it reminded him of when his grandad used to take him to the local market down by the lock near their house. The women there used to sing on the barges that passed.”

George hummed around a sweet smile, “Will you sing to me?”

“Not even on your dying day.” I quipped right back, laughing when he stopped to narrow his eyes at me. 

“Come on, just a song. A verse!” He attempted to bargain but I wouldn’t budge, shaking my head.

“You’re going to get me in trouble, you know.” I told him with a laugh, “Was meant to be home twenty minutes ago, I’ll have to shuffle up the drain again.”

“Well, we’re already late so you’ll still have to make do with that drainpipe of yours, or I can offer you a shoulder up.”

I snorted softly, “What a sight that’d be if a neighbour saw.”

George gifted me a lopsided grin and continued on walking, “So no chance of a song then?”

I shook my head.

“Not even if I swore to moon the headmaster tomorrow morning?”

I wasn’t quick enough to swallow down my loud cackle, not having expected that response from him.

“As if you’d showcase your spotty arse to the entire school.”

George hip-checked me, “Fuck you, I do not have a spotty arse.”

“Well, how would I know? I’ve never seen it.”

“This your way of asking?” He smirked back, winking at me.

My jaw dropped at his blatant cheek, honestly so surprised I struggled to find a proper retort. “You wish.” 

George snorted at the flustered reply and continued walking on with a proud grin. He’d bested me there, we both knew it.

I huffed and let him have the win. Mostly because we were fast approaching my house and I could already see that the lights were still on.

With a sigh, I slowed my steps, all but lugging myself along the pavement now. George seemed to notice, but when did he not?

“You can always call me, you know? Just a text away.” He spoke, voice trailing out along the late summer air.

He knew I was dreading going inside, but that was to be expected. I always felt that way.

Instead of making any fuss though I merely grinned, waving him off. “I’ll be fine. But make sure you put your dad to bed, hey? Heard him complain about his back as he bent down to get in the freezer. He’ll regret kipping on that settee come morning.”

George gave me a small smile, finding amusement in my truthful words, but I could see the concern in his eyes. The worry lines that aged his face. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” I assured, smiling up at him. “Last day and then we’re home free, G!”

George nodded at the reminder and tugged a hand out from his pocket to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear, fingertips trailing along my jaw ever so gently. I held my breath. Wondering if he’d finally close that distance between us. If he knew I wanted it just as badly.

But then he pulled away again and I tried to hide my sinking disappointment.

“See you tomorrow, Birdie.”

I gave him a crooked smile and pushed up on my tiptoes to press a careful kiss to his cheek. “Tomorrow. Night, G.”

…

I was on a bit of a high as I made my way around the side of the house, trainers dodging the dried out mud puddled beneath the kitchen window before I slid through the wearing wooden gate. 

George hadn’t made a move but it was a baby step. 

Ross’s words repeated on a loop in my head as I climbed my way up onto the garden wall to grab at the ledge sat just above the backdoor. Once I was stable there I shuffled my way up and over to my bedroom window, always just leaving it off the latch. 

‘He’s half fucking in love with you.’

‘But that’s alright, I guess. Seeing as he has no clue that you like him too.’

He was a wise one, our Ross. But I don’t know, part of me was desperate to believe him, the other fearful- of what, I wasn’t quite sure.

I forced out a heavy breath as I lugged my body in through the open window, being mindful not to make too much noise as I stuck my landing.

With a breathless exhale I spun around to close the window again, startling when I saw a figure sat in the corner of my room, looming in the old wicker chair I’d had there for years.

My hand jumped up to my racing heart as I processed the shock, biting back the sudden fear that crawled its way up the back of my neck when I noticed his predatory grin.

“Been wonderin’ how you’ve been sneakin’ in and out without me noticing.” Steven commented causally, as though it was perfectly normal for a grown man to be sat up waiting for a teenage girl in her bedroom. “‘Cause at first, you see, at first I reckoned you were just pretty stealthy. Funny that, what with you bein’ so lard.”

He snorted at his own joke, but I paid his cruel words no attention, far too used to the rotten things he’d often spout. Men were all the same, only Steven just didn’t have a single good bone in his body. 

I walked over to my dresser, fiddling with the rings there before I reached for a hair tie. I was trying not to show him that I cared, that I hated him for invading my space, that I wanted to run as quick as my legs would let me away. If I did then it was game over, he’d win.

I almost didn’t hear him stand, so I tensed slightly when a floorboard creaked beneath his weight. He approached from behind, his face coming into view beside mine in the dresser mirror. I didn’t look him in the eye.

“Where you been then? Out with yer mates, or were you gettin’ your leg over?”

Bile rose, it suffocated my senses for a moment before I steeled myself. He wouldn’t get the upper hand here. I wouldn’t give him a reaction.

“Saw you outside with that lad. Harry down the pub says your often with him, sees the two of you out late most nights.” Steven said snidely, “Do you love him, pet? Reckon he loves you back, do ya?”

My eyes flew up towards his in the mirror, “Did you want something, Steven?”

He whistled lowly then and I watched his mouth tug up into a menacing smirk as his eyes grazed over my face in the reflection, slowly making their way down to the curve of my neck and then lower. I kept my head held high even as I turned to slide out from between him and the dresser, only I wasn’t quick enough.

His hips jerked out instinctively and he pinned me to the wooden drawers. My mind buzzed, I was panicking now. He’d never gotten close like this. A punch here, a shove there. But, never like this.

“Let me go.”

“Why, petal? Don’t you think we could have some fun?”

“Let me go.” I repeated, firmer this time, fists steeled against the countertop. 

When he only laughed at my reaction I took the chance his ego gave me, kicking back swiftly with my leg to hit him just below his knee and buckle him. He did, but only just, springing out to claw at me as I darted my way to the bedroom door. 

I screamed when I felt his hands catch at my waist, but the handle was already in my hand and so I tugged as hard as I could. It opened, flying out to catch the side of my face. 

Shocked by the sudden impact, my head fell limply and I stopped struggling for a moment. His hold tightened though and I knew I had to keep on, get to the stairs, then to the front door. 

Just get out. 

“Let go!” I screeched, scratching at his greedy hands and tugging my body relentlessly towards the hallway. 

It was a game of tug-of-war, and for him I supposed I was the prize. But I wasn’t too easily won. I sent another kick backwards, he avoided it. I used the same foot to crash down hard on his toes, he yelped and loosened his arms slightly in surprise, enough for me to break out into the hall, crashing into the wall opposite my room. 

His fist collided with the back of my head just as my cheek bounced off the photo frame mum had hung there, I slumped lower, wiggling my way downwards and towards where I knew the banister would be.

“Don’t, be, difficult.” He grunted out. 

“Fuck you.” I spat back. 

On the floor now, I rolled over and ignored the carpet that burned the skin of my arms. I kicked harder, vision hazy as he loomed over me. He struck me again for talking back, like he often did whenever he was home, but then hit me twice more just because he could. Laughing about it now.

I forced myself backwards, the hallway was dim, the only light coming from the bedroom at the end of the walkway. I wondered if she was in there. If she could hear all of this. “Mum?” I called out, wailing almost. “Mum!”

Steven laughed harder at that. “She ain’t here. Even if she were, she’d be no help to you, you little tramp. Now get up!” He ordered and I felt the back of my hand brush against the wooden beam of the banister. “Up!”

I did as I was told, legs trembling before me. He struck me back down again, then ordered the same. “Up!”

I could hardly feel anything but the licking fire that flooded my veins, every inch of my body hurting. But I couldn’t let it show.

I stumbled to my feet, vision so blurred I ought to be concussed. He pinned me to the wall there, hands roaming, I whimpered and he only grinned, getting in my face.

“Pretty when you try, ain’t you?” He snarked. I gritted my teeth and thrashed about, spitting in his face when I couldn’t smash his head away with my own.

He worked his jaw for a moment, blinking once at me before another disgusting smirk replaced his thinly pressed lips.

“I could kill you, here and now. Make it hurt, do it nice and slow. No one would even notice. Would they? No one would be none the wiser. You hear me?” He hissed brutally into my ear, I was quivering now, whimpering as he drew closer and closer, pressing against me. “Yer mum would thank me, kiss my feet even, for having gotten rid of the tart she birthed. She cries, you know. All the time. Tells me she wishes it were you who died, and not your old man.”

I choked on a sob, thrashing again. He laughed joyfully. 

“Is that it? Do you miss yer daddy, little girl?” He taunted, mouth pressing against the skin of my cheek now, breath hot as his fingers worked at the button of my shorts. “But he ain’t comin’ to help you, petal. No one is.”

I turned my face further away from him, as far as I possibly could. Lip trembling and arms falling slack. He chuckled, shaking his head at me and tutting, but his mistake was thinking I’d make this easy for him. He could go fuck himself. 

As soon as he released one of my wrists to paw at the cut of my shorts, I shot my knee out, colliding with his lower half hard. He groaned in pain, fingers flexing against the jut of my wrist when I shoved him as hard as I could away with my free hand. 

He twisted the arm he still held as he stumbled slightly, but I couldn’t react, not even to the sharp pain that flew up towards my elbow. I had to take the chance while I still had it, thrashing even more and grabbing blindly for the ancient ornament my mum had kept on the shelf nearby for years. I brought it down hard once my fingers wrapped around its metal, smashing it against the hand that still encased my arm. He shouted out and in his agony flew his uninjured arm back at me, knocking the side of the ornament I still gripped and sending its pointed top sailing towards my neck. It pierced the thin skin between my collar and shoulder blade.

I pulled it free thoughtlessly, gawking at the sight of it before he came flying towards me. On instinct I chucked the hefty ornament back his way, catching the side of his head when he attempted to duck away from it. I darted towards the bathroom in the same second, the closest room available, and slammed the door shut behind me. Fiddling with the lock, it slipped through my fingers three times before it finally latched.

I looked around the room for anything to protect myself with, shaking violently, but my only option was the plunger and the cabinet on the adjacent wall. But I wasn’t even sure that it could come away. My next idea was the window. 

Steven banged at the door then, a flight of fury, anger creeping in from the tiny gap beneath it as he shouted at the top of his lungs. I was already crouched in the sink, heartbeat filling up my ears. I fumbled with the window’s latch, coating the white windowsill in red as I forced the tiny pane open as far as it’d go.

I glanced out helplessly, trying to actively ignore the harsh thumping coming from behind me. I was a whole story up and had nothing to catch me down below, not even a ledge or a pipe to help me with my descent. 

I paused for a moment to try and think things through, but that was my mistake, the bathroom door behind me splintered under the full force of his weight and he all but jumped across the tiled floor to grab at me. 

I didn’t even think about it, throwing myself out of the open window in my panic, but not quick enough it seemed because his hand wrapped itself halfway around my leg like a snake would its prey. I was practically dangling upside down out of the window now, my hands desperately clawing at the brickwork to find something to hang onto. Still kicking as he tried to pull me back inside. 

I’d rather die, I thought in the hectic haze, or maybe I screamed it.

I heard her voice then. Her screaming out his name, my eyes shot up to see a flash of her hair above me in the bathroom. But it was in that moment that he chose to finally release me. That he finally let me go. And I fell. Dropped. Barely even feeling the ground as I splattered against it, face full of grass, hip colliding with the concrete patio.

She called out for me then. Said my name. It was the first time I’d heard her say it in weeks. 

My vision begun to flash, coming in and out of focus in thick streaks, I dragged myself upwards. Pain radiated throughout the length of my body as I did, but I just kept on going. Knowing if I kept on going then this would be the last of it. It would all be over.  

Struggling, fighting with myself to just keep on, to escape, I staggered down the garden path to pass through the side gate and out onto the sheltered drive. I clung to the wall there, using it as a crutch to aid me along.

I could still hear their shouts over the ringing, the incessant ringing that distracted me from most of the pain. I kept on pushing, forcing myself out onto the street now. Someone was coming after me, I’d heard the door rattle open but hadn’t dared look back, too focused on moving forward. 

My name.

I heard her call my name over and over. 

But somehow, by some miracle, I managed to break into a limping run. My lungs ached and I was gasping for air, but once I’d made it far enough, as far as I was capable, I felt my body drop against the curbed pavement. Head buried in the gravel road, hand clutching at my throbbing shoulder.

Next thing I knew there were lights, people. Sirens.

I kept on screaming.

“Don’t touch me! Please!” I sobbed, utterly distraught, “Don’t!”

They couldn’t touch me. I wouldn’t- they couldn’t. I wouldn’t let them.

So many voices flittered in and out of focus, attempts to talk me down, to help.

Everyone had gathered around to witness, it seemed, and I caved further into my shivering body, unable to focus on their whispers, the gasps, the looks. I didn’t know where I was. I was too scared to even ask. Too shocked to notice the familiar faces that littered the neighbourhood, looking down at me. Too terrified that he’d find me. That I’d be dragged back.

I sobbed harder. Eyes flicking to and fro. Trying to assess the situation, looking for any and all warning signs. An escape. But I couldn’t. Head too heavy to concentrate, my thoughts shutting down. 

Then there was a scuffle off to the far side and I tensed at the shouting that pursued, someone nearby was ordering people to step back, to go home.

Home, I wanted so desperately to scoff. How could I go home?

“Hey! You can’t be here.” They repeated, their voice itching at my skin, tightening every single muscle in my body. “Move away. Step away now!”

“She’s my friend! Let me fucking through. Y/n! Y/n!” 

Breathless, my head snapped up at the call of my name and through my hazy vision, I caught a glimpse of him. Him. How he’d known I was here, I had no idea, but he was there.

“George.” I sobbed openly, and that was the signal that seemed to allow him access. 

He all but threw himself towards me and the woman crouched about a foot away called out a warning to him, but I was reaching out too. Desperate for that safety that’d been so easily ripped away from me. 

I continued to sob, for who knows how long. He held me, tight. An anchor and a protector. He never let anyone get near. The sirens and flashing lights faded, and all I could hear was his voice. He sounded so lost. I wanted to apologise. I wanted him to hold me tighter.

“Come on, B. You need to get up now, alright? I need you to let them check you over. You won’t stop bleeding.”

He kept on repeating himself. Over and over. I couldn’t understand why. I was fine. Terrified but fine. I didn’t need them. I didn’t need to be touched. I didn’t want to be looked at. 

I wanted to go home. But where the fuck was home?

It wasn’t back there. It wasn’t with him.

I cried harder. 

“Birdie. Hey, Birdie, babe. Listen to me please. I’m here. I’m here and I’ve got you. Come on, we’re going to get into the ambulance, okay? Together. Just me and you.”

Me and you. “Me and you.” I repeated, his hand tightening a fraction in mine.

“That okay? Can you do that for me, love?”

I think I nodded, I couldn’t be sure. Uncertain of which way was up and which way was down. I leaned against his sturdy frame. “George, I lied.” I gasped out to him through my relentless spluttering, clawing at his chest. 

He didn’t reply.

“I lied, G! I said I’d be fine.” I cracked, barely even aware of the words I was spewing to him. “Can you stay? Please can you stay? I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

He wrapped himself further around me, hand in my matted hair. 

“Yeah, Birdie. I’ll stay. I’m not going nowhere.” He assured me, gentle as he lifted me up and into the ambulance. “I’ve got you.”

—

I’d always hated hospitals. Ever since my dad had died. 

I hated the fact that I was here again, in the same one he’d left us in. Left me in. 

I didn’t pay much attention to anything, only ever reacting when someone touched me without warning. Waking when a nurse would pop her head in or when someone would pass outside the door.

George was dozing in the chair beside my bed. I couldn’t remember calling him. I couldn’t remember much. I suppose I didn’t want to.

I ached. Everywhere.

But it was my mind that caused the most pain. Relentless in its pursuit to keep me under. To never let me forget.

I could still feel his hands. The groping, the press of his mouth. The breath on my ear. 

I shivered, forcing back the tears and swallowing past the harsh lump.

My eyes fluttered again. Heavy now. Heavier than ever. The room faded, George’s faint breaths lulling my mind, sleep dragging me under. 

——

“Fuck!” George hissed out, slamming his fist into the opposing wall to keep from chucking up whatever else his stomach had left to give. “Fuck.” He repeated, only with a lot less conviction, less drive.

She wouldn’t stop crying. She wouldn’t let them come near. She’d been so defenceless.

And where was I? His head screamed at him.

Where the hell was I?

His fist collided with the wall above the toilet again, face scrunched up tight to keep from crying too.

His breaths grew ragged, hands clenched hard enough to hurt, all whilst feeling sick to his stomach. 

He startled.

A knock had sounded from just outside and he inhaled a sharp breath, waiting a moment, before he croaked out, “Yeah?”

He sounded so weak. Voice shaking.

“Um, there’s a call here for you, sir.” An unfamiliar voice spoke through the thick door, “Asking for a George Daniel.”

He swallowed thickly, the action doing nothing at all to dull the nausea that rolled through him. “Yeah.” He rasped in reply, pulling the toilet chain and moving towards the door as his insides flushed away.

He stepped out into the quiet corridor, to where she now laid asleep in the room opposite. George’s tired, albeit alert, gaze honed in on a nurse dressed in blue staring carefully back at him. 

“They’ve phone three times now.” She told him, voice soft. “I kept them on the line, but I can’t hold them off any longer.”

George swallowed again and nodded to her, casting a long glance into the room beside them.

The nurse followed his eye, “She’s strong. They’ll let her go soon enough.”

He dipped his head and reluctantly let her lead him down towards the ward’s reception desk, to where a phone was sat off the hook. She gestured towards it with a nod and then left him to it.

It was late enough that there weren’t many people mulling about, let alone any visitors, he’d only been allowed to stay because she’d refused to be treated otherwise.

“Hello?” George answered, voice cracking, having picked up the phone and brought it to his ear.

“Fuck. George, that you, mate?”

Ross.

“Yeah, yeah it’s me.” He answered in a slow breath, “How’d you know to call?”

“It’s everywhere, mate. They say she got jumped, is it true? Is she alright?”

Jumped.

His mind lingered on that word. Staring off down the corridor. Lingered on the fact that people in their shitty fucking town were already gossiping about it. It made him hate himself a little bit more.

“She’s asleep.” Was all that he replied.

“Is she. Okay. George.” Ross demanded before the line went quiet once more, eerily George could still hear the other boy’s resolved glare from down the phone. It was a hard image not to picture.

“She’s,” He had to pause, force down the wetness in his tone, the tears that were coming. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” Ross stressed and George had never heard him sound so serious. So grown up.

“They found her on the road just off of mine. Some woman.” He swallowed again, though the salvia was just pooling in his mouth at this point. “Y/n. She, she was screaming- sobbing. I only knew about it when I heard the sirens, the lights. I- I just had a feeling, Ross. I ran down, hoping, praying, but… Fuck.”

He squeezed his eyes tightly shut and pinched the bridge of his nose, breaths laboured.

“George?” Ross called out to him, “You still there?”

“Yeah,” He rasped in reply, straining to keep his voice even as he wet the flesh of his lip. “She. She’s been checked over, they have her on a drip. No broken bones, just a few sprains. Said she jumped from a window.”

“She did what?”

“I don’t know. I don’t fucking know what happened, but it weren’t good.” George muttered to himself, bloodshot eyes trained on an off-centred tile a way away. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to say. She- there was so much blood, Ross.”

“Blood? What the fuck are you talking about, what went on?” Ross hissed down the phone, George knew that he wasn’t really asking him.

“Stab wound to her shoulder.” He answered though, needing to get it all out, in fear he’d never be able to again. “Wasn’t very deep but they stitched it up. Along with the cut on her head.”

“Hang on- stabbed? George, what?”

“I don’t know, Ross!” He stressed, tears blurring his vision now as he thought back to her sat there on that roadside, beaten, alone, sobbing. “I don’t know, okay! I just- I don’t know what to do. What do I do? What do I say?”

A long pause.

“It’s my fault.” He whispered brokenly into the receiver, “I let her leave. I let her go home.” He admitted quietly, tear rolling down the skin of his cheek. “It’s my fault, Ross.”

“G… mate, you can’t say that. It’s- you didn’t know.”

He did. He knew. He’d known for a long time how bad it was. How bad it’d been. He knew. He knew. He knew. 

“It’s all my fault.”

A piercing scream startled him then and he all but dropped the phone to dart in its direction. Three long strides and he was at her door, shouting at the idiot that’d come in to tamper with the IV beside her, his entire body trembling. 

“Get out!” He demanded, hands shaking in fury, in fear. Before he looked towards her, hating that he saw that same terror reflected on her face. He rushed to her side and she grabbed aimlessly for his hand, he let her take it. Let her burrow her face in his chest as he wrapped an arm around her and settled on the edge of the bed. “I’m here.” He murmured into her hair, “I’m here, Birdie.”

——

No one should’ve known, no one had heard it from me. 

But everyone did.

The police had been by. Twice.

So had Matty’s mum, she’d charged in this morning and started making demands. Not daring to touch me, to ask questions.

She sat with me whilst they ran more tests, George outside with the boys. They were quiet. All four of them. I would’ve felt humiliated, deep down I probably did, but I couldn’t feel much of anything with how horrified I was. With how my mind never let up, never let me rest.

He’d been arrested, an officer had told me. Not charged, not yet. Maybe not ever.

My mum had come by asking questions, someone had sent her away. I hadn’t seen her. 

Next thing I knew I was being carted out of the hospital and into the back of Denise’s car with a pile of leaflets and a therapist to contact. No one said a word. 

The police were outside of Matty’s when we arrived, I ignored them until my eyes found George hunched on the settee. He was still in the same trackie bottoms from before, I could tell because they were still littered with specs of my blood. The white t-shirt was gone though, replaced by one of Matty’s biggest hoodies, which still looked too small on him.

Denise and George stayed with me whilst I was questioned again, repeating the same answers again and again. The boys just outside. I told the officers most of what happened. Told them about the way he’d treated me, and mum. How she wasn’t to blame. How scared she’d been. Liar. 

They spoke to Denise as though I wasn’t there afterwards and, in a way, I supposed I wasn’t. Not really. Mind off elsewhere.

George had let me hold his hand through the entire thing, fingers pale against mine. He’d kept looking at me, every few seconds, as though he was scared I was going to disappear or maybe just fall apart.

I kept thinking back to him. To the ambulance ride. To the whispers he’d gifted me, the promises he’d made. How I’d lied. Liar. 

School had been and gone, my last day snatched from not just me, but all the boys too.

Denise let me have the guest room, running me a hot bath and laying out some clothes. I’d been thankful for the offer but wary, George had followed me up in silence and then planted himself on the floor outside the bathroom without a word.

He’d still been there when I’d let the door creak back open, lifted his head and given me a tired smile before we’d both puttered into the bedroom.

It was barely even afternoon before I crawled into the bed upstairs. Larger than I was used to, having been holed up on the same twin sized mattress I’d had since I was thirteen.

I was fearful that George would go home at that point, but he merely showered and borrowed some more clothes off of Matty. He dwarfed them but I smiled as he entered the room to silently set up the blow up mattress Denise had brought in.

Matty had stopped by to say goodnight, pain in his pretty brown eyes, but with a brave smile limning his lips. I’d let him squeeze my hand before he’d left, shutting the door quietly behind him. George took up space on the mattress below and I shuffled all the way to one end of the bed to reach my hand out towards him. He took it without a second thought and I fell asleep like that, with his hand tucked safely in mine, his thumb soothing careful circles into the back of my wrist.

—

“Are you sure, sweetheart? I mean, you’re barely even out of hospital.” Denise fussed over me as I waited for George to join us downstairs. 

It was finally Sunday. Which meant we were leaving. 

“I’m sure.” I told her quietly, she hid her frown well but I could still see it there, behind the lingering look she gave me.

“At least let me drop you both to the station, or pack you something to take with you.” Denise continued, I smiled when she cradled my cheek. “You’ve hardly eaten since I’ve seen you! Worries me.”

I knew it did. Matty had already brought me up both breakfast and lunch, and it was barely gone ten.

“I’ll take the lift if you really are offering.” I acquiesced and watched a smile bloom on her face.

“Right then, I’ll go grab my keys.”

She puttered off just before George shuffled his way down the stairs, Matty talking his ear off all the while. I smiled at the sight of them, at the way George rolled his tired eyes.

He’d hardly slept, same as me, but I still felt a twinge of guilt ripple through me when he caught my staring. 

“Oh look! It’s the second half to the pair of traitors I once called friends.” Matty scoffed as he bounced off the third step and dropped down onto the floor, he turned his nose up at me and I rolled my eyes in return. Unfazed by his melodramatics.

“Don’t be jealous, Healy. You’ll always be my favourite.” I smirked at him, hoping it looked as genuine as it felt. 

Matty grinned in turn whilst George settled the duffle he’d picked up from his yesterday by the front door, he strolled back over to join us.

“Hear that, G? I’m her favourite.” Matty boasted, sniffing with an overly pleased smile.

George wrapped an arm around my shoulder and, naturally, I leant into him. “Don’t think it matters, mate. You’ll still be stuck here, whilst we’re off in the city.”

Yeah. Matty now knew of our little secret. 

It had all come out late last night, when I’d fought tooth and nail with George about the trip down south. I still wanted to go, more now than ever. But he’d had his reservations.

With a childish scowl, Matty made a face in retaliation and propped himself up against the banister bar. “Still can’t believe you lied to us. I mean, where’s your sense of camaraderie?”

I chuckled to myself, hiding the soft sound in the groove of George’s shoulder.

“I’m stuck here, all fucking summer long, with Hann and Ross… mum too! I can already picture it! The four of us down at the pub, just drowning our sorrows and sniffling into our pints. You can’t actually leave me here with them!”

When I glanced back up Matty had seemingly decided to drop to his knees to beg for an invitation, hands clasped before him, that was also the same moment Denise decided to pop back in.

“Oh, Jesus Christ, Matthew. What in heavens are you up to now?” She scolded with a half-hearted huff, tutting as she shook her head at her eldest son. 

“I’m making a plea, mum.” Matty told her in all seriousness, barely sparing her a glance as she passed by. 

“For goodness sake.” Denise sighed, unable to do much else, which was almost always a given with anything Matty related. “Get up off the floor and make yourself useful, would you? I’ve got the hoover plugged in, be a dear and run over the rugs for me.”

Matty’s hands fell limply to his sides just as his mouth dropped in disbelief. He glanced back towards George and I. “You see what kind of hell you’re leaving me in? What teenage boy hoovers??” 

“Mine!” Denise told him simply, poking at his shoulder to get him to stand with smile, “Now, run along. I’ve got to drop these two off before their train leaves, haven’t I?”

George and I took that as our queue to start grabbing at our things, him swiping up the small suitcase Denise had taken from mine yesterday before I had the chance. I flattened my expression, showing my displeasure. 

“Mum.” Matty all but whined, neither one of them paying much attention to us now. “Can’t I just come? You know, see my mates off and all.”

Denise wasn’t a woman to be bargained with. “No, you’ll see them soon enough. Now, if you’d like to make your goodbyes while I start the car then have at.”

I bit back the giggle that wanted to escape me upon seeing Matty’s dejected face, whilst Denise double checked for her car keys and purse then slid out the front door yelling, “Five minutes!”

“You make it sound like I’d been sentenced to death, woman!” Matty shouted out after her and his mum’s reply was what broke the dam, letting a flood of muffled laughter escape me. “Hoover and you might just live to tell the tale, Matthew!”

Matty grumbled to himself, shaking his head before he peered back over at us with his hands on his hips, looking like a little old lady.

“So, you know what happened here then if I’m missing when you two get back.” He sighed, as though he’d already gone and accepted his fate. “Tell the coppers it was her, yeah? And have a party at my funeral, no fuckin’ tears or nothin’ either. Oh, and I want my coffin a bright pink, the flowers can-”

“Matt.” George spoke with an amused chuckle, cutting into Matty’s longwinded rant. He opened his arm out wide and snorted when the curly haired freak catapulted himself across the hall at him. 

“Gonna miss you lot.” Matty mumbled into George’s shoulder before he pulled away and stepped towards me, a little warily. I moved over to him, silently assuring him that I wanted a good cuddle too. He grinned down at me and I felt him press a gentle peck to the top of my head when he’d wrapped me up in his arms. “Make sure you bring me something back, yeah? Something sick.”

I smiled fondly as we parted, squeezing his fingers briefly. “Promise.”

Matty’s gaze trailed between the two of us then and a sly smirk begun to overwhelm his features. “And I want all the details about this-” he waved a hand between us, “when you get back.”

The fucker. Way to make things awkward, I thought. 

I honestly did go to correct him, to tell him that nothing had happened between George and I. But G beat me to it. 

Well, not really, because he didn’t deny anything of the sort, just laughed as he treaded closer to the door. “Bye, Matty.”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Matty called out after us, and I chuckled as I followed George out. 

Always one to make a scene though, Matty stood and waved us off from the front step of the house once we’d both settled in the car and Denise had just begun to pull away.

His mum only sighed.

—

I shifted again for what felt like the umpteenth time. 

I was uncomfortable. Incredibly so, enough that I was quickly beginning to regret having been so stubborn about not postponing this entire trip when the offer had been there.  

“You alright?” George asked from where he sat across the table from me, his hands toying with a ticket. 

We were on the train now, the journey just under three hours. But we weren’t even a quarter of the way through yet and I was already dreading the rest of it.

I nodded in reply, still shuffling about. “Just can’t get comfortable.”

My body ached, my head and spine were bruised to bits, but it was just my hip that wouldn’t allow me to settle in my seat. The doctors reckoned I’d sprained it falling out that upstairs window, but they couldn’t do anything for the cramping I kept feeling other than offer me a prescription, which had just been an over-the-counter pain relief.

Tough fucking luck, hey?

“Here.” George motioned to me. I watched him jump up from the seat he’d fallen into when we’d first boarded and then jerk his head down at it. 

I frowned slightly but stood carefully before rounding the tiny table which had separated us, observing closely as he rolled up his hoodie and bundled it against the car’s window. He ushered me in afterwards and I went, letting him take the seat beside me so that he could pull my legs up to lay across his lap.

“Better?” He questioned, a hand wrapped loosely around my ankle now.

I smiled and gifted him a grateful nod. It’d helped a ton actually.

“Good.” He replied, then pulled out a tiny notebook from the duffle he’d brought with him, “‘Cause now there’ll be no excuses when I beat you in hangman.”

I laughed at that. “Oh, you’re on.”

—

George’s quiet laughter only agitated me further as I mumbled to myself about ‘fucking trains’ and ‘toffy twats who didn’t know when to shut the fuck up’ as we manoeuvred our way through the hectic crowds of Kings Cross Station.

We’d spent the last half of our journey surrounded by a bunch of rowdy university lads, who were obviously on their way back home. But listen, because I’m the very last person to have a bitch and a moan about people just enjoying themselves or having fun- even when it inconvenienced me, yeah? But these fucking ignorant twats had really pushed my limit. 

I mean, who the fuck starts a loud debate over their fucking political crushes? And then go on to boast to one another about where they’d be spending their summers whilst simultaneously mocking anyone who holidayed in ‘the isles’ or didn’t at all. 

I’d sent a wide eyed glance at George when they’d first started up and my disbelieving frown had quickly grown into me just biting my tongue to keep from ripping them each a new one when they’d started snickering at the rest of us. At the tiny family down the far end of the car, with its single mother and her chocolate covered toddler who was sporting an upset frown. At the elderly bloke cooped up in the far corner, who kept nervously jumping whenever the train rattled too hard against the tracks. Even at George and I. Because of my fucked up face and George’s nonplussed reaction.

George’s calming hand had been the only thing to keep me stated. Otherwise they never would’ve made it to the station. 

Should count themselves lucky.

“Don’t laugh, George. I hate people like that.” I grunted out as I rubbed at my hip again, thankful that I hadn’t fought him when he’d taken my suitcase. “Looking down on others, acting like their shit don’t stink the same.”

George visibly fought not to snort outright at that and I huffed.

“Keep on, Daniel, and you’ll be hearing a lot worse.” I told him pointedly, but smiled politely at the ticket officer as we passed through the barriers.

“Don’t doubt it.” George replied, hiking his duffle up higher over his shoulder. “But B, you’ve got to learn not to let people like that affect you. Otherwise I’d be having to fight off every idiot that looked at you funny.”

“I can fight my own battles, thank you.” I retorted primly.

George huffed out a chuckle. “I know that much, but no one’s gonna hurt you again with me around.”

My gaze focused on the buzzing swarm ahead, at the giant boards hanging high above us, anything but him. “I thought we weren’t talking about it.” I murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear and wincing when I forgot about the stitches in my shoulder.

I heard him sigh and said nothing more on the topic.

We’d just about made it to the taxi rank, where Aunt Del had said she’d be waiting for us yesterday, when George spoke up again. “I’m gonna grab some deodorant and shit from the pharmacy over there- forgot to pack it in with the rest. You want anything?”

I watched as he settled our bags down beside a bench and then jerk his head over towards a Boots nearby. I shrugged, “Maybe a drink. If you don’t mind?”

George flashed me a smile, waving off the second part of my comment. “Diet Coke, yeah?”

I nodded, flashing him an overdue smile, “You know me so well.”

He shook his head lightly, lips still upturned as he headed in the other direction. I sighed whilst slumping onto the bench.

I’d been in London five minutes and already I felt overwhelmed. The station was hectic, even on a Sunday! There were people everywhere, lights and signs adorned every possible space, and there was never a lulling moment of peace. Everyone was just go, go, go.

Saying that, it was possibly the best place I’d ever people watched. There were all sorts of personalities down here. I mean, it wasn’t everyday you spotted a 6ft woman with a mohawk the length of a tennis racket walking through the streets of Wilmslow. Or an old hippy dressed in a black bin bag, waving a guitar.

It was pretty incredible. And I took the time to search for all the anomalies littered amongst the suits and denim jeans, a game of Where's Wally?. I much preferred their eccentricity.

“Alright, they were out of the stuff I usually get so I got this instead, smelt nice enough though.” I glanced up at the sound of George’s voice and spotted him making his way back to me whilst peering down at the deodorant can he held in his hand. My drink was tucked up under his left arm and he had a carrier bag dangling from his wrist. “What d’you think?” He asked when he reached the bench, holding the can out towards me. I sniffed at the scent whilst he settled the drink he’d purchased beside me and quickly tucked the bag into his duffle. 

“I like it.” I told him honestly, glancing down at the label. “It’s different.”

“That good or bad?” He chuckled in reply and I smiled.

“Good. You’ll pull any one you fancy now that you’ve got something to cover that awful smell that often follows you about.”

His eyes wrinkled as he pulled a face in retaliation, “Hilarious, you. Why’d I ever let you talk me into coming again?”

I chuckled to myself, grinning up at him when he moved in closer to swipe the deodorant from my grasp. “‘Cause you’d be lost without me- dead bored too.”

He hummed, as though mulling it all over. Then leaned down towards me, nose almost touching mine as his face broke into a smile. “Sounds about right.”

I wanted to crane my neck up in that moment, let my lips brush against his. It was all I wanted in truth. But I didn’t dare. Too terrified of how he’d react. If every lie I’d heard ever told about me turned out to be true. If I was just as worthless as their words painted me to be.

“Yeah. It does, don’t it?”

George’s grin was large but still soft somehow, and his brown eyes danced between my own whilst the station continued to buzz around us. He hummed again, rocking on his feet, edging ever so closer.

Smash!

We both jolted apart at the sudden commotion, heads snapping up and over towards the loud bang. We both snorted at the same time, having spotted the culprit.

“They’re a fucking whole different breed down here.” George laughed lowly, shaking his head at a hefty looking pigeon that had seemingly taken the opportunity to try and nab a sandwich from out of an older woman’s hand- only it’d flown headfirst into a shop’s swinging sign.

I could only agree with his statement before I pivoted slightly, pausing only when I spotted another older woman waving her arms about wildly just outside the station doors. My jaw dropped for a second before I found myself chuckling at the sight, nudging George’s side to grab his attention too. He only raised his brows at the mad cow dressed in orange dungarees and a striped tee who was so obviously waving at us.

“I reckon everything down here’s different, G.” I snorted before I was waving back at my Aunt just as eagerly, already gathering up our stuff.

“No shit.” Is all I heard George say in return.

…

“Oh my Christ, ain’t you just grown so big!” Was the first thing Aunt Del said after she’d sprinted over to wrap me up in a long-overdue hug. “My, I swear you look like the double of me when I was your age.” She breathed out, her bright red lips matching her cherry coloured hair, gentle green eyes gazing down at me.

“Hi to you too, Aunt Del.” I chuckled, smiling back at her. She hadn’t changed at all from the day I remembered her, just as bubbly and as lovable as ever. 

“Oh psh, none of that hello nonsense!” She retorted, blowing out a willowy breath as she waved a hand between us both. “I’m too excited! Have been ever since your Nan mentioned the visit. I can’t believe how long it’s been, doll!”

“I know.” I said in quiet agreement, my hand finding hers just before I shuffled over to reveal the tall teenage boy stood not too far behind me. “Oh Aunt Del, this is my friend, George. G, this is my Auntie Delany.”

Aunt Del’s eyes brightened as she took in all George had to offer, grinning a wry little smile before she squeezed my hand tightly. “Your Nana mentioned you were bringing a friend…” She let slip and then nodded her head for George to come closer, “But she never said he’d be a looker. How’re you, love? The train treat you alright?”

I gave a silent snort at the wobbly expression George’s face pulled itself into when my aunt tugged him into a hug as well. He gifted me a bewildered glance from over her shoulder and I shrugged, attempting to bite back my mad smile. He knew it was there though, I could tell from the brief scowl he sent me before they were pulling apart.

“Tall, handsome… you smart as well, darlin’? Or are you only a pretty face?” Aunt Del pondered as she stepped back and tilted her head up at him.

“Del.” I warned, but George’s mouth just quirked upwards ever so slightly.

“Smart enough to know when to use the pretty face to my advantage.” He quipped back easily, and I was relieved to hear Del’s sweet laugh.

“Oh, I like this one, Y/n.” She whispered theatrically, glancing over her shoulder at me before another flood of people escaped the station and she started ushering us away. “Come on now, kiddos. Parked the car over here, din’t I?”

My forehead pinched in concern, “In a taxi rank?”

“Well, where else?” Del laughed, dragging my suitcase along ahead of us while George shot me another bewildered look.

I could only assume that we’d be loaded with a hefty fucking fine.

But before I could voice that, or at least allude to it, Aunt Del had already pulled out a chain of gangly keys on an old piece of string and wandered over to a pink coloured cab.

I blinked at the sight of it. Del caught the look because she was grinning over at me from where she’d just placed my suitcase in the boot. “Good old Hewson here always gets a few heads turning, don’t you, beaut?” Aunt Del said as she patted the cab’s side, I was still taking it all in.

“Sorry, Hewson?” I questioned as she motioned to George to throw his duffle in the back too, “You named your car Hewson?”

But before Aunt Del could answer me, George cut in. He had his thinking face on.

“Hewson as in Bono?” He wondered aloud and Del spun right around to grin at him, he shut the boot for her.

“Bingo. I knew I had a good feeling about you!” Aunt Del exclaimed with a finger extended towards the chuckling teenager. She turned back to me, shaking her head in mock disappointment, “I thought for sure you’d get it, dove.”

With a wry grin I could only shrug my shoulder at her, “Sorry to disappoint, Aunt Del, but G here is the music expert between us.”

Del’s smile only appeared to widen as she shot around to the drivers side door, “Well have I got a playlist in here for you then! Only the greats, mind. So you’d best have brushed up on your seventies trivia.”

George all but beamed as he followed her over and opened up the backdoor for me, very much in his element now. I slid into the cab first, smiling at the leopard print seats and sequinned roof, then G swiftly followed.

“Oh, a gentleman too, is he?” Aunt Del cooed from the front where a pair of fuzzy dice hung from the rearview mirror, her hands gripping at the neon coloured wheel. “You’ve hit the jackpot with this one.” She winked at me and I looked away to hide my flush. “So my Georgie-pie, you get on alright with The Jam?”

George’s hand found my knee as he leant forward in his seat to grin alongside my aunt, the pair of them chatting away whilst she jolted into reverse and out of the bay. I gripped at the door’s handle to keep from being thrown about when we took off down Pancras Road, Town Called Malice blasting out over the noise of the noisy city.

…

My cheeks had begun to hurt from how hard I’d been smiling throughout the entire ride down to the simple terraced house my grandparents owned in Bethnal Green. From what I could recall, it’d been the house my grandfather had grown up in, he’d only inherited it after the Second World War when his own mother had passed away from fever, his father having died earlier on whilst stationed at the frontline. He’d raised both of his kids there, my dad and Aunt Del, after his stoop in prison, before they’d both grown up and he’d eventually passed on as well. Leaving only my Nan and Delaney left.

It wasn’t a very busy street, all the houses old and built right beside the other, but it was nice, pretty even. A vast change in pace to the busy streets of the city we’d driven through on the way over.

Del was still talking a mile a minute when she pulled up into a marked bay, only narrowly avoiding hitting the curb whilst an old Grateful Dead tune continued to blare through the speakers. George hopped out first, slipping around to my side and opening the door for me so that he could help ease me out as well, his hand stayed in mine even as we moved to join Aunt Del by the boot.

“Here’re.” Del said, divvying up the luggage between George and herself. I sighed, but it fell into more of an unhappy groan when I reached up to shut the back door of the car only to have George beat me to it.

“I haven’t lost all capability.” I muttered to him whilst Aunt Del locked up the cab and took off down the pavement, excited to get us inside.

George’s fingers linked between mine and he tugged me closer, his duffle back on his shoulder. “I know that,” He murmured into my ear, breath tickling the skin of my neck, “But it makes me feel useful, yeah?”

I sighed again, only softer this time around, as I slumped into his embrace, letting him have this one thing. At least for a short while. I knew that soon enough it’d start to drive me mad.

“You two lovebirds comin’ or am I gonna have to stand here all day?” Del mocked from where she was now rocking back and forth at the top of a set of high steps, stood in front of an indistinct door.

I shot her a sharp look which she only grinned to, before George and I ascended the short staircase too. Del already had her gangly keys back out again and we watched on as she shoved a Yale cut key into the top lock, shouting out a warning as she tumbled on through it, “Mum, I’ve brought back Northerners!”

I giggled to myself as I followed in after her, eyes racking over everything that they possibly could. We’d entered into a long narrow hallway where an old cast iron radiator still stood atop a mosaic tiled floor. The walls here had been painted a softened white and victorian blue, the blue sat beneath a moulding halfway up and spilled out onto the staircase that’d been fitted with a warm beige runner. Photo frames littered the place, diving beneath a carved ceiling arch and around a few brass fixtures. It was beautiful, homey.

George shut the heavy wooden door quietly behind us and I heard a shuffle sound farther up ahead. Del gestured us further inside, dropping our luggage at the foot of the stairs before wandering down the walkway. We followed silently, both George and I feeling the nerves edge in now, and we were quite surprised to shuffle into an open kitchen and spot a petite looking woman relaxed in an dining chair, cigarette in one hand and a TV Times in the other. She glanced up once we’d entered and the sight of her had my heart climbing to my throat, her toothy smile reminded me a lot of the pictures I'd seen of my dad.

“Well, ain’t this lovely?” My Nana chirped, already moving to stub out the remnants of her fag in a glass ashtray before standing. George released my hand so I could go meet her, legs trembling slightly. “My little dove, how you’ve grown, hey? All big now. Too tall.” She grinned at me as I dipped down a tad to bury my face into her neck.

“Hey, Nana.” I whispered, my smile shaky as she ran a soothing hand over the length of my back.

When she pulled away she pressed a thin, ring clad hand to my cheek, eyes taking me in. “You’re alright, darlin’. Looking so beautiful too. Oh, how I’ve missed ya.”

I chuckled wetly, but didn’t let the shimmering tears that’d begun to well fall, “Missed you too.” More than she knew. “It feels so mad to be here, I remember bits and pieces but not much.”

“Ah the last time you were ‘ere, ought to’ve been when you were about six. You made a right old mess of this kitchen. Treckin’ in mud and kickin’ your feet. My God, your dad had gone mad- couldnt help his grin though when you’d started singin’ that tune he so loved. What was it again, my darlin’?”

“You Make My Pants Want to Get Up and Dance.” I answered her in a whispered chuckle, the song a vivid reminder of days we’d spent dancing around this very room.

Nana released a sweet laugh and turned to Del, “You remember, don’t you, Del? The pair of ‘em, prattling about the place.”

Aunt Del shared a conspiratorial grin with me, nodding from where she’d taken perch over by the fridge. “Oh yeah. That one Christmas mornin’, it was all that’d been on. Drove me bloody mental.”

“See?” Nana enforced, hand falling to my upper arm, “What I tell ya? Might be gettin’ on a bit but my mind’s still as quick as a whip.”

I smiled, but that was when she finally took note of the giant stood crowding her kitchen doorway. George wore a soft smile that only grew in nervousness when my nan’s gaze sought him out. “And this must be the famous friend!” She teased, already motioning him over. “Come on, love. I don’t bite.”

George blew out a small chuckle and walked over to join us, surprising me when he leaned down to wrap an arm around the petite woman. My Nana smiled proudly and gently squeezed George’s wrist when they pulled apart.

“It’s good to finally meet you.” George assured her, his tone quiet, warm.

“And you, sweetheart.” My Nana spoke, smiling up at him. “But my, ain’t you tall? Remind me a bit of my Charlie, you do. He was a giant too, always dwarfed me in size whenever he took my hand. Only ever saw his tie when we was dancin’, and din’t he just love to complain of a sore neck, bendin’ down to greet me whenever he came home from wherever he’d been.”

I giggled quietly to myself, watching the pair. Enamoured.

“Got those eyes of his too, kind but quick. Too smart for yer own good, ain’t ya sometimes? Trouble finds you.”

George’s eyes glanced over towards me at that and he could only agree. “She does.”

Both my Nana and Aunt Del laughed at that, catching on to his sentiment whilst I just tutted and shook my head. “You’re lucky to have me.”

“Ain’t he just.” Nana confirmed with a dip of her chin, her blue eyes twinkling now beneath the kitchen light. “A right pair you make. Reckon we’ll have a few more stories to tell once you leave.”

“You’ve gone and jinxed it now.” George chuckled teasingly, obviously settling in fine, “Only got yourself to blame.”

Nana clucked her tongue, eyes on Del whilst she motioned her head in G’s direction, “Funny, this one. You hearin’ this too, Del? Quite the joker we have.”

I could only grin and watch on as my seventy-three year old nan cajoled George into the chair beside hers. It quickly fell though when I heard how she was planning to spill a few stories from my childhood to him. And I couldn’t even stop her because Aunt Del was already dragging me back out of the kitchen, claiming she needed help picking up dinner from the local takeaway. George merely sent me a reassuring grin when I’d casted an alarmed glance back over my shoulder, and I felt the anxiety in me fall away. 

—

It was a long while after dinner when George and I finally got the first bit of quiet since having left Manchester.

The four of us, being Nana, George, Aunt Del and I, had all camped out in the living-room shortly after Del and I had returned to the house with a couple bags of food- fish and chips actually, from this tiny little shop up on the main road that Del had raved about. 

We’d all been more than hungry so we’d been quick settle down. The tele had been stuck straight on, the very same that’d been there a decade prior, and apparently Nana’s preference for game shows hadn’t changed either, so we’d all spaced out around it, not paying much attention to who was winning or losing. Just talking about the things you did with family.

Nana’s dog, Cyril, had plodded in from the upstairs landing as soon as he’d sniffed out the food. He was this big slobbering beast of a thing that I immediately fell in love with. A great bullmastiff with a red and fawn-coloured coat, who’d gone and plopped himself down on the tops of my feet. George had been taken with him too, cooing to him in the armchair opposite and pouting when the dog hardly spared him a glance. Both Nana and Del had chuckled, Aunt Del saying, “Cyril ain’t too fond of men- din’t give dad the time of day when he was home either. Only ever noticed him when he had a lead in his hand.” George had looked determined though. 

When the plates had been cleared away, Cyril jumped up on the sofa between Nana and I, he’d sniffed at her leg before she’d shooed him off down my end, and he did as he was told, looking over at me with these big puppy-dog eyes. I’d let him curl up beside me, head in my lap, stroking the scruff of his neck as we continued to catch up, Nana asking after George and his life. She was set on getting to know him.

A couple hours had passed before the older woman had shuffled the pair of us on up the staircase when I’d started yawning though, and Aunt Del said that she’d let Cyril out into the garden before she took off home herself, promising to pop back round the very next day. George had helped tidy the living-room away as I’d said my goodbyes to her, catching Nana in the hallway once the door had closed.

“I know you don’t want to hear it, but thank you.” I’d whispered to her in the quiet warmth of the evening light that’d fluttered in. She’d simply taken my hand and gifted me a soft smile in turn.

“You were always welcome here, sweetheart. Just needed you to see it.” Nana had replied, “And anyway, I should be the one thankin’ you. Ain’t had such a lovely time since it was all of us living here together. Feels nice havin’ the house full of people again. And that lad of yours is a real charmer, in’t he? Lovely, lovely boy.”

I’d gone to correct her, mouth halfway agape when she’d just chuckled and pointed a finger up at me. “None of that now. Only known him a couple of hours but I see the way he looks at you, my love.”

It was eerily similar to what Ross had said to me all those weeks before.

“He’s patient too. Bit like your grandfather there. And gentle, which is somethin’ that’s obviously needed when knockin’ about with you. ’Cause don’t think for one second I’ve not noticed the big black eye you’re sporting under that makeup of yours, or the face you pull each time you sit or stand up.”

I’d looked away from her aged eyes, so full of emotion, to hide my guilt. Nana had only grasped my chin though and steered my face back towards her, “But that’s for another time, alright darlin’? You need sleep- must’ve been mental bein’ on all those silly trains. I’ll tell you something now, I never could step on another after the war’d ended, too many reminders, you know?”

Too many reminders. Yeah, that was something I did know. 

I’d only nodded silently at her though and the pair of us listened to the quiet murmur George had made when he’d tried once more to make friends with Cyril. Nana had chuckled and squeezed my chin between her fingers before George had stepped out into the hallway to join us, a little surprised to find us there. An apology had been on the tip of his tongue, obviously not having meant to interrupt, but Nana had swiftly cut him off, stating that she’d already made up the spare bed and laid out a few towels for us.

I’d given her cheek a gentle kiss in an unsaid thanks, still so beyond grateful, and George had followed, smiling to himself when he’d bent down for her and the older woman had whispered something in his ear. She’d shooed us on up after quickly after, patting George’s back just as Cyril trotted to stand beside her at the bottom of the stairs. Our light footsteps had trailed all the way up and then across the landing. 

So as I’d been saying, the quiet that’d settled upstairs in the far bedroom was something of a reprieve. As much as I’d loved spending time with Nana, Aunt Del, and Cyril too, it was nice to shut the door on all the noise and madness and take a second to just breathe.

The spare bedroom sat at the very front of the house, it looked out onto the street below and homed sash-windows which were currently being illuminated by the evening sun shining through. The floor was made of hardwood, glossy and dark in comparison to the lighter walls that had been panelled with pretty mouldings. A fireplace sat at one end too, directly opposite the bed, it was old, one I’d have to ask Nana about using, but had a delicate vase of lilies sat atop it as well as a brass framed mirror.

My eyes flittered about the space, taking in the ancient radio on the windowsill with its lengthy aerial, the large chest sat at the foot of the bed, as well as the wearing guitar propped up against the wall in the corner. George’s eye caught on that too and he wandered over to it first.

“Belonged to my dad.” I told him as I tiptoed over to the edge of the bed, taking a seat there as my gaze continued to roam. “It was his room, shared it with Del when they were kids but then she took over the downstairs den when she’d hit fourteen. Den’s gone now, think they knocked it through to make more room for the kitchen’s renovation after she moved out.”

George hummed and put the instrument back in its place before spinning on his heel, his gaze trailing between me and the bed. 

“You still alright to share?” I asked him, wondering if perhaps he was thinking better of it now. “I could set up the sofa if not.”

Shaking his head, George must’ve shaken off whatever other emotion that’d made him pause because he padded over to join me. “Nah, it’ll be fine.”

His voice was low and as he flopped down onto the mattress beside me I could only smile, thankful for the fact that he hadn’t changed his mind.

“Good.” I responded, grinning over at his slumped form sprawled out on the crisp white sheets, “‘Cause if you can spoon with Matty then you should be alright spending a couple nights shacked up with me.”

George snorted, hands resting on his chest, eyes turned towards the ceiling. “That’s different. We fell asleep on the settee, and he’s a cuddler.”

Still amused by the picture my mind conjured up, I hummed. “And to think you two once hated each other.”

“Wouldn’t say hate. Bit strong there, B.”

I rolled my eyes before glancing down at the spot beside him, silently deliberating. George must’ve noticed because he took my hand in his and tugged me down, laughing when I yelped in surprise.

We stayed there for a short while in silence, his fingers grazing gently at my arm, both of us listening to the heavy paws of Cyril on the stairs and the cars that passed by outside.

He inhaled a little deeper, “How you feeling then?”

I turned my head against the sheets to peer up at him. “Being here?” I questioned him and he nodded, “I feel good. Tired, but good. Happy. Didn’t realise home could feel like this, you know?”

George blew out a breath and scooted a little closer, close enough to drape an arm across the space above my head and come to rest on his side. “Do you want to talk about it now?”

I knew what he meant. He wanted to talk about that night.

I raised my good shoulder in a shrug. “Not much to say. I hope he rots in a cell for a bit though, ‘cause we both know they’ll let him back out soon enough.”

George’s jaw tightened at my words but his eyes stayed soft, locked on me. “Well I hope he finds a decent cliff and takes a dive off it.”

I shot him a look. “G..”

He shrugged, uncaring, but the gentle touch of his fingers tangling themselves into my hair was anything but. “Ain’t gonna lie to you, Birdie. He deserves worse. I-” His eyes slipped closed as he took a breath to calm himself, “Look, I can’t take back what happened. Turn back time and all that just to erase it all. But I can make sure that it never happens again.”

“You can’t be sure though, George. That’s not how life works.” I murmured into the quiet that followed his solemn assurance.

“Well it’s how it’s gonna have to work.” Was all that he replied to me. Ever so stubborn.

His eyes were still closed, that familiar warmth of his sheltered behind fluttering lids, I reached out to trail my fingers across them and then down the bridge of his nose. “This okay?”

He hummed sweetly, mouth twitching when my fingertips traced its curve. He was always so close, only ever a breath away, but even now it felt like we were toeing at invisible lines, both of us too afraid to make that jump.

“I like your nan.” He told me then and I huffed out a small chuckle at the unexpected revelation. “Del too.” He added.

“I’m glad.” I replied with a soft smile of my own, staring down at him even as he blinked his eyes back open. They roamed the entirety of my face, taking in every detail.

“They remind me of you.”

My smile broadened, pleased to hear that. “Oh yeah?”

George hummed a low confirmation. “You want to know what your Nana to me said as we were headin’ up?”

My eyes flickered up to meet his whilst I trailed over a constellation of freckles on his cheek. “What?”

He chuckled deeply, grin wrinkling his nose. “She said, run her a bath, will you? And keep the noise down if you ever do get the balls to make a move.”

A sharp laugh escaped me, eyes wide and alive. “I swear, she’s an actual menace.”

George smirked lazily, “Right though.”

I blinked, all humour suddenly lost as I stared back at him. 

“Right about what?” I asked him quietly, heart in my throat.

His hand stilled in my hair and he knocked his forehead against my own, our noses brushed just above the sheets and he gifted me the sweetest smile. “This.” He whispered back, right before he titled his head and grazed his lips against mine.

—

I’d been on a high all morning. Having woken up in George’s arms under a stream of sunlight.

There’d been a light scuffle out in the hallway, probably Nana getting up to let Cyril out, and I’d laid there listening to the gentle song of the birds outside as well as George’s quiet breathing. He looked different in this light, lashes casting dark shadows across his apples of his cheeks and lips poutier than I’d ever seen them. It’d been struggle not to reach out.

Instead, I’d reluctantly slipped from his grasp when the urge to use the loo became too much to bare and decided to finally have that bath Nana had suggested last night whilst I waited for him to wake. 

Yesterday had honestly been everything I’d been waiting for. With George I just felt so safe, so… loved. Was that a strange way to feel? Maybe it was. But I didn’t care, I thought about it though as I let the steam from the water engulf me, the heat of it doing wonders for my aching bones.

We hadn’t gone any further than kissing. Though if he had tried to cop a feel I wouldn’t of denied him. He was rather sweet about the whole thing actually and we’d spent the time afterwards shooting each other coy smiles as we got ready for bed.

I pulled myself up out of the tub once my hands had begun to wrinkle, hating the feel of it. I wrapped myself in a fluffy towel and combed through my hair once my feet had dampened the bath mat, but groaned when I realised I’d forgotten to grab some clothes beforehand.

Wiggling my jaw as I clasped my bottom lip between my forefinger and thumb, I contemplated just heading back out into the bedroom. George was probably still asleep and I could simply roll my suitcase back in here without waking him.

Yeah, that sounded like the best option.

So I took a deep breath as I silently slipped out of the bathroom and across the landing into the shared room. I was in for the shock of my life though when I spotted George sat up in bed, duvet pooled around his hips as he rubbed tiredly at his eye. His head turned towards me when he heard the handle lift and he stilled in his movements. 

I must’ve looked a right picture, frozen in the doorway with my gob halfway to the floor, and I watched a slow but obvious smirk creep across George’s features as he dropped his arm to get a good old look at me.

I narrowed my eyes in retort and feigned as much confidence as I possibly could with his eyes stuck on me, before I made my way over to where my suitcase was sat. “It’s rude to stare, you know.”

George laughed, it was a gruff and low sound, littered with sleep. “Just wonderin’ if I’m still dreamin’- nice sight to wake up to ’s all.”

I scoffed out a quiet, disbelieving chuckle, “Oh yeah, black eyes get you going, do they?”

“On you? Anything would.”

I flushed at his comment and dropped down to hide it as I worked my way through the pile of clothes I had in my case, gripping the top of my towel.

“Who are you and what have you done with George?” I tossed the question over my shoulder, still feeling his eyes on me. “‘Cause the real George would never act this shameless.”

I could feel his shrug ripple throughout the room. “Teenage boy. Besides, you know I’m the real deal ‘cause when have I ever lied to you?”

My tongue was in my cheek as I shifted through a few tops, he wasn’t wrong there. “I just forgot to grab some clothes before I jumped in the bath. Thought you’d still be asleep.”

“Woke up just before you came in.”

I hummed. Talk about timing. 

“You sleep alright?” He asked and I could hear him shuffling about now behind me. I wanted to take a peek, see what he was up to, but focused on grabbing what I needed instead.

What had he asked again? Oh, “Um, yeah actually.” Best one I’d had in weeks, if we were being painfully honest. “You?”

“Knackered after that journey yesterday but I stayed up a bit after you passed out.” George replied and I jumped ever so slightly when I felt him drape his arms over my shoulders, chin resting against the side of my head. “You look angelic even when you snore.”

I elbowed him lightly and shook my head. “I don’t snore, you knob.”

“Oh but you do.” George chuckled roughly, “Sounds a bit like this.”

He then proceeded to make horrible snoring sounds in my ear, making me cringe and forcing me to wiggle out of his grasp to escape them. “Ah don’t do that! It makes me feel all bleh.” I shivered to exaggerate the feeling whilst he simply laughed.

“What?” He exclaimed teasingly, “That’s what I had to deal with, all night!”

I chucked the top I’d been holding at him. “Idiot. And to think I let you kiss me.”

A beat passed between us and I feared I’d fucked things by bringing it up. I casted a nervous glance at him when I went to try and retrieve a hoodie or something like it.

“Surprised you broke first. Was betting that I’d have to.” George told me, wearing a lopsided grin, he walked over to the duffle that was laid open by the dresser and grabbed at a grey sweatshirt. “Here’re have this.”

I glanced down at it, then back up at his face. I took it carefully, “Thanks.”

He hummed and moved back towards the duffle to find some clothes of his own to wear.

I was then reminded of what he’d just said, “Hang on, you made a bet with yourself?”

George shot me a toothy grin, “‘You don’t do that?”

I shrugged, unsure. Hadn’t really thought about it. “So, we’re still okay then? You know-”

“After you kissed me?” He teased and I scowled.

“After you kissed me, you mean.”

“Whatever you say, Birdie. But I ‘spose we’ll never truly know.” He was being a twat.

“You’re being a twat.” I told him rightly, but unable to help my light chuckle, “You know you kissed me first.”

He hummed, unconvinced.

“G!” I complained but he merely laughed before waving me off.

“Go get changed, will you?”

“Why?” I challenged him, a bundle of clothes tucked up under my arm. “I’m rather alright as I am, thanks.”

“‘Cause you’re driving me half mad stood there like that.” He quipped back with a hand extended out towards me, “Besides, your nan will come looking if neither one of us turns up to breakfast.”

I grinned, “Reckon I’m that easy do you, Georgie?”

He paused and stopped his riffling to meet my gaze head-on. “No, I just know that if you’d let me I’d spend as long as I could admiring every part of you.”

Pursing my lips to fight my smile, I said, “Nana was right about another thing.”

George titled his head at me, sporting a pleased grin. “And what would that be?”

“You, George Daniel, are a right charmer.”

He snorted with a roll of his eyes then turned back to his duffle. “You love it.” He snarked back, sounding sure.

And he had every right to be, because that was one of the many things I loved about him.

Part Twenty-five>

#the 1975 #george daniel #george daniel the 1975 #george daniel fic #george 1975 #george daniel x reader #matty #matty healy #george daniel x you #1975 #best friend matty #the 1975 band #fic #adam hann #ross macdonald #carly holt #1975 band #matty 1975 #series #work #exes to lovers #y/n #reader #multi part fic #x you #x reader #angst #fluff #humour #drama

[undercoverpena]

jo sharing and caring

mental health awareness week starts in the uk tomorrow and this year’s theme is anxiety.

i know i share lots of nice stories, but after some convos the last few weeks, i realise i share very little (not just on here, but in my life) about my anxiety.

while i owe no one any of this, i just know when i was first wandering the trenches unsure what my brain was doing, i'd have loved someone to have shared their story. even if this terrifies me. so, because i advocate so much in my personal life, here's the curtain pulled back on jo, my struggles and anxiety.

TW: for talks of anxiety below

i face anxiety every single day, and have done diagnosed for several years, and undiagnosed for a lot longer.

the first time i think i had anxiety. i was young, less than 10 and i didn't want to go to my birthday party. i sobbed. i couldn't explain why, but there was something about going i did not want to do. my mum (bless her) tried to convince me otherwise, until i climbed into my little bed and begged her to not make me. each time she picked me up, i fought. when i got past the threshold of my bedroom door, i remember her telling me to breathe and i was panicking until i was sick.

when i was diagnosed, i had sessions with a therapist. we talked at length about my childhood and that moment was the first that i handed them without question. they nodded, scribbled (as they do) and we moved to another, and another, and when i told my mum all of this, she looked so heartbroken, because to her:

i'd always just seemed a bit sensitive.

i don't blame her. i was her first child, and for the most part, in my bedroom playing make-believe i was happy. as i got older, that happiness was harder, and i began to mask how i felt, eventually bursting into uncontrollable tears for no reason and being dubbed 'over sensitive'.

i got so good, i sometimes don't know when to put that mask down. even now, I hide behind jokes and disguise the broken days in pieces of my writing. sometimes, they’re far easier to spot (narrows eyes at a few pieces), sometimes they’re not. there are days I am on here, I am not okay and there are others where I am more than okay. there’s no pattern, no reason. I may reblog differently, but I like to act the same. put up a front, and put others at ease—i want to be there for people, be a support, a rock... 

but, that means I am not always honest. 

I don’t like to show that I’m crumbling from imposter syndrome, that I don’t feel talented or good enough. and i think it allows people to make assumptions that I’m put together, that i’m confident and strong, and the last person who deals with horrid thoughts. 

i'm not saying this so people treat me differently or change their perception, and i'm not sharing for brownie points or for people to flood my inbox, but rather because the first day someone first told me all of this, i felt a little less alone.

i wouldn't have had that without writing. they first slid into my DMs about my writing all those years ago, told me how my work made them feel and i felt... seen? happy. and we began talking and it was like someone was living inside of my brain.

and, what linked us, is writing. it's one of the things I've found that had truly helped me. it has always given me an escape—and because of it, I've had the amazing chance to meet so many friends who have become lifelong.

at the beginning, i was bad. and that is me objectively saying that. I’m self taught. I’m on the scale of dyslexia. I don’t know where to put a comma to save my life. but, I kept going, and still do. and it was hard, even more so working with other to better myself and take critique when my brain just kept telling me to quit. some times, i even did. closed my laptop and told myself i'd never write again.

i always ended up going back on it.

somewhere, still on the internet is those first years of fanfics, for a fandom i don't partake in, living their somewhat-best-life.

and this isn't to say i’m perfect now. but i am a work-in-progress. i try, and i find joy in creating and sharing.

at the time, and even now, it’s not how ‘good’ I think I am that gives me a spark to carry on. but rather that writing gives me a place to process, to try and channel the overthinking into linear thoughts I can process. characters guide me down paths to acknowledging I’m hurt, that i’m sad, that I am overwhelmed and even angry. 

there are more than a handful of stories that have bled from me, tears on the phone screen as I sobbed, shoving the pain into tales that you may have read.

sometimes, reading those pieces back makes me happy that i can channel it into something pretty. make the anxiety feel less ugly to have and to carry. i also know when i don't write, i feel my brain get more full.

when i'm in a low-mood especially, writing is hard. and it's something my family use now to judge what scale i'm on by asking: 'what you been writing'.

because even to them I hide. i function, i show up, i often give far too much of myself to others even if I really want to ask people to help me. it’s the slight aversion to answering if I’m okay. It’s the way I’ll shift the convo to something someone has said. it’s that I’m masked my entire childhood that as an adult I lack the tools to be entirely honest. I put a smile on, I do well at my job and I’m able to talk to push myself to do things that terrify me. so I seem fine? 

but, mental health struggles can look different. and that's the point of this stupidly long post.

“you don’t seem like you struggle like me” “you post so much, you can’t really worry about it” 

no one means anything bad when they say the above. and worse of all, I laughed both of them off. because again, I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable. 

but truthfully? …some days are really fucking hard. and I don’t admit that enough. and it isn’t because I worry you’d all judge me, but because I don’t like giving into it: the anxiety.

i don't want to admit out loud that i struggle all the time, not always big, and sometimes small. that I agonise. I worry. and each time I post anything here, I do so purposely close to my bedtime so I can logout. fear pounding through me that this will be the story where everyone turns on me. 

I worry that each interaction will be taken the wrong way. that I’ll make a connection, and it’ll change (all because one did years ago, got ugly, and it led to me not posting for over six months).

I keep myself awake that I said something wrong and people are mad at me. I replay over something from the day, churning over how I could have said it better, how I could have acted better. I’ll message friends in the middle of the night reminding them I love them incase I haven’t showed it in a while. 

and the one that most can relate to… I don’t feel good enough. I don’t think I’m worth anything. I have no value. not just here, but in my day job too. a thing which crippled my progress there for the last year until a writer I work with told me that if they didn’t think I could do it, they’d have told me—not to hurt me, but because it wouldn’t be fair. 

brain demons cloud the truth. and they cloud the progress you've made.

they cast shadows over things that bring us joy, purposefully, because it’s their job to isolate us. they’re purpose is to make me feel like I can’t write, can’t create—because it keeps them at bay. 

all of this is to say, if you’ve gotten down to this, people struggle similarly, but they can also struggle differently. 

mine, for example, feeds other things that I have to live with. it makes me sad, it makes me compulsive; it makes me overthink and it often makes me have anxiety attacks. there are days I don’t want to get out of bed, and some where I want to charge out of it so the day ends quicker. but, I’m not an expert. just a person living with anxiety with a side salad of depression and ocd. I’m just a person on this site you may know, or may have only just discovered.

i don't always show how broken i am, i don't always show that an ask has got to me or a conversation has worried me. i don't always ask for help, and i don't ever want to make anyone uncomfortable. i care more about what others think, and even less about myself; i'd rather stay up late making someone feel better, than ever begin to work through my own issues.

but that is me. all of it. as honest as you'll likely get. all beautiful, chaotic, anxious and a bit of a mess, that jo girl that writes.

which is why I have to remind you im not an expert. that if you’re struggling, talk to someone. a friend, a family member you trust, or a medical professional. 

while erupting into a fountain of tears on a poor consultant pharmacist hadn’t been the top of my todo list the day I began getting answers, I do not regret it. but I know that isn’t easy, and I know it’s not as simple for others to get that help. but if you can, try.

brain demons want you to feel alone, they want to isolate you, so don’t let them. they truly don’t begin to climb into the box they came from without a little help, whether that’s medical, writing, or a friend. 

thank you for coming to my jo talk, and I'll shut up now 🩷✨

#tw: mental health #tw: anxiety #jo's thoughts #mental health #anxiety #also did i queue this for when I went out because I was scared? #yes yes I did hahaha

[rockatanskette]

We make a lot of jokes about "he a little confused but he got the spirit" but I truly think people should get more comfortable with the idea that someone can not "get it" and still be a good ally and a safe person. I've seen some discussion about this in relation to terminology, but I think it goes beyond that. I think it's possible for people to be uncomfortable with an aspect of someone else's identity and still supportive, and I think it helps people be supportive if they feel allowed to be uncomfortable.

My mum doesn't like tattoos. She's Jewish, and there's some taboo there, but she mostly doesn't like that they're permanent; it makes her anxious. I knew this when I got my first tattoo. I could see the discomfort on her face and hear it in her voice when she called it "interesting." But she didn't get angry with me. She didn't openly judge me. And when my grandmother asked why I would possibly do that to my skin, my mum said, without hesitation, "but isn't it so pretty, though? Look at the design, isn't it cool?"

She's still uncomfortable, and she has a terrible poker face. She doesn't "get it" anymore than my grandmother. It's not a choice she would ever make for herself. But she's fought for my right to make it and to me, that's more important than her "getting" it.

I recently moved to a new city and made some Christian friends through a mutual friend. They do not understand Jewish tradition; they don't understand my relationship with religion; they sometimes say things from a place of ignorance, and sometimes it makes me a little uncomfortable. Sometimes, when I correct them, it makes them uncomfortable. They often don't "get it."

But when I mentioned off-handedly that I was struggling a little bit to prep for Passover, being in my first apartment by myself, they didn't hesitate to help. They did the research, they found kosher-for-passover recipes, they tracked down the only kosher deli in this Southern city. They sent me videos on kashering to make sure they were doing it right. They made me brisket and potato kugel and bought me a bottle of Manischewitz, and they did the research all by themselves.

The only thing they asked of me was for me to be there while they were cooking to make sure they didn't accidentally cross-contaminate anything—that and if I would be comfortable saying a blessing over the meal. They weren't expecting the blessing to be in Hebrew, and I think it made them a little uncomfortable. But they thanked me and they ate with me and they asked me question. They still didn't "get" kashrut or chametz, exactly. But they knew it was important to me, and they respected it, without question.

I don't "get" polyamory. Sometimes the idea makes me uncomfortable; not because I think it's morally wrong (I don't) but because it's so antithetical to the kind of relationships that I want that it boggles my mind that someone would prefer it. I don't really understand why someone would want to have multiple partners.

But I do understand that my own preference has nothing to do with someone else's identity. My discomfort is in some ways unavoidable; I can't control my feelings. But I can congratulate my friends on new additions to their polycule. I can commiserate with them when their mom is being judgy. I can tell them there's nothing wrong with them, and I can mean it, even if I don't totally understand it, because I know that even if I don't "get it," they do. Their opinion is the only one that matters when it comes to their identity and their preferences and I do my best to respect that.

Understanding is obviously best-case. We want people to understand us. But just as much, perhaps even moreso, we want people to respect us; to act in ways that make us feel safe and cared about. And you don’t need to understand the people you love to have their back.

[kierancampire]

I dunno if it's cause I'm not in the best mood, but i was just thinking over one of my most frustrating friendships, and it was definitely Blake, i don't care about giving his name as he isn't online, and if i gave you his full name all you'd find is a gay porn star anyway

But it was just that final argument that still sticks with me then what followed. Literally tried to gaslight me into thinking i started the fight, when it began by me saying "Lets agree to disagree as i don't want to argue". The nasty things he said about my mum and therapist, completely invalidated my struggles, experience, and knowledge on mental health with what was literally the Mormon "Anything that says opposite to us is the devil trying to convert you" thing but just with a different coat of paint, and that "We all know what you're like when you're tired" comment

But then how when he saw me after in person, when he spoke like he was apologising, yet his "apology" was just saying he isn't mad about what i said, he won't hold anything against me that i said, that he forgives me for what i said, and that he wants to be friends but if we don't become friends it's because i chose not to so it's my fault. Aka, didn't admit to or apologise to what he said or that he created the argument, and still continued to place it on me

Honestly, i think it's only because i have been stuck in abusive relationships for so long that i saw the gaslighting, manipulation, and that severely, incredibly fucking toxic mindset and way he trued to be over me. And looking back in hindsight, besides the fact he was a major conspiracy theorist, there were so many red flags and dodgy things. Yet i stuck around as he could be nice, we had a lot of mutual interests, i was alone, plus he was attractive and spoke about his dick a lot solike, ya girl was pulled

But thinking on it, he was the last "real life" friend i made, i haven't made any since, and there sorta is no one. I have one friend who i met once last year, who has asked to see me a few times, but not only is it a bit of a journey on public transport, my hell, and sorta expensive, but he only ever hangs out in groups/pubs and i just really don't enjoy it. If it weren't for the girls, i would be alone, i don't even see Jayne any more, i just see my mum and younger brother, that's it, literally, the only company i have is my cats

I think that's why it's so frustrating that he was my last friend, real shitty note to end off on, cause i dunno when I'll ever find friends again, i do nothing in life to make friends, don't get out, don't know how to meet people. One thing that scares me, through my mum i know what it's like to be old abd alone, the care you get is shit when family aren't there for you, you get so neglected and mistreated. Then when you die, that's it, no one to go to a funeral, no one to remember you, no one to care, no one to handle what you left in life or take care of the things that meant something to you, your life just sorta instantly becomes meaningless and instantly forgotten. And that's the route I'm currently headed towards, a miserable, painful, neglected, poor, struggling, lonely old life. Then nothing, just gone and moved on from, with no one living having any idea who i was or that i even existed. Everything i have gone through, everything i have fought to come out of, every trauma endured, every scar, especially these past 6 years, all just kinda ultimately meaningless in the end

#personal

[f1-disaster-bi]

Your mum sounds badass. Can’t have been easy for her at all. Sure that’s influenced who you are a lot too.

You’re so kind to say that about me. I try my best to be the best mama I can to my kiddos. Not always easy and the guilt is hard when you want to make sure you’re doing the right thing.

I’m really intrigued by your single parent au and where is goes. Did your own upbringing influence it at all?

She absolutely is. She raised me and my sister on her own. Luckily my grandparents were retired and could help watch us until I was about 15/16 and could manage watching my sister who was 5/6 for the hour/hour and a half or so after I finished school in the evening until she got home from work. We didn't have a lot of things like the latest clothes or go on a foreign holiday every year but she worked hard and gave us all she could and encouraged us to be kids and not grow up too fast. She was also very honest with us when we reached the approprite ages about having kids/sex/life. She fought for my sisters dyslexia. anxiety and ADHD diagnosises when people tried to fob her off

She wasn't always perfect. She was doing it alone and had some struggles along the way but we always had everything we needed and she never pressured us to be anything but ourselves and tried to teach us to stand up for ourselves so we wouldn't take shit from anyone and could be confident (my mam is introverted and non-confrontational).

As a teen I didn't appreciate it (like many of us) but now in my twenties, I'm just so grateful to have her and be able to consider her a friend.

And I've no doubt your kiddos will see that. I don't remember the hard times or the times she may have slipped up, I remember the way she did everything she could for us, and how she took a month off every summer so she'd be there to see us back to school and take us on day trips. I remember how she took interest in our interests even if she disliked them so she could talk to us about them. That's what your kiddos will remember. All those moments you were there.

I know you can't just stop having those thoughts, but try not to let them win because you are doing great ❤️

Definetly my own experiences will colour some of my ideas for the single parent au! Definetly the fears will be coming through in Lando's half. There's going to be a bit where he does talk about how sometimes he wishes he had someone to help, or that on the bad days he wonders if Eloise would be happier with another parent or that he is doing everything wrong. I want him to have that vulnerablity of going to Daniel "hey it might seem I know what Im doing but a lot of the time Im worried and overthink things and some nights guilt kills me because maybe i raised my voice when I shouldn't have or were too harsh with a punishment. Parenting is hard and exhausting and filled with doubts and sometimes I wish i could share that"

#single parent lando au

[lookedafterchild]

[ultimate_gdpr_protection level=4] as your all well aware with now. I was homeless and as the final chapter, I want to share some very, very important life lessons I learned from my experiences being homeless. covering both positive and negative effects this had on me. What I learned From Being Homeless. Not Everyone homeless is an addict. the homeless are your elders, children, war veterans, people who have come into financial difficulties. your old neighbor. anyone can become homeless the biggest lesson I learned was I can never judge upon a homeless person again. take the time to learn their stories. it will really open your eyes. I learned a lot about myself, being alone and spending so much time in the woods. I had no choice but to reflect on the past, and future versions of myself. it was a very critical time in my life. and I was very harsh about the decisions I had made prior to becoming homeless. and made plans for my life after being homeless. I learned the powers of nature, the woods being the place I chose to spend my homeless days.  I never used to like going out. or even the idea of camping. but being homeless forced me out of that comfort zone. and it enabled me to really reflect. as of recently I've not had much chance to reflect. at least not in the woods. but if your stressed or lost in life. please consider spending a night or day in the woods. there is something magical and healing about it. I started to realize the reason for my drug abuse. and addictive behaviors. it was a mask. we all have bad experiences and things we want to forget in life. and drugs do an amazing job of hiding it. BUT what it does not do is heal it. this goes for pharmaceuticals as well as illegal drugs. as a nation, we should find new ways of managing our emotions and traumas. Friends/Family There was a small group of people at the time who was always there for me during homelessness. at the time not many of you knew. just close friends and family. I want to say thank-you to the small group of friends who checked up on me daily. brought me food. made sure I was capable of lighting the fire. and helping me to lift my general wellbeing. even though you were fighting your own battles too. I also want to thank those family members who were able to put up with me being stubborn and the refusals for your hands to help the thing is during this time I was still struggling and prone for a repeat. my mum making me homeless was the push I needed to make drastic changes. and I did not want to hurt any of you again. and as you know. I had a goal, one I fought for and achieved. I got my independence back, I got away from the drugs, my home, a job and a loving partner. I look back and think would this be possible without the move my mum put in place. she was not just protecting my siblings. but looking out for my best interest. however harshly it was done. it was the right move for me. Survival it's not easy! but when put in a situation that needed it's key! I learned a lot about plants, survival in the winter. fire starting  and general first aid out in the wild. Being homeless is Dog Eat Dog the meaning of Dog Eat Dog is something or some situation in which there is fierce, ruthless competition. and being homeless taught me its rough. not only because of general public putting you down, and sometimes attacking you/ ridiculing you but your biggest enemies being homeless is another homeless person! be careful who you trust. some people are there only to take advantage and stab you in the back. Lonely I've mentioned about being alone a lot of the time. let me explain what may be the first time publicly. when I first became homeless I did not tell anyone close to me. it just happened. I remember spending the first month in the woods totally alone. I would wake up take my hit and sleep. this may have been my addiction but during the latter days, I was more aware that I really isolated myself during the early days. and this was because I was depressed and ashamed of my situation.

Don't be a stubborn person, especially when homeless. - those times when people want to help you. even as a stubborn person who doesn't want to take any help.  you should really cherish those few people who generally care and offer a hand. it's hard to find these sort of people when your homeless but when you do. don't turn it down. it's okay to get help. Read Other Stories Regarding My Homeless Expireances   [Being Homeless Aged 18| My Life Stories 003 1 Of 3]   [From Homeless To Homeowner; My Journey (overview)] thanks for reading the Final post regarding my homeless experiences. thank you for following along my journey, it has been a pleasure to share this with you and to have received all the amazing comments, you always help inspire me to write more stories. if you've managed to get this far I want to thank you personally and would appreciate if you helped me reach new audiences. my aim for 2020 is to get my message further out there. I would be very thankful if you could share this post in groups and on your personal social media sites. thank you once again. for everything.

[primsadventures]

I ended up not creating goals for H2 2022 ….

Anyway, today is 1st January 2023. Before creating my 2023 goals, I wanted to go through the lows and highs of 2022:

HIGHS

- seeing May KAOI visualize our vision for PINPOINT brand and packaging was really cool

- found a new author who I really enjoy reading for fiction (Taylor Jenkins Reid!)

- i was really happy during my sasin graduation day in April and again in October to just take photos. Its always a good time with my sasin friends and as time passes by, the more grateful i feel towards grandpa for supporting me and pushed me to go to sasin. Of course, i’ve always felt super lucky and blessed to have my sasin friends … but the feeling just increased recently for some reason haha

- May was such a good month. Mine, Erika and May’s join birthday dinner at Gigi’s was so nice, it felt great to see everyone and the strawberry cake from Brooklyn Baker was divine!

- i got to see mrs.brinn before she moved to jordan … it was good to see her and it feels kinda weird that she left thailand … i guess some people really do enter our lives for specific seasons, not forever

- when nont was away on exchange, mum and i barely fought … it was a good opportunity to spend some more time with each other and i really enjoyed our girl time together

- London trip!!! It felt exhilarating to travel again … my heart was so full! We had a really tight schedule and i felt like i was gasping for air every day, but i wouldnt have changed a thing…. I was sooooo happy to get to see Annie and Mikee again! And of course, Harriet and Proud! And of course, travelling with mum was fun and seeing nont and his accommodation and stuff was a kinda proud moment

- Just discovered that Homework’s spinach cheese pie is really one of my faves!

- i actually feel sooooo lucky that all my managers and Nestle have been kind, sweet people who I click with … I’m so grateful to have met P’Som, P’Tung and P’Lek!

- James’ party in October was the first time I went on a night out in a super long time … maybe even the first in 2022? Not sure lol but it was fun and it was a high for me because it reminded me how fun it was to go out and meet new people … the memories from these kind of nights are irreplaceable, truly

- christmas lunch at Sweet Pista was delicious! Really been craving for the anchovy fries

- NYE dinner at Via Emilia was really good … def one of our new faves as a family i think!

NOT SO HIGHS

- the top of this list is probably my health …. Since the beginning of the year, for the first time ever I had knee, ankle and foot problems … its such a hassle because it really hurts after I walk a lot, and i hate to be the debbie downer of the family. My acid reflux hasn’t also been great, its still a WIP … and my TMJ disorder got worst towards the end of the year …

- as mentioned in the previous post, i think i struggled the most mentally and emotionally in the first 4 months of 2022 … after that, it got better because ived tried to accept my work situation more, but i think it’d be a bit of a stretch to say i felt amazing … which is fine, it can be a work in progress, at least i felt a bit better

[judeswhore]

Imagine for dad mason! Wren is a teenager and mason finds a boy in her room. It would be so funny. I can just imagine him either chasing the boy or shouting for his wife!! :)

this is just a short piece of mason panicking

boys are banned - mason mount

"You picked up proper buns for the garlic bread right?” You asked Mason as he clicked open the boot of his car, the food shopping you’d just done sitting in white bags. He nodded from beside you, reaching in to grab a few.

“Of course I did, what do you take me for, woman.” He nodded his head at the bags. “Grab some.” It took you three trips back to the car to get all the shopping and you were complaining when you placed the last lot on to the kitchen floor.

“There are only three of us in this house, Mount, why do we need so much food?” You leant your forehead against his chest, his laugh vibrating through you as he playfully patted the back of your head.

“I’m a growing man.” He told you, grin clear in his voice.

“You stopped growing when you were about fifteen don’t talk shit.” You slid your arms around his waist and squeezed him a little, attempting to rock him from side to side.

“Is Wren home?” Mason craned his neck a little around the kitchen door to see if Wren was in the living room but the house seemed to be silent and he’s not sure whether she told him she’d be back from school at normal time today.

“Yeah she’ll be upstairs. She text me and told she was coming straight home from netball practice.” Mason hummed against the side of your head, lips brushing your ear.

“We never get time alone.” He complained and you patted his chest sympathetically.

“This is what happens when you have children.”

“Little life ruiners.” You let out a laugh at this, tilting your head to kiss his jaw before pulling away.

“Stop being dramatic. Need to put the shopping away before the freezer stuff melts.” You ducked under his arm, heading for the bags you knew had frozen things in them but Mason headed for the kitchen door.

“Need the toilet first.”

Wren’s bedroom was directly at the top of the stairs, her door slightly ajar and Mason pushed it further open with his foot, head sticking into the room as he grinned.

“Get yourself downstairs and help your mum- Wren!” Mason’s eyes widened, mouth dropping open as he stared into the room. Wren was sitting on the bed, a boy Mason had never seen before sitting beside her and she was kissing him. Wren was kissing a boy. Mason’s little girl was kissing an actual boy.

She jolted away at his voice, cheeks flushing bright red as Mason fought to find words. He was struggling to compose himself in the face of his daughter suddenly being grown and kissing people. Kissing people in his house no less.

“Dad!”

“What the hell?”

“Get out!”

“What are you doing?”

“Oh my god, what does it look like I’m doing?” Wren pointed the door, standing from the bed. The boy beside her looked like a deer caught in headlights, his ears a brighter red than Wren’s cheeks. “Get out.” Mason was rooted to the spot, eyes bouncing from Wren to the boy and back before he tilted his head so his voice could be heard down the stairs.

“(Y/N)!”

“Dad, stop it!”

“(Y/N)!”

“Are you being serious right now? Have you never heard of knocking?” Wren planted her hands on her hips and Mason was immediately hit with how scarily like you she looked. He kept darting a look at the boy behind her, still sitting stock still on the bed as though if he didn’t move Mason might not see him.

“Your door was already open.” He argued, the sound of your feet padding up the stairs drawing three pairs of eyes to the door as you appeared, brows furrowed.

“Why are you shouting?” You peered over Mason’s shoulder, eyes landing on a glaring Wren and then the boy behind her.

“Wren was kissing that boy.” Mason accused, finger pointing in an almost childish manner.

“Hi, Harry.” The dark haired boy awkwardly lifted his hand in a wave as he stood up, Wren standing in front of him almost protectively.

“Hello, Mrs Mount.” Mason’s eyebrows flew up, head whipping around to you.

“I’m sorry, you’ve met this boy before?” You whacked the back of your hand against his stomach, eyes narrowing in a warning.

“His name is, Harry, Mason, and yes of course I’ve met him before. I don’t just let random people into our house.” You gently pushed him backwards out of the room. “Why doesn’t Wren bring him downstairs and you can get to know him properly.” You shot a look at Wren who looked like she’d rather be anywhere else that there at that moment before pulling the door shut and glaring at your husband.

“Do you have to be so dramatic all the time?”

“Dramatic? (Y/N), she was kissing that random boy.” You gripped his hand, tugging him in the direction of the bathroom, the room he was originally meant to be going to.

“He’s not a random boy, you idiot, he’s her boyfriend.” Mason suddenly stopped and you stumbled a little.

“Her boyfriend? She never told me she had a boyfriend. She’s too young for that.”

“She’s sixteen. And she’s probably gonna give you the silent treatment for the next week so if you want it to end sooner you’ll come back downstairs and you’ll be nice. Okay?” You lightly pushed him into the bathroom, biting back a smile at the baffled look still on his face.

“I don’t think I can be nice, I just saw touching my daughter.”

“Mason, I swear to God, if you don’t play nice for just five minutes before he leaves, you will be sleeping on the sofa.” You warned, throwing him one last glare before you headed to the stairs. You heard him mumble something about boys not being allowed in his house ever before the bathroom door shut behind him.

#england nt #chelsea fc #football #football imagine #money mase #mason mount #mason mount fluff #mason mount fanfic #mason mount one shot #mason mount blurbs #mason mount fic #mason mount blurb #mason mount imagines #mason mount imagine #mason mount x reader

[talesofstyles]

Reconcile II

Ok so I know that I wrote the first part with reader insert, but after many, many attempts to keep it that way, it just didn’t work with this one. So I’d like for you to meet Emma. This is my first time writing with OC and wow game changer. I love her and I hope you do too!

Also, I honestly can’t thank my beta queens enough @oh-honey-styles @for-fucks-sake-h 🥺💛 thanks for allll the comments and suggestions and nice words!!! ily both xx

Read part I here

Harry

“So… are we okay now?”

We’re sitting here on the sofa, finally having that very much needed father-daughter date. Granted, a movie night in was not what I had in mind. I wasn’t too thrilled when she said she wanted to just go back home after we dropped George at his classmate’s house for a birthday sleepover. I thought she would hole up in her room instead and ignore me. But she didn’t. I got us pizza for tea, and we’ve got Shrek 2 on the telly. Her animosity towards me disappeared just like that after she asked for a puppy the other day. Of course, I’m glad to have my happy-go-lucky daughter back, but deep down I know that we need to have a proper chat. The change in her behaviour is so abrupt that I know there’s a chance that my daughter is still bitter with me deep down. And that won’t do. I can take a lot of things, but my daughter’s resentment is not one of them.

“Yeah, we’re okay,” she nods as she takes a bite of her pizza. “You’re still getting me a puppy right?”

“I still need to talk to your mum about it, poppet,” I tell her. “Puppies need a lot of attention. It’s going to be hard work and that puppy is going to be a permanent member of our family. We’ve really got to think about it before we decide.”

I expect a little excitement knowing that her mum and I are really considering getting a puppy. But what I get is quite the opposite. My little girl’s gaze drops, her face slackening. Her voice cracks a little when she mumbles, “except… we’re not a family.”

I wince, realising how serious the effect our split has on my daughter. Despite Emma and I putting on a friendly, united front for our children, Minnie is still sad that her parents are not together. 

“Of course we’re still a family,” I assure her, pulling her to me for a comforting side hug. “I’m still your dad, mummy is still your mum, and you and George are still the lights of our lives.” 

“But you and mummy aren’t together anymore,” she points out bitterly. “And you live so far away from us now. I miss having you at home.”

“I know, my love,” I murmur gently, and turn sideways so she can see my face. “It’s killing me too. But you never know what the future holds, right?”

“I guess,” she says glumly.

I wish I can tell her that I’m trying to win her mum back so we can be together again, but I know I can’t do that. This is far too early. I don’t want to get her hopes up in case I’m not successful in convincing my wife to give me another shot. That’ll only break her heart all over again.

Thinking back, I realised that this is the first time we have a proper chat about our split. I fled to LA the next morning after my wife asked me to leave our marital home back in London, leaving her to sit down with our children to tell them that I was not going to live there anymore. I was shocked and angry because I had no idea what I’d done. I thought we were fine. There were no fights leading up to that. I still remember exactly what I told her. ‘You’re the one who wanted to end it, you tell them.’ And then I left.

Just like that. Without a fight.

I swear to God, it’s something that I would never be able to forgive myself. 

“How’s your mum?” 

“She’s sad,” Minnie sighs. “She cries a lot. She thinks we can’t hear her in the shower, but we can.”

Knowing I caused that physically hurts. I rub at the throb of pain behind my breastbone and I think about all those private tears I shed through it. The ones you hope are hidden and silent.

“Can I ask you something, daddy?”

“Anything, poppet.”

“Do you still get sad too?”

I’m not sure how much to divulge here. Does my daughter need to hear that I stopped eating? That I once cried in the loo at Cafe Habana, and once had to be fished out of a bath by Jeff after I turned into a human prune? I was sad. I still wear that hat. 

“I do. It’s the end of something, that’s always sad.”

“I think mum is dating someone,” she says and my eyes widen. “She told us Luke is her friend, but I think he’s her boyfriend. They’re on a date now, aren’t they?”

I can try and deny it, but I know my daughter is smart and won’t buy anything I tell her.

“What do you know about boyfriends?” I tease, my attempt to lighten up the mood. 

“I’ve just turned nine, I’m not stupid,” Minnie rolls her eyes. “‘Sides I’m thinking about getting one of those boyfriend thingies.”

I sit there slack-jawed, and my daughter roars with laughter.

“Minnie Alexandra, you’re going to drive me to an early grave, you know that?”

“Hey, what are you middle naming me for? I was joking!” She says, still laughing as she picks a piece of pepperoni off her pizza.

“How do you feel about your mum dating again?” I ask her.

She pauses. “I don’t know yet. As long as he’s nice and doesn’t put me under the stairs…”

“I’m sure he won’t. In the attic maybe,” I joke.

She laughs again. I’m thinking about keeping that bloke in the attic so my wife won’t date him anymore. Or even better, six feet under my patio. That’ll do.

“It’s gonna be okay, right, dad?”

Honestly, I’m not sure. But I don’t have the heart to tell her that.

“Yeah, Min. It’s gonna be okay.”

***

I see the headlight shining into the front windows as I walk down the stairs from tucking my daughter into her bed. That must be Emma and her date. I pull back the curtain a little to peek outside, and I’m right as I see that bollockface’s car in front of the house. 

You know that saying; curiosity killed the cat? Well, in my case, curiosity fucked me with a chainsaw. 

I’m a bloody idiot. I should have just closed the curtain back as soon as I recognised the car. I mean… it’s the end of a date. What did I expect to see? A high five? I knew I was so sure when they left that he would not be getting anything more than a friendly kiss, but that date must have gone really well, because right now, my eyes may as well fall out of their sockets as I see that bastard’s tongue down my wife’s throat. 

I’m frozen. I’m gripping the curtain so tight that my knuckles are turning white. I stand there—stunned. Watching. I’m not even sure for how long. It does feel like forever. Like an eternity. 

In hell.

And then Emma pulls back, and everything seems like a blur. I have to remind myself that my daughter is sleeping upstairs so I won’t go apeshit and knock that wanker square on his arse. 

I’m still glued to the floor by the door. I’m too shocked to move. I hear the sound of keys rattling before the door swings open, and she looks surprised when she sees me.

And all hell breaks loose.

“What the fuck, Emma?!” She jolts at hearing me shout. I rarely did it. In fact, I’m not even sure if I’d ever yell at my wife before throughout our marriage. “You told me last night you’d never even kissed him. You told me you weren’t ready.”

“I- I don’t know. He caught me off guard. That was-”

“I told you I wanted to make this work,” I remind her, trying to lower my voice so I won’t wake my daughter up. She doesn’t need to see this. “Us. Our marriage. I told you I wanted to fight for you. But I can’t do that with someone shoving their tongue down my wife’s throat, can I?”

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I see her tear up and I immediately feel regret. That was harsh. But before I can apologise, I can see her lip curls up and I know she’s about to get nasty. It’s a rarity with her when we’ve fought in the past, but I feel it coming.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” She sneers. “You think that if you put a toy down, it’ll still be sitting there when you want to play with it again.”

“That’s-”

“You have no right to be upset at me. We’ve split up for nearly a year now. What I do and what I don’t do on my dates is none of your business.” 

“I want us to give our marriage another shot,” I say in exasperation. “I want to try to win you back, but fuck’s sake you’re not even giving me the time of day.”

“Oh, look how the tables turned,” she taunts. “Sucks, innit? Being the one struggling to find the time when it seems like the other doesn’t give a crap?”

“Cheap shot, Ems,” I retort.

“Truth hurts, doesn’t it, H?” 

Emma averts her eyes, her lower lip quivering. I can’t tell if she regrets her harsh words or not, but she doesn’t look back my way, and she seems to have said her piece.

I knew sooner or later this was bound to happen. We never had our big fight, not even that night when she decided that enough was enough.

“I cannot possibly go through that again. It physically hurts,” she says softly. “I know I was the one who ended it, but when you just left like that the next morning without so much of a fight as if ten years means nothing to you… that really did hurt. You left me alone to talk to the kids about what happened. And sure, you did call every day. But it took you nearly nine months to finally come and see your children?”

“I needed some time. Some space,” I tell her. “Do you think it’s easy for me being there? Away from my wife and kids?”

“You chose to be there.”

“You know I couldn’t stay in London,” I murmur. “It’s too hard. At least in LA sometimes I can just pretend that everything’s okay. That we’re okay. That my wife and kids will be there waiting for me when I get home. I can’t do that in London.”

“That’s a shit excuse and you know it,” she mutters.

“I still love you, Em,” I say with a sigh. I know trying to defend myself further for what I did will get me nowhere. “We can fix this. We can be a family again.”

“Harry, it’s too late.”

“Is it him?” I can’t help but go there, because that’s a possibility. “Do you love him already?”

“Luke is a fresh start for me, H. I may not love him now but at least it doesn’t hurt looking at him. It took me months to be able to get back up again, to get to where I am right now. To finally find a little bit of peace.”

Emma’s head hangs low, and she rubs at her temple with her fingers. I want nothing more than to pull her into my arms. But by how stiff her spine is, I can tell she wouldn’t come willingly. 

“I’m sorry, Emma,” I whisper, resigned. Tears well up in our eyes. There’s nothing I can say that will change her mind because we’re not seeing eye to eye. She’s still focused on the past, not that I blame her because I did hurt her badly, but I know that there is no way we can go anywhere if she can’t see past the harms I’ve caused in the past.  “I hope one day you’ll be able to forgive me.”

“I’ve forgiven you a long time ago,” she says, her expression softens. Her thumb runs at a part of her finger where a ring used to be. “Now, I just want us to try and make this separation work. Focus on the kids. Let’s do the right thing by them.”

I nod.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah.”

“When did it all start?” I ask, my voice cracks a little. “When did you start feeling like you’re invisible to me?”

“I’m not sure I can point down to one exact moment,” she takes a shaky breath and pauses. “The change was gradual that by the time I realised it, I didn’t even recognise us anymore. I spent days and nights wondering what happened to us. That wasn’t us.”

I wipe that one tear running halfway down her cheek, and as soon as my thumb touches her skin, I lose it. I can’t help it by this point. Tears flow as much as I try to hold them back. She’s crying too. This is painful. 

“And it’d be too easy to say that I felt invisible,” she continues. “Because the truth is, I felt painfully visible. You ignored me on purpose. I wasn’t even sure what I was to you anymore, because the only chance for me to get your attention was by getting you in bed. And that was wrong. It hurts, because it felt like you only needed me to warm your bed.”

I want to deny that statement. I want to yell it’s not true. That I never intended to take her for granted. That she still makes my heart skip a beat like a bloody teenager seeing his first crush. 

But I don’t.

Because she’s right. I’m not sure what happened either, but we’d changed. Maybe it’s our jobs, maybe it’s the endless responsibilities. Domesticity, children, they wore us down. Kisses became perfunctory. Hugs became less frequent. Hell, I couldn’t even remember the last time I took my wife for a date night other than for social obligations.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her again. I’ll spend the rest of my life apologising to her if I have to, she deserves it. “I hurt you badly. I really am sorry, Emma.”

“It wasn’t all you though,” she mumbles. “I never called you out on it.”

“You didn’t,” I reply. “I never worked out why?”

“I swept it under the carpet because it was embarrassing. It felt silly having to ask for your attention. And I don’t know… pride, maybe? And the kids. I didn’t want them to know something was wrong. So I played along and carried on like nothing was happening.”

“When really…”

“It was like a punch to the guts each time. You were an excellent father. You still are, the kids adore you. This may sound insane and it’s embarrassing and painful for me to admit this, but there were times when I saw you with the kids and I couldn’t help but feel jealous. When you couldn’t even be bothered to look at me… it felt like you took a dump over all my love for you.”

“Emma…”

“I wish I could get past that. I wish I could just forget what happened and trust you again.” 

I bring her in for a hug and say nothing. She needs to get this all out. This is part of the process, and I’m here to listen. 

But where do we go from there?

Reconciling a broken marriage is tricky. I am not a violent person but I have never wanted to strangle people as much as I want to strangle those who wrote articles with countless advice regarding this subject, making it seem like it’s easy. Talk it out, get your point across, and you’re out of the dog house. Well, you know what, bollockface? It turns out that listening is not enough. Sod you and your dumb articles. 

All I know is that I can’t rush this. She’s not ready, and that’s okay. Right now, we both have things to work on. She needs to learn to let go of her resentment, and I have to learn not to take anything and anyone for granted ever again. This is killing me, but there is no one to blame but myself. I take solace in knowing the fact that I don’t know what’s going to happen in the future. Maybe one day we’ll be back together. Maybe we won’t. 

“Thank you for telling me all that,” I mumble against her hair. 

“Thank you for listening,” she looks up and gives me a sad smile.

***

Emma comes from a big family. 

There’s Jamie, her eldest brother and the only guy. I think the fact that he grew up surrounded by sisters was what made us the closest in the first place. He hates wine, even though he makes a career out of managing his own vineyard. I know, the irony. The next is Suze, sister number one who lives in Sheffield with her husband and three girls. Suze and her husband are both orthopaedic surgeons. Then my wife, the middle child. Then Meg, sister number two who just had a baby. It’s another girl so my George is still the only grandson in the family. And then Lucy, the youngest of the clan who’s still in university. 

They all live nearby, and I knew that all my in-laws hated me a tiny bit for taking their daughter and sister away. They were a hard outfit to infiltrate. You don’t enter into a relationship with one of them, you get a whole gaggle of them. It was hard to get in, but once you’re in, you’re in for life. 

After we’d split, I called my parents-in-law the next morning just before my flight to LA. I wasn’t sure whether or not Emma had told them about what happened, but I felt like it was the right thing to do. After all, they’d become my parents too for a decade. So I explained and apologised. Of course, I didn’t tell them the details because I knew they were between Emma and me, and they respected us enough not to ask. They were upset, but they also understood that these things happen in life. All they wanted was just for their grandbabies to come out of this unscathed. 

Now here I am, walking behind Emma and our children as we step over the threshold into her parents’ home for their monthly roast. Her parents invited me and I accepted. I don’t want to turn down any extra time I have with my kids as I’ve decided to leave today and head back to London. I was prepared to stay longer, take some time off work and fight for my marriage, but since it all has gone to pot, I figured I should leave. The world doesn’t stop even when you’re struggling with marital woes. I’ve got work to do, and I also know that it is best to give Emma space. 

I hear voices as we walk inside.

“If littl’uns are going in highchairs then what’s that extra space for?” I hear Meg’s husband say.

Meg tells him. “Count again, addition was never your strong point.”

“Oh.”

The house is suddenly quiet when they see me. This is my first time seeing the whole family again after we split, and even though my parents-in-law and I are on good terms, and Jamie too, I know the sisters would be a different story. All four of them are beyond close and they’re now looking at me as if they should’ve chucked me in the oven instead of the chicken.

You don’t do that to our sister. You hurt one, you hurt all of us. 

“Uncle Harry!” Freya shouts in excitement. She is one of Suze’s daughters. She and her twin sister Tessa are only a few months older than my George.

Suze, who is sitting on the sofa, looks a bit sullen, not knowing what the right call is to make. Meg and her husband freeze. 

“Alright there, mate?” Jamie greets me, trying to ease the tension. Suze glares at him.

“Are you here to do magic then, Uncle Harry?” Tessa asks. 

I bend down to her level. “Not sure I know any magic, Tessie.”

“Yeah you do!” Freya pipes up. “Because when we were driving here, daddy said you did a disappearing act on Aunty Ems. Show us what you did!”

“FREYA!” Her dad barks.

Meg can barely contain her giggles.

“But we like magic. You’re rubbish at magic,” she says to her dad. He widens his eyes. 

The sisters are now all smiling smugly, knowing a couple of six-year-olds just shamed me on their behalf. Extra roast potatoes for those two.

Lucy, the littlest sister, suddenly enters. That’s definitely not a happy face. “Oh, it’s you. Is that why everyone went so quiet? What are you doing here?”

“Luce,” Emma mutters.

“Because I invited him,” says a voice emerging from the kitchen. My father-in-law. “Harry, glad you could make it.”

“Of course,” I reply. “Thanks for the invitation.”

Lucy stares daggers at her dad, knowing she can’t unleash her trademark rapier wit as she’s surrounded by her little nieces and nephews. That one may be the youngest but she’s the scariest out of all the sisters, my wife included.

“Look, if it’s weird, I can just leave?” I offer.

“Nonsense, you must stay for supper,” Emma’s mum replies.

“Yeah, Harry, stay,” says Emma’s dad, staring at his daughters. “I want you lot to be nice. Otherwise, I’m putting you on the kids table. You hear me?”

The three of them nod in unison. 

“You two look well,” I say, my attempt to make small talk. 

“You know, dad’s been singing this morning,” Emma’s mum chirps, tilting her head towards her husband. “He joined a male choir. They think they’re Westlife.”

We all can’t help but laugh. This is classic mum. The tension seems to ease away. 

Let’s just hope it stays that way.

***

There’s a strange feeling of déjà vu as I take a seat on the steps in front of the cottage. 

I’m all packed up and ready to go. My weekender bag is in the boot of my car. Nothing left to do but say goodbye to my wife and kids, but I don’t go straight inside. 

Not yet. I need a moment.

These steps witnessed a lot of our marriage even though we’d never stayed here for longer than a couple of weeks at a time. We loved to sit out here in the summer. I remember when I first brought my stuff here shortly after we got married, we sat out here with beers, sleeves rolled up, boxes stacked into Jenga-style columns. 

I also remember sitting here last year on Christmas morning. Emma and I were both in our pyjamas and slippers, sipping coffees out of our matching Christmas mugs. We watched the kids ride their new scooters up and down the street. Everything was perfect. I had no idea that my marriage would end in just two months after that.

“Harry?”

I look over my shoulder and I urge her to sit beside me. She comes over and does just that. There is silence. We don’t say a word to each other. A quiet hum of traffic in the distance, puffs of breath cloud the air making me think we should both be wearing coats. Christmas is nearly here again. My heart aches at the thought of this being our first Christmas since everything fell apart.

“I’m sorry,” she says softly.

“I should be the one apologising, Em.”

“I know you wanted to work things out,” I hear the sadness in her voice. “I really loved you, you know that, right?”

“I do,” I nod. “Our marriage, all those years… it wasn’t all bad, though, right?”

“Of course,” she quickly replies. “We had our moments. We have Minnie and George.”

We pause, letting that sink in. In all this mess, those two were and remain everything, some symbol of our marriage not being a complete disaster. 

“There were also times when you were a good husband,” she adds.

“Why do I feel like you’re going to pat me on the head?”

Emma laughs under her breath.

“Your new bloke seemed a nice sort,” I tell her, because it’s true. I may hate the guy with a burning passion, but that’s only because he’s dating my wife. 

“He is.”

“That got legs?” I ask her.

“Possibly.”

“I want you to be happy, Ems,” I tell her. “With or without me.”

“Harry…”

“But I also want you to know that I’ll be waiting for you. No rush, no timeline. I’ll wait for as long as it takes. Because for me, it’s either you or no one else.”

The front door opens and two little faces pop out from behind it.

“What are you doing out here? It’s freezing!” Shouts Minnie.

“Well then come here and give me cuddles to warm me up,” I tell her.

Emma and I take a kid each. She takes George and lets him entangle his legs in hers, cradling himself into the hook of his mummy’s arm. Minnie uses me like a climbing frame. I bop her on the nose as I’ve done since she was a baby, and I like that it never stops being hilarious to her. The sky starts to dim, trees casting shadows onto the pavement. A house down the road has some festive lights that switch on and flicker on and off in strange syncopated patterns.

“This is nice,” Minnie mumbles. “I miss the awesome foursome.”

“The awesome foursome, huh?” I ask.

“That’s what you used to call us,” I hear the sadness in her voice and my heart aches. I know she feels this all a lot more than her little brother. “I still remember.”

“Do you really have to go again, daddy?” George looks at me with sad puppy dog eyes. 

“Yeah, do you?” Minnie asks. “I love having you here.”

“I do, my loves,” I reply sadly. “Be good for mummy, alright? I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

“I don’t like seeing you go,” George mumbles.

The emotion is a little unbearable and I see a tear trail down my wife’s cheek. George looks petrified seeing his mum cry. 

“Don’t be sad, mummy.”

“I’m not sad,” she shakes her head, quickly wiping the tear off her cheek. “I’m just sorry daddy and I couldn’t make it work.”

“Did we do something wrong?” George asks, looking at his mum and then me.

“Oh, mate,” I reach out to cup his face, Emma pulls him into a hug. “Of course not. You didn’t do anything wrong. You two are perfect, you hear me?”

“Do you still love each other?” Minnie asks.

Emma looks at me in the eye as she answers our daughter. “I’ll always love your dad, because he gave me both of you.”

“And I’ll always love your mum,” I say, my eyes pinned on my wife. “No matter what.”

Emma

“So… tell me, he a good lay? He looks the sort to have some girth.”

I probably should have warned you beforehand about this sister of mine.

Lucy is my entertainer sister who has done every job going alongside studying. She went to dance school, spent six months on a cruise ship, has been an extra and once did a two-month stint in Les Misérables. On weekends she dresses up as Disney characters and does kids’ parties which means she owns a lot of wigs and always has glitter in her bra. She’s the fun one. I keep her close because as much as I love my other siblings, this one has been a good entertainment through my separation. Mum suggested for her to live with me for a couple of weeks when I first moved back to the Peak, and I’m so glad she did. It was around the time I lost a stone and would spend most of the time napping, crying and staring at the wall, surviving on cups of tea and Rich Tea fingers. She couldn’t cook or clean and she used all my shampoo but she brought some light into the house when grey clouds threatened to consume it. She was also a great distraction because I could live vicariously through her tales of going to gigs and clubs and hear how she’s not slept and got her boobs out for reasons of fun and frivolity.

However, when you talk to her, she always goes there. She’s brash and has no conversational limit. She thinks her purpose is to not only feed me but also revive a pretty dead sex life too. Actually, it’s not just her. After my husband and I split, my sisters think it’s their job to pique my interest in men again. Luke happened after a boozy Chinese takeaway about two months ago when I joked that a spring roll was the most phallic thing I’d had in my mouth for over half a year. I remember a dumpling rolled out of Meg’s mouth in shock, so Suze decided to play the matchmaker and introduced me to Luke who worked at the same hospital with her.

Tonight, we’re having another takeaway night since my parents have all the grandchildren for the weekend. Bless them for entertaining that crew of children we seem to have acquired over the past nine years. We have seven between Suze, myself and Meg, and I just hope that my parents are well stocked with wine. They will need it. 

We all sit around my dining room table with the remnants of a KFC bargain bucket, a selection of Thai food, a giant bag of chips and some battered sausages. I’d admit that we were already a little drunk to buy food sanely. Luke is also here, I thought it’d be nice to give my sisters the chance to get to know him. And it doesn’t take Lucy more than thirty seconds after Luke gets up to take a phone call before asking such questions. 

“I don’t know? I haven’t slept with him yet.”

Lucy looks at me in confusion. “But you’ve been on dates and stuff?”

“We did have a cheeky snog last week but we’re taking it slow.”

“What are you waiting for? Just go shag him. Erase the memory of that wanker?” 

“Hey, he’s your niece and nephew’s father,” I chastise her for calling Harry names. “Don’t call him that.”

“Why don’t you want to sleep with Luke?” Meg, my other sister asks me. “Lucy is right though. He’s really tall, I bet he’s VWE.”

“What’s that?” I ask.

“Very well-endowed.”

I chuckle. “Honestly, I wouldn’t know what to do with it.”

Meg giggles and places her head on my shoulder. 

“Last time I had sex was on Valentine’s Day, girls. Do your maths. The next day, my marriage collapsed.”

Both of them huddle into me like penguins. 

“Which is why you just need to get over yourself,” Lucy remarks. “You need to remember what sex is like. It’ll be fun and make you feel good. If you don’t want to do it with Luke, you can have some taster session? I’ve got a uni mate who’d shag you.”

“Lovely. No.”

Lucy huffs. “You’re so boring.”

“Honestly, Em, Luke is fit. Seems like a nice fella, and he genuinely likes you. I’d have a go on him if I weren’t married. You should just do it,” says Meg.

“Yeah, you could shag him tonight,” Lucy adds. “Meg and I can piss off out and then…” 

Then she does a strange rave-style dance as she thinks of her plan coming together. Luke returns from his phone call and Lucy jiggles in her seat. Don’t you bloody dare. 

“Luke, we need more wine,” says Lucy. “There is not enough and we thought you could walk down to the shop and get some?”

Meg and I look at each other for a second, wondering what our sister is up to. 

“Sure, yeah, I could get wine,” Luke replies. “Any other requests?”

If she tells him to get condoms in then I will skewer her with a chopstick.

“Anything you might fancy or need?”

She’s walking an incredibly thin, thin line. 

Luke gets up to retrieve his coat and grazes my hand as he does. This move doesn’t go unnoticed by Meg and she gives me a sly wink. I hand him my keys and he heads for the front door. Meg stares Lucy out.

“Seriously?” She says.

“We need to prepare you if you’re going to sleep with him.”

“Like mentally?” I ask.

“Like have you had a tidy? This will be your first time. You’ll need to at least tidy up the flaps and do a bit of topiary.”

“LUCY!” I gasp and laugh at the same time, holding my hand to my face. Who is this woman? How can you raise five children in the same house and come up with such a random entity?

She stands up and heads for my kitchen drawers, rifling around until she pulls out a pair of scissors.

“Show me your bush,” she orders.

“Lucy! I prepare food with those scissors.”

“And we’ll wash them?”

Meg is in hysterics as she sees this scene unfolding in front of us.

“I’m not getting my bush out in my kitchen.”

“You’re so dull,” Lucy complains. “I’m trying to help here. What are your pits like? Shame there’s no time to tackle your upper lip.”

I put my hand over it instinctively. “I’ve got a moustache?”

“Well, you’re not Tom Selleck but it could do with a bleach.”

“You’re being cruel now, Luce,” Meg giggles. “But I think we do need the comedy of seeing Lucy trimming your bush in the kitchen.”

I stand up reluctantly and unbutton my jeans.

“Ha!” Exclaims Lucy. “You’re wearing nice knickers, you knew this was going to happen. Just peel them back a little and let me have a look.”

“Be quick for fuck’s sake. This is something that no one needs to see.”

“Do you want a shape?”

“What?”

“Yeah, like a heart? It’d be cute.”

“No!”

Meg roars with laughter.

“I’ll just trim the length then,” says Lucy. “Meg, put your hand out.”

“Do I have to?”

“Don’t you love your sister enough to at least hold her pubes?”

I’m not even sure what’s happening here. One sister is very close to my private regions with a sharp object and I hear the creak of metal as she shears away. The other collects the trimmings in a napkin in her palm. This feels like an opportune moment to ring Suze, our other sister, and start a FaceTime chat. That time we all took one for the team so Emma could reclaim her sex life.

“Thanks, Luce.”

“You don’t say this enough I feel.”

“We really don’t,” says Meg.

“Want me to look at yours, Meg?”

“I’m good.”

“What if he’s into weird stuff?” I ask.

“Like?”

“I don’t know… maybe like choking? Stuff like that.”

“Well, no one breaks out all the moves on their first time,” says Meg but Lucy gives us a look like she begs to differ.

“And I’m not on anything. I stopped the pills months ago. What if I get pregnant?”

“That’s what condoms are for?” 

They both give me a look that says I am not fourteen and that I should have an inkling about how reproduction works and the preventative measures that I can put in place to stop myself from getting pregnant. 

“How do I initiate it?”

“Maybe you could dance for him?” says Luce mockingly. “You’ve both had a drink, let it just happen. Planned sex is the worst kind of sex.”

“I planned nothing. You’re the one who’s got the kitchen scissors.”

“I’m done, anyway. Not my finest work but then at least he’ll be able to find it?”

Meg laughs again as she goes to the bin with her napkin of pubes. I do my jeans up and sit at the table, downing what’s left in my glass. What if he can’t get it up? Or worse, what if he doesn’t like my boobs? I have modest boobs. They wouldn’t win any competitions. What if he wants better boobs?

“You’re overthinking,” says Meg.

“I haven’t got any condoms.”

Lucy reaches inside her handbag, pulls out two packets of johnnies and hands them to me. How far ahead has she planned this?

“Any other excuse?” Lucy asks.

“Look, tonight, just get naked with the fella, have some bloody fun. Enjoy yourself.”

I hear the key go in the latch of the front door. That was quick. Crap. Luke enters the kitchen with two bottles of red that I immediately feel guilty about as I’ve got a rack of it in the utility room. He also carries a few packs of crisps and takes the kitchen scissors that were on my table.

“No!” I stop him. “Those need to be washed.”

He looks at me in confusion and I love that he puts them in the sink without any further questions asked. He rips opens the packet of crisps with his hands instead.

“Crisps?”

Lucy grabs a handful of crisps before she grabs her phone, pretending to read some texts. “Bollocks! Meg, we forgot about the party.”

Meg quickly plays along. “Oh yeah, crap. It’s that birthday party, innit?”

I feel awful. I’m sending the sisters back out into the cold so Luke and I can have the house to ourselves. They both keep winking at me which is more down to the fact that they’ve had at least a bottle of wine each for themselves tonight. Luke stands at the kitchen door while I wave everyone off. This feels weird. 

“Have fun, kids!” Chants Lucy as she shepherds Meg away from the house. I shut the door.

And then there were two. I turn around and Luke is no longer at the doorway. I tiptoe into the kitchen to find him stacking plates. 

“Shall we tidy up now?” He asks.

“It can wait.”

My phone on the table lights up with an incoming text. It’s Lucy. Don’t forget to adjust your tits. Make sure they’re facing forwards. Show a bit of bra. 

Does this mean my boobs are not always facing forward? Where are they looking? This isn’t helping at all. I ignore it.

“Alright,” Luke says with a smile that makes me feel relaxed but also on the faint side of nauseated. It’s probably first time nerves. Is it weird that I’m thinking about the cleanliness of my bedroom? Did I pick up yesterday’s bra from the corner of my room? Do I remember how to go down on a man? What if he doesn’t fancy me?

Sometimes I can’t help but wonder whether my marriage ended with Harry because I was terrible in bed. Maybe I wasn’t attractive enough. I’ve had kids, parts of me are stretched and doughy. Maybe I didn’t provide what he needed. 

In the last year of our marriage, I think it’s safe to say that I was mainly the one to initiate things between us and my success rate wasn’t 100%. There’s this nagging thought in my head that maybe even on those nights I succeeded, those were just pity shags.

You know what, sod it. 

I grab him by the collar and kiss him. He stumbles a little but then lets his body fold into mine. I can do this. Crap. He’s lifting me up. He sits me on the counter and I’d like to say the moment overtakes but there’s red wine inches from my arse so I move the glass with my hand whilst still kissing him. We’re kissing. This is weird. It’s different. It’s not my husband’s lips. Why am I thinking about my husband’s lips? 

I shake my head, banishing that image. Harry doesn’t belong in this room with me right now. 

I feel his hands in the small of my back and then he lifts my jumper over my head. I’m in my bra. Don’t overthink it. Oh, the bra is off. My nipples are out in the kitchen. I run my fingers through his hair as he trails kisses down my neck. Is it weird that right now, at this very moment, all I can think about is that his blond, floppy hair looks like a golden retriever?

I gasp and push him away involuntarily when his mouth wraps on my nipple. This is wrong. This feels wrong. I thought it was just first time jitters but now I think this is deeper than that. 

“Are you alright?” He asks, looking concerned.

I grab my jumper and quickly put it back on. “I… I’m sorry, Luke. I can’t. I have to go.”

“Emma, I’m sorry,” his face reads panic. “Did I read the signals wrong? I thought you wanted this. I feel terrible. I’m so sorry.”

“No, please don’t apologise,” I say hastily. “You didn’t. I did want this. Or so I thought. It’s just… I’m not ready. I don’t think I’ll be ready any time soon. Or ever.”

“What do you mean? Are you breaking up with me?”

I have to be straight with him. I take a deep breath. “I want to give you the opportunity to walk away. You’re a good guy, Luke. I just don’t think it’s fair for me to string you along if we can never progress.”

“Is it your ex-husband?”

He’s still my husband. But I don’t say this out loud. 

“He told me that he wanted to give our marriage another shot about two weeks ago when he was here,” I tell him. “I did say no right away. I didn’t think it was a good idea. But…”

“Is it really?” He asks. “You two have a lot of history. Two kids. Why wouldn’t you give him a chance?”

“I’m worried.”

“And what are you worried about?”

“My heart?” I say quietly. “I don’t want to go through that again.”

Luke smiles at me through sympathetic eyes. “Listen to me, Emma. I’m not a cardiologist, but I know that the hearts are the strongest organs in the human body. They can go through anything.”

What happens next feels like a blur. All I know is that by midnight, I’m already halfway down the M1, on my way to London. 

Harry

It was a knock on the door that woke me up.

When I first open my eyes, I’m disoriented. I don’t know what time it is, or how long I’ve been asleep. Then I realise I’m on the sofa, and it’s still dark outside. It’s also raining. I walk towards the door and open it, just in time to catch a figure going down the steps, which doesn’t take me more than a second to recognise. I am in complete shock. Is this real? Is that really my wife, standing in front of my door in the middle of the night? Or are my eyes deceiving me?

“Emma?”

She stops on the pavement and slowly turns to face me. She’s spooked through—her jeans moulded to the curves of her legs, the sleeves of her jumper dripping, her hair flat, lips slightly tinged with blue.

“I don’t know why I’m here,” she says. “Don’t know what I was thinking.”

I open the door wider, and my voice is drowsy and deep when I say, “Come on, let’s talk inside.”

She takes a step back instead.

“I just… I wasn’t thinking. I’m here. I don’t know why,” she sounds genuinely bewildered—even a little panicked.

“Are the kids in the car?” I ask her and she shakes her head. The wind blows, spraying ice-cold drops across my bare skin where my shirt hangs open. “You’re shivering, honey, come inside.” 

She stares at me, so many emotions swirling in her expression. She’s like a skittish kitten who can’t decide if she should let the stranger pat her head or haul up the nearest tree. It breaks my heart.

“I don’t think I can.”

So I go to her. 

The rain is cold and hard, soaking my shirt. Her eyes dart from the pavement, to my chest, up to my eyes and back again, like she’s ready to bolt—but her feet stay glued.

I lean in so she can hear me through the rain. “Do you remember the first time we went to Paris together? When we were young and crazy enough to only rent one electric scooter for both of us, and we rode around the city at night?”

The corners of her mouth tug up a little. “I remember.”

“But then I was going way too fast and we hit a rock, and both of us went flying. I didn’t want to ride anymore the next day, because I was afraid you’d get hurt. Do you remember what you told me?”

“I said…” she begins, her eyes meet mine. “I said we had to keep riding. Because it’s the only thing that made falling worth it.”

I nod tenderly and hold out my hand. “I’m not going to let us fall this time, Emma.”

Her eyes are back on the pavement. “I’m not sure-”

I know she still doesn’t trust me. I know that sadness on her face and how it penetrates so deeply. I know she’s probably better off without me, the bastard who crushed her heart and soul and took her for granted for years. 

We shy away from the things that hurt us. But that’s what scars are for. They protect the wounds. They cover them with thick, numb tissue so we’ll never have to feel that same pain again. The scars that my wife has inside? They’re tough. 

I beg when she continues to stare at my hand, “Please, just come inside.”

Slowly, tentatively, her hand slides into mine. 

And we go in out of the rain.

I take her upstairs to the bedroom that used to be ours. Her teeth chatter as she sits on the edge of the bed. I throw a blanket over her shoulders, rubbing her arms, sliding down to cup her hands. 

“Shit, you’re freezing. How long were you out there?”

“A while. I was walking… thinking.”

“Just some friendly advice. Next time you go a-wandering, stop and buy an umbrella.”

Emma shivers as she laughs. I pull the blanket closer around her and rub her back. 

“So… you gonna tell me what’s this midnight adventure about?” 

Her voice comes out soft and wavering in the dark room. “I was with Luke.”

“Did he do something to you? I’ve watched enough crime documentaries to pull a perfect murder.”

She shakes her head and chuckles. “We were having a takeaway night. Meg and Lucy were there too, but then they left and there were just the two of us and-”

“Please spare me the details,” I beg.

“Nothing happened. I just… I couldn’t get through it. Your face kept popping out in my head and I knew that if I went all the way through, we’d lose our chance. And I didn’t want us to lose our chance. I know this is completely the opposite of what I said to you two weeks ago but it’s true. I wasn’t ready then and maybe I’m still not ready now, but I don’t know about the future and you said you’d wait for me and…”

Her words trail off and my chest clenches with that sublime mix of excitement and trepidation. Of wanting something so much it’s like every cell in your body is stretching, reaching for it, yet there’s a grey shadow of worry that you might never get to touch it.

“Oh, Ems…”

I cup my hands around hers and blow into them. Another shiver vibrates through her. 

For a moment we sit there in silence. Memories of us in this bed come flooding back. Of the kids piling in here bright and early, and us having cuddles and catch ups over the week just gone. Of the two of us and that sacred half an hour we had together before we go to sleep. Where we could have a proper chat without little voices interrupting us every few seconds. Sometimes we’d read together too, and other times when we just couldn’t be arsed, we’d simply spend that half an hour scrolling through memes and having a laugh together.

“You’ve got to get out of these wet clothes,” I say gently, with absolutely no teasing suggestion. We’re right on the precipice. I can feel it. And I have to tread so carefully, because one wrong move could send her away, truly lost to me.

I peel my soaked shirt off and let it drop to the floor. Her eyes move, trailing over my shoulders. I stand and slowly unbutton my jeans, leaving me in black boxer briefs. 

Her eyes follow my every move, looking at me.

I push the blanket off her shoulders and let it drop to the floor. I grasp her jumper at the bottom and lift slowly. I wait for her to push me away but she doesn’t. She raises her arms instead. I pull the jumper over her head and it lands with a plop on the floor. I remind myself not to enjoy the view. I’m trying hard not to look.

My chest rises and falls as rapidly as hers. I sink to my knees in front of her and reach out for the button of her jeans. She lifts her hips and my fingertips graze her skin as I slide them down her thighs, leaving the white lace knickers in place. 

“Get under the sheets,” I whisper and she does just that.

She scoots to her side of the bed, and I slide beside her. Without a word, she snuggles into my side. The cool feel of her flesh is a shock at first, but in just a few moments, my heat chases away her chill. Except for her feet. I practically jump when she runs one up my calf.

“Yer a bloody ice cube!”

She laughs kind of evilly. 

We face each other, almost nose to nose. Her hair still drips at the ends and a drop trickles over her collarbone, down her chest, and I’ve got to take a deep breath—because I want to lick it off her so badly.

“Talk to me,” she says softly.

“I’m taking time off work.”

“But you never take time off work?” 

“I’ve got a lot to make up to the kids,” I tell her. “So I told Jeff to bugger off for at least until after New Year.”

I see her smile in the dim light.

“I’m gonna stay up with my mum,” I add. “I’ll only be an hour away from you lot.”

This is something that I’ve been mulling about. If I really do want a chance with Emma, I need to move up there because absence does not make the heart grow fonder. That may be true in secondary school when you went away for the summer. But in marriage, especially in a broken marriage, absence separates people. It creates distance. That’s the opposite of what you’re trying to achieve. You want the closeness back.

My wife’s palm runs over my bicep—tentatively at first—then with a surer touch. “They’d love that.”

“Also, you remember my old mate Stu?” She nods. “We got in touch just earlier today. He’s got a litter of puppies and he offered one for us. I told him I need to talk to you first. So what do you think?”

“A puppy, huh?”

“A puppy.” 

“I think that’s a good idea,” she says. “But I’ve never had a dog though.”

“I can train it first at my mum’s?” I offer. “I’ll get it all settled. Then when it starts sleeping through the night, I’ll bring it over.”

“Does it make me a terrible mum for wishing we had that kind of service when the kids were newborns?” 

“We had that service. It’s called sending them to the grandparents.”

We both laugh, and when the laughter dies down, we’re silent for a few minutes. The thrum of my heartbeat jacks up as her hand continues to stroke my arm. 

“Harry?” Her voice is the barest whisper, like she’s checking to see if I’m asleep. 

“Hmm?”

“I… I’ve missed you. So much.”

And I’m done.

The need to kiss her, to touch her, has been pulling at me like a raging current ever since I saw her on the front step, and with those few words, I let the current take me. 

***

Numerous studies have shown that having sex extends the human life span. At this rate, Emma and I are going to live forever. We probably slept twenty minutes max throughout the night and I’ve lost count of the number of times we’ve done it. I’m pretty sure the last time we did something like that was ten years ago on our honeymoon. 

We’re sitting at the breakfast nook. Her hair mussy and she’s wearing one of my T-shirts. She looks freshly fucked, which I know to be true, and I reckon she’d be ready to crawl back into bed with me if I just crook my finger. But I don’t do that. Because this, us, sitting here in the morning sunlight, playing footsies under the table while we talk over coffee is all I’ve been dreaming about every morning.

“What are you thinking about?” She asks when she catches me looking.

“You,” I smile. “You look perfect.”

“No, no more,” she shakes her head frantically. “I won’t be able to walk.”

“You dirty lass, I was trying to be romantic and all that,” I can’t help but snort in laughter. “And you always do that… rebuff any type of compliment I try to give you.”

It’s true. If I tell her she looks beautiful, she waves a dismissive hand at me. If I compliment her mind, she blushes. Even an appreciative look from me has her turning shy like a schoolgirl.

When she doesn’t respond to me, I continue to poke at her. “Why is that? Why does it embarrass you when I tell you that you’re smokin’ hot?”

She wrinkles her nose at me. “Because it’s weird. I feel like you just have to say that.” 

She pretends to go through one of her old magazines from when she still lived here. I reach across the table and bat at it, causing one side to pull out of her hands and reveal her entire face to me. Now she’s glaring. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.”

And I grin when I see red stain her cheeks.

“And you’ve got the most gorgeous body. I take one look at you naked and I can’t help but get rock hard.”

“Stop it,” she blusters, now blushing all the way down her neck.

I change tactics, but I know this will embarrass her just as much. “You are the most amazing woman. Kindest, genuine and grounded. Funniest too. And you’re the best mother for our babies.”

“Okay,” she snaps at me as she closes the magazine and slams it down onto the table. “You’ve made your point.”

Chuckling, I stretch back in my chair and nudge her foot with mine under the table. “You’re adorable.”

She rolls her eyes, which I find to be beyond adorable. 

Standing up from my chair, I walk around the table and hold my hand out to her. She willingly takes it and stands when I give her a tug. It’s a natural move for her, to walk straight into my embrace and press herself against me. I tilt my head and kiss her on her jaw. “It’s something you need to get used to… compliments from me. It’s never going to stop.”

She moans softly in my ear.

“Want to know what else you’re going to have to get used to?” I whisper as I kiss my way down her neck.

Her fingers come up, tangle in my hair, and fist tightly. “What’s that?”

“My face between your legs.”

***

Some people might not put Quaglino’s into the romantic restaurant bracket, but they’d be wrong, very wrong. In actual fact, it’s quite hard to top. The interior has this 1930’s romance charm with candlelit tables, dark-panelled walls and an adjoining room for dancing to the soft tunes of the piano man singing bluesy versions of classic songs. 

Tonight, I managed to convince Emma to go out to dinner with me before she goes back to our babies. I insist on driving her since I don’t want her to drive alone at night again, which she initially refused but finally agreed.

We finish our dinner and split a slice of cheesecake for dessert. Probably not my brightest idea since I keep having to readjust myself because seeing her slowly swallow a mouthful of white, creamy concoction is a pure kind of torture. But I try to kick those dirty thoughts out of my mind and focus. 

Since last night, we’ve successfully managed to avoid the talk. It feels like we’re in a bubble where everything is perfect and we’re just scared to burst it, but I know this can’t go on. Emma and I need to have a proper chat if we want this to work.

“Penny for your thoughts.”

“You and I need to talk, don’t you think?” I begin. 

“You’re right,” she nods. “So…”

“What is this?” I gesture between us. “Are you ready to give us another shot?”

“I think so,” she nods. “But I want us to take it slow.”

“You set the pace,” I assure her. “I want this to work more than I want anything else in my life. So I’ll do whatever you want me to.”

“We’ll see this as a new dalliance,” she adds.

I know this is supposed to be serious so I try hard not to break into laughter. “Okay. I will court you but I won’t ask you to move to an estate in the country. Not right away at least.”

“I’m serious.”

“You sound like Austen.”

She rolls her eyes. “And we can’t tell anyone either.”

“I agree,” I tell her. “And from now on, we talk to each other, alright? I’ll try to make you happy the best way I know how. But if it’s not enough for you, then you need to tell me.”

She nods, but then her graze drops before she asks. “You really do want this right?”

“I told you I want this to work more than anything else in my life.”

“It’s just… when you first told me you wanted to fight for our marriage, I was overwhelmed because it was all so sudden. You told me everything I wanted to hear. Even at that moment, everything in me screamed for us to just fall back into it all the way. But there was also a part of me that thought you were just lonely, and maybe you thought that us getting back together was the answer to it.”

“Not true-”

Emma holds up her hand. “Maybe not true, but it’s my fear. That’s why I kissed Luke that night, because I was desperate. I wanted to push things with him because I knew I’d never love him the way I love you. I knew that if things went to pot, I wouldn’t be half as devastated. But with you? I don’t think I can survive that type of heartbreak again, H. You don’t know how much it killed me to end our marriage. I can’t afford to fall back into something that’s not going to last.”

“Emma,” I reach across the table to take her hand. “I can’t even imagine how hard it was for you. I know for sure it was not a decision you made lightly, nor on a whim. I wish I had fought you on it then… had fought for you then. There was a time when I thought our marriage was over, and I was going to let you go. But I’m not going to do that now. If it takes you weeks, months, hell, Emma… if it takes you years to fully trust my devotion to you, I’m in this for however long it takes.”

Emma nods, biting into her lower lip. I can see her eyes starting to water because every bit of this is overwhelming. She turns her head towards the music floating in from the other room. It’s a Van Morrison cover, Crazy Love.

“Wanna dance?”

The request takes me by surprise since this isn’t like her. But I toss my napkin on the table and move to stand next to her, holding out my hand. The simple delight on her face when her hand slides into mine is everything.

We step out onto the edge of the dance floor. I wrap my arm around her lower back, holding her tight and flush against me. One of her hands rests on my shoulder, playing with the hair at the nape of my neck. The other is clasped in mine just over my heart. We sway, eyes pinned at each other for a few moments.

“Thought you hate dancing?” I smirk.

“Still hate it,” she answers. “I’m just using it as an excuse to be closer to you.”

She sighs, practically sinks into my arms. Emma’s head fits against my chest like she was made to be there. My chin rests against her hair.

“Emma?”

She lifts her head from my chest. “Yeah?”

“You don’t need an excuse.”

She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love… 

***

“What the-”

“Oi!” I yell, quickly pulling the duvet over my wife and I. “Heard of knocking?”

“Heard of a bedroom lock?” Lucy challenges.

Last night, we drove up the M1 straight from the restaurant. We took breaks in deserted services with shiny floors and bad lighting where we had coffees and wandered around WHSmith bulk buying sweets even though it’s really not that far. But you can never have too many travel sweets, can you?

And now, here we are, back at the cottage. The kids are still at their grandparents until this afternoon so Emma and I are enjoying the benefit of having the house all to ourselves by having a morning shag. That is until one of her sisters walks in on us. I’m very aware that I’m still inside Emma.

I pull out, roll over to lay down next to my wife, and we both stare at Lucy who is dressed from head to toe like Princess Jasmine from Aladdin.

“Party?” Emma asks her sister. We both try not to giggle as she sashays in to look at herself in the mirror then perches on the bed in her harem pants. Today, she’s gone heavy on the winged eyeliner and shows off a flat midriff. I quite like the pointy silver shoes though.

“No, Tesco,” she says dryly. “Obviously a party.”

“What are you doing here?” I ask her. 

Lucy glares at me. “What are you doing here? Besides rearranging my sister’s guts, of course.”

I don’t even flinch. I’ve been married to Emma for ten years, I’m used to this sister of hers.

“I’m trying to win your sister back,” I say earnestly. I know that Emma and I talked about keeping this a secret, but she literally walked on us shagging. There’s no point in denying it. It’s best that she knows my true intention rather than thinking we’re divorced with benefits.

“Eh, about time,” she replies nonchalantly.

“Luce, please keep this to yourself for now,” Emma begs her. “This is still new.”

“I will,” she nods. “Just a friendly reminder, though, Styles. If you hurt my sister again, I won’t even think twice before starting a business selling voodoo dolls of you. Bet I could make a fortune of that.”

In their girl gang, Lucy is the wildcard, the likeliest to carry a shank. I don’t even laugh because she could be serious. 

“Duly noted.”

“What are you doing here this early?” Emma asks her sister.

“I wanted to ask if I can borrow that giant tiger in George’s room?”

“Feel free to borrow the rug in the front room as well,” I cackle.

“Ooh yeah,” Emma chirps. “Are you going to find a whole new world?”

“Have you got your Aladdin?”

She pulls a face at our mocking. “My mate who’s supposed to be Aladdin is sick so I asked Jamie to fill in and he agreed because he owed me a big favour. But this lot changed their mind and wanted a genie so now I have to go to Jamie’s and convince him to let me do a full blue body paint on him.”

Emma and I roar with laughter. “Please, please, please, take some piccies.” 

***

A month later…

I can only imagine the joy on my children’s faces when they open the door. I’ll be standing there with the pup in hand, but I know I’m practically vibrating with excitement myself. I glance over at the little dog crate that we’d prepared to transport him in. It’s a sweet, nine-week-old Bernese mountain dog. He’s pretty chill, curled into a round ball, but he’s not sleeping. His eyes are open and alert, as if he’s just waiting to find out what’s around the next corner.

The back of my Range Rover is loaded with two boxes of food, dog toys, bowls, a leash, and appropriate treats. Since I’m still crashing at my mum’s, that will go to her place for when the kids and this puppy come to stay. Emma has an identical list at her home, already purchased and hiding until we hand the puppy off to the kids.

I’ve got a feeling that today is going to be a good day. All morning, Emma and I texted back and forth. Some of it was practical, like making sure we agreed on all the dog rules we’d lay down with the kids tonight. Some of it was lighthearted teasing. Some of it was dirty.

I can’t remember the last time I texted my wife throughout the day just for the hell of it. I had fun with it, and I know without a doubt she had fun with it too. Which made me realise what a twat I’d been for never doing something as simple as letting her know she was on my mind in just such a way. 

Pulling into the drive, I cut my headlights so the kids wouldn’t see me approach. I shut the engine off, quietly get out of my side, and press the door closed quietly. On the other side, I open the passenger door, then spring the latch on the dog crate, and this tiny little puppy totters straight at me with tail wagging.

I lift him in my arms. I shut the door and then move over to the patch of grass. I put the puppy down so he will go potty before I bring him in. When I was a kid, we had a dog called Max, but I sort of grew up with him so I didn’t remember when he was a puppy. And Emma never had a dog before, so we’re sort of winging it with this puppy training thing. But I don’t fret about it. I mean, we’ve had babies, they’re harder than this, surely? 

I patiently wait for this little fella to do his business, which includes a few minutes where he attacks my shoelaces and tugs. Shite, he’s cute. 

Eventually, he sniffs around, tail high and then abruptly squats to pee. I thought boy dogs lift their legs when they pee but maybe not at this age. I immediately bend and give him praise with an upbeat, positive tone that makes him excited. Who’s daddy’s clever little fella? You are! Yes, you are! You did well, mate. That was brilliant! He puts his paws up on my shin, accepting my stretches with tail wagging and tongue lolling out the side of his head. My kids are going to fall in love with this little guy. 

I scoop him up in my arms when he’s done and make my way inside. But instead of entering from the front door, I circle the house so I can enter from the back, knowing they must be all in the kitchen as this is usually the time when the kids would do their homework for next week. Walking past the window, I see that I’m right. Emma is at the kitchen island with George next to her and Minnie on the opposite side. My heart starts beating faster at the thought of spending the day with my family—and apparently our new third child in my arms—and I find it almost shameful I have such excitement over it. Shouldn’t I have always been this excited? Or is it normal for things to just settle, and we take them for granted?

I shake that thought off of my mind. I had this important talk with my wife a couple of weeks ago about how we shouldn’t focus on the past. We’re both committed to repairing our marriage, and for it to work, we both know we must commit to living in the present. Because at the end of the day, the present is all we have.

I knock on the door and as planned, Emma will tell the kids to answer it.

In moments, it’s swinging open. I get a flash of Emma walking up behind our kids, but my eyes are pinned on them. They’re both in complete shock, eyes wide open staring at the puppy squirming in my arms.

Both stare at me mutely, frozen, as if they can’t believe that this is real.

Finally, I say, “surprise!”

Minnie’s gaze rises up to meet mine. “Is that ours?”

“This is ours,” I nod, laughing. But still, neither of them move forwards, so I goad them. “Come and get him?”

That’s all it takes for Minnie to scoop this little fella into her arms, pressing her nose into his head and murmuring little endearments. George scratches him and he reacts to their greetings by wiggling frantically and trying to lick both of my kids’ faces. They both laugh in a delighted way I’ve never quite heard before.

I look at my wife and see her tender smile as she watches our littles. I can tell she’s as charmed by it as I am. 

I walk inside because it’s colder than a witch’s tit outside and shut the door. “He just peed outside, but we need to keep a close eye on him. If he starts sniffing around or circling, that probably means he needs a wee. Scoop him up and take him out to the back. After he’s done with his thing, give him lots of praise and affirmation.”

“Got it,” Minnie says as she plops down on the living room floor with the pup. The puppy jumps around, and all three of them start to play.

“Now, what should we name him?” Emma asks.

“Droolius Caesar?” I joke.

Emma laughs. “Jimmy Chew?”

“Sarah Jessica Barker?” I continue. “Wait, no, it’s a boy. Franz Fur-dinand?”

“Sir Barks-a-Lot?”

“Deputy Dawg?”

“Bark Twain?”

We both laugh. We’re shite at this. The kids are too busy with the puppy to comment on our suggestions.

SpongeBob SquarePants is on the telly playing in the background. None of them are watching, but I see SpongeBob scratching his snail pet under the chin before he picks up said pet and says, “I love you Gary. Gary, Gary, Gary, Gary…”

“Gary,” I say. The kids look at me and I point at the telly.

“That’s a ridiculous name for a dog,” Emma cackles. “But I like it.”

“That’s a human name?” Minnie’s brows knit slightly.

“I like it!” George exclaims, then proceeds to baby talk the pup who’s chewing on the end of Minnie’s braid. “I love you Gary. Gary, Gary, Gary, Gary…”

We laugh.

“H,” Emma calls, and my gaze moves to her. She jerks her chin to the kitchen. “Help me set up the table? I’ve got a cold beer for you.”

Minnie and George still completely ignore us as we move into the kitchen. 

It would be natural for me to sit at the kitchen island while Emma gets the beer and checks on the supper, but the kids can see me from where they sit in the living room. So I follow my wife behind the island instead.

Before she can make it two steps, I move right into the back of her. Hands at her hips, I push her all the way forward until the counter catches her hips, then I dip to put my lips to her neck. 

Emma’s head falls back and she utters the tiniest of sighs, one arm looping back to go around the side of my head so she can thread her fingers in my hair. It’s an intimate embrace, but not one to provoke lust. Just a message that I missed her even though I saw her two days ago, and I love touching her in this gentle, loving way.

“The kids,” she murmurs. “They might see us.”

“Oh, the tragedy,” I whisper dryly. “Our children seeing  their parents hugging.”

Emma snickers and pulls away, glancing over her shoulder. “It would be shocking to them. And until we know for sure what we are and where we’re going, we need to keep them in the dark, remember? I don’t want them to get their hopes up.”

“You’re right,” I mumble in a low voice before moving to the island. I glance back at the living room and see the puppy on George’s back, trying to climb up. “No touching around the kids.”

She smiles and hands me a beer. She’s got one in her hand, and we tap bottles. She then moves to the oven, where she bends to take a peek through the window. Obviously, I stare at her arse as she does.

“It’s done,” she announces, opening the oven to pull the pan of shepherd’s pie.

“Need help with that?’ I ask, noting it looks like it probably weighs fifty pounds.

Twisting, she grins. “Sure. I made a double batch to send you home with some leftovers.”

That gets me. Not only she made one of my favourite meals, but she’s also sending me home with leftovers. I pop off the stool, round the island and take the two potholders she’s holding out to me.

After I carefully lift the pan from the oven, she shuts the oven door. I set it down on the two trivets she’s placed on the counter.

Bending over, I inhale the scent deeply. “Smells fantastic.”

Emma bumps her hip against me. “Well… you’ve been pretty amazing these last few weeks, so…”

I bump her hip back before sliding my hand around her waist. Bending my head, I murmur. “Admit it… it’s for the orgasms I gave you after the school run the other day.”

She chuckles with a sly smile. “Possibly.”

Leaning in closer, I touch my temple on the top of her head, lowering to a complete whisper. “You do know that I can give you that any day you want, right, Em? All you’ve got to do is ask.”

“Oh, I will,” she teases.

“What’s going on here?” Minnie says from behind us.

Emma and I jump apart as if we’d been electrocuted by each other. We spin to see Minnie standing there, with George next to her holding Gary in his arms. These two must have worn that pup out as he is still, watching us curiously.

Minnie’s expression, on the other hand, is condemning and suspicious.

“Nothing’s going on, poppet,” Emma says, her voice a little squeaky in panic. It’s adorable.

“Your mum and I were just talking,” I calmly explain.

“With your arm around her waist and whispering,” Minnie challenges. “Looks more like flirting to me.”

“Are you upset about it?” I challenge back. I knew she was upset when we separated and she struggled with it for a long time. 

Her brows knit together. “I’m just confused.”

Emma’s expression indicates she has no clue what to say. I can’t say I’m any more well equipped, but I’m going to take this one. I give my wife a subtle chin tilt, silently telling her I’ll handle this and relief evident in her eyes.

“Come on, you lot. Help me sort Gary’s stuff,” I say, herding them towards the garage. 

All three of them follow me into the garage, Gary still cosy in George’s arms. 

I immediately spot the stack of supplies, which includes a dog crate similar to mine, as well as bowls, a soft dog bed, food and toys. I pick up the soft bed towards the door that leads back into the house. Minnie turns to precede me, but I stop her. “Hang on there a second, poppet.”

When she pivots to face me her expression is guarded. “You asked about your mum and me. What do you want to know?”

“Were you two flirting with each other just now?” She demands. Crap. She’s nine. She’s not supposed to know that stuff. 

I can’t believe I get a little warm in the face at such a question, but I nod. I know it’s probably too soon to tell them but there’s no point in denying this. Both of my children are smart, and they deserve to know what’s going on. 

Her eyes narrow. “So are you… what… getting back together?”

“Does it mean you’re gonna live with us again, daddy?” George chirps.

“Not yet, nuggets. It’s not that simple.”

“It kind of is,” she replies. “You left for months. You didn’t even come during the summer. Then once she started dating Luke-”

“What’s dating?” George turns to his sister.

“It’s when you like someone and they like you back and you become boyfriend and girlfriend then you go out to eat together and do other stuff,” Minnie explains, then she continues. “Then once she started dating Luke, you’re suddenly coming around more often. And then she told me that Luke wouldn’t come over anymore and now you two are making googly eyes at each other.”

We lapse into silence for a moment. I need to think carefully about what to say next. George beats me. “I think I’m dating someone.”

“You what?” My eyes widen.

“Yeah. I asked Poppy in the playground to be my girlfriend the other day and she said yes. Then after we were done playing on the slides we got hungry so she shared her raisins with me. I also let her take a sip of my Ribena.”

I try hard not to break into laughter but Minnie doesn’t even crack a smile. 

“Okay… so here’s the thing. I was very upset. I know that was wrong of me to just leave without saying goodbye, and it was wrong of me for not visiting sooner. I needed time to let it go, and to accept what your mum wanted. But not once during that time did I not want to come back home. I’ve always wanted my family back.”

“Then what changed?” Minnie asks.

“Your mum and I spent some time apart because we both thought that was the best decision. But we were wrong. Because we realised that we didn’t want to be without each other. So now I’m trying to prove that I’ve changed. That I’m a better man, and I’m ready to be a better husband. The one your mum deserves.”

“See,” Minnie murmurs, her expression filled with confusion. George dips his head and rubs his cheek against Gary’s head, who seems to be on the verge of falling asleep. “I don’t get it. You and mum always seemed to get along great. You never argued. I never understood why you left.”

I move in close to my daughter and brush a lock of hair behind her ear. “A lot of that stuff is private between your mum and I, poppet.”

George asks. “But why can’t you just move in now, daddy?”

“It takes time, mate. Your mum and I need more time to sort ourselves out. But I promise you two that we’re trying our hardest here, okay? We need you both to be patient. Can you do that for us?”

They both nod in unison. Gary blinks twice.

“I can’t wait for us to be family again,” says Minnie.

Grinning, I bend to kiss her head. “Me too, poppet…”

***

Emma

“Gary! This way, Gary!”

Harry and I look at each other across this rather windy hilltop. The kids and Gary are exploring the neighbouring bushes and pathways as we perch ourselves on a rock nearby. We take in the view, the breeze biting at my cheeks.

My husband turns to me. “Tea? I put some whisky in it.”

“Hell, why not.”

Harry pours the tea out and we clink mugs. He brushes his thumb across my nose for no absolute reason. I was born and raised here, but this is something I’ll never tire of: these swooping hills and valleys, infinite skies and bracing breezes. As much as I loved London, I’m glad we’ve traded that life with this simpler one. There is no taxi nor Tube in sight but our kids are somehow a little bouncier and carefree. They’re happy here, and that’s all that matters. 

 “Ey up,” greets Harry at a group of people walking past us. They are obviously tourists as they have no way to respond and one of them is wearing bog standard Reebok Classics.

We hear the kids squeal in the distance and we both smile at each other. Getting that pup was probably one of our best decisions.  

“Do you remember when we first dated?” Asks my husband. “You brought me up here.”

I nod. “I do.”

“The view was decent,” he grins. 

“I know you’re not thinking about the view.”

“I was thinking about what happened when we got to the top of the meadow…”

“That was some decent shag,” I chuckle. “Nowadays, I’d worry about getting ticks on my unmentionables.”

We laugh.

I stare over at my husband taking in the view and sipping tea noisily. He always pauses for a moment on any walk to drink it all in. He rustles in his bag and gets a packet of biscuit out, opening the packaging awkwardly and offering it to me. 

“Did you know that you’re supposed to call it ‘niece’ and not ‘nice’? Apparently, they’re named after the French town.”

“That’s proper pub quiz trivia knowledge right there, Styles,” I tease.

We stay up here for a little while, but since it’ll get dark soon, we start our walk back to the car. The one thing you forget about taking kids up mountains (small hills) is that for all that experience of green space and fresh air, eventually, you will have to bring them down. Despite having an entire packet of biscuit (with a whole lot of why did you bring this one? This is rubbish. You could’ve brought hobnobs), we failed to remember to pack enough snacks and a fine drizzle is now scratching at our faces. It takes George much persuading to keep walking and by the time we return to the car, the sun is dipping behind the clouds and the twilight sits in the air. 

Harry decided it was fine to park in a deserted car park in the middle of nowhere to escape the throngs of regular walkers and tourists but strangely enough, when we get back there, we are one of six parked up.

“Come on, mate. Literally, just to the car. Like twenty more steps,” Harry begs our son to keep on walking. 

“You lied!” He complains. “You said that twenty steps ago.”

“I’ve got Haribo in the car.”

He progresses to a light canter. 

“Where did all these cars come from?” Harry asks as he approaches our motor cautiously.

“Maybe you’re not the only smart one here and people are following your lead.”

A car flashes us. 

I look around at all the cars. People are sat in them. What are they waiting for? You see this sometimes when waiting for the rain to pass or when people decide to eat their lunch in the car. 

Suddenly, I hear a car door open and a gentleman approaches us. His footsteps are low.

I know him. It’s Patrick. He’s our postman, so, yes, we have our very own Postman Pat. It was the first thing that tickled Harry when he found out years ago. And even better, the joke is not lost on Pat. His wife even got him a stuffed black and white cat for his cherry-red van window. I smile at recognising him, as do all of the occupants in our car.

“Emma, Harry, kids. Fancy seeing you here, of all places.”

“We’ve got a new dog and we were just taking him for a walk,” I inform him.

“Oh, lovely. What’s his name?”

“Gary,” the kids say in unison.

“Have you got a dog, Pat?” George asks him.

“No, my wife’s a cat lady. But funny you should mention dogs. This place here, people like to come here for that reason.”

“Gary seemed to like it,” pipes in Harry. “I think it’ll be his favourite.”

“That it is. People come here all the time for walking and with their dogs and other such endeavours.” His face looks slightly ashen at this point, his eyes darting towards the other cars. “And the other sense of the word… I just thought I would mention it as you have the littl’uns and it’s getting darker. I think someone just flashed his lights to warn you.”

Harry and I realise what he means exactly at the same time. “OH!” we say at the same gobsmacked volume. 

“Dogg…ing…” Harry mumbles. “We should-”

“Leave, like definitely leave, like now,” I say finishing his sentence.

The kids appear confused. I look around and shield my eyes. I should shield the children’s eyes. Pat’s wife waves from the passenger seat.

“Give our regards to June,” I say.

“Will do.”

He salutes us and returns to his car. The kids have all the questions. “People come here to look at dogs?” George asks. “Where are the dogs?”

“Get. In. The. Car.” Harry mouths very deliberately.

I slink into the passenger seat. Our eyes dart in different directions trying to divert focus from any of the cars ahead. We’ll be good if Harry doesn’t drive us off a cliff face. He turns on the wipers, the engine roars to a start and he pulls away slowly.

“We could have stayed and seen the dogs,” says George, a little despondently. “Gary would’ve loved to see his mates. Wouldn’t you, Gary?”

I throw a packet of Haribo at him. Harry and I are silent. We’ve just strolled our children and our very young dog into an outdoor sex hotspot. We are terrible parents. 

“Who fancies chips?” Harry says as he changes gear. He finds our littles in the rear-view mirror and studies their faces. “There’s a decent chippy down road.”

There’s a chorus of approval from the back seat. My husband smiles. He then moves his hand over from the gearstick to find mine, fingers interlocked, the sky glowing a thousand different colours.

***

“Are you calling my turkey dry?”

I look over at my older sister Suze in the corner of our family kitchen wondering where on earth she had the courage to come out with a comment like that. Even her husband stops washing up to absorb what his wife just said to our mother. I mean, you think it, but you just douse it in gravy and make do. Such is the joy of white chalky meat like turkey. Why do this now? Now she’ll harp on about the bacon she puts on the breasts and all the goose fat. But it’s Suze. She likes the challenge. I secretly think the only way she believes she can have a relationship with our mother is to spar with her regularly so they at least have one line of communication.

“It was a lovely dinner, Mum. Did you make the mince pies?” Suze winks at me.

I shake my head at her and bring the plate of mince pies through to the living room. Amidst my mother’s wreaths and tinsel wrapped around the lampshades, it’s a familiar tableau: Pop, my grandfather, asleep in the armchair in the corner, a holy green paper hat covering his eyes. Small children crawl on the floor and make angel shapes with their bodies amidst remnants of old glittery wrapping paper.  I hope Mum’s made a trifle. My other sister Meg and her husband snooze on a neighbouring sofa, catching on much needed sleep since they just had a baby four months ago and I still remember four months sleep regression is hell. I like this part of Christmas where bits of old crackers litter the floor and twilight takes over.

I take a mince pie and escape to the last vacant spot on the sofa. George rests his head on my knees. “What are you eating, mummy?” I look down at his bright green eyes and wonder how he can still be hungry as he must be ninety per cent roast potato at this point.

“A mince pie.”

“With cow mince?”

“No, like fruity bits,” I pick out said fruity bits and drop them into his mouth like a baby bird. He pulls a face, tasting it, and then walks away.

Harry smiles at me from the bottom of the Christmas tree. He’s laying down on the floor with one of my nieces. He’s always been great with kids, long even before we have our own. My niece has her palm out, and Harry runs circles in it as he sings, “round and round the garden, like a teddy bear…”

She smiles and laughs, poising her fingers, ready to bounce. 

“One step, two-step, tickle me under there,” he pretends to collapse into giggles and my niece’s little face broadens into laughter before she rolls over and walks away to play with her cousins.

Finishing my last bite of the tiny pie, I roll under the tree to join my husband. He looks at me as I cosy up next to him, the lights reflect off his eyes.

My mother likes a real tree for Christmas. It’s the smell, you can’t beat the smell. I like to think you can get that real pine smell from a good supermarket brand toilet cleaner but I don’t say that out loud for fear of incurring her festive wrath. And so there’s always a real tree and like we endured when my siblings and I were teens, there’s still a daily rota of vacuuming up the needles as we watch that bastard go crusty and brown as it’s shoved up against the radiator. 

We lay there in silence, looking up at the branches and my mother’s multicoloured lights twinkling in some erratic fashion that my eyes can’t quite handle. I’ve been to raves that were less of an assault on the senses. It’s an overwhelming memory of our childhood, lying in silence wigging out on mum’s trippy disco lights, absorbing the magic of the season. 

“You’re drunk aren’t you, tipsy-tits?”

“You were the one who poured double shots of Baileys in our coffees this morning,” I cackle.

“That’s called Christmas milk.” 

“What are you doing here?” Minnie asks, her head nestling into my shoulder. I rake pine needles from her head.

“Nothing…” Harry replies. “Where’s yer brother?”

“Here,” George suddenly appears, rolling under the tree next to his dad to join us.

“Looks like the awesome foursome is back, huh?” Harry grins.

Minnie and George hum in agreement. I can see my babies smiling. 

It’s time.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?” 

I take a deep breath. “Will you come back home with us?”

-

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[talatomaz]

defenceless | jj x fem!teen!reader

a/n: i’ve been rewatching criminal minds and i can’t believe it’s been a year since i last wrote for jj. and i have no idea where this came from.

(feedback/positive comments are appreciated)

warnings: major references to blood/being stabbed. mentions of assault

word count: 2.7k

masterlist | request list | request rules

r is jj’s 19 year old adopted daughter and gets victimised after stopping an unsub from assaulting someone

i do not give you permission to repost or translate my fics on any platform - likes/reblogs are okay and are much appreciated

“Morning, baby.”

You smiled when your Mum came up behind you and softly kissed your head.

“Morning, Mum. I made you some breakfast.”

You said, pouring coffee into the seasoned profiler’s ‘No.1 Mom’ mug that you’d gotten for her several years ago.

You’d gifted it to her on the first Mother’s Day you had with her after she adopted you. And she used it that morning and every morning since.

“God, what’d I do to deserve a daughter like you?”

JJ said proudly as she dug into her breakfast, happily munching on a piece of toast as she looked through her case file. Whatever dark, horrific crime she and her team were investigating simplified down to a few pages in that brown file.

“Busy day?” You asked, leaning against the kitchen counter, staring across at her.

“You have no idea. I’ve been up for a few hours trying to compile some notes on this case we’re working. Young, relatively low-risk, women are being raped in alleyways and there are no witnesses.”

She explained as she continued to eat whilst scribbling shorthand notes on a notepad.

“Any ideas on who you’re looking for yet?”

She hummed in answer. Swallowing her food, she replied, “Yeah, I think we have a preliminary profile that we want to release to the public later today.”

Pouring the rest of her coffee into a travel cup, she put her files in her bag and placed it on the counter you were resting against.

“You got class today?”

You were studying criminology, wanting to follow in your mother’s footsteps and become a profiler.

Nodding, you answered, “Yeah, then some of my friends and I are gonna head to the mall. And yes, I’ll message you constantly, so you know.”

You added when your mother opened her mouth to presumably ask that very question.

“Thanks, sweetie. Whoever our unsub is, he’s targeting women your age and considering he’s probably here right now, I need to know you’re safe.”

“I know, Mum. Now go, you don’t want to be late for work. Hotch only lets you be late once, you know.” You smirked.

“Yes, I know. Bye, y/n. I love you.” Your mother mirrored your expression and kissed your cheek.

“I love you too.” You replied, handing your Mum her keys and you watched her leave as the white door closed gently behind her.

***

“Maybe just call him out on it and see what he says?”

You suggested to your friend, Kerri, after she explained her boyfriend troubles to you and your other friend, Ally.

“I mean, the worst that could happen is-”

You stopped mid-sentence when you heard a muffled scream. Furrowing your brows, you walked closer to where the sound came from; an alleyway behind an old warehouse.

Remembering your mother’s earlier profile, you whispered to your friends, “Stay behind me.”

“Y/N, what is it?”

“Not sure.”

Inching around the corner, you saw two figures behind a dumpster. The smaller figure, who appeared to be a blonde female, was struggling against the male standing over her.

“Hey! Get away from her!”

Shouting, you ran up to the two and watched as the man’s head whipped around to face you before he darted off, jumping over a fence.

Approaching the woman, you saw she was half naked and had blood seeping from her nose.

“Oh god. Call 911, she’s been assaulted.” You said quickly to your friends who stood behind you, shocked at what they had just witnessed.

Hearing Kerri following your instructions, you took off the jacket you were wearing and wrapped it around the exposed girl.

“H-He tried to r-r-”

Unable to form the words, the girl started to sob at her ordeal.

“I know. It’s okay, honey. What’s your name?” You asked, speaking quietly to try to calm her as if she was a spooked animal.

“A-Annie.” She choked out as she tugged your jacket closer around her.

“Annie, you’re safe now. He can’t hurt you.”

The former began to sob harder and fell against your chest. Wrapping one arm around her, you used the other to take out your phone to call your Mum.

“Shh, it’s okay, Annie. You’re okay.” You said, soothing the distraught girl who was currently crying her heart out against you.

“Hey, y/n, what’s up?”

After quickly explaining what had just transpired, JJ told you and your friends to remain where you were since you were all witnesses and that she’d be there soon.

“You did good, babygirl.”

Morgan said, handing you a cup of coffee.

You were currently sitting at your mother’s desk at the BAU, having already given your statement to both local police and your Mum’s team at the crime scene. Emily and Spencer had driven your friends home whilst you came with your Mum to her work - she refused to leave you alone, even though you’d argued that it was still daylight and you’d be fine.

You didn’t reply, deciding to sip the hot drink, wincing when it burned your tongue.

“He’s right, y/n. Most people probably wouldn’t have heard anything.”

You glanced up at your Mum who stood above you, her hand resting on your shoulder.

“What will happen now? To the unsub, I mean. I interrupted him so he never managed to rape Annie.”

“He’ll probably try to hurt someone else.”

You turned to face Hotch as he approached you and the rest of his team.

“I just got off the phone with the hospital. They’ve discharged Annie into the care of her parents. She wanted me to tell you ‘thank you’.”

“I’m glad she’s okay. Physically anyways. So, you think he’ll get sloppy? Since he never got to...finish, he’s probably going to be antsy right? He might make a mistake?” You asked, hopeful that your Mum would catch him soon.

“More than likely. He’s definitely going to be angry, especially since we’ve just released the profile along with the sketch you helped us with, y/n.” Hotch answered, a gleam of pride in his eyes.

“Anything I could do to help,” you replied.

Standing up, you faced your Mum, “I think I’m going to go home. I’m kind of exhausted.”

“I’ll drive you h-”

“It’s okay,” you interrupted your Mum, “you’re busy here and you’ve got a lot of work to do. Besides, it’s only mid-afternoon so I’ll be fine. I-I just need some air.” You said, your voice faltering when you felt tears forming.

Clearing your throat, you held back your emotions and kissed your Mum on her cheek, “I’ll message you when I get home.”

“Okay, baby. I’m proud of you.”

The tall blonde hugged you close to her which you returned with as much ferocity, her hands stroking your hair as she cradled your head against her.

Bidding your goodbyes to the rest of the team, you left the federal building.

“JJ, you okay?” Morgan asked.

JJ had heard the emotion in your voice and though she was proud to have seen you comforting the most recent victim, it had hurt her heart to see what came after the ambulance drove away with an injured Annie in the back.

Once you’d given your statement and described the unsub to her and her team, she’d followed you to her old vacant office from her media liason days where you’d broken down.

She had watched you hold yourself together by a thread all throughout the questioning but had known that the adrenaline high would crash soon. And you quite literally did crash. In her arms, the moment she had closed the door behind her.

She had fought back her own tears as she gathered you into her arms, soothing you as you did earlier with Annie.

She’d tried as hard as she could to keep you away from her world.

She didn’t want you to be exposed to any more darkness than you’d already experienced when you were younger, before you’d met her.

“JJ?”

The blonde blinked, breaking away from her thoughts to stare back at the rest of the team.

“She did good, JJ.” Morgan repeated as JJ simply nodded, not knowing what to say.

***

Taking out your phone, you sent a message to your group chat with Kerri and Ally, wanting to make sure they were okay.

After receiving replies from the both of them confirming that they were fine and just a bit shaken up, you placed your phone back in your pocket.

Sighing, you continued walking down the relatively empty street; the majority of people either at work or school, unaware of what had happened just a few hours earlier.

You thought about Annie and later crying in your Mum’s arms. You didn’t even know why you did. Spencer probably would have given you some fact about adrenaline crashes but you shook your head, feeling self-conscious.

There was no need for you to break down like that.

All it achieved was your Mum being worried about you which was the last thing you wanted because it meant she’d be distracted from doing her job. Catching this asshole.

Hands in your pockets, you felt the bright sun shine down on your face.

Stopping for a brief moment, you glanced up at the sky, and allowed yourself to breathe.

As you were about to carry on walking, you felt a harsh grip on your arm pull you into an abandoned parking lot.

You thrashed against the strong hold, the self-defence skills your Mum taught you kicking in.

Stomping on the large figure’s foot, you smirked at the grunt of pain that fell from his lips. Then you elbowed them in their stomach and threw your head back into theirs. Hearing more shouts of pain, you started to run before you were roughly pushed against a brick wall.

Your breaths came out in heavy pants and your eyes widened as you stared into familiar eyes.

It was the unsub.

He held himself tight against you, pulling a switchblade from his pocket and into your view. Your eyes flickered from the sharp blade to his eyes. They were filled with fury as blood dripped from his nose - from when you’d head butted him.

“Good. So you recognise me.” His voice was hoarse, as if he’d swallowed a bunch of nails.

“What do you want?” You spat out, refusing to show any indication of fear to him.

“You ruined the other girl for me. But you seem like a challenge. I like that.”

Pressing the knife against your neck, he used his free hand to undo his belt.

You barely controlled the terror that threatened to rise through your body. Instead, you tried to focus on the pressure of his weapon, waiting for a slight reprieve where you could make your move to escape.

That moment came when he unzipped his trousers.

The pressure lightened for a few seconds which was all you needed.

Grabbing his wrist, you twisted the knife away from you and kneed him in the groin. Pushing him away, you stumbled, trying to escape.

But he was quick on his feet.

He swiftly picked up the knife that had fallen to the floor and thrust it into your stomach.

You groaned, the pain unlike anything you had ever experienced before. Your hand instinctively went to your stomach as blood started to coat your clothing.

You slumped down the wall as the unsub crouched down, sneering at you, “Bitch.”

Tapping the ground behind you, you felt a piece of broken glass in your fingers. Gripping it tightly, you gathered all your strength and plunged it into his neck.

He yelled out, his hand going to the glass that was still in his flesh.

Recognising what he was about to do, you clambered to your feet and watched as he pulled the shard, of what appeared to be from a broken beer bottle, out of his skin. Blood splatted all over the wall that you had been against, just moments before.

Blood continued to seep out from your wound.

You took off your jacket - the one you had previously wrapped around Annie - and pressed it against your skin. You groaned at the white hot pain that seared through your skin.

Knowing you were only down the street from the Quantico building, you took out your phone and called your Mum as you walked, as well as you could in your condition, back to the federal building.

“You home already?”

“M-Mum, c-come outside. I-I need you.” You choked out, trying to steady your breathing.

“Y/N? Are you okay?”

You could hear her shouting to the rest of her team before she continued to talk into the phone.

You made it to the entrance of the federal building but you were too overcome with exhaustion and you felt yourself drop to the floor.

You could hear shouts from the people around you as they watched blood pool around you.

“Oh my god. Y/N!”

You heard your Mum yell as she fell to your side, pressing her hands heavily against your wound.

You barely heard as Hotch called 911, stating his name and rank and urged for an ambulance to be sent immediately.

You struggled to keep your eyes open as you looked up at your Mum.

“Come on, baby. Stay awake for me.” JJ begged, tears carelessly running down her face.

“It hurts, Mum.”

“I know, baby. I know. But you’re strong. Stay with me. How’d this happen?”

JJ knew the only way to keep you awake was to continue talking so your brain could still remain active.

“H-He’s dead. He attacked me. I-In a car park. Down there.”

You weakly raised your hand and pointed towards the direction you had come from.

“Good girl. Just stay with me. You’re going to be okay. Y/N? Y/N!”

JJ screamed when she watched your eyes flutter closed as you lost consciousness.

***

“Woah, y/n. It’s just me.”

JJ said quickly when you jumped as she came up behind you to kiss your head.

It had been a few weeks since you’d been stabbed.

You’d woken up in a hospital, hooked up to all sorts of machines monitoring your heart rate. Your eyes had fallen on your mother who, once she saw you were awake, started to cry and hug you close to her. That then made you start crying and the two of you were just a pile of tears as you clung to each other.

After the tears had stopped and the doctors had checked up on you, JJ had told you that they’d found the unsub in a parking lot a few blocks from the BAU.

A couple of days after, you’d been discharged from the hospital. Your mother had stayed by your side up until this week when you had urged her to go back to work.

That had led you to now. She’d just arrived home from work and you hated that you were still on edge after your attack, despite your Mum telling you it was normal.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, honey.” JJ said softly as she came to sit beside you on the sofa.

You both sat in silence for a few moments before you spoke, your voice coming out in a whisper.

“I’m scared, Mum.”

You felt her eyes on you as she spoke, “Scared? He’s dead, y/n. He can’t hurt you.”

“I know, I just-In that moment when I fought him, I was so defenceless. And I’m scared of what will happen the next time I can’t defend myself.”

You continued, tears welling in your eyes as you stared ahead, unable to face your mother.

“Y/N,” JJ gently turned your face so she could look into your eyes.

“Am I defenceless?”

You blinked, having not expected that question. “What? No.”

“Exactly. I’m not. But I felt like it after I was kidnapped and tortured a few years ago. It’s normal to feel like that, y/n. But it’ll pass. I can promise you that.”

“It’s like I can feel him stabbing me over and over again.” You choked out, failing to force your tears back down.

“Oh, baby.”

JJ gently pulled you to her as she wrapped her arms around your body. She cradled your head against her chest as you clung to her arms, now sobbing.

“I got you, y/n. You’re safe. I got you.” She repeated, soothing you as you continued to cry.

Still hugging you against her, she kissed your head,

“As long as you have me, you’ll never be defenceless.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #jennifer jareau #jennifer jareau x reader #jj x reader #jennifer jareau imagine #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #derek morgan #derek morgan x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #penelope garcia #penelope garcia x reader #david rossi #david rossi x reader #jemily #aj cook #paget brewster #cm #cm x reader #criminal minds imagine #c: jennifer jareau #c: defenceless #s: mine #c: jj x d!r

[scullymurphy]

Falling Dark Ch. 15 is Up!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31444262/chapters/88143073

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13886657/15/Falling-Dark

“No, it’s still crooked.” Hermione eyed the mostly conical evergreen that was listing in the corner of the great room at Grimmauld Place.

“Bloody. Hell.” Harry’s extremely exasperated tones emanated from somewhere under the tree’s abundant lower half.

“Just a little to the left and then kind of back a bit?” Hermione went over and grasped the tree’s spindly top. “You’ve almost got it.”

“Your status as my oldest and best friend is in serious jeopardy right now.” Harry grunted as he struggled with the base of the tree and then finally clipped something metal into place.

“Ooh, do I beat out Ron??” Hermione beamed down as Harry scooted out and peered up at her.

“No,” he said. “You’re co-best friends now. He abandoned me on the Horcrux hunt, but you made me faff with this tree.”

Hermione laughed and put out a hand to help him up. The tree was still squint, but she knew when to pick her battles. “Thank you very much,” she said, stepping back and floating a string of magical twinkle lights around the tree’s rather odd shape. It had been practically the last one on the muggle lot she’d drug Harry to earlier this afternoon. At least they’d got it at a deep discount.

“You have to admit it looks a little more festive in here now,” she said, opening a box of Christmas ornaments she’d found in her parents’ things. I can’t believe you didn’t have any decorations up!”

“We’ve just been too knackered.” Harry ran a hand through his messy hair. “They give you the most shite busywork after training. All the late night stake-outs and endless paperwork jobs.” He rubbed his forehead. “Feels neverending. All Ron and I want to do when we get home is eat and sleep. Annika too. She made noises about a tree a few times, but she’s always shattered when she comes home from the restaurant. And we figured Molly’d do it up tomorrow.”

As he was speaking Harry had flopped onto the couch to watch Hermione spell ornaments onto the tree’s branches.

“Do you think Molly will do all the usual stuff?” Hermione asked, twisting to look at him.

Harry’s eyes closed. “Good point,” he said. “I don’t know.” His shoulders slumped.

“Do you think we should have gone tonight?” he asked, bringing up a question they’d been debating since he’d met Hermione at Platform 9 ¾ on Monday. They didn’t usually attend the Weasleys’ Christmas Eve celebrations, but Ron had invited them both this year.

“I still think it’s better that we left it for family-only.” Hermione said. “We’ll all be there tomorrow anyway.”

“Yeah.” Harry nodded distractedly. “Yeah.”

Hermione fought down the wave of sadness this conversation brought, noting that digging through her old family Christmas ornaments probably wasn’t helping. She’d spoken to her mum the day before last and planned to call again tomorrow, but a couple of phone calls felt very meager when measured against years of family holidays. She sighed.

“You want a beer or something?” Harry asked. “I feel like we need some help with our holiday cheer.”

“Agreed and yes.” Hermione nodded as Harry stood up. “And I’m taking that as permission to put on some muggle Christmas carols!” she called to his back.

A faint “Bah humbug,” floated down the hall and Hermione smiled.

#dramione #dramione fanfiction #dhr #dhr fanfiction #draco x hermione #falling dark #harry and hermione #i love them #stay tuned for a surprise later today too!

[delarverie]

[ID: "What was a meal you loved as a kid but now that you're an adult you realize your parents only made because you were poor?

Jo Eberhardt, a writer, woman and parent, writes down:

"The biggest dinner treat when I was a child was Happy Toast.

Happy Toast is pretty simple. See, it's a piece of toast. With a happy face drawn on it in tomato sauce.

Once or twice every couple of weeks, my brother and I would get Happy Toast for dinner. Those nights were the best. We didn't have to use cutlery! We could eat with our fingers! Mum would let us choose whether our Happy Toast had straight or curly hair! And, even better, my brother and I got to sit at the table and have dinner by ourselves. Dad would still be at work, and Mum would supervise from the kitchen.

Happy Toast nights were amazing.

It was only recently that I really understood that Happy Toast wasn't really a treat - it just had good PR.

A few years ago, I was struggling financially, and had spent the last $10 of my money on a few grocery items just to get through to payday. Three days later - and the night before my pay would arrive in my bank account - I had absolutely nothing to feed my children for dinner. The fridge and pantry were bare, apart from a few pieces of stale bread, and the usual condiments.

"I'm hungry..." My then-four year old complained. I fought back the burning tears behind my eyes. And that's when it hit me. "Let's have Happy Toast!" I exclaimed, plastering a smile across my face.

That night, after my children were sleeping happily, I thought back to those Happy Toast nights as a child. From the perspective of an adult, their frequency made sense - my parents were paid fortnightly; Happy Toast nights were probably the night before payday. And Dad was in the military - he could eat dinner at work for free (or close to it), which is why those were the only nights he wasn't home for dinner. And Mum? She made the exact same choice I did.

With great laughter and fun, we drew tomato sauce faces on pieces of toast, and my children gobbled them up with the same reckless enjoyment I remember having on Happy Toast nights as a child. Me? Oh, I didn't eat any. I supervised from the kitchen. There wasn't enough bread for me to have dinner and for them to have full tummies.

Now, we ate "poor" food all the time. Our standard dinner was a small portion of the cheapest meat, lots of mashed potatoes, and a serve of over-boiled frozen vegetables. But Happy Toast was a treat from that mundanity - and the real testament to both my mother's parenting, and our financial state".]

#SO HERE IT IS! i added a link to the original post in case you want to read some of the stories the people shared ❤ #i can't explain why but the memes made me uncomfortable so i decided to take the story only :] thank you fari for the advice! :D ❤ #also i'm sorry for the transcription it's my first time doing this >.< please let me know if i have to fix something #i'm sure my family and i did the same at some point. and we still do when things get a little harder than usual #it's experiences like this one that remind us that we're not alone. we never are and isn't that crazy #i don't think crazy is the word i'm looking for but what i want to say is that our ways of living are similar. #our ways of dealing with pain and hunger and trouble tends to be the same; to care for one another #AND MAN. man. #that makes me kind of insane #i'm feeling things :') #anyway :] sleepy time #mon.txt

[imonthinice]

The Criminal Psychology Majors, Jason Todd x Fem!Reader Part 20/?

Word Count: 2.2k

Author’s Note: Y/N - your name

***IMPORTANT*** The Criminal Psychology majors will be taking a temporary hiatus as I’m getting my second dose of the vaccine today<3 I don’t know when I’ll be coming back because I don’t want to burn myself out on this series just to give content while I’m gone, yknow

Warnings: Swearing, Forgetfulness, No beta bitch we die like Jason Todd

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19) (Part 20)

They danced and sung the night away at the Gala. It ended at around 2:00am and everyone went back to the Wayne Manor. 

Somehow it came out that they should play Uno of all things. Uno is known for being the “Friendship Ruiner” or the “Relationship Ruiner” of the world. So, of course, they played it. Why wouldn't they?

Y/N dealt the cards. She was not quick about it. At all. She really struggled to deal the cards to the entire group, but she still tried. It was the thought that counted. Or at least she thought it did.

But no one seemed to mind she was a little slower with her cards-dealing. Which was different to the up-beat, face-paced life all of them lead. One would have expected that they would want a crazy fast dealer, but no one cared.

They played well into the night, with Jason ending up tapping-out and laying in Y/N’s lap. She played with his hair and leaned down to show him the good cards she got, at least until he fell asleep. She spent the time bonding with his family. 

They had always liked her. From the first time they all met her, they knew she was going to be something real. They were even impressed that Jason and her hadn’t fought yet. They were both hot-headed when they wanted to be, so when it was obvious that they put the relationship ahead of their own prides, it was something else.

They knew of the first time they had one of these moments. Y/N was at a dance competition, but Jason had to dip because of “Family Issues”, she was upset. Of course, she wanted him there and it looked like they were going to get into a huge spat about it. But, when she won that competition, she got up there and she said,

“This one is for my family, my friends, the extension of my family,” she paused, “And my boyfriend, Jason.” She smiled, “He isn’t here right now because of family issues, but he told me to follow my dreams, and here I am,” she said while raising her medal slightly, “This one was for you, baby.”

And that’s when his family knew that pride was stupid to them. Relationships are growing, changing together. And while they both stayed hot-headed, they changed that slight detail in themselves to be better partners. It was admirable.

Y/N ended up winning the last game. Half of the Waynes were sleeping, either at the coffee table where they were playing or in their rooms. She glanced over to the clock, 6:00am. She knew her parents were getting up soon, so she texted her mom,

Hey mum! So do you still want Jay and I to come over for the barbeque? 

And she nudged him a little. Everyone else had left the room, so she was trying to wake him up. So they could go to his room. He groaned.

“Baby, do you want to sleep in your bed?” she whisper-asked him, leaning down to his ear and stroking his hair. He groaned and got up, started walking to his room. She followed suit. He was on his bed and passed out before she even got up there.

She laughed and walked over to him, fumbling with his suit jacket. He mumbled something about taking him on a date first, and she laughed again.

“C’mon, work with me here, you’re going to be uncomfortable if you sleep in your suit, my love.”

He groaned and took off his jacket before unbuttoning his shirt, while she got his belt undone.

“God, take me on a date first,” he mumbled.

“Shh,” she said, placing a finger over his lips, “Just go to bed, Jay.”

He sloppily kissed her neck before she cupped his face and used her position to straddle him to the bed. She kissed his forehead before getting off of him and going through his clothes. She needed something, a shirt, pants, anything she could wear.

She fumbled with getting her own dress and gloves off, ending up throwing the dress over his desk chair, hoping it would minimize wrinkling. She undid her corset and threw it on his desk. Her heels were sitting at his desk chair. The gloves on his desk.

She crawled into bed with him, being the big spoon, burying her face behind his neck. She pulled out her phone to look at her texts. One from Artemis,

Hey, dude. That dress, oh my God?

She laughed into Jason’s shoulder and sent back,  I know. I know. I know. I killed it. You can’t say I didn’t.

You’re literally so right because again, oh my God. You did NOT need to wipe the floor with the rest of the guests. I mean, Selina was there and you were on her level.

That’s impressive. Selina is stunning. But I’d argue I was just below every Wayne lady.

Well, eventually you’ll be a Wayne lady.

C’mon. It’s been 6 months. 

You say that like the thought hasn’t crossed your mind at least once.

Yeah, but I don’t talk to anyone about it. 

You should start talking about it. Most people think about their weddings.

Okay, anyway. Why are you up so early?

I was studying most of the night with Wally.

Ah, “Studying”. Nice.

I wish! No, we were actually studying. Not like you and Jay at your little Gala. Actually had to study.

I have to study too, but exams are like next week.

Wish I could relate. Mine are today. 

And you didn’t sleep? Dude.

Shh, you’re not my mom.

She laughed and fell asleep cuddling Jason. Her phone was opened, so it died. 

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

Jason woke up first. Looking at the time, it was 12:00pm. Y/N was sleeping behind him, still loosely holding him. He smiled. He hoped that the night before had fixed some of the issues between them. Well, he hoped there was no issues.

He didn’t want work to be more stressful than it already was. But, they were having issues. He thought it was because of finals, but he feared there was more to it. Maybe it was the fact that he’s famous. Maybe it was the fact that she couldn’t handle the fame. He hoped it wasn’t anything to do with the fame.

But the comment about the people with daggers at her throat obviously wasn't about anyone else. It was the press. He knew she had issues with the press. He always would. She always would.  He wouldn’t blame her if she walked away from him because of the press. Break up or a break, she was allowed to give up because of the press. He hoped she didn’t. He hoped she never would. He didn’t want to jinx them, but he really, really, hoped that this wouldn’t end in flames.

He looked at her. He remembered the first moment he knew he loved her. They were having dinner at this hole-in-the-wall restaurant that he had seen on patrol one night. She was scarfing down the food, and he wiped away the mess on her face with his thumb. He knew then. He knew in that moment that that was it. She was it. 

He was whipped and he knew it. But every time his siblings or dad brought it up, he mentioned current or past relationships they had. The only people who weren’t whipped in the Wayne household were the women.

Or maybe the all were, they were just good at hiding it. He turned around and cuddled her back He stroked her hair. He ran his fingers through her hair. 

She did it to him a lot. Physical affection was something that he was used to at this point. He still didn’t know how to feel about it, but he had ended up letting Dick hug him more often. He didn’t say it was because of her, because she didn’t outright run up to him expecting hugs, she was okay with hand holding and small touches of affection. It wasn’t because of her that he started letting people in.

But he did think she was a turning point for him. For his affection. His love style. She gave a damn about him and made it clear. It wasn’t like love he was used to, but it also opened his mind to people trying to love him.

She shifted around a bit. She ended up turning her back to Jason so he became the big spoon, and he buried his face in her hair. She groaned and tugged at the blanket on his bed, pulling it onto the two of them. He helped her get it on them. She groaned again.

“You up?” he whispered.

“No... I’m in deep sleep,” she said with a slur to her speech.

“My mistake, really.”

“It is.”

He pulled her closer, “Can you wake up?”

“No.”

“That’s sad. I wanted to talk.”

“You can talk.”

“Okay so,” he said, “I realised something. Some people would say you’re changing me, that I’m becoming someone else because of you,” he paused, “I’d have to disagree. You’re not doing anything.”

“Uh huh.”

“You’re just inspiring me to do better. You influence me. You don’t intentionally go in and change me, I change because I love you.”

“That’s nice honey.”

“You could pretend you’re interested in what I have to say, my love.”

“I’m tired, Jay.”

“I danced you to Hell, I guess.”

She groaned, “I guess I can’t go back to bed, now,” she flexed her wrist, “You’ve interrupted my sleep.”

He cuddled in closer to her, “I am not sorry.”

“Of course you’re not, why would you be?” she said while she turned to face him, “You just want to see me.”

“Damn, you got me.”

She yawned, “We need to study eventually.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“I just did.”

“School’s annoying. It’s on every last never but also none of them. It’s stressful but I also met you from it. It’s something I excel at but also causes me pain.”

“I know, babe. I know,” she said as she searched for her phone, finding it, dead and under her leg. “Fuck, killed my phone.”

“Where did you even have that all night?”

“Dress has pockets. But I didn’t bring my charger,” she sighed. “I had texted my mum too.”

“Texted your mom about what?”

“She wants us to go to a family barbeque after exams.”

“That’s so suburban of your family.”

“Yet they live in a massive city. I guess you'll see my family? you like them, don't you?” she asked. 

He had met her family in January of that year. He got along with her mom and dad, in spite of the language barrier between him and her dad. There was difficulty understanding each other, but they got along in their love for rock music. It warmed Y/N’s heart.

Her mom liked him just because he made her happy. They didn’t really need to get along, but they did. They both cooked, and her mom had dragged him into helping her when Y/N was watching figure skating with her dad. Apparently they hit it off.

“I have literally no idea,” he said.

“How do you not know?”

“Your sister has something off about her.”

“You know, that’s fair. I don’t blame you for that one.”

“Yeah, have you noticed she’s very... obsessed with vigilantes?”

“And you thought I was obsessed,” she joked, “Yeah, she takes it a little too far. The whole, “I want to marry a vigilante to infiltrate and kill them” thing was obviously a joke, but I feel like there was some truth to it. That scares me.”

“Thank God I’m not the only one.”

“If you don’t like her, don’t worry about it. i don’t care if you like her.  We’ve had  a difficult relationship all or lives. If you can be civil, it’s a win.”

“Did you have an ex openly hate your sister?”

“Yep. And he’s an ex for a reason.”

“That’s fair. I would hate it if someone openly hated one of my siblings.”

“Unless it’s Dami.”

“Unless it’s Dami, that’s very true.”

“Still don’t know what you have against that kid, he’s very sweet.”

“That’s what he wants you to think.”

“Well, then its working.”

“What a master manipulator,” he laughed. “It’s the principle of the matter, Y/N.”

“It’s the principle of the matter, Y/N,” she mocked.

“Okay listen,” he laughed, “It is. He’s a menace.”

“But you love him.”

“It’s unfortunate. He's my brother, but he is also whatever. I don’t know. He’s amazing, he’s a genius, but who knows. Maybe one day we won’t fight all the time.”

“Imaging hoping you don’t fight with your sibling.”

“Family issues, amirite?”

She groaned and got over him, “Where are you going?” he asked.

“Fuck, I don’t know. Just need to get up, to be fair.”

“Coffee?”

“Eh, probably not.”

“That’s new.”

“You betcha. I don’t feel the affects of caffeine withdrawal yet.” She looked at her dress, it was wrinkled. Which was whatever. She knew it was going to happen. She went searching for all her stuff and put it on his desk. It was spread all out over his room, she didn’t know how it happened.

“How did your shit end up everywhere?” he asked.

“Probably the same way that all your shit ended up everywhere? I have no idea.”

“What, did we fuck?”

“No!” she laughed, “Do you not remember?”

“Days are blurring together, so.”

“Well that’s not... normal?”

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd fluff #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x fem!reader #red hood x y/n #red hood x you #red hood fluff #batfam #batfamily #batbros #batman #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #nightwing #dick grayson #tim drake #red robin #damien wayne #robin #batgirl #spoiler dc #oracle #cassandra wayne #cassandra cain #barbara gordon

[ijustwant2write]

Estranged-Fred Weasley x Malfoy!Reader

(GIF credit to @genterie​)

Tags: @obsessedwithrandomthings​

Masterlist

Prompts List

Requested by anonymous: 'Love your writing it’s amazing! I was thinking of a Fred Weasley imagine where he doesn’t die. And after the war, he falls in love with Draco’s twin. And like her parents accept it because all they want is for her to be happy. (They learned from their past mistakes)'

Characters: Fred Weasley x Malfoy!Reader, Molly Weasley x Reader (platonic), Lucius Malfoy x Reader (father), Narcissa Malfoy (mother)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Swearing, mention of death, mention of abuse/bad childhood, estranged family relationships, judgement, reconnecting, lots and lots of fluff

                                   *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

(Y/N) Malfoy felt people staring at her as she walked down the street, some in disgust, others just intrigued as to why she would show her face after all these years. Her platinum hair gave away her identity, as well as her fine clothes that were clearly expensive. She didn’t want to flaunt, but she had earned these items now, after working to build up a reputation again since...since the battle.

Why couldn’t it be normal for her now? Yes, she had been on the wrong side, but she and her brother, Draco, didn’t have a choice. Their last few years at Hogwarts had been miserable, all because their families had made ties to the Dark Lord. (Y/N) had always been quiet, almost mute when she was younger; although she wanted to speak up about many things, defend anyone her brother was bullying, explain how she didn’t agree with her parents views on wizards who weren’t pure bloods. But she was always too scared, she didn’t want her father to yell at her like he did Draco, or that one time she tried saving a house elf from a beating (that had caused many nightmares to occur). The only time she did use her voice was when she convinced her brother to spare Potter, to lie, to make sure that their fellow classmates could live; although taught from a young age that they were superior, she realised how wrong her families’ beliefs were.

Shops turned silent when she entered, conversations were only whispers, the shop keepers not serving her with the same warmth as everyone else. As usual, she kept quiet, quickly paying for her things then leaving. Deep down, (Y/N) had always known she wouldn’t be normal like anyone else, but she could try. 

As she left, keeping her head down again, someone bumped into her with such a force that it sent her flying to the ground. She yelped out, instantly feeling pain shoot up the arm she landed on, her shopping falling out of the bag and scattering around. No one helped her, they walked past as she struggled to gather everything.

 “What a bunch of twats.” someone snapped, and she recognised the voice.

Looking beside her, out of all the people in the world, Fred Weasley had bent down to help her.“Fred?”

He sadly smiled, helping her to her feet as he held her bags.“In the flesh. You alright?”

“Yeah.” she breathed out.“Thank you.”

“No problem. I haven’t seen you for years.”

She ducked her head.“Yes, it’s been a while.”

He sensed her anxiousness.“Are you sure you’re OK?”

She cleared her throat, ignoring the pain in her arm.“Now I am.”

“Hey, why don’t we go grab a drink? You know, catch up?”

She looked up in surprise.“Y-you want to hang out with me?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”

Flashbacks to all the times her brother spoke down to their family, the moments where she didn’t stick up for them or tell Draco to back down. And when her family fought against the Weasley’s at the battle. She had heard from witnesses that Molly Weasley was the one to kill her aunt, Bellatrix Lestrange (although it didn’t sadden her, Bellatrix had always made (Y/N) uncomfortable and scared). Yet here Fred was, kindly offering a hand. Sensing her hesitation, he nodded, understanding now.

“I don’t hold grudges (Y/N), especially against those who haven’t done anything wrong.”

(Y/N)’s tense posture relaxed, thanking him once again as she went to take her bags from him. However, he retracted his arms, holding them away from her. 

“So, are you coming?” he grinned.

Surprisingly, (Y/N) nodded straight away, laughing as she tried to grab her bags again. He laughed with her, already walking away as she caught up. She recognised the route, they were heading towards Diagon Alley, soon stepping into The Leaky Cauldron. Luckily it wasn’t full of people, they had come at a quiet time, though she still chose a table in the far corner, slightly hidden away. Fred went to get their drinks, leaving her alone with her thoughts. He was being so nice, no one had been like that in a long time.

“I can’t believe how long it’s been.” Fred sighed as he settled back in his seat, handing (Y/N) a drink.

“I don’t really want to think about the last time we saw each other.” she mumbled, looking down at her hands.

“No, me neither.” he quickly changed the subject.“Well, what’s been happening in your neck of the woods?”

“Not much I’m afraid. No one wants to be around a Malfoy.”

“I’m here aren’t I?”

She bravely looked into his eyes.“You’re just being sweet.”

“What about your brother?”

“Draco is fine. He’s actually met someone, it seems serious.”

“Wow, Draco Malfoy is settling down?”

“Yep. I’m happy for him.” she asked the next question before she could think about it.“Have you found anyone?”

He scoffed a laugh.“No, still stuck with my brother at the shop.”

“You know, I only ever went in there once. Draco caught me, he dragged me out of there.”

“What a prick.” Fred closed his eyes, sighing when he realised what he said.“Sorry, just used to saying that.”

She giggled, making him smile.“No, you’re right. He used to be the worst at times. But he’s better now, more understanding. He has a lot more respect for people.”

“And you’re talking more.”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“You used to be so quiet. I remember the first time you spoke, it’s all anyone ever talked about.”

“I had always been told to keep my mouth shut or face a consequence. It comes and goes, though I’m happier now. Much happier.”

“Me too.”

That first meeting turned into another, then one more after that, before they found themselves seeing each other every week. These ‘catch-ups’ became much more than that. (Y/N) had laughed more than she had in her entire life, and Fred found it easier to open up to her about the past. They no longer met up in public, Fred mostly visiting her small home (not the lavish Malfoy Manor he had heard so much about) as it was more private and further away from anyone else. Drinks phased into dinner, dinner moved onto staying the night; both couldn’t wait to wake up next to each other, loosely snuggled up before tightening their embrace as they stirred. 

They got away with keeping it a secret for months, except from one individual. George wondered where his brother disappeared to, teasing Fred when he came to the shop late and dishevelled. He dared to follow Fred one night, shocked when he saw (Y/N) kissing him. George gently brought it up, at first upset that Fred had been bewitched by a Malfoy. After the three sat down, George saw (Y/N) for who she truly was; she was scared about what George thought, though when he saw how they lifted each other up, he knew this was the right thing.

George had been accepting. But what about everyone else? (Y/N) had thrown up the day of meeting the Weasley family. Fred convinced his parents to not invite anyone else, just let it be the four of them. He also forgot to mention that (Y/N) was a Malfoy. She had to refrain from crying the whole way there, breathing deeply and thinking about something else to avoid a panic attack. She recognised the shock look on Mr and Mrs Weasley’s faces as she walked into the Burrow, their lovely smiles vanishing almost instantly. 

“Mum, dad, this is (Y/N).” Fred proudly said, not afraid to wrap his arm around (Y/N)’s waist.

“H-hello.” (Y/N) shakily said, desperately trying to stop her nerves from getting the better of her.

The sound of the poor girl’s voice made Molly’s heart break. Everyone knew of their quarrel with the Malfoy’s, but seeing such the young, intimidated and quiet girl made her forget all of that. It had been slightly awkward at first, but Fred helped ease everyone into conversation, and by the end of the night, there were smiles on everyone’s faces. As they said their goodbyes, Molly had a chance to pull (Y/N) aside, seeing her son and husband deep in conversation.

“Thank you for tonight Mrs Weasley, it’s been lovely.” (Y/N) said, finally feeling comfortable.

Molly had seen (Y/N)’s surprised expression when they had been welcoming to her (once the shock of being a Malfoy went away). This girl had never received this type of attention, Molly imagined the only time the family was together was for silent dinners and public outings. But her personality around Fred was calmer, she looked reassured. (Y/N) needed love, she needed that experience of being part of one big happy family.

“You are welcome here anytime dear.” Molly smiled, squeezing (Y/N)’s hands.

When Fred managed to get (Y/N) away from his mother, she had been gushing about everything that had been said that night.

“Did you hear what she said to me?!” (Y/N) exclaimed.

“Yes, you’ve repeated it many times.” he chuckled.

The happiness remained until Fred brought up the question (Y/N) had been dreading.

“So when can I meet your parents?”

Although (Y/N) desperately wanted to skip that milestone in their relationship, it seemed unfair that she had met the Weasley’s, and Fred wouldn’t meet the Malfoy’s. (Y/N) hadn’t kept much contact with her parents, mostly letters to her mother, even though there wasn’t much to talk about. One night when she was writing one of the said letters, Fred had been looking over her shoulder, convincing her to mention the relationship. (Y/N) found it incredibly hard to put pen to paper, not writing Fred’s name, but explaining how far this relationship of hers had gone. Her mother penned back, expressing how much she wanted to meet the mystery man. It was finally time to do so.

“Should I have got a different suit?” Fred stressed as they made their way to her parent’s house.

“No, why?” she asked.

“Because...well, it’s nice, but not as nice as the ones your dad wears.”

“I don’t want you to dress like my father. I want you to be you. And are you sure you’re alright going there?”

“Are you?”

She thought about it.“Not really. I just keep telling myself that it’s just a house, there’s nothing more to it.”

As they stood outside Malfoy Manor, (Y/N)’s heart rate increased, She felt Fred’s hand become sweaty, but that could have been her’s too. Now looking at it, it felt much more gloomier, more haunting. But they only had to be here tonight, no longer than that. Of course her parents didn’t greet her straight away, the door opened by itself, and the couple cautiously walked in. (Y/N) flinched as the door shut, remembering how much she hated this place. It was so different to the Burrow; (Y/N) knew she should have been grateful for a manor as a home, with lavish decor and large amounts of land, but that could never replace the safe feeling you were supposed to feel at home. 

“(Y/N).” her mother, Narcissa, gasped as she entered the room.

(Y/N) crumbled at the sight of her mother, knowing that she wanted their relationship back to how it used to be. But she still didn’t rush to hug her, casually walking over. Narcissa took in (Y/N)’s features, smiling as she thought about how beautiful her daughter was. Hugging her like only a mother could, she didn’t let go early, hating how long it had been since they saw each other. When they pulled away, Narcissa noticed the man, hiding her surprise when she saw he was one of the Weasley boys. (Y/N)’s shoulders ached from how tense they were as her mother approached Fred, opening her arms to him. Her mouth almost dropped open, as did Fred’s as he returned the hug. Narcissa no longer cared about being part of a ‘superior’ family; (Y/N) was happy with this man, and he had managed to bring her daughter back to her.

"Come you two, we have drinks waiting for you." Narcissa smiled, gesturing for them to walk ahead of her.

(Y/N) grasped onto Fred's hand again, feeling her breathing become deeper at the thought of seeing her father. Fred didn't want to push any boundaries in front of her parents, but he would be damned if he let (Y/N) become upset. He wanted to come to ensure that her family gave their blessing, it would feel wrong not to come; but if this was the last time she wanted to see them, then so be it.

Walking into the drawing room, (Y/N) unintentionally gripped onto Fred's hand harder, almost digging her nails in. There were no complaints from him as Lucius Malfoy turned around. He looked a lot better than the last time he saw him, though he had definitely aged, and being part of Voldemort's army hadn't helped with that.

"(Y/N), welcome home." Lucius said, his usual cold tone in his voice.

"Thank you father." she whispered, going back to her quiet self.

"So, he's a Weasley then?"

"Yes sir." Fred spoke, not afraid anymore.

(Y/N)'s head whipped up to look at Fred, then to her father. Lucius narrowed his eyes, stepping forward until Narcissa stopped him.

"Lucius." she warned."We've just got them back."

"Them?" (Y/N) questioned.

"Draco visited only last week. We met Astoria." Narcissa explained.

"He finally did it."

"What? You knew about her?"

Fred squeezed (Y/N)'s hand, silently encouraging her to go on."I send letters to Draco too. We've both been petrified to come back."

"Why?" Lucius had the audacity to ask.

"I'm with a Weasley. You belittled them for years. And it pains me to say that I stood back and did nothing. Never did I imagine that I would be forgiven by them, let alone fall in love with one."

She couldn't believe how forward she was being. But they were all listening intently.

"I've grown since I've left here. Fred has helped me to change, change for the better. I have missed you both, but you can't deny that we weren't a normal family."

Lucius and Narcissa exchanged a look, a wave of sadness washing over them. They had been caught up in the Dark Lord's work, wanting to fulfill the purpose they had been taught from a young age. They assumed their children would follow in their footsteps. Oh how wrong they were. And they regretted every second of it.

"(Y/N)," Narcissa calmly started, slowly stepping towards the couple,"we cannot express how much we regret abandoning you as a child. We weren't focused on raising our family. Losing you and Draco was the worst pain I have ever felt in my life. Your letters have been the only thing bringing us a small amount of joy each week."

"Your mother is right."

Though his face was stern, anyone could see that Lucius meant what he said. He just didn't know how to express that.

"I can no longer tell you what to do or who to be around." he said."Your mother and I have had many long conversations about this particular topic, about you and Draco. We want you to move on, be with someone who will give you a good life and treat you better than we ever did."

This was too much for (Y/N), this was the longest they had ever thought about their feelings ever. She was frozen, unsure if this was a cruel trick. Were they really going to be happy for her?

"A-are you..." she steadied her shaky breath as tears fell from her face."Are you being serious?"

Narcissa's eyes widened at the thought of this being fake."Of course darling. I can't lose you again."

"(Y/N), we are happy for you both." Lucius added.

That sent her over the edge. She made up that she needed a minute, rushing out of the room. Fred didn't hesitate to run after her, calling her as she ran outside. (Y/N) collapsed onto the steps to the door, head in her hands as she sobbed.

"(Y/N), hey, it's alright. I'm here, I'm here with you." he gently said, sitting beside her.

She felt him pull her hands away."I just...I just can't process...did they really say all of that?"

He smiled, wiping away the tears on her cheeks."Yes. They love you. I know you've been through all those hard years, and this is a huge shock. It's going to take time to get used to."

"I'm so happy you're here with me."

"Be a bit awkward if you said you had a boyfriend and didn't show up with one, wouldn't it?"

She let out a short laugh, and he knew that she was calming down."Let it all out love. If you want to, we'll go back inside. If not-"

"No, I think I need to do this. You're with me, that's all I need to continue."

He held her face in his hands, slowly leaning in and pressing a small kiss on her lips."I love you."

"I love you more."

"We've got this, we're in this together, always."

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley one shot #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley imagine #Fred weasley #Harry potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter one shot #Harry Potter imagine #Harry Potter imagines #Draco malfoy #Draco Malfoy imagine #Draco Malfoy imagines #Draco malfoy one shot #Draco Malfoy x reader

[hpimaginesandblurbs]

Hey I loved your imagine we’re readers thinks she’s a bad mom to James. It was so cute, maybe you could do a part two where he’s going into his first year of school and he’s a little scared and has a moment with his mom

mixed with this request: harry being a cute dad pls. 

part two of this imagine

pairing: harry potter x reader 

warning(s): pg, literally just cute 

word count: 1.6k

a/n: this was not supposed to be this long at all but i just couldn’t stop. kids make me melt. also yes, i totally changed albus’ name to remus because i cannot stand that harry named his child after those two. sorry not sorry. 

Ten and a half years later, it was finally James’ first day of Hogwarts. The day you would be boarding your eldest child onto the Hogwarts Express to the castle that you and your husband had met in all those years ago. 

As you and your husband walked through King’s Cross with your three children, you kept a close eye on your eldest. He was pushing his trolley with his head held high, showing a bit of confidence and excitement for his first day, but you could sense the nervous energy radiating off of him. Your baby was scared and you knew it. 

You could see it in the way he was holding the handle a little too tight, his knuckles turning white. The way he kept darting his eyes around, looking at everyone and anyone who passed. The way he would follow people’s eyes just to see if they were staring at his Dad, a person he assumed he could never live up to even if he never said it aloud. 

When you got to the wall before 9 and ¾, James shot you a nervous glance but went to steel himself. You and Harry had done a good job of explaining to him what to expect, along with his older cousins from the Weasley’s, but it was always a little nerve wracking running at a brick wall. 

“C’mon,” you said gently, holding a hand out for him to take while placing the other one of the trolley to help him push. 

He reluctantly took it, giving you the true sass of an eleven year old boy. But when he gripped it, he squeezed tight as you began pushing the cart quickly at the wall. 

Next thing you knew, you were on the other side and facing the Hogwarts Express, just as big and red as you had remembered it. You heard James give a small laugh of relief besides you and you turned down to give him a smile. 

“Exciting, isn’t it?” You asked him, taking the trolley from him to maneuver it through the groups of families easily. You knew Harry would catch up to you eventually. He had the two little ones in tow after all. 

“Yeah, yeah,” James mumbled, looking around with a mix of excitement and nerves. He was overwhelmed to say the least. 

You came to a stop against a wall, a spot you deemed good enough for your husband to find you, and looked down at your son. “Are you nervous?” You asked him bluntly. You had always taught him to be upfront with his emotions, bottling things up was never good. 

He didn’t reply, just looked down at his shoes as he scuffed them along the ground. 

“Hey, hey. Look at me,” you coaxed gently, a finger coming up underneath his chin to tilt his head up. “It’s okay to be nervous. It’s your first day. No one expects you to not be nervous. I was so nervous on my first day that I almost threw up. And Dad didn’t even know what Platform 9 and ¾ was, so you’re doing much better than either of us, honestly,” you told him with a small giggle, a smile coming to his own face. 

“I just- I dunno- I just don’t want people to compare me to Dad,” he said honestly, the first time he had ever admitted it out loud. 

“No one with any sense will compare you to your father. He’s told you before that everything he accomplished was pure luck. You’ll have so much more than that. That’s why he did what he did. We all did. So you could just go to school, and learn, and have fun, and be a kid. That’s all anyone wants for you, baby,” you told him. He scowled at the pet name, but you could feel the nerves leaving his body. “No one wants you, or expects you, to be your Dad.” 

You watched as he took a deep breath, then suddenly he was throwing himself at you. His gangly arms flung around your middle and squeezed, his head buried into your chest. “I’ll miss you a lot, Mum,” you heard him say, muffled through your clothes. 

You fought to keep the tears at bay while you wrapped him in your arms. “I’ll miss you too, sweetheart. So much. You can write to me anytime you want. And if it’s a real emergency, I’m sure Uncle Nev will let you use his Floo. We won’t be far,” you told him, gently stroking his back. 

You were immediately brought back to all the days you had thought you had been a bad mother. Of all the days James had spent crying inconsolably, the days James would throw tantrum after tantrum, the days James would opt for his father over you. But at the end of it all, he was a mama’s boy and never hid it, living proof of the good mother you had become. 

James pulled away just as Harry arrived with Remus and Lily following closely behind him. Harry shot you a look of concern, but you brushed him off with a smile, a silent sigh of letting him know everything was fine. 

“Gonna help me with all this?” Harry asked James with a boyish smile, referencing his small hoard of belongings on the trolley. 

James went with Harry, leaving you with the two little ones to answer all of their questions about the big red train. You told them stories of the lady with the candy trolley and the time you had bumped into their father in sixth year where he had subsequently, and rather nervously, asked you if you wanted to come to Hogsmede with him on the first outing of the year. 

As you spoke, you watched Harry and James. So identical yet so different. You watched as Harry did most of the heavy lifting, leaving James to giggle at his struggle. You watched as Harry made him laugh at Merlin knows what, but it brought a smile to your face nonetheless. And you watched as Harry slipped a blank piece of parchment out of his jacket pocket and handed it to James, leaning close to share some serious words. James looked elated and you only knew that it meant trouble. You knew exactly what that parchment was. 

Harry walked back over with James, an arm slung around his son’s shoulder as James struggled to quickly hide what his father had given him in his own jacket pocket. 

You said your goodbyes and you couldn’t help but grow teary-eyed. You knew it would be like this every year until Lily graduated but you couldn’t help it. Not having your children under your roof just didn’t feel right, even if you knew they would be at Hogwarts. A place you had fought to assure was the safest place they could be. 

“I love you guys,” James said, throwing his arms around the both of you one last time. 

“I love you too,” you and Harry said at the same time, both of you pulling him close. 

You clutched Harry’s hand as you watched James step onto the train, immediately catching up with his red haired cousins. A few tears you couldn’t hold back were streaming down your face, but Harry quickly brushed them off when he looked at you, realizing you couldn’t rip your eyes away from the spot your son had disappeared into. 

“Why’s Mommy crying?” You heard Lily ask, finally ripping you away from your thoughts and back down to the two children in front of you. 

“She’s just gonna miss James. We all are,” Harry answered for you, scooping your daughter into his arms, never once letting go of his grip on your hand. 

“I want to go to Hogwarts,” Remus pouted as the four of you left the platform, bringing a small smile to your face. 

“In a few years, darling. Until then you’re all mine,” you told him, squeezing his hand gently. 

“What was that all about when we walked up?” Harry asked you quietly, noticing that both of the kids were distracted by all the sights and sounds around them. 

“He was nervous. Talked him down a bit. Then he told me he’d miss me,” you said with a smile, a memory you would always cherish. 

“I didn’t get an ‘I’ll miss you’,” Harry replied indignantly. 

“Guess I’m the favorite after all,” you said with a giggle. 

“We still have two more to settle that debate with,” he argued, flashing you a quick wink. 

“Sure. Also, did you give him what I think you gave him?” You said, completely switching topics to talk about what you really needed to address. 

Harry blushed and gave a subtle nod of his head, not wanting to admit it out loud. 

“If he gets into trouble just know you’re handling any and all letters that come from McGonagall,” you told him with a roll of you eyes. 

He only laughed and gave you a shrug. “I think I can handle that. I’ve gotten out of enough trouble with McGonagall before. I was one of her favorites after all,” he said cockily, forcing you to roll your eyes again. The Chosen One aura around him never truly went away even after all these years it seemed. 

“Now who wants ice cream?” He asked the little ones, causing them to cheer. 

He shot you a small smirk, a small victory in becoming the kids favorite of the day, but you knew you would win that fight in the long run. You always would if James was any proof of it.

#harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter blurb #harry potter smut #harry james potter