#i know molly won this past race

[georgiapeach30513]

Step Into My Ride, Part 3

Summary: why Chris hates Ransom so much.

Pairings: Ransom Drysdale X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, restraints/tied up, voyeurism, cream pie, mentions of drug trafficking, unexpected pregnancy, arrest, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 3.8K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

He had eyed you for a while. He had dropped not so subtle hints that he wanted to take you out. He was typically the type of man you went for, and you couldn’t come up with a good excuse to tell him no, so you went. Against your better judgment.

Chris was nice enough. He was good looking. He was a cop. He was a good boy, and came from a good family. Exactly the type of man your mother would want for you, and still something felt off. Conversation was fine. It was easy. He loved to talk about himself, and you listened. Smiled at the right times, and even added just enough to his conversation. You complimented him enough, and Chris liked it.

Chris, however, did not think about the restaurant that he had brought you. Didn’t think anything of how he met you. Didn’t even notice his cocky nephew walk in with his woman for the night, but you did. Yours and Ransom’s eyes meet immediately, and you have to look down to the table to get your gaze off him. The two of you had been noticing each other for awhile, but you and he both were with other people.

Ransom’s mouth turns up into a crooked smile when he walks directly to yours and Chris’ booth. You gulp, looking at anything but him. Wanting to completely ignore what was happening, and then Chris’ hand grips onto your thigh, “Was there no race, Ranny?” He asks as Ransom and his girl slide in.

Ransom’s arm goes around her shoulder, but his stare is intently on you. “You would know. Cops were out hot like crazy tonight. So we just gave up. Lost a lot of money on that race.”

“You don’t lose money,” Chris snarls, pulling you closer to him. “You just gain.”

“Yeah, something like that,” Ransom’s voice is incredibly low, and you have to start fidgeting your fingers. He had this magnet that was pulling you closer to him. It was infuriating that you just had no self control, and you were on a date with someone else.

“Molly, I’d like you to meet my uncle Chris,” oh this was making things a lot more difficult. “Chris usually lets us know when the cops are a little crazy. Looks like he was preoccupied. So…what do you got here, Christopher.”

Chris introduces you to Ransom and Molly, and you immediately hate her. Hate that she had Ransom’s touching her, while you had a commanding hand on your thigh. Ransom leans back in the booth, his foot planting itself in between your own, and you try not to react. He was a cocky little fucker. Playing footsie with you while both of you were on dates. And you just so happened to be with his uncle.

“Yeah, I’ve seen this dame around. The past few times she’s been at the race, I’ve won big money. It’s like she’s my personal lucky charm.”

“And she’s on a date with me. You know, I think we should go,” Chris starts to edge himself out the booth, and both of Ransom’s legs hold you in place. He had no intentions of letting you go.

“I think you should stay,” his foot toes higher on you, and he chuckles when your legs drift further apart. “Come on, we hardly see each other anymore, Uncle Chris. I think we need to take this moment to spend some time together. What do you think, Lucky Charm?”

“Chris, we haven’t had dessert,” his booted foot rubs softly up and down your leg, getting as high up as your knee, and you get visions of fucking him in the bathroom. Making both your dates wait while he pounds into you with a hand over your mouth. “I hear they have really good cheesecake here.”

“I love cheesecake,” Ransom winks at you, and slick pools in your panties. Your body was heated up so much it was all the way in your cheeks. The urge you had to start grinding in your seat was making it harder to see. You wanted him. You wanted to push aside all reserves you had for Ransom. You need him all over your body. He was too bold not to know what he was doing.

“Fine. We’ll have dinner tonight. But then maybe you and I can spend some time alone. For our first date?”

“Yeah. Sure,” that wasn’t convincing in the slightest, and at least Ransom understood that. At this point you were throbbing so hard you were ready to sit in Ransom’s lap while everyone watched you bounce on top of him. It was unnatural and animalistic. But you wanted it.

Chris may be oblivious to things, but you weren’t. You saw everything. Ransom’s arm leaving Molly’s shoulder. The conversation quickly turning into just you and Ransom. The way you were trying to scoot away from Chris, and lean across the table to give Ransom your undivided attention. A moth to a flame. You were the delicate little moth, and Ransom was a ball of fire that you couldn’t look away from.

“Mother fucker,” Chris tosses his phone in his cruiser. Another call went straight to voicemail. There is no other place that you would be. He even saw you at the race for the first time. He had nothing else to lose.

He shouldn’t have left his post, but it didn’t seem like there was anyone checking for the hooligans trying to conduct an illegal race. There was a shift with you the moment that Ransom had sat down at the table, and he didn’t trust his nephew. Ransom always got whatever he wanted, and how he wanted it.

Chris was the bastard son of Harlan Thrombey. Barely even recognized by his siblings as one of them. Ransom was looked at as more important to the family, and he was a criminal. He was only a grandson.

“You son of a bitch,” Chris growls as he sees Ransom winning a race and going straight to you. Treating you like a common whore. His hand goes under your shirt, and cups your breast as he crashes his lips on yours. Basically fucking each other out in public. A needy little slut, and you were letting Ransom use you.

Trash. For all that Ransom had, he was trash. His mother and grandfather would be so disappointed. As would yours. Daughter of the school headmaster, and your mother was a model. Your grandfather was a state senator and grandmother the president of the D.A.R. Chris had looked into you. You deserved better than the life Ransom was pulling you into.

After this race there was only one place Ransom would take you, and Chris was going to wait and see just how close the two of you were to breaking up. He had his rituals. He only kept girls for a month. No more. And just before breakup, he sends you about your merry way after sex. Slowly growing distant

“Oh god, Ran!” Your shouts could be heard outside of the garage. If anyone wanted to watch, it would be easy. All the lights were on. There were no blinds on the windows. But to see you with your hands tied to the ceiling as Ransom fucks into you from behind infuriated him.

Ransom wasn’t even looking at your face, just his dick being sucked back into your cunt. Looking at how shiny your juices was making him. You were a tied up plaything. Even when your knees start to give out, Ransom grips tighter to your hips, keeping you on your feet. “Please! Please, Ran!”

“You’re almost there, Lucky. Give me one more, and I’ll let you rest, I promise.”

It felt like he had been using you for hours. Couldn’t even bother taking you somewhere special. Just tied you up like the rest of them. But even Chris couldn’t deny that this was different. It never lasted this long. He never talked to them. He never touched them with the care he was giving you. But the biggest surprise comes when you sigh, feeling Ransom’s warmth spurt deep into your womb, and his thrusts slow down.

Both of you panting so sweetly, and he pulls you back to him. Removing your hands from their restraints, and starts giving you the sweetest kisses. His hands drift down your front, and softly plays with your clit while you whimper in his mouth. And then Chris sees it; Ransom’s cum starting to leak onto your thighs. Ransom doesn’t do that. Even admitted boldly that he would never do that.

“You wanna stay here, Luck? Or you want to go back to your place?”

“Here, baby. Uhh,” you whine as he pulls himself out of you. You grab at his hand, sucking each finger clean, all while staring up at him like an angel. “Maybe you can make sweet love to me in that little bed?”

You didn’t even care that Ransom lived at the fucking garage. Ransom could have been anybody, and he chose to be a nobody. This pissed Chris off even more. You should already have been in his bed. You were his, and yet just another thing Ransom had stolen from him.

You swing your arms down, letting the cars rush past you, and solemnly walk back to the crowd. You didn’t know how you were going to tell Ransom. You were both adults though. Both of you were not careful. Both of you participated each time that you had fucked. But those tests did not lie. Every single one. All of them with the same result.

You wanted the baby, and wanted Ransom. And you weren’t sure if you could have both.

“Luck, what’s wrong?” Chris steps up behind you, and you flinch a moment. You know he wasn’t happy with how you didn’t return his calls, but you were — preoccupied. “Lucky?”

“Nothing,” but your lip trembles. “It’s fine.”

“Fine doesn’t make you cry at a race.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be patrolling?” Chris taps a police scanner, “Oh,” he holds up a partially smoked joint, and you decline without hesitation, causing Chris’ brows to raise.

“Since when did you stop smoking? I thought that was how you can stand to be around that prick.”

“Don’t say that,” your eyes look out into the distance, barely able to hear the rumble of the cars anymore. “I love him.”

“That came from nowhere,” the distaste was heavy on his tongue. You may love Ransom, but Ransom saw you as an easy lay. Someone that didn’t want to argue about having to sleep at a garage to stay with him. “You don’t even know him.”

“I do. I know him more than you think. He’s…he’s not like you assume. Not when it’s just us,” Ransom was the opposite of what everyone else saw. He was gentle, patient, kind, funny, and so loving. He never even wanted his hands off of you.

“Oh, you mean he doesn’t want to fuck you in a car, while there’s a crowd of people around you.”

You scoff. Chris didn’t fully understand. He couldn’t. He was rarely around the two of you. He stayed away, and when he was around it was just him glaring at Ransom. “Wow. You’re acting like they were surrounding the car and watching Ransom and me fuck. They weren’t even paying us any goddamn mind. I guess except you. What is you’re fucking deal?”

“He’s using you!” You shake your head, starting to walk away, but he grabs your wrist too hard. Not letting go of it. “Yes, he is. Letting everyone here know you’re off limits. He…Lucky you’re not even using protection. What happens if…” your breathing picks up, and finally, his hold loosens when your tears start back and your chest starts to heave.

“Oh my god. You’re pregnant. With…with his bastard.”

“My baby is not a bastard! You better shut your fucking mouth!”

“Luck, you can’t stay with him. You live in a studio apartment, and he lives in a room in a garage. You can’t raise a baby in either of those places. You know exactly what’s going to happen when you tell him,” he didn’t know what he was talking about. Chris was just feeding your worst fears. Ransom wouldn’t leave. Ransom would stay. He knew what unprotected sex was going to do.

“He’s gonna leave. He doesn’t want kids. You know how many times he told me he doesn't want kids?”

“Then maybe he shouldn’t have been coming inside of me. What is your problem? You — you don’t know anything.”

“I know Ransom. Just…let me be the daddy, if you need to keep it.”

“Had to add that ‘if’ in, huh? I’m keeping my baby. And I’m keeping Ransom. Thanks for the offer, Chris. Thanks for making a pregnant woman think the worst of her boyfriend. You know nothing about us. You think Ransom is winning all this money for dope? Why do you have to be such an asshole? I needed comfort tonight,” the roar of the cars returning. It wouldn’t be long until Ransom was beside you, and the two of you could talk.

“I just know how he is.”

“Did you know we found some land? Course you didn’t. You’re too busy being jealous. Chris, I like you. But I’m in love with him. I’m having his baby. And you can accept that or fuck off.”

“Luck, I don’t need you to hate me. I need you to know that the offer stands. I have stability with the police. I can offer you more than just this life,” with the headlights now visible you step away from Chris. You didn’t want to continue this. You wanted Ransom. You wanted to talk. Partying wasn’t for tonight.

“She’s pregnant,” Ransom slumps down in a chair in Chris’ office. “And I’m scared to death.”

“Because you don’t know how you’re going to break up with her?”

“What?” Ransom shakes his head, laughing at how uncomfortable this was. “No, we bought land. But I can’t build a house in such a short amount of time. I don’t have the money for that.”

“Unless you start selling,” Chris had long been trying to get Ransom to run for him. Said that he had the perfect avenue with the garage and the racing. Ransom wanted a relatively honest living. One that didn’t include drugs.

“No. I’m not doing that shit. I told you I wasn’t going to sell. I want an honest life at the garage, and extra cash from the racing. So much has been put back into the garage, and she gets it. Man, she’s perfect. I didn’t want kids, but one with her doesn’t sound bad at all. Are you kidding me? I can’t wait. I don’t care if we lived in a double wide trailer,” Chris rolls his eyes, settling back in his seat. “What?”

“A trailer?”

“They have nice trailers.”

“You could have money to build a house on your land.”

“I don’t deal in dope. I’ve got a kid coming. I can’t risk a felony charge for drug trafficking,” Chris starts to laugh, which only infuriates Ransom more. “You can’t guarantee just because you’re a fucking cop that I won’t get caught. I’m not running drugs. I’d rather ask my parents for money than risk losing my child and her. You know she wouldn’t stay with me. Luck is the real deal. She won’t stand by me if I’m arrested.”

Ransom pulls a box out of his pocket, opening it up and he stares lovingly at the ring. It wasn’t the most expensive, wasn’t even a real diamond. But he knew it was going to be beautiful on your finger, “She deserves something real. This was less than three hundred bucks, and at Walmart. I have to pick and choose. I’m going to do right by them. And our money is now towards a place to live.”

Ransom doesn’t say anything more, only stands up to leave, “Don’t come at me with that offer again. You need to get out of that shit, too.”

Ransom always had everything figured out. Knew how to steal his girl. Knew how to make extra money without risk of a felony. Knew how to change his mind to make a girl stay. Chris hated how everything came so easy to that fucking prick. He hated him. He hated Hugh Ransom Drysdale.

Chris takes a long toke of his joint as he stares at yours and Ransom’s trailer. Every light in the house was off. It is quiet. Serene. The only thing visible was Gracie’s night light casting pictures on the ceiling. He pulls out his phone, “They’re all there,” hanging up quickly, and settles back in his seat. Front row to Ransom’s worst nightmare.

You stir in your sleep. Your hand drifts up and down Ransom’s chest. “Shh, go back to sleep, darling,” Ransom mumbles, giving you a soft kiss on your head. He wraps an arm around you, holding you tight against him, “Love you, my Lucky charm.”

“I love you, Ran,” your voice is already getting heavier as the sleep takes you over again. You never wanted to miss a night sleeping next to him. Having his boxers so low that his groomed hair was poking out the top. Ransom was the best thing that had ever happened to you.

The team surrounds your home, someone stationed at every door, and every window. The master bedroom was to the east side of the house, and not a peep was coming from the room.

You jolt up in bed as the doors break in. Standing up trying to get to Gracie’s room before something hard hits you on the chest, “Stay the fuck down!”

“You get your hands off her!” Ransom screams as a police officer slams him face down on the floor. Tears fill his eyes as he watches you immobile. Hit so hard that they knocked the breath out of you. “Let her go! Lucky! Luck, darling, are you breathing. My god, she’s trying to get our daughter,” Ransom’s tears turn to rage when he hears Gracie’s terrified scream. “Let her get our baby!”

“Mommy!”

“She can’t breathe!” You finally gasp for air. Gaining more strength when you hear her voice again. “Let her go!” She needs you. She sounds so scared, and you can’t move. Could barely breathe. Struggling to say her name. You need your baby.

“Mr. Drysdale, do you have any weapons in the house?”

“Gracie,” you croak out. “Please, let me get my daughter. She’s crying.”

“She’s fine,” the officer screams in your ear, and then Gracie is able to run past someone. Seeing you on the floor, and screams, reaching for you. “Calm the child down!”

“She’s scared. She’s a baby! Please. Please!”

“If you let them go, I leave without a fight. There’s guns in the closet safe, along with some cash. Just let them go!” The officer holding Ransom down nods to your captor, and they release you, and you dash towards Gracie. Grabbing her up and pressing her close to your body, trying to soothe her tears.

“Ransom Drysdale, you’re under arrest for drug trafficking. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law,” you stare horrified as they lift him up to his feet. Cuffing his hands behind his back, and pushing him out the door.

“Daddy! Where are you taking my daddy! No! Daddy.”

“You have the right to have an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you by the court,” they push his head into the car, but his eyes stay in front of him. Face as hard as stone.

“Can I get him some clothes?” You ask, still holding Gracie close to you. “He’s just wearing boxers. H-h-he needs shoes.”

“Mrs. Drysdale…”

“Let me get him some clothes, please? He’s been arrested for…for what?”

“Did you know anything about your husband’s drug running?”

“I-I-I…” you look out to the police cruiser, remembering the words that Ransom said, “I’m not speaking without a lawyer. Let me get him some clothes. And let — god, can our daughter see him for a second? Sh-sh-she’s scared, and you…you took her daddy.”

“Get him some clothes,” the officer says, following you into the bedroom where they were ripping everything apart. Sleep still addled your brain, and this was quickly becoming overwhelming. Your home was being destroyed right before your very eyes.

“Oh god. What…what are you doing?”

“Do you have somewhere else to go tonight?” Snapping his fingers, the other officers stop their search. Pointing over to the closet. Even what you grab out for Ransom to wear is heavily searched. Pockets pulled out, and shoes looked into before they give them back to you. “Ma’am, your home is going to be searched, do you have somewhere else to go?”

“Can I pack us a suitcase?”

“No.”

“What about her nightlight, and doll?’

“No.”

Dammit. “Can you get us some fucking shoes then? My god, what is going on?”

“Where are you going?”

“To Harlan Thrombey’s. Can I go see Ransom now?” Still an officer stays with you as you walk clothes out to Ransom. “Baby?”

“Tell Harlan to call my lawyer the minute you get in. Don’t talk to anybody. Don’t let anyone but Harlan and mom be alone with Gracie. Not even Chris,” you nod your head. You didn’t want to ask too many questions, because Ransom wouldn’t answer. “Baby girl, daddy is going to be away for a while.”

Gracie shakes her head no, reaching for her dad, “No,” you were getting about fucking tired of that word.

“Daddy! Daddy, don’t leave me. I get scared at bed time without you.”

“Gracie, you be good for mommy, and gramma, and Pappy, okay?” Gracie’s face scrunches up tightly. Tears pour down her face, still reaching for him. “Daddy will be back. No matter what, daddy loves you and mommy.”

“Daddy, no! Daddy, I’m scared!” The officer slams the door, separating you and Gracie from him, and he gives the top a tap, as it starts to roll away. “Daddy! I need my daddy! No, gimme my daddy back!”

“Ma’am, I suggest you and your daughter go somewhere else tonight.”

“Can you not…god, I have a studio with expensive camera equipment.”

“It’s all being seized,” he walks away from you, and you watch horrified as figures discard items in your home. You couldn’t watch this anymore. Couldn’t calm Gracie down.

Chris takes his final hit of the roach before tossing it onto the ground. Smiling to himself as he backs his car off your property. Ransom didn’t win this time. Finally he was getting what was owed to him. And finally Chris was going to get what always belonged to him. You. And now Ransom was almost out of the way. And there would only be you.

His. You were always his.

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe @missusbarnes-rogers @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @elrw24 @midnightramyeoncravings @saiyanprincessswanie

#step into my ride #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x fem!reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x y/n #street racer au #street racer!ransom drysdale #street racing au #destroyer!chris #knives out #ransom drysdale fic #ransom drysdale fics #ransom drysdale fanfiction #chris evans #sebastian stan

[eternallovers65]

YOU GUYS WHAT IS EXTREME E???? WHY THERE'S SO MANY WOMEN COMPETING?!?!?! JENSON IS COMPETING AS WELL??? LEWIS AND NICO HAVE THEIR OWN TEAMS?!??!

BUT BACK TO THE WOMEN THEY ARE SO BEAUTIFUL AND SO BADASS I ALREADY LOVE THEM IDGF

WHAT KINDA OF MARVELOUS SPORT THIS IS???? WHERE CAN I WATCH????? IS IT TRUE THEY WILL RACE HERE IN BRAZIL????

PEOPLE EXPLAIN PLEASEEEE

#i don't even know what to tag #extreme e #f1 #racing #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg #they have their own team???? #you guys #jenson button #i only know so far about the women #sorry not sorry #sara price #sara looks familiar to me idk #mikaela ahlin kottulinsky #the crush i have on this one is strong #i know molly won this past race #but i have no clue what this is #molly taylor #catie munnings #also why is carlos sainz racing #didn't he had a racism scandal a few months ago #im confused #but #someone anyone #explain please

[ohheyitsokay]

good eye

part 4 of the ‘hey batter batter’ series

pairing: Francisco Morales (Frankie, Catfish) x reader

wordcount: 3.5k (I’m only 14% sorry about that)

warnings: strong language, extremely mild injury, Benny Miller working out, a little bit of a cliffhanger ending

summary: it’s a Triple Frontier baseball AU! Trust me, you don’t need to know anything about baseball. 

“good eye” is an encouragement for batting players, essentially applauding them for having good judgement when and when not to swing.

In this chapter, the guys becoming increasingly aware of how interesting you are to the whole gang - and what they’re going to do about it. 

>>

Bottom of the ninth inning – the end of the game.

Sometimes players fixated on the score, glancing at the flashing lights or acting desperately but for Will, keeping it in his head was just as natural as breathing. Floating around first base made it easy for him to keep an eye on everything, and stay focused under the summer sun. His team was up by two.

The opposition was at bat – their final advantage as the home team. He didn’t feel particularly nervous, but couldn’t breathe easy just yet. They already had two outs, thanks to his little brother’s inhuman speed and some excellent Garcia pitching, and just one more to go before it was all over. Preferably, this would happen before the man on third made it to home base. 

There was a bead of sweat rolling down, down, down his temple over his cheekbone, and into his beard. The clouds from the start of the game were long gone – even with his cap, his blue eyes were getting tired.

They were focused on the batter, not even Pope, and never the crowd, since it was always just a blur of noise and rival colors and waving hands. The closer the game came to an end, the more the mass of people writhed with tension. It was better just to ignore it. There was no reason at all, but he looked up just for a split second and he saw a single, tiny form make itself clear, sending a confusing thrill down his spine.

A familiar crack rang through the air and he snapped back to focus. The batter was hurling towards him, the crowd was holding it’s breath as he looked around, almost frantically.

Where was the ball?!

Your form was still in his minds eye, he didn’t understand, but then – there, in the outfield. No, here. Instinct had taken over.

It was in his glove, and his left toe had found first base. Will heard a curse as the opposing player plowed behind him a second too late, a yell from the umpire, and then the satisfying groans of the other team’s fans.

Pope crashed into him first, then whoever else was the closest. It was giddy and triumphant chaos, hands clapping his shoulder, sweaty hugs, slaps, and high fives, and Will barely noticed any of it. Jogging back to the locker room was quick, the crunch of their shoes in the grit of the field like a stampede, impossibly loud. The locker room wasn’t as bad. It would have been louder if they had lost, like they had expected. Something still felt strange in his gut as they changed and rinsed off and packed their things.

You were interesting to him, he liked how real you were. He was normally the one that grounded others, that kept his head, learned his lessons and left the game on the field. It was nice, spending time with someone he didn’t have to do that for – or really anything for. There wasn’t a need to put on a show for you, or be your steady sidekick. It was nice. But it had only been a lunch and a night at the bar, no reason to know the shape of you, much less be thrown off by it.

He was taking extra care to clean his newest tattoo, absentminded, when the locker-talk caught his attention.

This was the first away game they had won this season, and everyone was debating why their luck had changed. Some of them were arguing loudly, ridiculously, and as usual, his friends started gravitating together, interested, but with lower voices and cooler heads.

“Do you think it was because I wore last weekend’s socks, Fish?” Benny was grinning, as his friends eyebrows answered for him. Frankie was superstitious, but in a way he’d gotten from his abuela, not the game. Will had a thought, the confusing last moment of the game clicking into the conversation, his eyes meeting Pope's for a moment.

“Actually, I have a theory,” he kept his voice quiet. If the rest of the team got wind that William Miller was participating in the banter, they’d be all over him, sure he was right only because he rarely cared. His friends looked at him, curiously, and he chewed on the idea for a moment, liking it more and more until he actually believed himself when he told them.

Their good luck charm?

You.

-

Tom had missed the conversation, occupied with a love-sick staff member in a quiet corner of the stadium.

He would never admit it, but he always needed a distraction when the winning catch had nothing to do with him. And Molly had to travel with the team most weeks anyway, the availability becoming increasingly more appealing than trying his luck with a random fan.

The next day after practice, he found her again and this time, despite the crude nature of the location, he took little more time. It was strange, to grab her without pent up frustration driving his actions, but not an entirely unwelcome change of pace.

He didn’t dwell on it, almost running away, but she did, trailing her fingers over the places his had been as she put herself together again. She wanted to remember each one, to savor them like it was the first time. And maybe it was – the very first time he had even kissed her with no particular personal agenda. Of that, she didn’t feel as guilty about wanting more.

Tom had long since slipped out the door when she finished the process, just slipping on her heels when the someone knocked.

Opening it, she found an eager and awkward shortstop pushing into her office. He seemed nervous, more nervous than she had seen him during photo shoots and press conferences and final innings. It wasn’t what she expected – not the demeanor the players normally held when they asked for favors. Professional athletes were confidant, suave, even. Ben had something else going on, something sweeter, maybe even innocent.

He called her ma’am, and she rolled her eyes when he asked for you number.

“Don’t you boys ever talk?” she was kind of annoyed. Ben was confused, it showed on his face.

“Tom got it awhile ago,” she started, and he got it, immediately. The older man hadn’t told any of them that you would be at the bar last week. He wondered if you knew he had arranged it. Something felt off but before he could ponder it she finished.

“And Santi got it yesterday.” Actually, she was more than annoyed. You hadn’t seemed special at all when you’d been there opening weekend. Your grandfather was sweet but nothing about that day could explain why three of the players were willing to bend the rules to find you again.

Tom’s voice rang in her ears: he’s got it bad for her. That didn’t quite fit what she was seeing, but she cooled down a little.

She didn’t even have to shoo him away, his thank you, ma’am, sorry to bother you made her feel like an old lady as he turned on his heels and trotted off.

The younger Miller was increasingly thoughtful, but he could feel something shift in the air. Then he shrugged it off. He was sure he’d find out, sooner or later.

-

“Ben, where’s your brain?” Catfish had caught him making eyes upside-down at the girl standing by the athletic trainer while he was mid workout. He didn’t really need a partner to work out, but they tried to go together, to spot on another and to argue over who could bench press the most.

He watched as his friend’s brain and body scrambled to put down the weights and he stood up too fast.

Across the room, girlish laughter bubbled and Benny blushed, still not attending as he grabbed the water bottle he was being offered and squirted himself in the mouth.

“What?”

Frankie shot him an amused look, gesturing vaguely, his point now proven. This had happened before. The young player was almost certainly going to tell him some random information now to distract him and trying to avoid the inevitable teasing.

“Did you know Tom got her number?”

It worked. There was almost no context, but he knew immediately and there was a twist in his stomach. It was the answer to a question he didn’t know had been on his mind - Catfish fully short circuited.

Redfly got your number? That was why Frankie had found him putting the moves on you before they were scheduled to meet. He was shaking his head, dazed, when Ben added, “And Santi got it a couple days ago, too.”

A moment of silence, and then,

“Fucking what?!” 

Heads around the private gym turned.

Ben hissed for quiet as he dragged him towards the locker room, and he found himself allowing it as he heart tried to catch up with his mind. No way Pope was going after you too.

“Weird, right?” Frankie felt like ‘weird’ was putting it mildly.

“I just asked for it,”

“You -"

“- because I wanted to be friends, but,” the younger man was ignoring his sputtering panic. He didn’t know if he should be mad or grateful. “Why wouldn’t they tell us?”

That stopped his racing heart. That was the question, wasn’t it? Frankie dragged his hand down his face, smoothed his mustache, readjusted his hat, trying fruitlessly to ground himself.

He said something noncommittal in response, barely hearing himself as he changed the topic. Ben was watching him, he could tell, but it wasn’t as though he could explain why he had reacted so strongly. He didn’t even know why.

It’s not like the feel of you against his hand was all he had been thinking about for the past few days.

His head was spinning, and not in the same way as when he had heard you were at the last game.

Of course other men had their eyes on you. You were gorgeous. His hand twitched on the locker as an image of him pressing you against it flashed through his mind. Shoving it down, he moved on.

You were smart, too, and kind. Certainly he couldn’t be the only one who liked the way you looked when you were thinking, or the little messiness of your hair, or the curve of your neck and shoulders as you leaned against the table.

There was a flare of something green in his chest. He was thinking about your hand on his arm, the way it made him feel like he was your anchor, the white lines on the ground guiding your feet. That, was his. For a moment, his brain reminded him of your lips on Pope’s cheek, your fingers on Benny’s shoulder, and palm on Redfly’s jaw. The locker door resonated in the quiet room as he slammed it shut. Even your eyes in Ironhead's for just a moment… it made him want to kidnap you, press into your space, surround you with his body until all you could see or touch or think about was him. Or maybe it was the opposite. Maybe what he was aching for was for there to be a room full of handsome, athletic, perfect men, and for you to seek him. Find his eyes, and hold them in yours until you reached each other. To choose him. 

Either. Or maybe both.

Whatever he’d been saying got lost on his tongue.

Benny was looking at him thoughtfully, and Frankie sighed, his anger slowing to a simmer. It was absurd, he knew that. Knowing didn’t make it go away, but it helped.

Really, he should be lucky he got any of you at all, that alone was a minor league miracle. Hiking his bag up, he clapped his friend on the shoulder and changed the topic once again.

The smell of dirt and grass and sweaty men faded as they walked out of the room, and when someone made a group chat that included you, Frankie remembered that he liked his friends. The bats in his bag clanged like bells, and Ben said something that made him laugh, and he thought he was a fool to have forgotten it.

-

Santiago was the first one there, over half an hour early, by accident or design you had no idea. He made all of James' things look small, and it made you laugh, because you knew it was only the beginning.

You’d been added to a group chat a few days ago. The list of total bizarre things happening to you was increasing every day of knowing them but you couldn’t exactly complain. It was exciting and honestly, you ached for them in a way you couldn’t explain. Seeing Santiago sent sharp excitement through the anxiety of preparation, but even with the handsome man removing his shoes, you couldn’t help but check behind him for Francisco.

It had been a joke, sort of. They had invited you out and you retaliated by saying you owed them a meal. You should’ve known, already, they weren't afraid to take you up on it, and you’d had to use James as your crutch. His house was much bigger than your apartment, and he was so excited to talk to them it was adorable. Before you’d even turned to Santi properly, they were already chatting, and you watched, smiling.

He looked good. It really was almost as if they actually were family – not physically but you could see it in how they interacted. Santi was more cleaned up than he’d been at the bar, thanking your grandfather like it really was an honor to be welcomed into his home. Jimbo was standing as tall as he could to scruff the younger man’s perfect hair, and you laughed as he clarified that they were always welcome, as long as they helped cook. And when Santi grinned, agreeing readily, the line on his forehead smoothed.

The stress of hosting even such strange guests lessened again, and you slipped back into the kitchen.

Not two minutes later, he found you there, and you could feel him watching you, lounging against the door as graceful and powerful as a panther. Slicing vegetables to grill, you let him, for the time being. He would tell you what he was thinking if he wanted to.

It made you smile again, when his large, calloused hands began to make motions for you to let him take over. Determined or maybe even insistent, but not entitled. He mimicked your cuts, checking silently for your approval, and you saw something in his eyes you hadn’t noticed before.

Over food and drinks he had been smart and clever and passionate – an idyllic picture for over-ambitious fans. None of that was gone, but there was another layer under it, something distinctly humble, and if your dreams hadn’t already been occupied, you might’ve fallen in love with him a little bit. Prepping food to the sounds of quiet music and the rhythmic thumps of the knife against the cutting board felt domestic, but in a familial way. There was no pressure for words, for you, and when he did speak, it seemed as though he agreed.

“This might sound fu… uh, stupid but I’m glad there aren’t bobble heads around.” Of him and his friends, he implied. You wondered if he checked his language for your sake, or out of mindfulness for James.

“He really respects you guys,” you shrugged. “He’s always lecturing me on remembering that you’re human, and not overstepping normal people boundaries.”

Pausing your salad assembly, you stole a glance at him, only to find deep brown eyes looking at you curiously. His hand scraped over the stubble on his jaw, and you could almost see his thoughts, running diamonds in his head.

“Is that why you shot Redfly down?” he wasn’t looking at you, so he missed the tilt of you head. You didn’t need to know the nickname to know what he was talking about, but he clarified a moment later.

You weren't prepared for this to come up, but it shouldn’t have surprised you.

“Yes and no,” was the most honest answer. “He’s already got a girl, whether he knows it or not.” You felt good, talking to him, good like laughing, so you did. It was a strange moment, when the team’s outfield dreamboat had leaned in to kiss you, and you turned him away, but it wasn’t weighing on you at all.

Santiago was grinning at you, hands still, and you wondered if this was the first moment the two of you were seeing each other clearly. Biases and judgement and wariness stripped away easily in the kitchen, like the peels of potatoes.

“So,” his tone and eyes were mischievous, and you had never felt more like an almost stranger was your brother. “If one of the other guys asked you out, you would consider it?”

Face flaring with heat, you barely contained a squawk. He let out a triumphant noise and you shoved him. There was no doubt he wasn’t talking about himself, but you still wanted to melt into the floor.

“Don’t think I haven’t seen –”

“Shut up shut up shut up!”

Both of you were laughing when the other men pushed through the front door.

Santi answered their raised eyebrows by sticking out his tongue.

-

There was moments all the time in baseball, where when you have the ball and have to choose which opposing player gets to make it safe and who you’re going to try to get out. It’s a split second where you feel torn in two, and that was exactly how Frankie felt now.

When he had seen you, flushed and laughing, part of him wanted to give a damn thank you speech to Pope for helping bless the world with that, and the other part of him wanted to murder his best friend.

They had all pushed into the little home and he tried to focus on greeting James and looking at the cozy, dated furniture, the humble decorations, clearly cleaned just for them. There had been a moment, where you’d waved at what felt like just him, and his heart rate had doubled. He tried to talk with the guys, the friend you had invited, or help grill or set the table or … anything, but all he wanted was to find you again.

Staying by your side the other night felt as natural and the ball hitting the palm of his glove, time and time again. It was exactly where he was meant to be.

And you were so lovely he wanted you to press into him so close he absorbed just a fraction of your glow. He wanted to wrap you up and take you with him wherever he went, or maybe just settle into your shadow, to follow you forever. It felt greedy, which he didn’t really mind, but the problem was that it was unrealistic.

You were working hard to be a good host, floating around, making sure everyone was content, helping, handling things, or happily having heaping helpings of your cooking. There was another game on the TV, and James was telling stories, and his friends had made themselves right at home. In a strange way, it felt like a Sunday with his abuelos, and cousins, casual and comfortable. It was telling, of you, fitting, and he liked that, but it was distinctly missing... you.

Santi found him, listening to James, trying not to look over his shoulder for you, hand twitching to find it’s place on you again. They kept their voices low, trying to be respectful, as they caught up on the last few minutes, hours, days. Frankie felt a pang of guilt, wondering if he had been subconsciously avoiding his friend. There was still some more private communicating they had to do… He offered Pope a drive. That would do it.

There was an understanding as the looked at each other, under the music and talk, and clatter of dishes. Will was making James laugh, loud and care-free. The uneasiness settled in his gut – he trusted Santi with his life. He could certainly trust him now, with whatever this was.

Not long after, Frankie found himself being herded through the little house, around tables with glasses and napkins, and back into the little kitchen. There was a reassuring squeeze on his shoulder, and then he was alone with you, for the very first time.

Your eyes were big, staring at him, as you held a pile of dirty dishes.

He wanted to kiss you.

Of course, he didn’t, only cursing himself as he awkwardly offered to help. When you shook your head, your hair fluffed, and with the sunlight through the window, he was having trouble remembering how to function.

Frankie was solid, known for being sturdy and safe. Not like Will was, with his ethics and upbringing like roots into the ground, but that of Atlas, supporting the world on his shoulders.

He was the cornerstone of the team, the background man behind the curtain, with hair and eyes and thighs that Santi swore made women swoon.

And he was doing dishes in the kitchen of your grandfathers house, weak in the knees because you had smiled at him, impressed and grateful. His mind was telling at him to talk to you more, to say something interesting or impressive or to make you laugh when he heard you yelp.

The sound was awful, and adrenaline pumped into his blood as he realized you were hurt. Swinging around he didn’t see you for a moment before registering you had sat down, hard, and were clutching your wrist. There was a thick line, throbbing and an angry red – burnt.

When his knees hit the tile, he didn’t even notice the dull pain. His hands grasped yours as you tried to apologize, explaining the stove was still hot after you had turned it off. Frankie heard you, really he did, but he mind was chanting do something! And stringing Spanish curses, demanding that he protect you, that he fix it.  

He didn’t realize how close he was to you until your eyes found his. it crashed into him the realization that if he leaned forward, tilted his head a bit, and sunk a little lower onto his knees, he could have your mouth against his. 

Panic slowing, he looked at you. You were so sweet and beautiful, collapsed on the kitchen floor with him like the two of you were the only things in the world, and you were trying to tell him you were fine, that it was a silly accident. Frankie felt ridiculous, caught up in his thoughts, and he just... threw aside logic.

Time stopped, and he kissed the burn.

>>

taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @beautyagegoodnesssize

hey batter batter taglist:

@icanbeyourjedi @studyofawearymind @hnt-escape @athalien @the-witty-pen-name

#apparently i like it when big strong men are bad at talking because they're thinking too much #francisco morales #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x you #frankie x you #frankie x reader #catfish x you #triple frontier #baseball au #triple frontier baseball au #hey batter batter #maybe i don't know people

[vanderlindemorgans]

Cross My Heart (Chapter 4)

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x Reader

Rating: Explicit/18+

Summary: A traitorous Agent Whiskey returns to the United States on the run. Being cast out by Statesman, he soon finds that you’re the only person he can turn to - the embittered former flame from years long passed

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: Eventual smut, some references to alcoholism and drug use. Reader is in her late twenties but there is an age gap between her and Whiskey. Chapter specific warnings: heavy drinking, someones arm gets broken, also some very vague mentions of a shootout, reader is in denial about being in denial (so the usual pretty much)

Read on AO3 | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

You thought it would just be one coffee. One simple mistake as a result of you being extra tired, or something like that. You’d give it to him, hear his stupid little remark meant to rile you up, and then it’d be done - it would never happen again. 

Here’s the thing, though: you kept making more. After that day, every morning when you woke up, you’d grab two coffee mugs and make one for the both of you - yours with extra cream, his straight black. You knew he liked to add a shot of whiskey to his, even though you pretended not to notice when he not-so-discreetly pulled his flask out. Whatever he needed to get through the day, you shrugged, watching him out of the corner of your eye. You certainly weren’t about to judge him for his drinking habits in light of your own less than stellar track record. 

Neither of you dared to mention it so far. You hoped to high heaven that he wouldn’t: his little tease on that first day was barely enough to get under your skin though it had stuck to the back of your mind every morning you woke up. You’re not getting soft on him, are you?

Shaking your head furiously, you let out a low frustrated sigh as you moved to reach out for the bottle of wine next to you once more, flicking off the top and pouring almost a good half of the bottle’s contents into your glass. It was a Wednesday night but you didn’t much care - if the hangover was that bad the next morning, and it never usually was with a shiraz, you’d get some painkillers and get on with your day. The same thought as before repeated itself in your mind again, doing nothing short of vexing you further. Partially because you were worried it was true. Maybe you were getting soft on him. Maybe you weren’t as strong and stubborn as you thought if Jack Daniels had managed to worm his way back into your heart.

No. That couldn’t be it. You tossed your head back and indulged yourself in a rather large gulp of wine, letting the liquid rush down your throat in a desperate attempt to dilute the pitiful nonsense that had filled your head. What a ridiculous thought. You weren’t falling for Jack Daniels charm once more. No, you simply wouldn’t do that. You knew better than that. You knew that underneath that smooth facade was a flitting and emotionally unavailable man, the man who had broken your heart and made you suffer for what felt like evermore. You may have felt pity on him for his fall from grace, but anyone else would if they saw the state of him. Discarding the glass off to the side, you wanted to laugh at the simple absurdity of such an idea. Are you always this stupid with a wine-addled brain? 

Speaking of the devil, you heard his footsteps from up the stairs, taking you by surprise as you were certain that he was asleep by now. You crocked your head to the side, your eyes travelling up the stairwell to the small part of the landing that was in your immediate vision - you couldn’t catch a single sight of him. Shrugging to yourself, you returned to your almost empty glass of wine, feeling that familiar haze descend over your brain with every sip you took. This was fine. You could let yourself be swallowed by the alcohol, maybe even enjoy the fact that your nerves were loosened for just this once. If it could take all that shit away, then you’d gladly let it. And as for Jack? You’d continue on as you were: barely acknowledging his existence, and regarding him as nothing more than a ghost from your past. That’s what you wanted, right?

You’re lying to yourself and you know it.

Blinking your eyes rapidly, you stared out into the space in front of you, your mind lost a million miles away while you were in complete and utter astonishment over those few words that had crossed your mind. Things were quiet, still, even peaceful in a way, only for a second anyhow. That was before the rush came, that incensed anger that flashed across your mind for barely a moment, settling down into something resembling vague annoyance, directed at none other than yourself. Where the hell did that come from? For god's sake, get a grip on yourself. Standing up abruptly, you didn’t even stumble as you advanced back over to the liquor cabinet, dropping to your knees and scanning the tops of the glistening glass bottles under the dim lamp light. Your eyes landed on the bourbon you had stashed at the back and you reached out for it, carefully lifting it above all the others despite your intoxicated state. Resting the bottle against the palm of your hand, you let your fingers trace the grooves in the molded glass, a small bit of hesitation working its way into your mind, hesitation that was swiftly kicked aside in favour of that pesky little buzz that danced around the back of your head, that stupid little crumb of self doubt that refused to fucking leave. 

Guess I’m gonna need a bottle of something stronger to kick this shit. 

___

He didn’t know why he kept watching you. You weren’t doing anything particularly notable - you’d decided to take one of the horses out for a ride, practicing vaulting and the like. He remembered you’d once told him that as a young kid that you’d entered a number of equestrian competitions, and even won a few - he’d seen the trophies gathering dust on the mantle and the cute photos of you posing with your chosen horse, Buttercup, as a child. You explained years ago that you’d stopped participating in competitions but still liked to take the horses out for a spin every once in a while as a way to relax and clear your head. As he watched you now, he could already see the stressors of the day melting away from your visage, leaving only a steely focused expression in its wake as you cleared another jump. 

It was the first time in weeks he’d seen you truly relaxed at all, or showing any sort of emotion other than your usual show of cheerfulness you splashed on for the customers, woven with a current of underlying stress and irritation. Seeing you like this couldn’t help but remind him of better times: you’d taken him out on the horses more than a couple of times when the two of you were together. Jack had always labelled himself as something of an animal lover, ever since he was a kid. He didn’t, and hadn’t, had any pets for a good ten years now though at some point long ago he wanted something similar to what you had - a nice ranch situated out in his home state of Kentucky with a bunch of animals and his family. That dream had seemed so close to him once that he could have sworn it would be a reality yet fate wasn’t so kind to him in that regard. The memory of it all alone hadn’t ceased to become any less painful to him: seeing the broadcast on the news of a shootout down at a local convenience store only to get the call moments later confirming what he’d already feared to have happened most. 

Not a day passed where he didn’t wish he could go back to a time before that day, where even the simple idea of having a family didn’t seem so foreign and unattainable. He felt himself grip onto the wooden bar of the veranda just a tad bit tighter the longer his thoughts fixated on it, though the sound of a piercing shriek immediately brought his attention back to you, his eyes darting around in a frenzy, determined to know what had caused you to cry out in agonising pain. Upon seeing your body lain flat on the ground he rushed forward, vaulting himself over the edge of the varanda and calling out your name. “Are you alright, sugar?” he shouted, throwing open the gate to the ring and racing over towards where you were lying. The faint sounds of you whimpering did nothing short of send him into panic mode, seeing how much it hurt you to move only adding to his worry. “I’m fine, I just...the dumb horse got spooked by something and bucked me off” you groaned, struggling to pull yourself up, leading you to let out another loud yelp when you tried to move your left arm.

Swooping in to catch you before you fell, Jack gently reached for your arm and pulled it towards him, his eyes widening the moment he caught sight of the horrific fracture done to it. “Darlin’, don’t lie to me, you’re not fine. Arms are not meant to look like this!” he stressed, studying your eyes intensely, trying to gauge if you had some sort of a concussion. They were slightly glazed over, and your gaze kept wandering from him as if you were having trouble focusing. “How’s your head feelin’, sweetheart?”. 

“Kinda dazed. Hurts like a bitch as well” you grumbled, leaning your head against his shoulder slightly. Every bone in your body felt like it was screaming at you like some sort of symphony, the pain in your arm being the worst of all. Your vision had also become slightly blurry and kept splitting double every few seconds, only contributing to your general haziness. Your thoughts were running a mile a minute, scattered around your brain and refusing to slow down. Suddenly, you felt yourself being lifted off the ground and up into Jack’s arms, your head lolling slightly against his forearm as he carried you back up to the house. Running through your memory, you couldn’t really remember what had happened fully: you had just made another jump and were circling around the ring to gain speed for another when suddenly you were on the ground and your horse, Molly, was a few feet ahead of you. 

Jack brought you up to the varanda and laid you down on the bench, grabbing one of the old decorative throw pillows you had to rest your head on.“Stay here for a moment, I’m gonna get you some ice, then I’m gonna call an ambulance and get ya to an emergency room” he instructed before ducking back inside the house.

“Is that really necessary, Jack?” you shouted out after him, leading him to stick his head back out the door to look at you incredulously. “Sweetheart, your arm is broken and you're clearly concussed. I think the situation more than calls for it” he replied with a deadpan tone, disappearing back into your house to find you some ice. Resting your head back against the pillows, you turned to see Molly trotting around near the edge of the fenceline, acting as if she hadn’t just thrown you off her back for no apparent reason at all. 

“Yeah, just had to buck me off, didn’t ya? Thanks asshole!” you shouted out, doing your best to ignore the persistent throbbing in the side of your head and the dull ache from where your arm was rested. Thankfully, partially due to the concussion probably, it didn’t feel as bad as before, though at the same time you could have just simply become more tolerant of the pain. Not to say it didn’t still hurt like literal hell or that it was any less easy to take notice of. 

“Honeybee, I get you’re in pain but yelling at the horse isn’t doing anything” you heard Jack say to you as he made his entrance once more, holding a tea towel containing several large blocks of ice in his hand. Muttering out a small ‘thank you’, you took the towel in your hands and pressed it against the swell of your arm, letting out a small hiss the second you felt the sharp sting of the cold on your skin. “I know yelling at the horse does nothing, but it’s making me feel better” you grumbled. 

“Is it? Is it really?” Jack scoffed, subsequently choosing to ignore the sharp death glare you gave him after his flippant remark. “I’ve called an ambulance, they’ll be here to get you to a proper hospital in no time. You really had me worried there when I heard you scream”.

“Oh, so you do care about me after all” you jeered, your signature sarcastic edge seeping through your tone. You shifted slightly to try to position yourself up a little more so that you could face him properly yet as you moved a heavy sting of pain shot through you, causing you to yelp out a little and tense up in response. As if it were instinctual to him, Jack moved towards you and helped you settle back down. “Try not to move too much until the ambulance gets here” he directed. You didn’t know if it was your imagination or not, but you could have sworn his hand lingered on your forehead a second longer than it should have, his fingertips brushing against your skin and leaving a burning sensation in their wake, something that, shamefully so, made your heart skip a small beat. “Now, about me not caring - sugar, when are you gonna accept that no matter what happened between us that I still care about you as a person?” he asked. Shoving those thoughts to the back of your mind, you settled on glaring back at him with a quick witted quip to combat him, because that’s all he was to you: an annoyance, a nuisance, a royal pain in the ass. You were doing him a favour by letting him stay with you. There was nothing more to this.

“Try never, asshole” you snapped, one note harsher than you originally intended. As usual whenever you bit back at his banter, Jack shrugged and rested back into the wall he was standing against. For once, though, you felt bad at snapping at him like that - there wasn’t any need for it, he was only trying to help. Not knowing if you could fully coax the words ‘I’m sorry’ from your mouth, you settled on something less apologetic but still sort of the message across. “But...really, thank you. For, y’know, helping me out here” . 

Jack looked at you for a moment, somewhat taken aback at what you’d said before he softened a bit.“Of course, sugar. Call it returning the favour for taking care of me a couple of weeks back” he answered, giving you that sweet smile of his that hadn’t managed to unweave itself from those old memories. And for once, you allowed yourself to smile weakly in return.

#agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #jack daniels #jack daniels x reader #cross my heart #Kingsman #Kingsman: the golden circle #kingsman fanfiction #Pedro Pascal

[coffee-imagines]

Behind Closed Doors Pt. 8

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Fred x reader

Warnings: none

A/N: This is the last part and although I’m doing another part that somewhat has to do with this series, but this is evidently the last part and I’m surprised and a bit sad that this is the first series I’ve done that I’ve actually finished. I also made it come back full circle with the gif :) so enjoy that

Summary: An awkward reunion with the Weasleys leads to a race to the bathroom

———————————–

You stared wide eyed at the family standing in front of you, and you were glad you were shorter than Fred so you could hide behind him. It hadn’t been until now that you noticed how sticky all the food had made you, the nasty smell of lemonade mixed with dip, mayo, and avocado filling your nose making you feel slightly nauseous. It may have been because of the sinister smirk that was spread across George’s lips, but you wanted to assume it was the food and not the fact that the whole Weasley family just saw your kiss with Fred.

“Hello.” You cleared your throat, breaking the silence. 

“Did you both have fun while we were gone?” Bill’s voice broke the silence making your face heat up.

“I… We...” Fred tried to explain, turning around to look at you for help.

“Why don’t you tell them all about it?” You smiled innocently up at him and patted his chest. 

“Yes Fred, tell us. Is our room as messy as the both of you?” George smiled, making you bite the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from laughing.

“Well Y/N was nice enough to have us clean the entire house for mom.” Fred explained, forcing you in front of him with his hands on your shoulders.

“That’s very nice of you.” Molly smiled and you gave her a small nod. The rest of the family couldn’t help but watch the both of you turning redder by the second, so they decided to add to your torture.

“Who finally asked who out?” Ginny chirped in and your face was almost on fire at the memory of the love potion that made you act in a way you never had anticipated.  

“We should get cleaned up.” Fred avoided the question, remembering the same thing as you. You finally realized this could be your chance to get away from the conversation, and you were determined to win the duel you knew was about to come. 

“I call dibs on the shower!” You elbowed the boy standing next to you so you could get past him inside of the house.

“Oh no you don’t!” Fred yelled after you, the rest of the Weasleys amused following you inside of the house.

“Fred!” You exclaimed, shoving him away from you when you felt him grab your hips to pull you back.

You both continued like this to the amusement of the Weasleys behind you. You both pushed, pulled, and shoved slipping from the still dripping food that was falling from the both of you. You couldn’t help but trip up the stairs, almost hitting your face on the step from Fred pulling you back, but you shook him off before giving him a small nudge with your foot. 

“Ha!” You exclaimed, when you made your way to the top of the steps. Fred was planted face first on the ground, having slipped on the last step due to food stuck to the bottom of his shoe.

“You’re cleaning this up.” You heard Molly making you smirk and let out a small ‘yes!’ when you closed the bathroom door behind you.

You let the warm water run all over your body and you sighed contently, letting your eyes flutter closed. You couldn’t believe what happened over your time with Fred. With your eyes closed, you subconsciously ran the tips of your fingers over your lips and couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face at the memory of Fred’s lips on yours. You quietly washed off, humming to yourself and scrunching up your nose occasionally when you saw the food going down the drain. When you got out you quickly dried off and cursed yourself for not having any clothes. You wrapped the towel tightly around you and decided you would make a run for the twin’s room, but your plans were shattered when you opened the door. 

“Hello there.” Fred smirked down at you making you tighten your grip around the towel, a blush forming on your face when he looked you up and down. “My turn now?” He asked, leaning against the doorframe with both arms trapping you in your spot. 

“Yeah.” You breathed out, scrunching your nose when he leaned in closer. “You stink.” You laughed out making Fred roll his eyes. 

“I wonder why.” He teased making you smile. Fred’s arm came to wrap around your waist and you gasped when he pulled you close. Your eyes closed when Fred started to lean in and you parted your lips when you felt his brush against yours making your stomach fill with butterflies. “Excuse me.” He whispered, switching your places so he could get into the restroom. 

You stared at him in shock, completely flustered and unable to find your voice. Fred gave you a wink before he closed the door and you stood there staring for a while. You heard a chuckle come from the other side of the door and you couldn’t help but smile and shake your head, quickly making your way to the twin’s room. 

“So you’re dating now right?” George’s voice filled your ears making you jump.

“Yes! Now turn around!” You explained at the younger making him roll his eyes but listen to you anyway. 

“Nothing I haven’t seen before Y/N. Now answer the question.” He explained while you dug through your bags to get a clean pair of clothes. 

“Yes.” You mumbled, slipping your shirt over your head before putting everything else on. 

“Thank Merlin!” George exclaimed, turning around and almost tackled you. “Now I don’t have to hear the both of you complaining about liking each other.” He shook you in a hug making you roll your eyes. 

“I wasn’t that bad.” You explained only to earn a scoff. 

Okay you had to admit… you were the complete worst when it came to how you felt about Fred. You’d always hang yourself over George and rant about what you noticed about Fred that week, and little did you know Fred did the same. You constantly asked George questions, trying to plan ways you’d confess your feelings, but you never went through with them even when George would spend hours with you trying to make the plan perfect. 

“Out.” You heard from behind you making you turn and see a dripping wet Fred with a towel wrapped around him. You bit your lip, unable to stop yourself from looking him up and down, and without even looking at him you knew he was talking to George. 

“It’s my room too.” George fired back smirking and looking between the both of you. “I deserve respect Fred. You two wouldn’t be together if it weren’t for me.” He continued, walking over and patting his brother on the back. “Have fun you two.” He opened the door before turning back around. “Just… not on my bed.” He laughed, only leaving when a shoe was thrown at his head. 

You sat down on Fred’s bed, covering your eyes when you saw his hands go to take off the towel and you heard a laugh. You would’ve liked nothing more than to peek at the gorgeous redhead’s body, but you knew he’d do the same for you. No matter how hard you tried to stop it, your mind seemed to wander into more heated territories as you were left to nothing but your thoughts and a naked boy getting dressed somewhere in the room. 

“I’m done.” Fred whispered, grabbing your hands and pulling them from your eyes. “Hi.” He smiled, watching your flushed face with amusement. 

You didn’t respond, not with words to be more specific. You leaned in and your lips molded against each other perfectly. Fred’s hand came up to cup your cheek and you hummed into the kiss. It wasn’t long before Fred deepened the kiss, his tongue running across your bottom lip making you gasp, his tongue close to slipping its way into your mouth making your chest rise and fall rapidly. 

“Time for dinner dearies.” Molly’s voice came from the door making you both jump apart and you were sure your face was bright red. 

“Thank you.” You mumbled with a shy smile and headed for the door with Fred hot on your tail, both of you wanting to avoid the questions and comments that were surely at the tip of Molly’s tongue. 

You seemed to avoid any awkward questions during dinner. It seemed that everyone was focused on eating rather than talking, and you were grateful for it. You were glad that you won the race to the shower, knowing Fred must’ve gone through any and all questions that made dinner this quiet. Slowly grabbing your glass you sipped the water in it slowly, your eyes darting around the table almost freaking out at how still everyone was. 

“Are you both packed and ready for the train tomorrow?” Arthur finally broke the silence, looking down in the direction you were seating in between the twins. 

“Yes.” “No.” You and Fred explained at the same time making you shoot him a look. “I’ll help him later.” You explained earning a nod from Arthur and a squeeze of your thigh from Fred making you blush furiously. 

“Thank you.” Fred mumbled against your skin, pressing his lips to your temple. You looked down at your plate intently, studying it as though your life depended on it, moving pieces of food around with your fork. “I’m done.” Fred explained, standing up with his licked clean plate and you shot up.

“Me too.” You explained, standing up with your plate still entirely full. 

“I’ll take that.” Ron explained, reaching over and stealing your plate making you roll your eyes.

Before Arthur and Molly could protest, Fred grabbed you by your upper arm and dragged you out of the kitchen and up the stairs. You followed quickly, the both of you tripping over each other while you ran up the stairs, laughs coming from the both of you. You gasped when Fred pulled you into a kiss at the top of the steps and you smiled into it, wrapping your arms around his neck. You couldn’t help but laugh when Fred hugged you from behind and you both waddled the rest of the way to his room.

“Oh come on you two. I just ate.” George groaned from behind you and Fred closed the door on him with a laugh. 

You both quietly started packing up Fred’s things, both of you sharing kisses every now and then earning gags from the younger twin who was packing his things on his bed. Neither of you cared, kissing even longer or just made the kissing noises to piss him off. He almost had a heart attack when the both of you confessed you’d been sleeping in the same bed ever since you arrived at the house. You curled into Fred’s chest nonetheless, both of you whispering to each other until George finally got fed up and threw his pillow at the both of you and threatened his shoe next if you didn’t “shut up” so you both decided it was best to go to sleep.

The following day you and Fred walked hand in hand, running through to platform nine and three quarters, both of your things on one cart. You were one hundred percent sure that Fred would’ve pushed you along with his luggage if it hadn’t been full. You wrapped your arm around George’s neck when he walked up to the both of you. Fred pulled you along into the first empty place he could find, and the three of you settled in.

The entire ride you hardly paid attention to George, you and Fred snuggled up to each other. You blushed when Fred pulled your hands up to his lips and he kissed it gently. You were about to return the favor, but the groan and gag of the twin sitting across from the both of you made your heads turn.

“Are you two going to insist on being this close now around me now?” George groaned and you smirked. 

“Yup.” You smiled, cupping Fred’s cheek in your hand before sharing a passionate kiss. 

The rest of the school year was going to be different, but you knew it was for the better.

———————————–

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[xwing-baby]

A Day Off (Mandalorian x Reader)

This was inspired by everyone’s favourite @dindjarindiaries ​ and her lovely fic ‘The Challenge’ go read it because it's way better than this bullshit that my brain came up with. You’re an amazing writer Molly, I am sorry for this. I’m not sure why I really wrote this, but I hope you enjoy!

IMAGINE: Din leaves you for the day to go on a hunt. You entertain yourself and end up very drunk by the time he comes to find you. Hilarity ensues. (Drink responsibly kids!)

Word count: 2.4k... this was meant to be short. 

Warnings: Mention of alcohol, violence, and vomit! Please drink responsibly!! Cheeky bit of pining, little bit of flirting, fluff at the end!

The decision to leave you out of today’s hunt was a mutual one. You were tired and in need of a rest, the quarry was easy and Din was more than capable on his own anyway. So, he left you in a small town a few miles from his destination. In that small town, you found a tired old cantina, filled with enough booze and pleasant conversation to survive the next few hours. 

The hunt was done, the victim handed off successfully to the right person and Din was on his way to find you so you could move on to the next planet. He was tired and bruised from the hunt and wanted to get back to the safety of the Crest sooner rather than later, but knew as soon as he heard your distinctive laugh from outside the cantina that that was not going to be the reality. 

As if you knew he was coming, you stumbled out of the door before he could even open it. Your hair was messed up, strands falling out of the tie and into your face. There was liquid spilled down the front of your shirt and your boots were untied. You looked a mess. For a second he was a little worried, until a goofy smile spread across your face when you recognised him. 

“You came back!” You threw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around the Mandalorian. Shocked, Din stands still. Not really sure what to do with himself. You notice and laugh, stumbling back off him. “You were gone for like a million hours! I missed you” 

“It was ten hours,” Din said with a smile, “But we’re going now,”

“Great, ‘cus I don’t think I can go back in there again,” You ran ahead of Din a few paces and grimaced. “Not a lot of friends were made today! But-but- but! I did a good thing actually!” Din just kept walking, trying not to entertain your rambling. You carried on anyway, you were used to his silence by now. “There was this twi’lek right, looked great but oh my stars! The worst! Turns out he knew you! Everyone knows you, not a surprise there. But he also knew that I was with you and tried to chat shit about you!” You were shouting now, gesturing animatedly and zigzagging across the street. “And he kept going so I just punched him,” You mimicked your actions from early, swinging your arm and using the momentum to turn back around to face the Mandalorian, “Punched him straight in the face! It was awesome!” 

“You didn’t need to do that,” 

“He was an asshole of course I did,” You sighed, “And apparently you know his sister or something? Didn’t realise you were such a Casanova, Tinman!” Again Din didn’t reply. He knew exactly who you were on about and was a little proud that you’d punched the guy. Must have been Xi’an’s brother. “Well, of course you are,” You continued. “You’re so freaking handsome all the time, and nobody can even see your face!” You swung back around to walk forward again, swinging your arms by your sides and giggling as you thought about what the Mandalorian might look like. You hadn’t been in his crew long but had developed feelings for him quite quickly. Not that Din knew this, “You know, I bet you’re really pretty under that helmet,” You tapped the top of his head for emphasis. “I don’t think you understand how pretty you are with it on! Maybe it’s for the best that you keep it on, you’d never be able to get anything done!” 

“Alright, y/n,” 

“You’re going to make some woman very happy one day Mando,” You said with a dreamy look in your eye. 

Din smiled and blushed a little at your words. At the same time you had developed feelings for Din, Din had developed feelings for you. He was very glad to have the helmet to hide how obvious a blush came to his face when you said things like that. He wanted nothing more than to make you happy, if you only knew. 

The pair carried on walking out of the town, and towards the small valley the crest had been hidden in. You carried on rambling away, telling him in immense detail everything that had happened while he was gone. 

“And then I got challenged to a drinking contest with this other dude. I say dude but turns out he was a Wookie. And I won! Everyone says I didn’t but I saw the way he walked out of there, I won so hard! Drunk him under the table,” You spoke quickly and animatedly. Din wasn’t really listening anymore, just enjoying the sound of your voice and watching you as you walked ahead making sure you didn’t fall over. “You should have been there and we could have smashed it!” You laughed, spinning around to face him again now with a puzzled look on your face. “Have you ever been drunk, Mando?” 

“A few times,” He replied, “Watch where you’re going,” 

“I am,” You say, continuing to walk backwards anyway. You thought about something for a second then spoke again, “But what about the Creed? Don’t you have to drink alone? Or,” You stopped again and burst into laughter. Din stopped walking, his patience growing a little thin. “D-do you, Ha!” You could barely get your words out, tears streaming down your face laughing at your own thoughts. “To- to get around the cr-creed… oh my stars!” 

“Y/n I don’t have time for this,” He said sharply.

“You have to use a straw!” You howled with laughter. Din shook his head, he wanted to be annoyed at you but your infectious laugh had caught him. He stifled his own laughter. “I want to see it so bad! Oh my stars!” 

“You’ve had your fun now,” Din tried to sound serious, his voice wavering a bit through the modulator as he tried not to laugh. 

“Yes, yes… oh! I’m sorry,” You tried to take a deep breath to calm yourself down. “Yes, I’m sorry you’re a super serious Mandalorian you wouldn’t use a straw!” You coughed to force yourself to calm down but cackled with laughter again. Din started walking again, leaving you behind a few paces while you calmed yourself down. Eventually, you followed and saw the ship over the crest of the hill. 

“I’ll race you!” You called, already speeding past the Mandalorian down the grassy hill. “Winner gets the refresher first!” 

You ran as fast as you could, and looked back for just a second to see that your companion hadn’t followed you. Before you could even blink you tripped and fell on a rock sticking out of the grass. You fell, flipping over and landing with a thud on your back. You skidded to a halt at the bottom of the hill, conveniently next to your intended destination. This made Din run. 

Once he got to the bottom where you were, his panic quickly vanished as he found you in fits of laughter yet again. 

“Did you see that!” You laughed. “I won!” 

“Are you alright?” 

“My back hurts a little, but I won, loser!” You exclaimed, putting your fingers in a ‘L’ on your forehead. Din rolled his eyes. As if this whole experience couldn’t get more ridiculous. “Not going to help me up?” You pouted and held up your arms like a child. Din uncrossed his arms and held his gloved hand out for you to grab and pulled you up to your feet again. The back of your shirt was ripped and grass stains covered the pale materials along with a few drops of blood. You didn’t seem concerned at all as the alcohol in your system was numbing everything. 

Din opened the Crest and you walked up the ramp to the safety of its interior. 

“Where’s the baby?” You whispered loudly. Ever since you’d joined the crew you’d loved the Child like your own. Another thing Din admired about you. “Baby! We’re back,” 

“Why are you whispering?” 

“Shh!” You shoved your hand over the front of his helmet, “He might be sleeping,” Din pushed your hand off, and you carried on walking into the ship, creeping on your tiptoes. 

“I think you need to go to sleep,” 

“Only if you’ll come with me,” You turned around and looked the Mandalorian up and down, your playful attitude now turning darker. You played with the buttons of your shirt, slowly undoing them. Din was stunned, freezing in his spot. 

“That wouldn’t be appropriate,” Din tried to stay composed, but it was becoming more and more difficult as you took your top off. He knew he couldn’t do anything, you were way too drunk. He wasn’t an idiot. But he was also human. 

“I bet you’re so pretty under there,” You sighed. You moved to be closer to him when a small green creature stood on a box and caught your attention instead. “Hey little guy!” Din took a sigh of relief, the tension you had created dissipated almost instantly as you bent down to pet the little creature. 

While you were distracted he checked over your back, seeing only a few scrapes and deciding it would be fine until the morning when you’d sobered and also weren’t trying to flirt with him anymore. Well, the last part he didn’t mind so much. 

Din went about his usual take-off activities. He could hear you talking to the Child, telling the little thing about your day and listening to it babble back, acting as if you could understand what it was saying. Eventually, you disappeared into the ship. Din hoped that you had gone to sleep. 

You hadn’t. You went to throw up, ultimately finding an empty freight box. The mixture of spinning from alcohol and the bumpy takeoff made for an upsetting mix. The Child grimaced and put its hand up to comfort you. An odd feeling washed over you, like a warm water trickling through you, then you felt better. You could see straight now. The Child seemed happy with whatever it had done and toddled away. 

You pushed yourself off the floor, and went in search of a new shirt. The cold chill of space had begun to seep into the ship's cracks making you shiver. You stumbled into Din’s quarters, you shouldn’t have  been in there but it was the first place you thought to look for a new shirt. And you found one. His cot was messy, clothes thrown around the small room. You couldn’t help but think about him then, getting out of that armour… 

It was too much. You shook your head. Even your drunk brain knew it was wrong to think about him like that. He didn’t like you, like that, there was no need to encourage the idea. Instead, you pulled the closest piece of clothing on. It was a little too big, but it smelt like him which made you smile. 

You decided to go to the cockpit to bother the Mandalorian again. It was lonely being drunk on your own. You climbed up to the cockpit and stood in the door silently. Din was talking quietly to the Child, trying to pull it away from the many shiny switches on the control panel. You grinned, seeing him with the child made your heart soar. He was so sweet to the creature, for a moment you could forget what a formidable character the Mandalorian really was. He acted like the creature’s dad and it was entirely believable. Quietly, you settled into the seat to his right, looking out as the stars streamed past in hyperdrive. Din had noticed, though didn’t say anything. It was silent for a moment or two, bar the Child’s playful squeals as it played with a silver ball. Din figured you had fallen asleep, glad that you weren’t trying to flirt with him anymore. 

“When are you going to let me fly?” You ask suddenly. Din turns to you, but doesn’t say anything. This was almost a daily discussion. It was always no. “I know you said no the last time but I really think you’re underestimating me. I land badly one time and you never trust me to fly your ship!” 

“You crashed,” Mando said plainly.

“One time!” You exclaimed. “I’ll have you know it was very harsh conditions, and desert planets are very deceptive! Give me a nice- a nice planet,” You slurred as your eyes become heavier, “and I promise I will land the crest beautifully,”

“No way,” 

“Spoil sport,” You grumble. The Child hopped up into your lap, and presented the silver ball it had in its mouth, which made you giggle. You settled further into the seat, throwing your legs over the armrest, kicking them against the leather. The Child sat in your lap and showed you its new trick of making the item float. 

Mindlessly you began to sing, quietly, and play with the Child. The melody made Din’s ears prick, you were singing in Mando’a, a song that he hadn’t heard since he was a child. Your voice made him shiver, memories flooding back of the few happy moments of his life when this song was sung last. 

You sang it to the end, with very few mistakes, making Din wonder how long you’d known it. You must have known it for a while, but you’d never understood him when he spoke the language before. 

“Where did you learn that?” He finally caved and asked, wanting nothing more than for you to sing it again.

“I learnt it for you,” You said with a yawn, your eyes closing. You started singing again, the words now fading into mumbles and eventually you fell asleep. He turned in his chair to look at you as you were quiet once more. You’d curled yourself up in the chair, head tilted back resting on the wall. The Child sat in your chest, playing with the ends of your hair. The child looked at Din and smiled, then back at you. It's a little green hand patting your leg and it cooed.

“I know, kid.”

A/N: That ended a lot softer than I planned but hey ho. Remember drink responsibly, don’t challenge a wookie to a drinking challenge, you will lose. They’re massive. Goodnight!

Tagging: @captain-skytrash​ @dindjarindiaries​ @dartheldur​ @inked-poet​ @tortles

#this is dumb but I kind of like it now #the mandalorian #star wars #mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #star wars x reader #din djarin #mando x reader #x reader #drabble #writing #fanfictio #the child #baby yoda #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din x reader #baby yoda x reader #mandalorianxreader

[lchufflepuffcorn]

As the dragon roar (Charlie Weasley x Hufflepuff!Reader)

Words: 2206

Warning: Angst, I do not own the gif, they belong to their owner/creator. Their will be spoilers from the Hogwarts Mystery game, they are marked so you can skip them, it won’t affect your reading, but you are warned. 

You can find my masterlist here! 

There is one thing marked with a *, its because I was inspired by a post I found on here, but I can’t find it so if anyone knows, just write it to me so I can give credits to the original author pls... 

Charlie was known to be passionate. About his grades, his friends, his love for dragons, his family. He was, after all, a Gryffindor. But Charlie was also, deep down, a little bit jealous. Bill, his older brother, was calm and - as their mother would say- the example to follow. Charlie was not. While he was less of a trouble maker than his younger brothers Fred and George, he still was more troubling than Bill. 

And now that Charlie was in his first year at Hogwarts, where he thought that he could become something else than Bill's little brother, said brother took his chances away. 

Charlie had witnessed a duel in the courtyard between Merula Snyde and (Y/N) (Y/L/N), the was said to be Jacob (Y/L/N) 's sister. And as you had defeated Merula, while knowing two basic charms, he found himself to be in awe before you. And so he talks about it to Bill. That was his first big mistake. 

Soon, while Charlie was doing his best to try and talk to you, Bill became your friend easily, and it was now him who was talking about you to his brother. Making Charlie jealous. But that, Bill didn't know. 

The second year, Charlie found himself yet again second in line -well, third really- as his friend Andrew became your friend too. First, his brother, then his best friend. Really Charlie has no luck. And it seemed that during the summer you had become even more friendly and shining - you become more like the sun- it was making it hard for him to try and talk to you even more now that people flowed around you. Andrew too, would start talking about You, Rowan and Penny, Bill, and once again, Charlie would become jealous. 

The third year, he shares a class with you this year, for the first time since his first year, he can see you up close again. Bill told him about your escapades, and he longs to do the same. At the same time, he wonders if he could see dragons too. He talks to you a little more in care of Magical Creature, but nothing too elaborate, as you seem to be more preoccupied with what was the secret Jacob was hiding before his disappearance. He can't help but wonder if you use magic in the morning to be this radiant. 

Year four, he did it! Andrew officially made him entered your closed group of friends. Bill gave his name so you could choose to take him to the forbidden forest. He got to meet you, become your friend and share your secrets. You look nothing like the little girl he saw battle Merula in the first year, you look more and more like a lady now. Once again, he wonders if you used that magic cream his mother buys at a high price. That summer, Bill invites you to spend some time at the Burrow. 

Year five, he's prefect, you helped him get some money during the summer, and he hopes to buy a dragon egg. You look more gloomy than usual, but you too are a prefect, so he can spend more time with you. Bill is at his last year at Hogwarts, and Charlie feels somewhat bad that he feels relieved by that. Now he can spend much more time with you without his brother around as much as before. But at the same time, have your eyes always been so shiny? Have our cheeks always looked so soft? As your lips always looked so plumped? He can't tell. His this bad, his heart races each time you smile, is he sick? When he asks Andrew, he's not much help, as all he can do is start laugh, so he asks Penny, and she tells him that he can answer that on his own. It's Tonks that makes him realize. 

Year six, you are not your usual self. You seem like you sleep less, you look paranoid, your nose is always inside some book, you learn spells like you change clothes and you start skipping meals. Charlie is the captain of the Gryffindor quidditch team, and starts having less and less time with you and the gang, but mostly with you. And it makes his heartache. He finds you one night while patrolling the castle, walking quietly in the corridor, your wand before you. You walk aimlessly doing your round, and Charlie can't help but come see you. You're fast picking up a smile and make it seem like nothing is happening, it looks like you became a better liar during the summer. Charlie is nearly fooled. He gets you to spend Christmas at his house, and his goal is to make you smile as much as possible during that time. 

*Spoilers* 

You are never the same after that night in the forest. Your eyes are dull, dead, your smile seems fake, and your voice lost its passion. All you see is vengeance. 

Rowan was your best friend, he gets that, but Charlie doesn't want to lose you like you lost your brother. You spent more and more time alone before the Idea of the Circle of Khanna is spoken. Of course, you take that opportunity, and because Charlie is your friend, he follows. 

*Spoilers end*

Year seven, Charlie took the famous courage that Gryffindor was renowned for and asked you on a date. He knows that it's his last year before leaving, he still doesn't know where yet, but he'll find out. Maybe he can use it to distract you. He knows that you want to become a curse breaker, like your nickname, and he finds himself jealous of his older brother once more. He doesn't want to lose contact with you. 

Charlie knows he's not one for sex, it doesn't interest him in the slightest way, but he would like a family, one day -with you- maybe. And he knows that maybe it won't be as soon as both of you leave Hogwarts, too many bad memories and loss come with your family, and he's okay with that. He can have a family just of you and him for a while, or forever if you want. 

But he doesn't tell you that. 

1991-1992, Charlie and yourself did not lose contact, you even go and see him in Romania quite often. Apparently, you became an employee for the endangered magical and mystical creature, you travel around the world to see if all camps for endangered magical (or mystical) creatures are all in order, which means that sometimes you pop in Romania and stay a little to pass the time with him. 

You pass Christmas together that year and receive your very own handmade Weasley sweater with the first letter of your name on it. It's your third, but this one also has your old quidditch number on it, so it means that Mrs. Weasley, erh, Molly, and Charlie talked a whole lot during the year. 

Charlie is also surprised to receive a letter from his little brother Ron about a dragon that Hagrid hides in his hut. So he takes the opportunity to ask some members of the old gang to reunite*. You, Andrew, Merula and Penny go to get the baby dragon, and Charlie waits for you guys not far from there. 

1992-1993, Charlie finally asks you to marry him. "So you can be family in your own way." You don't want children, and he okay with that. You don't need children to be a family; plus, there are enough Weasley on the earth (His argument, not yours). You choose not to tell Mrs. Weasley -erh- Molly, yet. She's already set on cutting Bill's hair and finding him a lover, and Charlie doesn't want to be pestered about children. He knows that it's a touchy subject with you. 

At the end of the year, he learns that his sister has been abducted, and starts panicking. That summer, you spent some weeks with them. That throws you back at your time in Hogwarts, but for Charlie, you let it slides. You went to Egypt too and saw Bill. That made you happy, even with all the things that kept you in the past with Ginny. 

1993-1994, Sirius Black escaped? Nothing really important happens except for that new. Your group of friend reunite and remembers your times together. You finally tell Mrs. Weasley… Molly about your engagement, but Charlie is prompt to tell her that you and he won't have any children. What surprise Charlie is that his mother is okay with it and doesn't ask questions. When he announced the same thing to Bill and say the reaction their mother had, he's surprised to see that Bill only smiles and responds, "I know, I told her about it…" But instead of being jealous, this time, he's glad. 

However, he's happy to tell you that his father won places at the 422e Quidditch World Cup that summer and that both of you can come. 

1994-1995, it's the first time you meet Harry Potter, Ron's friend. And he makes you think of Rowan, tho that doesn't make you feel sad. Fred and George are happy to see you again, and Percy is all high and mighty, but because he doesn't,t really know of your past as a trouble maker, he's still sweet with you. You find a way to find Murphy, Orion and Skye in the camping, so you spend some time with them before the match. 

That night, however, you rush Ginny with Fred and George, look at Hermione and run back to where the action is. Death Eaters are destroying the place, and you throw charms right and left, scavenging for any hurt person you could help. When you reunite with Charlie again, you have dirt all over, and nobody knows where the others are. He's relieved that you're alright, but his big brother's attitude is kicking in. You decide it's best if you go back home to Mrs…. Molly. 

Then school starts again and so does your job. Charlie wants to have a private wedding, simple, his family, your family, some close friends, that's it. You agree. 

You wed in October after Charlie went to Hogwart with four dragons for the Tri-wizard tournament. After that Molly starts sending infuriated letters to everyone about how poor Harry is not meat, and should get through so much and while your not certain you understand, when Cedric Diggory's body arrives at the center of the spectator's view with a hysteric Harry by his side, you are one of the first to be exited the ground following that incident. Too many memories, too much, the flashbacks are unbearable. 

That summer, your group of friends joined the order of the Phoenix. 

1995-1996, Sirius Black is not a bad guy, Voldemort is back, you reunited with Tonks. You are now sent all around the world for work, but also to get information. Charlie wasn't really happy that you became a member, but he can't stop you. You were close to young Cedric, he was the first year when you became a prefect for Hufflepuff. And you once said that he reminded you of a young Jacob too. Of course, you would be invested in something that took another one of your loved ones away. 

Sirius Back dies. 

1996-1997, Tonks is in love with Remus. H's about fourteen years older then her, but she loves him, and he's sweet, and even if he's a werewolf, he doesn't really seem bad, just like Chiara. You remember him from her. And you still have the picture she gave that was from him. You give him back. Charlie wants you to quit, says that it can become too much. He doesn't think your mentally ready for a war. 

Tonks often come to your house crying. Because Remus doesn't want her. You're always there to tell her that it doesn't matter, maybe he's just scared. Maybe she's better off without him. Maybe they just need time. 

Dumbledore dies. 

1997-1998, You can't stand it anymore. You can feel people watching you, you can feel something following you. Maybe Charlie was right. Tonks and Remus married. Bill and Fleur married. Tonks is pregnant. She asked you to be the godmother. It surprised you why she didn't ask Tulip first. But you agree. 

For a while, as Charlie stays with his family because of the new rules, you flew. Your parents died during the years before, you go stay with Penny. You listen to the radio every day, and as soon as you can, you try to contact Abelford, so students know it'll be safe going out the school by his tavern. 

When Charlie comes to you about the war, Penny goes with him, but you arrive at Hogsmeade, to Abelford, so to make the younger students travel back home safe. 

You can't face the truth that is right in front of you. Next to Fred's body lies both Tonks and Remus. And you can't help but weep in Penny's arms. 

Harry Potter is Teddy's godfather, Remus and Tonks's son, but after Tonks' mother, Andromeda, dies, the boy comes live with Charlie and You. 

That's what becomes your family. 

#Charlie Weasley #charliesxreader #charlie weasley x reader #Charlie Weasley imagine #Charlie Weasley x Mc #hogwarts mystery imagines #hogwarts mystery #Harry Potter #Harry potter fandom #harry potter imagines #Ron Weasley #Imagines #Bill Weasley #Fred Weasley #Hogwarts

[dopescotlandwarrior]

Bluegrass-Chapter Sixteen

                        Special thanks to @statell​ for all your help and wisdom

Previous chapters at AO3

Chapter Sixteen

Claire leaned her back against the wall and applied her bright red lipstick with a small mirror. Jason whistled at her and made a joke about lipstick for a horse race. Already in her silks, she waited to be called to interview. She would rather be reviewing video of this race with Michael, but he too was pulled away to talk to reporters about their super horse Runner. She saw Jamie wave as she started walking toward the entrance to the track. She was totally focused on the race, but Jamie could steal her thoughts with just a look. He kissed her.

“I need to prepare ye, lass. Ye have a lot of fans in the stands today. Ready?”

She nodded and held Jamie’s hand as the bright Florida sun made it hard to see at first. People were cheering and calling her name. She turned and smiled giving big waves.

“Jesus Jamie, the fans have doubled during the break.”

Jamie introduced her to a reporter for a horse racing magazine and they both sat down for the agreed five questions. She would do a round-robin with reporters before the race. As the hour wore on Claire was getting antsy to be with Runner for a pre-race pep-talk. She had shown him pictures of the horses to beat during the previous week and he was excited, asking everyone to race him.

Jamie walked her back asking if she felt okay, she seemed quiet today. He would never be comfortable with the element of danger in this sport, but he was very proud of her. Runner was in top condition and had even put on some weight over the winter which Michael was very happy about. He hoped they would do well but deep inside he had the same doubts he always did.

Jason walked Runner to the track and the stands went crazy. Runner’s head jerked up from the loud shouting and then looked at the crowd. Jason couldn’t see Claire yet, so he walked the Horse of The Year to the end of the stands and back to the delight of his fans.

Jamie kissed Claire before launching her into the saddle. One more wave at the crowd and her final twist in the saddle to look at Jamie and smile. Runner loaded into the gate like a perfect gentleman and then told Claire over and over to watch him beat each horse. He was pawing the ground with his hoof. The first race in three months and he was ready.

When the gate slammed open, eleven horses made a mad dash for the track. Horse number twelve was not out of the gate and Claire rolled her eyes.

“I think now is a fine time to start running.”

Like an afterthought, Runner trotted out of the gate looking ridiculous. Claire was afraid he might just stop or go the other way.

“Runner they are nearing the first turn!”

He told her to grab his mane and took off at a hard gallop. Compared to the bunched-up horses coming out of the turn Runner looked like a black streak as he thundered up behind the pack on the outside. He lowered his head and stretched with every stride, had the perfect lead going into the second turn but still had five horses to pass before the finish line. Claire tucked in and yelled for him to hurry. When she sent images of them flying across the finish line, he turned the power on and Claire saw horses falling away on the left side. For a split second, it seemed Runner was just playing with the other horses and Claire wondered how fast he really was. They won by one length and Claire stood in her stirrups, crop held proudly over her head and her victory smile shined for all to see.

Michael clocked them in and looked at the track record, Runner was a fraction of a second from taking it for himself. It was time to have a hard conversation with Claire. He ran down to the track for the winner’s circle picture and to congratulate them.

Michael walked into Runner’s wing hearing the conversation between Claire and Jason. They were talking about the previous weekend race and how Runner stood still at the gate for an extra-long time.

“Do you ever wonder if he just won’t break out one of these days?”

“Him? Never. He wants to win too much. In fact, I think part of that is some kind of psych joke with the other horses. Hi, Michael, we’ll be ready in a few minutes.”

“Claire, I need to ask you about something, ah, well this is awkward. Ah, there’s a difference between passing the other horses and running as fast as he can. Right? Does Runner know the difference? I mean, could you tell him to run his fastest?”

“As I’ve said before to you Michael, that would require a gift to understand and talk to animals.”

“C’mon Claire, I know you communicate somehow, I’ve seen too much not to believe that. However, you do it, I want you to teach him that it’s more than passing all the horses. I think he has more, a lot more power than we know.”

Claire smiled at Michael, feeling a bit victorious, remembering how Michael accursed them all of being crazy in the beginning. So, he was a believer now.

“Of course I will. I have had a thought about the same thing from time to time. I will let him know we want the full power, but it will have to wait for the race in two weeks.”

As the morning training was almost over Jamie walked outside to watch Runner for a bit. Just breezing he was so fast, he wondered what it must feel like to ride him over the finish line going twice that speed. Claire looked like a spec of something on his back, making Jamie realized how much Runner had grown in the past year. They only had two races scheduled and then the derby. Jamie wondered if he actually had a chance to run for the roses, then shook his head to clear his mind. He was a loving advocate for Claire. Her health, her mental happiness, her willingness. Runner had a team of people to watch out for him and Claire had Jamie.

With their win last weekend in Florida, they were sure to have enough points to be contenders in the Derby. He was willing to let that record stand and retire them both but what if they actually ran in the race? It would be their toughest and most dangerous race yet. They were accustomed to the stakes races, which are rarely more than twelve horses. For the Derby, there would be twenty of America’s best Thoroughbreds, one from Japan and one from Europe. Twenty-two horses busting out of the gate together was absolutely terrifying to think about.

Jason ambled out of the barn, ready to take Runner when Claire jumped off. He walked toward Jamie and silently watched for a few minutes.

“Michael thinks she talks to animals now too, did you know that? It feels like the whole world has gone crazy.”

Jamie laughed, “I suppose it would feel like that because it’s just the team ye see every day. Maybe ye’ll feel better going to town now and then, where the normal people are.”

Jamie kept laughing as he caught Claire jumping into his arms. He tossed her over his shoulder and walked away with a wiggling female protesting amid giggles. Once inside the shade of the barn, he set her on her feet and kissed her before unsnapping her helmet and pulling it off. His huge hands slid down her back and squeezed her ample rump.

“Ye started somethin this mornin that’s been brewin for the last few hours. Suppose ye come back to the house with me and finish it.”

“I can’t, I have to help Jason.”

“Do ye now. I can bend ye over right here if ye want.” The teasing continued.

“God, I love it when you do that, just like that, a little more, yes like that.”

Jamie grabbed her hand and ran with her to his office and locked the door where he could tease her until she agreed to the midday tryst. There were five mares ready to foal, so he always anticipated being interrupted, but it was worth the gamble. Jamie prevailed and when Claire was naked in his arms the whole world vanished and it was just him and her, delighting each other with a well-practiced dance.

Claire fell to Jamie’s side panting for her life and reached out to hold him. They curled up together for a blissful minute before his cell phone started ringing. He shook his head no, but she promptly grabbed it and held it to his ear laughing at his pout. While he talked, he flicked on the monitor in their room and saw a mare down in her stall. He handed the phone to his veterinarian to ask the pertinent questions.

“We’ll be right there Jason.”

That afternoon and evening brought a filly and a colt into the world and the barn was upbeat and full of happiness. Claire had given Jason enough instruction to adequately help her with foaling dams. He reminded her of Dustin with his enthusiasm and readiness and it warmed her inside to have his help.

Jamie was beaming with his first two successful births of the year. In truth, each dam had a proven history of producing two-turn winners making the value of these tiny babies upwards of a million dollars as yearlings. The value, won or lost with birth made the process unnerving and tense, especially for Jamie, who gambled huge sums on stud fees and maintenance of the mares for their eleven-month pregnancy. The second foal dropped at midnight. It was a long day for Claire and Jason and they both stuck to their task taking birth records and checking the dam and foal until two in the morning.

“Jason, you are my miracle. Thank you so much for your help. Be sure and tell Molly all about what you did today, she will be thrilled. Get home and to bed or you will be sleeping through chores in a few hours. Do you want to stay in the guest room tonight? It has a private bath and it’s next to the kitchen?”

Jason blushed crimson at the compliment. “Thanks Claire, but I don’t have any clothes, and these are hopelessly gross. I’ll see ya tomorrow.”

While Claire was finishing up, Jamie went to Runner’s stall and stroked his neck, speaking softly to him in Gaelic. His relief and joy with two births today made him remember Claire and Dusty pulling this colt out of his dam. He remembered feeding him around the clock and sleeping with him at night. When Angus or Rupert tried to relieve him for a night, something would happen to bring him back. He didn’t mind all that much. He fell in love with the colt and it was less time laying next to Isobel. The baby would whinny for him during the half-hour trip home to shower and dress, but he always came back with a warm bottle to soothe his shattered nerves.

Runner was weaned from the bottle, and the overnight sleepovers stopped, causing four months of distress in the big colt. It was a difficult time for Runner as his duress caused weight loss and hoof problems. Jamie worried about him constantly and a morning hug was first on his list every day. They made it through those terrible months of forced autonomy and the colt thrived finally on weight gainer supplements and the most nutritious food. It was always Jamie who calmed him when thunder rolled above their heads, walked him out to the pasture each day, and held him for vet checks. When Runner saw Jamie, even at a distance, it was time for some love and the colt would practically crash through his bars to get to him. Jamie smiled at the memory of hiding in the equipment barn when Claire first came to work with him. It was the only way to keep the colt focused on her.

“Look at ye now. Yer grown and fierce on the track, just like ye were supposed to be. She made ye understand ye were born to race and yer all that and more. She’s right about what makes ye happy, it’s racin and winnin. Do me one favor Runner, protect her from harm, please.”

Runner was sound asleep from Jamie’s soft voice and stroking. He closed the stall door quietly so it wouldn’t wake up either horse and went to find his love. Claire held him close and told him the likely timing of the other three dams before she kissed him goodnight and drove home to sleep for a couple of hours. Jamie pulled out the cot and laid close to the stalls where he could see the babies suckling their exhausted mothers. He dozed until something brought him up in a hurry. He blinked at the darkness and heard it again, a horse in distress. Reaching for the overhead lights he found another dam down and it looked like she was pushing.

Claire heard the ringing in her sleep and it worked its way into her dream of chasing someone, holding her phone out to them. When the ringing started again, she opened her eyes and reached for the phone, then reached to turn on the monitor. She could see the dam down in her stall and didn’t like her position, something was wrong, it wasn’t natural. She threw her clothes on as fast as she could and sped down to the barn. Jamie was pacing outside the entrance. Yes, something was very wrong.

“She’s in duress lass, I don’t see anything comin and its been fifteen minutes of hard labor.”

Claire ran into the dam’s wing and examined the mare who had successfully pushed out one leg and the muzzle of the tiny baby.

“Jamie get her up on her feet, help me get her up!”

When the mare was standing, Claire put her hands on its cheeks and told her to be calm, she was there to help. Letting go she turned toward the stall door and saw Jason standing there watching with wide eyes. The sun was coming up and he was here to get Runner ready.

“Jason I need the sterile rope in my truck and the ventilation kit, on the double.” She pulled on sterile gloves and gently pushed the foal back in down the birthing canal. Jamie stroked the mare and spoke softly to calm her.

“I brought the long gloves too.”

“You are good! No, you are a great assistant Jason, you remind me of someone I used to work with. Thank you. One of the foal’s legs is folded back so it’s impossible to deliver it. I pushed it back and I will find the bent leg and tie the rope to it. We will pull a bit to right the legs, and hopefully, get this foal out in the next five minutes. God willing.”

Claire was moving very fast while she spoke and Jamie’s worry shot up, fearing the foal would be born dead. Claire reached into the mare as carefully as possible searching for the legs. It took several minutes to tie the limb one-handed with a very slippery glove. Once secure she pulled the limb into place and pulled the rope lightly to rid the slack. The mare was obviously in pain and fell to her knees as soon as Claire pulled her arm out. This was the tricky part as she kept tension on the rope to keep the front legs together. If birth did not happen in the next several minutes the foal wouldn’t survive.

“Come here Jason, put your hand around mine, feel how taught the rope is, you have to do this part. Keep it taught as she pushes the baby out. If you see two front legs we’re good, if you see anything else let me know asap.”

Claire put the rope in Jason’s hand and he moved into her position. Claire ran to the front of the horse and on hands and knees, she touched her head and cried. What started out silent gave way to Claire telling the mare it was time to push with all her might. Through Claire’s tears, Jason heard the impossible.

“I know you’re scared and I know you hurt. Get it out then, push, you have to push.”

Claire forced herself to stop crying. It broke her heart to know how scared the dam was, but she needed to be the hero right now. The mare was resisting her instinct from her fear so she kept talking to her, encouraging her to not to fight it. Claire ran back to Jason and took his place again. She looked at Jamie,

“Which one Jamie?”

He looked stricken with the question. If it came down to saving one or the other, which one?

“The mare.”

Claire snapped on the two fresh long gloves and reached into the birth canal gently holding the foal behind the front legs and pulling slowly while she talked to the mare. When the front legs emerged, then the tiny muzzle of the head, the mare shifted her position and pushed the baby out into Claire’s arms.

Claire was tearing the sac from the baby and Jason held out the instruments she would need at exactly the right time. Jamie watched them work and had a memory of her and Dustin working with the same practiced coordination.

“Sassenach, is it alive?”

“Yes, he’s alive, for now.” Jason rubbed the foal with a large towel pressing into his sides hoping to stimulate the breathing response. The mare stood up and inspected her baby as Jason worked.

“Let’s start resuscitation. Press into the esophagus right here to prevent the air from going to the stomach.”

Claire pressed the ventilation tube over the colt’s mouth and squeezed the bag then released it. Five times she repeated this as Jason pressed into the baby’s esophagus and Jamie looked on, praying in Gaelic. Claire pulled the tube and listened to the colt’s chest. She heard a weak breath and saw the sides flare slightly.

“Thank God, he’s breathing on his own. Let’s get all this to the side so he can stand up.”

The colt still looked dead to Jason and he looked up at Claire like she was crazy. Before he could speak the tiny head popped up looking for its mother who was right there to lick his face.

Claire cleared everyone out of the stall so the mare could do her job enticing the baby to get up. They were observant and hopeful as the colt made several attempts to stand up, and then he was exhausted. The mare continued to lick him and after several minutes of rest she pushed him with her nose, hard enough to provide a head start and the colt stood up. She positioned her body so he could suckle, and Claire exhaled in relief while her tears left wet tracks on her cheeks. Jason stood absolutely still. He was still holding all their equipment and the towels under his arms because he couldn’t look away. They watched until the colt laid down in the straw and went to sleep.

The mare walked to the front of the stall where Claire was standing and pushed her nose into her neck. Claire put her hands on her head and said: “you’re welcome, I’m so proud of you.”

Jason felt the hair on his arms and neck stand up and a shiver go through him. He stared at Claire pressing her face into the mare’s cheek. The impossible beckoned, persistently banging into his brain requesting admittance. He opened his mind to the evidence of a miracle in play. He looked up at her sharply.

“You can talk to animals, Claire,” said with awe and reverence.

Claire looked at Jason with a sleepy smile, “yes, I can.”

Jason’s eyes reflected the knowledge of magic as he hurried to catch up with his chores. He told Michael that Claire can speak to animals and got an “I know” back. What a glorious day, he thought, they saved the colt and Claire can speak to animals! Wait until his friends at home hear about this.

Jamie hugged Claire close and thanked her for saving the foal. “I’m indebted to ye lass, again. Pick yer favorite restaurant, maybe a bit of rest this afternoon and then we celebrate a bit.”

Michael passed by them with a saddle over his arm and asked why she was so late this morning, followed by “I’m just kidding Claire, but seriously, get on your horse for an hour of breezing please.”

Claire rolled her eyes and gave Jamie a quick kiss before walking to Runner’s wing. Michael was getting a bit nervous about the approaching races and wanted every minute of training they had agreed on. Claire’s rest was not a consideration when they were this close to glory.

Michael and Jason had pieced together the reason for Jamie and Claire’s split and it left Michael steaming mad. He almost quit and went home but they were back together by the time he returned so he stowed the argument that raged to come out, and kept the peace. He had not drawn a salary in the months he had been working for them. Jamie had offered but it was almost embarrassing with the wealth he had. They did owe him though, after promising him first rights to Runner’s story, which was now a story about Claire and Runner, and the magic they made.

Runner was looking spry this morning and Michael allowed himself to fantasize about watching them break out of the gate at Churchill Downs in a month. It made him so excited he forgot to watch Runner’s lead around the turn until Claire barreled up on him, snapping him out of his daydreams. He looked up at her stern face and smiled sheepishly.

“Sorry, Claire.”

Later that afternoon, Claire asked Jamie for a rain check on dinner because she wanted to stay close to the newborn colt. She realized that someone had to stay the next weekend to monitor the two remaining mares. She estimated they had another week or two at least but wondered if Jamie wanted to risk being away. She would talk to him later when they were home and relaxed.

Jamie leaned back in his chair and smiled his gratitude to Claire who was carrying dishes away and wrapping leftovers. He replaced her at the sink, and she sat down for their much loved evening conversation. Sometimes Jamie hardly let a word out of her mouth before he captured it for his own lusty purposes, other times the conversation was deeply philosophical, but tonight it was planning for the upcoming race and deciding who would stay back to watch the mares. Claire assumed Jamie would stay until he reminded her that first, he would never miss a race, and second, the owner was required to check-in and pay all the fees.

“Who then?”

“Rupert or Angus will stay and Doc Anderson is on call if one of the dams starts to foal. It will be fine Sassenach, and I will watch ye cross the finish line at breakneck speed like ye always do. I’m sure it’s burned in yer brain that the Derby is in one month and ye have two races in between.

“Yes, Michael has already increased Runner’s fat supplement and upped the carbohydrate calories to help him with fatigue. He started the diet change at the beginning of the week, so we’ll see how hot it makes him. As long as he uses the excess energy to go forward instead of up, I’m good.”

“Are ye worried, love?”

Claire looked like she didn’t understand the word. “No, not worried, I just don’t want any cuts of broken bones loading him into the gate.”

“Ye look dead on yer feet lass. How does a hot bath with bubbles sound?”

“Okay bubbles, let’s go.”

Claire laughed at her joke all the way upstairs and into the tub where Jamie held her close and whispered his love into her ear. The bubbles were luxurious and six inches deep allowing them to play and relax through two additions of hot water.

Jamie wrapped Claire in thick towels and chuckled at her eyes closing while she fought to keep them open.

“Get into bed mo chridhe, and I will check the babies and be right back.”

When Claire’s face felt the soft cotton pillowcase her eyes closed and she hardly moved when Jamie slipped in next to her. No dreams, no waking, just restorative sleep.

Jason pulled up to the barn in the pre-dawn darkness to help Jamie pack up their gear and get Runner ready for transport. An hour later they were walking him into the trailer, and then off to the airport.

Runner’s flight took longer than a flight for humans because the captain took very wide turns which added air space, and a very long approach to the runway to keep the plane as level as possible and avoid an abrupt change in altitude. The handlers sometimes outnumbered the horses so there were plenty of people to attend to their every need. It was quite a production and at five-thousand dollars each way, it better be.

The two men stood on the tarmac and watched the plane take off, as they always did. The walk back to the truck caught Jamie off guard like it always did. There was a natural buffer of people and horses that existed between Jamie and Jason. Alone together on the tarmac, anything was possible.

“Michael sure was pissed when he found out you tried to pull Runner from the track after the first race in March. I thought he was gonna box you. Man, he was pissed.”

“Why? I can’t imagine he is dependent on a job that pays nothin.”

“No, you promised him he could write a book about Runner winning the Triple Crown.”

“The trip…” Jamie couldn’t hold it in, the laughter burst out of him until he was doubled over and holding his stomach.

“I swear I did not promise him a Triple Crown. That is ridiculous Jason. There hasn’t been a Triple Crown winner in thirty-seven years. There’s a reason for that, it’s impossible. C’mon Jason. He’s really fast and a local hero on the track, but he’s not good enough to win the Derby, let alone all three races for the crown. I’m surprised Michael could think such a thing, I thought he was smart.”

Jamie kept laughing until they got to the truck and trailer. Jason was quiet but Jamie was having too much fun with the topic to notice. When they were on the road again, and Jamie was lost in traffic and his own thoughts, Jason spoke up.

“Do me a favor, Jamie? Don’t talk like that in front of Runner, or Claire. They believe in miracles and you should let them.”

Jason had a deep blush on his face for standing up to Jamie that way and turned his gaze out the window to avoid his contempt. Jamie tried to fill his mind with other thoughts, but he was unsuccessful. He couldn’t believe Claire had such aspirations and he wasn’t the one to bring it up with her. He promised his support of any race she wanted, and he would keep his word.

Claire made a last phone call to Doc Anderson to update the condition of the last two mares and promise there would be a manager sleeping with them that night. It would be a fast trip, just one night away. Jamie was tense about leaving and Claire soothed him with her latest exam findings, they weren’t ready to drop yet.

Flying to New Jersey and the chaos of greeting Runner at the track, getting work out time tomorrow before the race, registering, weighing in, and a vet check for Runner was exhausting. One thing that put wind in Claire’s sails was each person she spoke to knew about Runner and gave an extra helping of respect during the process.

Claire was in her silks, bent over the track program the next day, studying the other horses. Runner was favored to win and had drawn a crowd of fans even in New Jersey. The morning workout had gone very well because he was ready to race. Jamie launched her into the saddle in front of screaming well-wishers and Claire laughed at the curious look Runner gave them. As she was led away to the gate she turned and smiled at Jamie. The bile coming up from his stomach felt like his insides were melting from acid, but he managed a smile.

Runner was quiet, no boasting or looking for other horses this time. Claire didn’t know what to make of that. When the gate slammed open and the other horses were away, Runner gave an impressive gallop to catch up but was soon surrounded by the pack. There were two horses, one on each side of him getting dangerously close as the jockey’s boots were within a foot of each other. Claire was getting scared from the aggressive posturing of the jockeys and wondered if they were trying to unnerve her. The jockey on her left brushed her boot and scared her half to death. Runner was pinned down in the pack with no opening. Claire knew if she collided with either horse it would be deadly and she screamed at Runner.

“Get me out of here Runner, please help me!”

Runner threw his head in the air to get away from the bit and slowed his speed by lifting his upper body. He told Claire to hold his mane and tuck. When he was free of the pack he took off on the outside and passed half of them by the second turn. A hush fell over the spectators before they erupted in shouts. True to his nature, he sped past each of the three horses in front of him running neck and neck with the lead horse before he pulled away and won the race by three lengths.

“Oh my God Runner, that was incredible! You are amazing!” Claire stood in her stirrups for a brief moment and came back down to slow Runner. It felt like he was still in the race until she sent him lovely pictures of a job well done. When she passed the guys on the rail she laughed at their stunned faces. Why are they always so surprised she wondered?

When Jamie saw Claire get pinned into the pack by those other two horses, he almost had a heart attack. His field glasses were pressed into his eyeballs and his breath was held until he almost passed out. What Runner did to get away from them is something Jamie had never seen. When he knew Claire was safe, he looked at Michael with a questioning face.

“What the hell was that Michael?”

Michael was shaking his head from side to side. “Looks like he picked Claire over winning. It’s only a guess because I’ve never seen a horse purposely decelerate during a race. I’m going to find out who those jockeys are and the owners. I have a bad feeling about how they pinned her in. The jockey on her right had a clear opening and he didn’t take it. I’ll let you know what I find out.”

Jamie transformed into a snarling, deadly beast in the blink of an eye. “Do me a favor, find out before they get away and tell me first. When the winner’s circle picture was taken Claire slid off Runner to jump into Jamie’s arms like always, but he had vanished and so had Michael. She looked at Jason like she was shocked, and he opened his arms pretending he would catch her like Jamie always did. Claire laughed at him as they walked back to the clamoring crowd where Claire signed autographs and talked with fans while Jason held Runner close to the safety bars so people could pet him.

Claire looked for Jamie and Michael feeling worry creep into her happiness. Jason pushed her along and told her to wave before he led them both under the shade to the stalls.

Runner was stripped of his tack while Claire held his head and thanked him over and over for saving her.

“Thank you Runner for saving me from those two horses, God I was scared but you saw me to safety.”

“And I still won!” he shouted into her consciousness and she laughed at his bragging.

Michael found a track steward to file a complaint against the two horses that boxed Runner in. The steward handed him a form and Jamie almost pulled the man off his feet.

“We need to see the video playback now before they can leave the track, where do we go for that?”

The steward looked at Jamie with boiling anger in his eyes for the audacity of holding him against his will. Jamie growled NOW at the man and they were directed to an office where they could watch the playback with another official. The men crowded around the monitor and the official closed in on the three horses, watching the two jockeys make a beeline for her and crowd her into the pack coming dangerously close. Jamie watched the terror on Claire’s face and saw her screaming at Runner right before his upper body came up and his haunches bulged with his effort to slow down. The rapid deceleration almost unseated Claire and Jamie felt his legs go weak. He knew the jockeys and he vaporized from the office.

Michael was telling the official they would file a complaint against the owners of the two horses before running after Jamie.

The jockey on Claire’s right walked into the bathroom to call the owner who had disappeared during the race, the piece of shit.

“You left too soon to see that fuckin powerhouse of a horse pull an incredible deceleration mid-race and break out to the outside to win the race. I didn’t like doing what you demanded and I quit your horse, fuck you, I could have killed that girl with what you told me to do. You can’t stop that horse, even with chicken shit moves like you made me do. Send my check to my home address and pray they don’t question my motives today.”

The jockey drove his fist into the mirror when he clicked off and then ran his hand under cold water for five minutes before leaving. Unfortunately, the exit was blocked by one huge, pissed off Scot, who wrapped an arm under his chin, physically escorting him out to find the officials. The jockey was practically dragged toward the stairs with Jamie paying no mind to his ability to breathe. Michael ran up behind him.

“Whoa, whoa there buddy, the dudes got to breathe. C’mon Jamie, he’s not goin anywhere with us on either side of him. Let him go man.”

Jamie looked down at the jockey like he was not human, just a specimen being taken for identification before extermination. He loosened his hold and the jockey fell to his knees taking huge breaths of air. The small man raised his hand above his head like he was warding off further assault. Michael helped him to his feet and kept Jamie away until he caught his breath.

“You have one chance to make it right dude. I can let Jamie strangle you to death or you can tell the stewards what you did and why.”

The jockey relented and a report was taken by track officials that would heavily penalize the owner of the two horses and the jockeys. Runner was well known around the world, especially after winning Horse of the Year, and it was bringing out the ruthless, jealous, hateful, nature of some people in horse racing. The bile thickened inside Jamie’s esophagus and suddenly he had to find Claire.

[doritopaw101]

Arc1, book 2: Chapter 5

It had been a whole half-moon since that day. Things had been eventful to say the least.

Riverclan as expected called out Splashsong's murder and Bluestar defended Graypaw saying it was an accident, leaving out why Thunderclan cats were there in the first place of course.

Brokenstar had been quiet throughout Bluestar's hissing match with Leopardclaw. The golden molly demanded blood but Willowpelt nearly tore her throat for demanded her son's death. "The only thing you'll get from Thunderclan is fox dung" Willowpelt had snarled "This death is your fault not Graypaw's"

He had to corner Whiteclaw to tell him what happened to Silverpaw and Silverstream. Silverpaw has recovering, his eye will heal, not the best but he'll be able to use it.

When Windclan showed up, Brokenstar looked like he was going to rip Duskstar's throat out. When Brokenstar asked what they were doing back here Bluestar cut in and said.

"Starclan sent an omen and said Windclan would return right?"

Duskstar and Stormstar agreed with her words, it was a wise choice. Brokenstar was furious but Palecloud said that he had the omen but didn't say anything. Brokenstar basically called the gathering over and left in a huff.

He heard from Weaselwhisker that Shadowclan tried scaring off Windclan again but Duskstar wasn't going be driven out again and they won the fight. Luna wasn't fully convinced with clan life but she said she would stay til her kits, Marblekit and Thornkit become warriors, she held the name Moonclaw for the time being.

Piling on with Riverclan and Shadowclan biting at Thunderclan's heels, winter had arrived already and there was a greencough outbreak in the camp. Adderkit and Leapkit currently had it as did Birchstep.

Swiftpaw and Lynxpaw had been apprenticed a few days after Cinderpaw, Smokepaw, Lichenpaw, and Brackenpaw were. Swiftpaw to Fogtail and Lynxpaw to Willowpelt respectively.

Brindleface's litter was certainly interesting. The rest of the clan thought they only had three kits when they had four. Brindleface had snuck out of camp the night of the birth,the clan lead them but Bluestar asked Icebelly and Embereyes to watch them, they agreed. Blackfoot was the sire of the kits and took the only kit that would give them away, Elderkit. Icebelly couldn't have been to sure whether Brindleface saw him but it felt confirmed when the pale gray cat made sure to stay out of his way at all times.

Though with the filling nursery came with the decrease in food for the warriors and apprentices.

The nursery in general was packed with: Frostbite expecting kits sired by Tiger-roar for her and Mossthorn, Yellowkit was growing big for her age, Willowpelt's litter was also growing well, Miststrike's kits: Yewkit was getting bigger by the day but Leapkit was still so small and wouldn't be ready, Doekit, Adderkit, and Volekit were close to apprenticeship. Robinwing's litter was growing well and should make lovely apprentices. Bluestar had also given birth to her litter: Maplekit, Snowkit, Mistlekit, and Aspenkit, one had been born still and Bluestar named the kit Starkit. Icebelly had been all over the four kits from the get go.

His own apprentice, Cinderpaw was definitely a pawful but he was determined to train them well like Tiger-roar trained him. He was glad he got to have Tiger-roar and Nightshade to lean on for advice as well as Miststrike and Leopardstorm. Cinderpaw worked well in a group setting rather by themself so being around Sleetpaw and Smokypaw helped alot.

Ravenpaw decided he wanted to be a Silverblood. His help certainly lighten Thymeroot and Yellowfang's workload. The tom seemed more at peace in the medicine den than he did in the apprentice's den.

Though things could've been better:

-Flashback-

His belly had been aching all day, he just thought he ate something bad but apparently not. He definitely didn't let Cinderpaw fight him with the chance to kick his belly.

Chestnutclaw looked ready to claw his ears off "Go be weak in the herb den with herb cats" he hissed "I don't want Smokepaw's training falling"

He had went to see them, feeling like he was being kicked all over. Thymeroot examined him and her tail curled up in surprise "Well, you're not sick Icebelly?"

"Then.." Icebelly trailed off, knowing the answer.

"Congrats" the seer purred, her green eyes shining "I know you've wanted to have kits for a while"

'Not with his kits' he hadn't mated with Chestnutclaw as planned, he had been busy training Cinderpaw and had pushed the plans til Cinderpaw had finished her training. He wanted to forget what had happened to him but Brokenstar seemed determined to make sure he never forgot like the scar on the side of his throat.

"If I may be so bold to ask, who's the sire?"

Icebelly looked away "I...he's..."

"Not of Thunderclan?"

Icebelly couldn't bring himself to really answer with words but Thymeroot took his silence.

Thymeroot licked his ear "It's alright, you'll be fine"

"I hope so"

-Flashback ends-

"I never realized how it must suck having short fur during leaf-bare, how do Sandstorm and Ravenpaw deal with it" Cherrycloud mewed, nudging into his chest breaking his thoughts

Icebelly hummed "Find a fluffy cat to huddle and snuggle with"

"Oh is that what I am" she rubbed her head along his neck "A cat to snuggle with"

"Or course not, I'm fluffy as well if not more than you though we've been doing a lot more than 'snuggling' lately" He smirked 'It take my mind off the fact I'm carrying Brokenstar's kits, please let some of them be Chestnutclaw's' he shouted in his mind

Cherrycloud purred with amusement

"Icebelly Cherrycloud" Redtail's voice sounded rough and tired. Icebelly could see the deputy looked exhausted he couldn't blame him. Him and Bluestar must have a hard time dealing with their clanmates concerns about the Shadowclan attacks, Riverclan's new hostility and now the greencough outbreak.

"Can you two take your apprentices out?"

"Sure" Cherrycloud mewed getting up

"Any place in particular?" Icebelly asked shaking his fur

"We need prey try going near twolegplace or the owl tree"

Thymeroot popped her head from the medicine den, some feverfew and tansy were stuck on her pelt. "If you find catmint get as much as you can"

"Gotcha sir deputy sir" Cherrycloud purred "And you miss medicine"

A smile appeared on Redtail's face and a chuckle escaped from his throat. "You are a blessing in this time Cherrycloud"

They woke Cinderpaw and Brackenpaw up and headed for twolegplace. The experience could do them good.

Cinderpaw pounced on a squirrel, a swift bite to its neck. "Got it!" they called

Brackenpaw looked down, while Cinderpaw had managed to catch four kills now all he caught was a "lousy shrew" in his own words.

Cherrycloud noticed and bumped against her apprentice "Hey cheer up, everyone has off days, I'm sure Mossthorn or Frostbite will love it"

"Maybe you're a better fighter than Cinderpaw, you got Lionheart's large build while Cinderpaw got Mossthorn's lean one" Icebelly added, though he wondered if that was true. When he first took Cinderpaw out he taught her some basic fighting moves and increased the harshness since. Cinderpaw complained of sore pads the first day but was ready for it the next day. The eagerness of this young cat made it worth while.

"We'll try to battle train soon though" Cherrycloud mewed "For now let's make make Redtail proud that we all caught at least something"

That seemed to cheer Brackenpaw up. The all had caught some good and worthy kills. Cinderpaw found catmint and couldn't wait to see the look on Yellowfang's face when she brought it.

"Look!" Cinderpaw pointed with her nose at a molly padding along across the forest floor. It was a fluffy white molly with blue eyes. 'Princess!' Icebelly thought with shock. Her belly was swollen, heavy with unborn kits. "Kittypet!" Cinderpaw sneered, their fur fluffed out "Let's chase her out"

"No" he mewed pulling the gray apprentice back by their tail "She's a kittypet afterall she's no threat, stay here"

Princess may have a collar but it had many teeth and fangs it it to protect her throat and he knew his sister was far from helpless, Bone taught her well.

He padded slowly over to her "Princess!" he called

Princess's back fur spiked up and she bared her teeth but she got a closer look at him. "Splinter?"

He nodded and nuzzled her.

"What on earth are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing, far from the city"

"I got picked up, Snake found me" Princess mewed

"We''ll talk tomorrow" he mewed "Stay around here, my other clanmates would shred you trust me on that"

"I'd kill them when they stood if they tried" Princess drawled "But I have kits to think about, be around here tomorrow by dawn, I have to get back to Bloodclan soon" She heaved herself over one of the fences.

"Problem solved" he said heading back "Let's get back to camp shall we?"

/

Icebelly woke at dawn with the image of his sister still clear in his mind. He pushed his way out of the den, hoping to get out of camp as soon as he could. It was another cold, frosty morning. Though his fur seemed to get fluffier where it was more tolerable. Leopardstorm and Fogtail were waiting near the camp entrance, preparing to leave on patrol. Mousefur padded past on her way to join them and greeted Icebelly with a cherry mew. Fogtail called for Swiftpaw, who came racing out of the camp.

He padded across the clearing, wondering if Cinderpaw was awake yet. Brindleface was just squeezing out of the narrow nursery entrance. Ashkit followed her, Tulipkit close to his dam, then Fernkit followed tumbling out and falling onto the ground. Brindleface picked Fernkit up by her scruff and placed her gently back on her paws.

"Are they well?" he asked

"So far yes" Brindleface replied, green eyes avoiding his "We've had no other cases in the nursery so far and we hope to keep it that way"

"How's Embereyes?"

Brindleface sighed "She's keeping it together for Volekit and Doekit but she's worried for Adderkit, Nettlemist has been helping her relax"

Icebelly nodded as he heard Cherrycloud's pawsteps behind him. He turned to greet his friend, stretching his head to touch Cherrycloud's nose, and asked, "Could you take Cinderpaw for the day?"

Cherrycloud looked curiously at Icebelly "Why?"

"Oh, nothing important" Icebelly replied "Just wanted to check something and plus they'll need the battle training I can't really do in my state"

"Alright" Cherrycloud mewed, whiskers twitching with amusement, he knew she didn't believe anything he said but was going along with it.

"Thanks, Cherrycloud!" Icebelly bounded away toward the camp entrance.

As the houses came into view through the trees, Icebelly dropped into a crouch. He opened his mouth and breathed in the cold morning air. No sign of a Thunderclan patrol, and no human scents either. He relaxed a little.

Slowly he approached the fence where he had seen the molly disappear. He hesitated at the bottom and looked around, sniffing the air once more. Then he leaped, landing on a fence post in one easy jump. No huamns to be seen-just an empty garden with its strongly scented plants. Icebelly felt exposed on the post but he didn't have to climb when he heard the cheery voice of his sister.

"Splinter!"

Icebelly jumped from the fence landing flat on his paws right infront of his littermate. "It's Icebelly now, how are you doing?"

"As well as you could expect with me expecting" Princess mewed, her collar had more teeth than the last time he saw her

"Who'd you kill?" he asked

"I forget as time goes by" Princess replied, she sat down firmly resting her budging belly "Seven now, got three claws from that one"

"Is this your first litter?" He eyed her belly

"Yes, finally decided I wanted to help Bloodclan's legacy with my kits"

"Smudge?"

"Yep, I'm due very soon"

Icebelly sighed, rubbing his face with his paw "At least I'm not alone in parenthood"

Princess looked confused and cocked her head to the side "What?"

"Luna's had kits and joined Duskstar and Jake in Windclan for the time being, I'm also...expecting"

Princess's eyes widen "Seriously? You having kits?"

"Yeah"

"Well we know we'll do better than our birth giver" Princess stated

"Also Filou is part of Riverclan she's named Flamepaw, Nutmeg's in Shadowclan under the name of Dewflare with our new siblings. Also we have an older brother, Gingerblaze"

"What?"

"Yeah. Nutmeg was a clan cat, she lived in Thunderclan before she had us"

"I'd like to meet him"

"I'll work something out"

Princess moved closer to him, pressing her fur against his flank. This is what he missed, the feeling of someone who related to him.

"You've mentioned these clans"

Icebelly nodded

"I've heard things from dad already before but what's it like? Is it different than Bloodclan or the other groups round here?"

"In the clans, we take care of each other, Younger cats hunt for elders; warriors protect the hunting grounds from the other clans. I trained all spring and summer to become a warrior from training under Tiger-roar. I have an apprentice of my own now Cinderpaw"

"Was that the pointed dark gray cat I saw yesterday?"

Icebelly nodded "They're great, full of energy but knows the skill well so far" he looked around "where've you been staying?"

"This house doesn't have humans you know, I relax here and go inside if needed which I'm doing right now"

Icebelly looked back at the forest "I have to get back to my clan and you'll have your paws full soon enough as will I. I'll come back to see you in two days, I'll see if Gingerblaze will come"

"Great" Princess called over her shoulder. She was already trotting back to the house "See ya Icebelly?"

"See you soon" Icebelly called. His sister disappeared from view, and he heard the swinging flap slap shut behind her.

Once the garden was silent, Icebelly crept through the bushes to the fence. He jumped over it and ran into the forest.

/

When he finally returned to camp, he carried a vole and a wood pigeon in his mouth. He missed a few pigeons along the way when his vision started to blurry. The sun was setting, thank Starclan, and the clan were gathering for their evening meal. Graypaw sat alone beside the nettle clump, a fat chaffinch at her paws. She looked like she wasn't sleeping he was about to go over when Nettlemist laid his tail on his back "I got this" he whispered and Icebelly nodded to him as he padded across the clearing to the pile of fresh-kill that had already been collected.

Tiger-roar, Lionheart, and Leopardstorm was sitting near by, the dual colored tabby's amber and blue eyes narrowed. "I noticed that Cinderpaw spent the day with Cherrycloud" he mewed as Icebelly dropped his catch onto the pile. "Where were you?"

Icebelly returned Tiger-roar's gaze, he was good at not flinching at the gaze after being around Tiger-roar for so long. "It seemed like a good day for hunting-too good to waste" he replied

"Considering your vision's acting up and that you were alone" Icebelly could tell that Tiger-roar's voice contained a great amount of amount of concern which which didn't surprise him. Tiger-roar had been his mentor so he knew when he had any of his problems. "I'm guessing you missed a few catches on your way back"

"Why did Bluestar let him be a mentor" Lionheart muttered to which Leopardstorm nudged him in the shoulder harshly

Icebelly forced his fur flat and tried not to curse the golden tom "Bluestar trusts my abilities, have a problem take it up with her" Icebelly tried but couldn't resist " Or maybe you're a little bitter that Frostbit seems to have dumped you for Mossthorn, or that she's pregnant with Tiger-roar's kits rather than yours"

Lionheart's eyes narrowed at him

"But hey you're not mateless, you have Leopardstorm and Tiger-roar it seems. The great two-colored tom he is allows you to worship his great di-"

"Icebelly" Tiger-roar warned

He regretted nothing and he knew Tiger-roar knew that as well. "The clan needs all the fresh-kill it can get at the moment, I may have missed but I got something at least" Icebelly replied calmly

Tiger-roar nodded, suspicion darkening his eyes "Yes, but we also need warriors if we're going to put Shadowclan back in their place and send Riverclan back into their rivers. Cinderpaw's training is your responsibility not Cherrycloud's, she already has Brackenpaw to worry about. Redtail wants apprentices in as top shape as possible"

Icebelly nodded "I understand, Tiger-roar" he dipped his head respectfully "I'll take them out tomorrow near the Riverclan border"

"Good" Tiger-roar said seeming satisfied

"Make sure they doesn't get into any trouble with Riverclan, we already have enough of it as is already" Leopardstorm added

"Of course Leopardstorm"

/

Three of Morningflower's claws snapped off when she met rock and clay. She didn't even flinch she was used to her claws snapping off when tunneling, it still felt good to be back down here after moons in a rotten twoleg tunnel. She still swiped the dirt with her left paw, standing firmly on her hind legs.

"Morningflower, take a break I got this" Deadfoot called, his twisted paw covered in mud

"You should go see Barkface for that paw" Mudclaw added "We don't need infections right now"

'Like I'll leave our kits without their mother' Morningflower dropped down to all fours, shaking her fluffy coat. "I'm fine, just a broken claw"

"Now's not a time to be stubborn, rest, go the nursery with your kits" Deadfoot stated

"Yes deputy sir" Morningflower mewed rolling her eyes. She padded past the tom, head held high as she made her way up the tunnel.

Things in Windclan haven't been the best since they've been back. Prey was scarce as it is in leaf-bare and Shadowclan thought that was the best time to attack them. Duskstar was firm and saying Windclan won't be driven off again. Let's hope they'll survive to newleaf.

Morningflower padded out of the tunnel, eyes shut from the blinding sunlight. As a tunneler, her eyes were more sensitive to sun than a moor-runners.

She quickly headed to the nursery where Barkface was waiting. Ashfoot and Rabbit-tail were asleep in the corner of the den while Moonclaw was in a nest close to her with Marblekit and Thornkit. Whitetail was quiet and at peace, her new born kits suckling gently.

She laid down in her nest, her kits latching on as she did. She let Barkface treat her bleeding paw as she watched her kits nurse. They were growing well thank goodness, Briarkit gave her a scare but she hung on.

She didn't expect Runningpaw to start mushing her belly. She was about ask but Runningbrook beat her too it.

"It's to stimulate milk" the gray tabby mewed "Frogleap told me he tired it with Fallowtail and it worked well"

Morningflower sighed just letting them do their work, it wasn't too bad. It felt nice to be honest

"Have you thought of names yet?" Thrushwing padded into the den, her plump belly showing brightly as she sat close to Whitetail, placing more wool in the nest "It's been a moon" Morningflower wasn't surprised to see her sister already back into the ways of the clan. She wore the jewels a high ranking moor-runner as well as a star-keeper in training.

'Important to the clan' Morningflower thought 'That's what mother wanted for us, for you most of all Thrushwing' she was aware their mother wasn't pleased when she became a tunneler, even more so when Stoneclaw became one was well. She wanted them all to be proud moor-runnners like her and their late father Grasstail.

"Icekit" Whitetail replied, softly licking her son's head "For the cat that helped me when I needed it and the cat who helped bring back Windclan when he didn't have to"

Morningflower could see her sister's annoyance at their nephew being named after a Thunder cat rather than his late father but thankfully her sister seemed to know she wouldn't win.

"Lovely" she said, Morningflower could tell it was forced "And the other tom? He reminds me of the sun with his golden fur"

"More like a Lion" Runningpaw commented "Fluffy like one too."

"Fluffy isn't a term used for Windclanners" Thrushwing retorted.

Morningflower wondered if her sister would talk about Runningbrook being half-clan. The clan already had a time when they found about Ryestalk's code breaking with Marshcloud, she fought hard to make sure Runningpaw didn't face anything.

Runningpaw cocked their head to the side "Is thick-furred better?"

Before Thrushwing could reply Whitetail interrupted "Lionkit it is" she purred "My little lion"

"Maybe he'll have the strength of Lionclan" Runningpaw mewed

Thrushwing narrowed her eyes at the gray tabby "Lionclan is Thunderclan's circle we have Leopardclan as ours Runningpaw"

"That you have to share with Riverclan" Moonclaw sneered "Shadowclan gets Tigerclan all to themselves"

"Don't mention them here" Thrushwing shushed "It could bring bad fortune for the kits, Tawnykit's future as a seer could go bad"

"What?" Tawnykit whimpered "I can't be Barkface's apprentice?"

"Wait no no you'll still be my apprentice" Barkface quickly soothed the kitten "You'll be a great seer Tawnykit"

"That she will" Rabbit-tail purred.

Rushkit, Ryekit, and Robinkit looked out of place the attention was once again returned to their sister/cousin.

It was peaceful for a few moments, but of course it couldn't last forever because nice things can't happen.

"Shadowclan is coming up near the east badger den" she heard Sorrelflight cry "I see Dewflare leading them"

"Oh it's on, a score needs to be settled" Moonclaw rushed out before anyone could stop her.

"Why can't they leave us alone, it's leaf-bare" Runningpaw whined

"That's their goal" Whitetail answered

"Moonclaw!" Thrushwing called

"Don't" Rabbit-tail hissed "I'll watch Moonclaw's kits" she drawled "Who else will I be watching?"

"Mine" Ashfoot mewed "Eaglekit's easy to watch"

"Mine too" Morningflower replied "I need to stretch my legs"

"I'll get my marigold" Barkface signed as they rushed out.

Morningflower and Ashfoot were on their paws and racing out of camp leaving Rabbit-tail in charge of their kits. "Send them back in their marshes" Deadfoot yowled leading them on.

Morningflower smirked at the command.

Windclan won't be chased from their home a second time.

#warriors #warrior cats #warriors au #warrior cats au #trail of flames au #warrior cats rewrite #warriors rewrite #icebelly #fireheart #arc1 #book 2 #chapter 5 #cherrycloud #cherrypaw #princess wc #albino firestar #cinderpaw #brackenpaw #morningflower #tiger-roar #tigerclaw #leopardstorm #whitestorm #lionheart #thrushwing #whitetail #runningpaw #runningbrook

[teacup-crow]

do you hear what i hear?

Hey  @are-you-sure-its-me-you-see ! I’m your ZR Secret Santa! Thanks @runnerzero for organising!

It’s the first Midwinter/holiday party back at Abel since the events of Season 5, and Five and Sam are dealing with things sort of not really well at all.

Can you tell I’ve nearly finished S5 and am slightly too scared to end it because I want everyone to be okay? 😂 You said you did like some 5am and a bit of drama, so it’s a little angsty! I promise a happy ending, though. I also apologise for the first person, and hope it isn’t too cringey.

CW: blood + death mentioned

Spoilers up to the first half of ZRS5 at least (I haven’t played the last episode yet so probably a bit non-canonical)

Merry Christmas! Love Beb :)

It’s the first Midwinter dinner for a long time, actually.

Things have changed in Abel. We’ve lost so many people. Some quietly slipped away in the night, some were violently dragged from this world, kicking and screaming for every last ragged breath. The playground we all worked so hard to build became yet another burial pit.

But things go on, somehow. Our losses won’t define us. We can’t let them. We repeat the words over and over: maybe that will make them stick.

Snow blankets the roof of the farmhouse, muting the talk and laughter inside. Every last speck of Ian’s sliminess has been scrubbed from the building, and candles cover every spare surface that isn’t Janine’s huge oak table. Cameo is telling some long, over the top story, one arm still in a sling where a soldier shattered it with the butt of a gun. Nadia’s mouth turns up at the corners, even threatens a smile. Jack and Gene, back for the party, are pulling pranks like little kids - salt in water, custard balanced on the doorframe, the lot. People are eating quickly and carefully, lining their pockets with morsels of food no matter how many times Janine tells them they don’t need to.

And outside, no headstones, but mounds of earth where one day trees might grow. We did those earlier, said our goodbyes, planted flowers and talked and sang and now we’ve all moved on. That part of our lives is neatly boxed away. We live to fight another day.

I’m sitting not far from the farmhouse windows, in Archie’s shadow. She holds an apple in her left hand and a chicken under her right arm.

You should go inside, Five! They’re opening presents! I love presents!

“A few more minutes, okay?”

You’ll catch your death is what I’d say if you were mine, Sara Smith adds. I feel her tuck a hair behind my ear, and shiver. Point proven.

Oh look! Little Sara got booties! Oh they’re so tiny! They’re very purple, but I think we can forgive that.

“Five?” Sam is silhouetted in the golden light of the doorway. “You coming in?”

I shake my head. He closes the door, walks up and sits beside me, draping a coat and an arm over my shoulders.

“Didn’t think you were. Do you want to talk about it?”

I shrug, leaning into his chest.

“Are you sure? Because… because I think I do. But we don’t have to. We can just sit here. Whatever you want, okay?”

No matter how many times I try to piece Abel back to how it was, I can’t do it. I squint and I can see the square where Carina did her first cartwheel, Molly desperately trying to copy her, all chubby toddler arms and legs, but then it’s the same square where Owen got shot and shot and shot and the images meld and blur and drown in blood until all I can think to say is-

“Out. I need to get out. Just for tonight. Please.”

I know Sam probably wants more than anything to go back inside rather than freeze to death in a zombie infested forest, but he smiles anyway.

“Yeah. We can do that.”

***

We leave Tom festooned in party hats and happily playing with the comms rig. Crowded dinners aren’t really his thing yet, either.

Sam watches from the bottom with a stopwatch as I pound up and down the hill, not stopping for breath, up, turn, down, repeat. Can’t think if you don’t breathe. Can’t think if your lungs are burning, crackling. Lactic acid spitting at my legs. I push through harder, faster.

“Five? Five? I think you might want to- FIVE!”

I go sprawling on the icy snow, the pain biting into my hands grounding me for a moment as Sam tears towards me. “You okay? You all right?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding!”

I hadn’t noticed. I roll onto my back, picking some of the gravel out of my hands. It’s not so bad, although it looks dramatic. My own blood isn’t jarring. I know it well enough.

Sam collapses down next to me, and we’re suddenly both gazing at the same stars, trying to stop our hearts from hammering. I know he’s going to talk, and I won’t be able to find the right words. I stare at my hands instead of the sky.

“Y’know, sometimes I’m walking around and around the training circuit with Sara, trying to get her to sleep, and I think how could I have done it, Five? How could… how could we have brought a baby into a world like this? Why did I ever think it was a good idea?”

“Things were different.”

I told them not to at the time. My heart soared when they said it and I struck it down with my head.

I’m not going to say I told you so.

“Things were always on a knife’s edge.” His voice catches. “I keep a brave face but I can’t stop thinking that we’re never, ever going to be safe again. There’s always going to be someone. So we won this time. There’s always going to be a next time, and one day…”

“One day, there won’t be,” I try.

“I know you don’t believe that, or you wouldn’t be out here. You wouldn’t be hearing them as much as you have been.”

Archie and Sara Smith and even Moonchild are quiet, pensive, waiting on the edge of my mind to add something but coming up short.

Sam sits up, rummaging through his rucksack for a first aid kit. He takes my hand, and I hiss at the dabs of antiseptic. “But what I do know is this. We might not have tomorrow, but we do have today. Maxine says today is the only thing we can trust. Today we’re safe. We’re together. Today we are winning. Just for today, we can let it be Midwinter, Hanukkah, Christmas Eve and New Year all rolled into one. Not the future. Not the past. Now.”

“Sam, Runner Five,” my headset crackles into life, and I pull it off so we can both listen in. “Something weird at your nine O’clock. I’d get moving.”

“Something weird?” I manage, turning on the mic.

“Zombie weird, but the sound of the movement isn’t quite right. It’s hard to…”

“Oh god. Oh god, oh god, oh shitting hell!” Sam stows the first aid kit, pulls me up.

“What do you see? My visibility is poor. Do you need backup? Shall I get Jane?”

“Are those zombies on, on, on-“

Tom calls it right as we do, seconds before the first one whistles past. “Skis! Aha, that’s what the noise is! Zombies on skis! Skiing zombies!”

“Surely nobody started the zombie apocalypse skiing downhill?! How did these guys even get here?”

“You worry about running now, Yao, think about the how’s and why’s later!” Tom’s voice becomes more Commander-like as the whooshing noises ramp up. “Forward. Turn right, go, go, go.”

We run clumsily, pulling each other along, trying not to slip again on the ice. But the zombies are flying by too fast to be a threat to us, their roars and growls muffled by the speed of the skis. 

“If this is someone’s… idea of a joke… it isn’t… very… funny!”

“It is a little funny, Sam. Reminds me of a time I was in Canada and-“

“Don’t… don’t… you absolutely do not have a past experience that was like this!”

***

“All right, they’ve mostly landed in a tangled mess at the bottom, but they’re going to intercept you when you get there. Best bet is to split up and each take a different route back to the gates. That should be enough to confuse them.”

“We’ve only got the one headset,” I pass it over to Sam. “You have it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Course. See you back in ten, okay?”

“Race you!” He replies, almost laughing at himself, and is swallowed by the darkness. “I need the head start!”

I’m alone. All I can hear is the crunch of ice and the moans of the crumpled horde. For once, there’s not a single voice to guide me. Running is usually enough to block out everything else, but I can’t stop thinking about them slipping away from me again. I’m alone, I’m completely alone, and I can’t breathe, and I almost run directly into the gates.

He isn’t here.

It’s stupid to panic. I’m faster. Of course I’m faster, I’ve been a runner for years. This is what I do. Every inch of me wants to go and find him

 He isn’t here in five minutes. 

Everything’s shaking.

I don’t know what to do. Did he get lost? Kidnapped? Do I look for him? What do I do when there’s nobody to tell me where to go?

“Why are none of you speaking to me!”

Moonchild whispers in the back of my head. You know I only pop up when you’re in imminent danger. It’s not like we have control over these things. Anyway. He’s right there. You’re only in danger of looking crazy. He can’t know you’re crazy.

Sam is staring at me, and I realise I must look even madder than I did earlier. Tears are running down my face, and I’ve run my fingers through my hair so much it’s standing up on end. He’s the only one who knows about the voices.

He definitely already knows I’m crazy.

“Five, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

It’s not his fault. Chin up. We’re proud of you.

It will be all good again. Always sunshine after rain! Big brave smiles, yes?

I take a long breath. He’s here. He’s still here. Solid. Real. He wraps his arms around me.

“Sam. I really thought we’d… I’m so scared that… I don’t want you to end up just another voice in my head.”

Just a voice in your head, Runner Five? Nah, I’m so much more than they are. Our connection runs so much deeper, y’know?

“Oh, shut up,” I mutter as Moonchild pouts.

“I can’t make any promises; nor can you. None of us can. But I have a crazy amount to live for. We’ve got this far, haven’t we? Who’s to say we haven’t another Midwinter in us?”

“... I’ll drink to that.”

“Let’s get inside first. It’s so cold out here, and I want to see what Jody made for Sara.”

“Purple booties. Archie semi-approves.”

“Five, hearing stuff is one thing, but if you tell me the ghosts give you creepy powers now-“

“We were looking in the windows!” I’m indignant, and he grins.

“That makes more sense. Come on, I don’t want to miss any more of this.”

I let him pull me into the tremulous joy of the farmhouse at last, leaving the voices of the dead behind in the snow for now.

#zr #zr secret santa #zombies run #zrs5 #sam yao #runner 5

[lockdownuk]

Lockdown Diary Part 6

A personal account during the lockdown in the UK due to the Covid-19 outbreak.

23/03/2020 8:30pm Boris Johnson, UK Prime Minister, gives a live address to the nation to, effectively, put the country on lockdown to stem the spread of the deadly coronavirus strain, Covid-19.

Many of us have been self-isolating for days but this latest development within the UK in reaction to the pandemic feels very serious and very scary. I decided to keep a simple diary and where better but online.

Day 151: Great hour or so last night around Foggy’s. When I got home I watched World War Z and some stand up by Nate Bargatze and drank and smoked loads. Today, I got up just before 2pm and felt soooo unmotivated. I was going to have a day of doing fuck all but had a change of heart around 7pm so did my stair climb then walked for over an hour (7km) and got home at 9:30pm!

Day 152: Typing on day 153. I popped up and saw Foggy last night. One of the reasons was I wanted to take him a beer to say thanks for looking over my mitigation statement for my impending court hearing for speeding. He liked what i wrote but has given me some key amendments. Basically free solictor advice and I am very grateful. While there he hit me with the news that Ham’s sister, Preeya, has died (last Friday 14th August) from Covid 19. To say i was gobsmacked is an understatement. She was 49. The family could only talk to her over a loud speaker and had to say good bye that way as her life support was swithced off. Fucking hell, it’s terrible. And, what makes it worse, is how complacent I have become about the disease while it’s causing so much tragedy. As I said to Foggy, it’s important to renew our efforts in combatting this disease so that Preeya’s death at least means we learn. I also feel guilty for not realising that many people have passed like this - just because I (sort of) knew Preeya doesn’t mean I shouldn’t feel any less sorry for the dozens of people dying and many more affected everyday. My emotions are in turmoil and yet I’m not directly affected.

Day 153: Typing this on day 154. Gone midday before I woke up. Beers in the evening and watched Den of Thieves. Great film.

Day 154: Woke up at 2:37 pm FFS. Just done a walk and I feel like shit (booze induced).

Day 155: Went to bed at about 4am yesterday but was up at 10am today so, usual Monday correction of sleep patterns. Two long walks today plus a little housekeeping on photos, sharing to the Oundle chatter group, so, quite constructive. Hoir chat with dad plus a chat with a recruitment agemt about a helpdesk manager role in Peterborough.

Day 156: Typing on Day 157. I saw Karen sitting with TTP (and two others I couldn’t make out) at the T&K on my second walk. Why does that piss me off so much? I am being like Jack in Midnight Run. I need to let go.

I am also getting wound up with Tumblr - I can only make entries on this diary blog on the PC - when I try on the Android or Apple apps, they pop up with ‘post too long’. Trying getting info from Tumblr’s online help on that though - fucking not happening. I think I might move this to a Google Blog...it’s not like anyone else reads it. I’m not sure I’d want that - it’s far more a private diary now rather than the cute ‘blog’ idea it started out as. It is now a disciplinary exercise more than anything.

Day 158: Feeling less sorry for myself now. It’s 10pm and I am having a midweek beer as I wait for tea to cook.

Day 159: Decided I will split this diary into 30 day sections to appease Tumblr. My second walk today was at 8pm ‘cos it was pissing down from about 4pm ‘til 7:30pm...very dark and so wet. Home by 9.15pm.

Day 160: I went shopping in Corby (Tesco and Asda) - I only really went so I could get blue eggs. £75 on booze! I was going up to Fog’s tonight but at around 6pm it started to piss down. So, I shall drink at home. It’s 9.15pm, I think it’s going to get messy.

Day 161: Not sure when I wnet to bed last night but I didn’t get up until 2pm. Nice long walk (9km) in the rain!

Banners and Sam G went to London to have a few with Andy P. I’m a little flabbergasted, it’s like there’s no Covid19 all a sudden.

Day 162: Bank holiday Sunday so I am having a beer or two. Tea’s cooking, gonna watch The Accountant on BBC1 at 10.30pm. Today I got up at 1.55pm and managed to have a shower and be downstairs to see the start of the Belgian GP. Hamilton won, pretty easily. I then did my stair climb and a 9.8km (6 mile) walk.

Last night I watched a rather quirky, entertaining comic horror film called Ready or Not and then Ricky Gervais - Fame. That’s the tour I saw him live after seeing Henman’s final tennis match at the Davis Cup at Wimbledon. Bloody funny - the recording could even be the show Karen and I were at. Bed at around 5am, hence not egtting up ‘til way past midday!

Day 163: Bank Holiday Monday, just like a Sunday. I am making this entry on my phone as I'm now able to due to breaking up the diary blog into 30 day sections.

Molly's Game, a film I've tried to rewatch several times but it's never been free, is on BBC2 tonight. I'm recording it right now but actually watching Seinfeld from the start on All4. The first couple of episodes are a bit ropey if truth be told. Luckily, I know it improves.

Day 164: Managed to get hold of Michelle via her daughter Daisy to place a nice big order for C. Just as well ‘cos Tim’s ignoring me!

Rang and spoke with Barry Haddon today to check he’s OK.

Day 165: Picked up C from Michelle’s in Yarwell. While there I was mauled by her over friendly Staffordshirebull terrier getting bit on the thigh. Twice in six months I’ve been bitten by dogs.

Karen WhatsApp’d to see if I’d seen Miley Cyrus on the Live Lounge!

Day 166: Forgot to say that yesterday, I also bumped into and chatted with Pete Gilder. We mainly talked about (getting caught) speeding.

Today I did over 22k steps and I am fucked. 

I replied to an email from Shirley at work HR. After the furloughed staff call on Thursday, which I didn’t attend, they want us to cash in some (more) hoilday, which is fine by me, but I have also asked if we are any clearer as to what happens on 1st October, when the rentention scheme ends. I await her reply.

Day 167: Another 20k stpes today. Just 24k needed to have completed 1m steps since the start of July.

It’s Friday, about 9.45pm. I’m going to watch Molly’s Game and have a few beers.

Day 168: Got up at just before 2pm. It’s now 10.15pm and I am just having my first beer, Today was a lazyish day, completed 12k steps.

Day 169: Completed the 1m steps with 24 days to spare. Woohoo. Now, I am unsure whether to reduce the walking I have got so used to doing? I think I might keep up an average of 11k steps a day which is all I would have needed to accomplish to reack 1m in 3 months.

I’m pleased I did it today since I :went to bed a nearly 5am this morning!

Day 170: Actually typing this on day 171. Feels weird having done the 1m steps, almost like I’ve nothing to do. However, I am of course going to keep walking but not quite as hard/much. I did feel liek I was walking myself into the ground all in the name of finishiong the task ASAP. So, today I only had one walk, did 11,5k.

Yesterday’s Italian GP was a cracker. Hamilton had a penalty and ikt ended up with Gasly winning. Full of incident including a red flag so the race ‘restarted’.

I completely forgot ot make this entry on the correct day?

Day 171: I have decided to press on with the walking - not quite so urgently as before - to see what I can achieve steps-wise in 3 months. So, today, an unusually hot day for September, I did 18k steps plus cleaned the bathroom, hoovered my room and stairs and hallway. I am fucked!

Today I have bought a set of smart scales and a new pair of Skechers. The Skechers were almost free (£69 reduced to £30ish which I had in Paypal) and the scales were £20. Still, I shouldn’t. I don’t know what will happen at the end of October when the CJRS ends plus I don’t know what punsihment will be dished out, any day now, for the speeding offence! Fuck it!

Day 172: An eventful day. Boris has restricted gatherings to no more than 6 people and will use ‘Covid Marshalls’ to police this. It’s causing a stir amongst the online community. I have set up accounts with Gurushots and Picfair to showcase my snaps. The latter offers the opportunity to sell them. I watched Anchorman 2. It was pretty good. I also postd on the Oundle chatter group about walking in front of a car the other day - the driver, a yound lady, was enchanting the way she just smiled and let me pass - I used it as an opportunity to ask about George Higgins saving a child from near death at the hands of a lorry, the post about which has disappeared.

Day 173: Lots have seen my post re: my car incident but the bait hasn’t been taken.

Sarah Haines made a nice comment about my photo posts on the Oundle Chatter group also saying that she doesn’t know me but, it turns out she does. She is James Watson’s ex from when I first moved to Oundle so we caught up on Messenger.

Rachel Harris posted a meme slating Boris about the fact we were all encouraged to go out and about (inclding the Eat Out to Help Out scheme) and now we are being sent back to ‘our room’. Some of the comments continue to slate the government. I couldn’t resist commenting that, had the royal ‘we’ maintined social distancing and remembered there’s a fucking pandemic, perhaps we might not be under impending severe lockdown, as it now looks like. I also mentioned photos I have seen (one posted by Rach herslf) whereby you could be mistaken for thinking that there isn’t a pandemic. I have finished the comment with a line about we can only blame ourselves, not the hapless government! I wonder what reaction that will get!

Day 174: Scales were delivered today. If they are accurate I am a little over 11 stones, from 12st 7lbs before lockdown. Can’t quite believe it. I have a yearly diabetic review with Lynne in October so i can check then. If the scales are wrong, I’ll be livid on 2 scores!

Friday night beers as I type. Been looking forward to them since last Saturday!

Day 175: I do not trust the new scales. I get a different reading each time I step on them and by 10-12 lbs. Fucking things. Boots arrived today - they’re going back as well. Footy season started today. Posh lost away to Acrrington Stanley. “Who are they?”

Day 176: The GP was reflagged again today (a new track at Tuscany. A red flag two races on the trot is most unusual. Hamilton won.

Day 177: I managed to get the scales working. I’m pretty much the same weight I was prior to ld (about 12.5 st). This leads me to believe that if I wasn’t doing all the walking I am, I would be as fat as a fucking house. On that note, Google Fit is playing up. It loses the step and heart point count for each walk (although the workouts retain the route map info) Wtf?

I think K and TTP might be a thing from a post I saw on FB whereby some chap (who I don’t know) commented on TTP’s post that it was nice to see him and K. Kinda gutted if it is true but I shouldn’t be. That’s all I will say on here.

Day 178: Jim contacted me today to let me know he’s leaving RCI. He was quite secretive about why and what’s going on but, there it is. He went on to say that HR will be contacting me shortly to call me back from furlough. Sueanne is taking over as team leader but that’s temporary. and that they will most likely promote from within. I struggling to think what it would be like if Mark was boss! The way RCI are and how disjointed it is with Jim as boss, I shan’t take it as read until HR do contact me. Also, I dunno how I feel about it...I have got so used to not working. But, and it’s a big but, I doubt I’ll have a job after the retention scheme finishes so, if this does pan out, it’s good. I’ll be back to job hunting while in a job, as per before the pandemic.

Also, I received an email letting me know the punishment for my speeding offence was 6 points and a £233 fine, plus costs (£90) and victim support (£34), £357 in total. More than I expected. But, no ban, so I’ll suck it up. 

Day 179: Having midweek beers. I'm in that sort of mood.

Day 180: I WhatsApp’d Jim to let him know HR haven’t contacted me. His garbled response went from telling to give them a shout and let them know he is leaving, to which I asked ‘don’t they know?’, he then said hold fire (on Sueanne’s instruction) and she has said for me to sit tight and then, finally, that HR will contact me! Fuck knows what’s going on! I had a diabetic review with Lynne today. When you go to the surgery you have to let in, which I was by Keren. It was nice to see and chat with her. She is back with Ronnie which was news to me. Then Lynne came and got me. It was nice to see and chat with her also. She weighed me and I’m 12st 3lb. Apparently in Jan last year I was over 13st!

#diary #Tumblr diary #lockdown #covid19 #lockdownuk

[kittenfairysongwarrior-blog]

Snape’s Reception

The hallway was bright white, perfectly illuminated, and almost always empty. Filled with thousands of individual doors, Heaven’s go between was not a place for the dead to be seen roaming. There were, however, special circumstances that allowed those who had passed, whose futures in the afterlife did not mix, to view each other. This was one of those times.

As she closed the door behind her, rage bottled up inside, as red and glowing as the hair that fell past her shoulders. Who did he think he was? After all this time!

At the other end of the hallway, a place somewhat darker than where the girl was staying, a man woke up, coming to slowly on the ground. Groggy, he wiped the hair out of his eyes and sat up, adjusting to the grey aura around him. Squinting, he could see the girl running towards him, red hair bouncing in her wake.

He was filled with joy. Finally.

Overwhelmed with happiness, he forgot, again, that she was not his. Moreover, he forgot that he had spent the rest of his life after his passing tormenting the very children she loved more than anything. He forgot that he was supposed to guard her child, supposed to honor her memory, and yet he did not. He forgot about his sins.

More importantly, Snape forgot that Lily Potter no longer worked alone.

As James and Sirius raced down the hallway-after all, maybe they couldn’t see Harry yet, but they sure as fuck could avenge his death- Snape’s eyes shot open in terror. He thanked his lucky stars that there were only two of them out of the four.

Lily and her boys reached the crowd, but before anyone could say anything, a seventh figure materialised. A tall, brown haired man, clad in a threadbare sweater, glasses resting upon his nose, smiled sadly at the poor new arrival.

“Ah, Severus,” he said quietly. “You see, I have hellos to say-to my boys, to my girl- and yet here you are, in the way yet again. They were just children, Severus.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Snape realised that James and Sirius, far from attacking him, were actually holding Lily back.

Slowly, Remus met their gaze, and motioned to the Longbottoms to follow suit. As the hand left his head, Snape almost relaxed.

Lily shook off her men, stepping forward to look him in the eyes. A silence gripped the room.

Painfully quiet, she began to speak.

“From the moment you took me for granted , the moment you started to believe you had a right to me, as if I was an object instead of a human being, you lost me, not only in the way you thought you had me, but also as a friend. You hate James because he bullied you in school? And then you bully children? Neville was one of the quietest, kindest children to ever go through Hogwarts, and you made his life a living hell. As if losing his parents wasn’t enough. And even more, you said you loved me, pined for me for decades, and yet did nothing to help my beautiful boy as he struggled for two of them? Despite you, he won anyway. And despite you, so did I. I am happy. And now, with people like you gone, I hope my son can be too.” Lily stepped back, a slightly creepy grin upon her otherwise perfect pface. “You want the honors, love?”

And a voice that Snape did not expect to hear in the afterlife, but that nonetheless filled him with irritation and a slight hint of fear, replied.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Whirling around, Snape just glimpsed the telltale red hair of his executioner before the floor flew out from under him, sending him hurtling down into an entirely different afterlife.

As the portal closed, Remus stepped forward to envelope his friends in a hug, and then stopped short, a mischievous smile on his face.

“Oí, Fred, I guess you can know now.”

Stepping forwards, he held out his hand.

“Moony, at your service.”

Sirius stepped forward.

“Padfoot.”

And finally, a face that was more familiar than Fred could almost bear stepped forward, tousled black hair reminding him of the friends he had left behind. James Potter smiled at the boy, knowing that he and Lily would love and care for him just as Molly and Arthur had done for their boy.

“And Prongs.”

After a stunned silence, Fred’s voice boomed through the hallway.

“ARE YOU TELLING ME RON HAD FUCKING WORMTAIL AS A PET”

#harry potter #snape #lily potter #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #alice longbottom #frank longbottom #fred weasley #fiction #afterlife #marauders

[reading-writing-revolution]

"Our ability to convert hope and inspiration into action and change must not be wasted or kept to a candidate or campaign lest it dissipate and be rendered unusable at the most challenging time in our country’s history...I feel responsible to you, to our country, to my kids and to my conscience to make sure that we continue to find a way to respond to the urgency that we still feel. It didn’t go away Tuesday night." Beto O'Rourke, Email update, 11/11/18

Full Text.

Jan,

Amy is watching Last of the Mohicans in the other room with the kids. We started it last night after Ulysses’ basketball game. Pizza, carrots, Mohicans and then early to bed.

This morning, before everyone got up, I went on a run with Artemis and then made breakfast. Scones, German pancakes, bacon, eggs, and some bread that Jim and Christine brought by last night with butter and jam on it. Some coffee from beans that a friend in Austin sent to us last week. It’s not Whataburger, but...

After breakfast, we went on a hike in the Franklins with friends and dogs. Glorious morning in El Paso, crisp and clear, you can see for miles at the top of Crazy Cat.

Listening to the war cries and shots firing from the TV speaker in the other room, I’m smiling because we are all together again. Doing something -- just hanging out, just being around, just being -- that I haven’t done in almost two years.

Been to all the kids’ games over the last few days, made dinners at home, seen some friends and got to be outside, on the mountain and down at the river with Artemis.

I can hear Amy yelling in the other room “Don’t watch this part! Don’t watch it!”

And Henry saying “I’m watching it!” and laughing.

Already miss the road. Miss our team and the volunteers we’d see in every city, every town. Miss the energy and smiles and joy that I found all over Texas. Miss the purpose, the goal. Miss being part of something so much bigger than me or my life. Organized for a common cause and end. We were all together, really together. Never felt anything like that.

While there is loss, I also feel intense gratitude, waves of it every day. How was I so lucky to be part of something so amazing?

I can close my eyes and see so many faces and smiles. Hear the laughing and the cheering. I can see us hopeful and connecting as we shook one another’s hand, looking at each other and nodding, knowing. All the stories that have been shared with me, all part of me. Every gift and kindness, every word of encouragement. Every bit of faith in what we had set ourselves to.

We were doing this for one another, doing this the right way, doing this for our country at what we all know to be a defining moment of truth.

The loss is bitter, and I don’t know that I’ve been able to fully understand it. I try not to ask what I could have done differently because I don’t know that there is an end to those questions or thoughts. There are a million different decisions I could have made, paths I could have taken, things I could have said or not said, said better or differently. I did my best, everyone did. For our democracy to work, for us to be able to continue to work together, it’s important to be at peace with the outcome.

But what remains is this: I’m the luckiest guy in the world to have had the chance to do this with you. To bring power and joy to politics. People instead of PACs. Communities instead of corporations. Polls and consultants left to the wind and hopefully to the past. To have the confidence to move with the courage of our convictions. To open our hearts to one another. To not allow our differences (of party, of geography, of race or anything else) to divide us. To not know how it would end but to know that we had to give it everything.

I don’t know how to fully make sense of what remains or to measure the impact we’ve had.

Certainly, we changed something in Texas and in our politics. At the very least our campaign reflected a change already underway in Texas that hadn’t yet been seen in statewide campaigns.

Future campaigns will be won, influenced by the one we built. Candidates will run who otherwise wouldn’t have. Some will take heart in knowing that you don’t have to accept PAC money, you don’t have to hire a pollster to know how you think or what you want to say. They will have seen in our campaign that there is real joy and power in being with people, all people. Republicans, Democrats, Independents. People who’ve never voted and never will. People who will vote for you, people who won’t. People who live in the forgotten neighborhoods of the biggest cities. People who live in small towns that no Senate candidate has been to in 70 years.

I am grateful that you gave me a chance to be part of this. I feel responsible to you, to our country, to my kids and to my conscience to make sure that we continue to find a way to respond to the urgency that we still feel. It didn’t go away Tuesday night. Our ability to convert hope and inspiration into action and change must not be wasted or kept to a candidate or campaign lest it dissipate and be rendered unusable at the most challenging time in our country’s history.

Just know that I want to be part of the best way forward for this country -- whatever way I can help in whatever form that takes. Know that I am honored to have run this campaign with you and that I want to continue to honor and be honest to what was powerful about it.

For the time being, I am going to focus on being a better dad to our kids who have not had much of one for the last 22 months.

Movie is over. Now going to Molly’s basketball game and then we’ll see what’s next.

Grateful to you for being a part of this, for giving me a chance to be a part of this.

See you down the road,

Beto

[kaldurcalm]

Got this email because I donated a few bucks to the Beto campaign. I love this guy.

"Amy is watching Last of the Mohicans in the other room with the kids. We started it last night after Ulysses’ basketball game. Pizza, carrots, Mohicans and then early to bed.

This morning, before everyone got up, I went on a run with Artemis and then made breakfast. Scones, German pancakes, bacon, eggs, and some bread that Jim and Christine brought by last night with butter and jam on it. Some coffee from beans that a friend in Austin sent to us last week. It’s not Whataburger, but...

After breakfast, we went on a hike in the Franklins with friends and dogs. Glorious morning in El Paso, crisp and clear, you can see for miles at the top of Crazy Cat.

Listening to the war cries and shots firing from the TV speaker in the other room, I’m smiling because we are all together again. Doing something -- just hanging out, just being around, just being -- that I haven’t done in almost two years.

Been to all the kids’ games over the last few days, made dinners at home, seen some friends and got to be outside, on the mountain and down at the river with Artemis.

I can hear Amy yelling in the other room “Don’t watch this part! Don’t watch it!” 

And Henry saying “I’m watching it!” and laughing. 

Already miss the road. Miss our team and the volunteers we’d see in every city, every town. Miss the energy and smiles and joy that I found all over Texas. Miss the purpose, the goal. Miss being part of something so much bigger than me or my life. Organized for a common cause and end. We were all together, really together. Never felt anything like that.

While there is loss, I also feel intense gratitude, waves of it every day. How was I so lucky to be part of something so amazing? 

I can close my eyes and see so many faces and smiles. Hear the laughing and the cheering. I can see us hopeful and connecting as we shook one another’s hand, looking at each other and nodding, knowing. All the stories that have been shared with me, all part of me. Every gift and kindness, every word of encouragement. Every bit of faith in what we had set ourselves to.

We were doing this for one another, doing this the right way, doing this for our country at what we all know to be a defining moment of truth.

The loss is bitter, and I don’t know that I’ve been able to fully understand it. I try not to ask what I could have done differently because I don’t know that there is an end to those questions or thoughts. There are a million different decisions I could have made, paths I could have taken, things I could have said or not said, said better or differently.  I did my best, everyone did. For our democracy to work, for us to be able to continue to work together, it’s important to be at peace with the outcome.

But what remains is this: I’m the luckiest guy in the world to have had the chance to do this with you. To bring power and joy to politics. People instead of PACs. Communities instead of corporations. Polls and consultants left to the wind and hopefully to the past. To have the confidence to move with the courage of our convictions. To open our hearts to one another. To not allow our differences (of party, of geography, of race or anything else) to divide us. To not know how it would end but to know that we had to give it everything. 

I don’t know how to fully make sense of what remains or to measure the impact we’ve had. 

Certainly, we changed something in Texas and in our politics. At the very least our campaign reflected a change already underway in Texas that hadn’t yet been seen in statewide campaigns.

Future campaigns will be won, influenced by the one we built. Candidates will run who otherwise wouldn’t have. Some will take heart in knowing that you don’t have to accept PAC money, you don’t have to hire a pollster to know how you think or what you want to say. They will have seen in our campaign that there is real joy and power in being with people, all people. Republicans, Democrats, Independents. People who’ve never voted and never will. People who will vote for you, people who won’t. People who live in the forgotten neighborhoods of the biggest cities. People who live in small towns that no Senate candidate has been to in 70 years.

I am grateful that you gave me a chance to be part of this. I feel responsible to you, to our country, to my kids and to my conscience to make sure that we continue to find a way to respond to the urgency that we still feel. It didn’t go away Tuesday night. Our ability to convert hope and inspiration into action and change must not be wasted or kept to a candidate or campaign lest it dissipate and be rendered unusable at the most challenging time in our country’s history.

Just know that I want to be part of the best way forward for this country -- whatever way I can help in whatever form that takes. Know that I am honored to have run this campaign with you and that I want to continue to honor and be honest to what was powerful about it. 

For the time being, I am going to focus on being a better dad to our kids who have not had much of one for the last 22 months. 

Movie is over. Now going to Molly’s basketball game and then we’ll see what’s next.

Grateful to you for being a part of this, for giving me a chance to be a part of this. 

See you down the road,

Beto"

#Beto O'Rourke #:')

[ink-splotch]

Have you ever written about all the little moments that Ron realized he was falling in love with Hermione? Love your writing!

Probably the closest I’ve come to that is this excerpt from my “Ron as the Chosen One” fic (which I love quite a lot– Ron’s not any more or less loyal, tetchy, insecure, or brilliant as the Boy Who Lived and the youngest boy of the seven Weasley orphans than he was as Harry Potter’s sidekick. And he is a delight to write.). 

This is Ron’s version of that bit in the seventh book, the bit in the Great Hall, and then the Stone in the forest, the walking out to die, and what came after– with Dumbledore and the train station. But for Ron it’s not Dumbledore and the train station, and it, among other things, ends up being about Hermione.

Er, warnings for spoilers about who I decided to kill v. not kill to match it up with a different protagonist’s emotional journey. 

Ron did not see Bill go down. He wasn’t sure who did, or how it happened, or when– while Harry was racing up the stairs to find the diadem? While Ron was hissing open the passage to the Chamber? While he was kissing Hermione in an ankle-deep puddle of slimy water and dropped basilisk fangs?

Ron didn’t see Bill go down, he just stepped into the Great Hall and found him there, laid out and peaceful.

It had always been easy to pick his family out of a crowd– the hair, the sort of volume that Fred and George and Ginny had always carried with them, Charlie’s big friendly smile. It was easy to pick his family out of this crowd– the hair, the hands grasping hands grasping shoulders grasping elbows, the way George cried quiet and hard and familiarly.

Ron thought dully, At least this time we’ll have something to bury.

He stepped forward, past rushing young soldiers and past the tired teachers who watched their students go by, breathless, desperate. His family– and there was Fleur, laid out beside Bill, their hands almost touching. Her hair was long and mussed from the fight, the fall. Her face was pale. Ron tried to take another step forward.

Closer, and he could see them better. Closer, and he could ask how, and when, and why. Closer, and he could forget how to stand up at all.

A hand on his elbow stopped him in tracks. It was easy. He wasn’t sure he was touching the ground, except everything also felt so heavy, pulling his wrists down and down. He turned and Hermione was standing there.

Fred was gone, and now Bill was dead, and Fleur, and Hermione was standing there. Her hair was untamed, as it had been every day except for a ball once upon a time. She had put her wand away.

She had put her wand away and she was crying, and he always forgot how brave that looked on her. Hermione was crying, nose snotty and cheeks shiny, and she was going to save the world, this girl. She already had, and she was going to keep on doing it– waving petitions in peoples’ faces, and pulling things out of her magic bag like Mary Poppins, and never giving up, not even when things were impossible, not even on him.

When she reached out, Ron folded in, burying his face in her hair and crying until he stopped. Then he pulled back and scrubbed at dirty cheeks. He still had his wand fisted in his other hand. “We have work to do,” he said. “C'mon, let’s–” He scrubbed at his eyes with his fist again. “Let’s find Harry.”

Voldemort had already given his ultimatum– the Boy Who Lived, for all of you. Pansy had been all for it, and then Ron had let Hogwarts defend him.

Ron remembered Ginny’s dark robes and bright hair, lying on the Chamber floor, discarded like so much refuse. Tom Riddle had been young, translucent, and he had smirked over that barely breathing body, knowing exactly who would come for her.

Bill had cleaned all the picture frames hanging around the Burrow. He had hung up new ones, from the years spent bouncing from house to house, but he had kept up all their old ones. Their parents had danced above the mantle, Molly in gingham, and Arthur in a tux that didn’t fix him. They had held hands, beamed, and waved in the polaroid tacked up in the kitchen beside Bill’s postcards. Ron had heard their last words, echoing in his skull, dredged up by nightmares. He couldn’t even remember seeing the way they looked, fallen, the shape of their cooling bodies on the nursery room floor.

Which room had been the nursery, even? Which– Bill would know, but Bill was dead. Bill was another body strewn between Ron and the end of this. Charlie would know, or Percy, maybe, but Ron wasn’t going to have a chance to ask them.

George had stopped crying, mostly, talking quietly to Ginny. Charlie was laying wards down and down around the Hall with McGonagall. Harry and Hermione were with Neville, leaning over the Marauder’s Map rolled out over a bench at the Hufflepuff table, making battle plans. Ron went out through a side door and headed toward the Forest.

The trees were tall. The wind was cold. There were things that lived out here, spiders and nightmares, but he knew where he was going. If he was frightened, it didn’t matter.

Ron turned the Stone three times in his hand. Harry had the Cloak, and Hermione had won rights to the Elder Wand, disarming Draco in a skirmish– but Dumbledore had left Ron the Stone. He turned it three times and his ghosts stepped into view.

“Ron,” Molly Weasley said, squeezing insubstantial hands together, and Ron looked at her standing there. She was plump and short, with flushed cheeks and a wand shoved through her bunned-up hair. He had seen her in a dozen pictures, beaming and scolding and napping, and he wasn’t sure if this felt worse because it was just another picture, or because it wasn’t.

“Hi, Mum,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Molly said hotly, like she was Percy in a temper, and Ron almost smiled. “You haven’t got anything to be sorry for, sweetheart.”

Her hair– Arthur’s, Bill’s, Fred’s– it should have been red, but it was a listless silver. He could see the trees through them, the drooping pine needles and whispering leaves. Ginny could always tell Fred and George apart, but Ron never could– except that now Fred looked so young. George had been growing and growing, outliving him, and he would go on outgrowing him forever.

“He’s alright,” said Fred. “Isn’t he?” And Ron nodded, because he was bad at lying aloud.

“Take care of Art,” said Bill. The earring Fleur had talked him into getting glittered in his earlobe, the brightest thing in eyesight. “You will take care of him, won’t you?”

“You named him after me?” said Arthur. “Oh goodness. Dear,” he said, patting at Molly’s hand. “We have a grandchild.”

“We’ll take care of him,” said Ron. “He’s got so much family,” he said and his voice broke. “They’ll be there.”

“Chin up,” said Fred, a little wetly. “You’ve got work to do, little brother.”

“We love you,” said Bill. “It’s going to be alright.”

But Ron knew how to care more about what he needed to do than what he wanted. He dropped the Stone, round and grey and anonymous, to the Forest floor and he moved on.

When he reached the clearing, Ron did raise his wand. There was no old friend of his mother’s to tell him about the Horcruxes, about the way Dumbledore had been raising and raising him to die. But Ron had walked out into the Forest to die for his friends, his family, and that was enough for the magic.  He raised his wand because if he could take out a few of them before he went, all the better.

Ron shot out an Avada Kedavra with all he had in him, but Voldemort’s hit first, and the Boy Who Lived fell down dead.

When Ron opened his eyes, the clearing was empty. The trees, which had been towering and grasping and dark, were peaceful. The Death Eaters were gone, Hagrid, flushed and sobbing, was gone. Starlight dripped down through the leaves. The shadows of the Forest circled round and round him, calm, all-encompassing. There was something twisted and bloody, tucked in the curve of some old roots across the leaf-strewn ground.

A Killing Curse must kill something, said a voice. But there were two lives in you. That is a piece of Tom Riddle’s soul.

Wind ran through the branches and it wasn’t cold. “This is a weird dream,” said Ron. “Am I dead?”

Not yet.

He blinked and he was standing in Ginny’s shed. It was all spare parts and clutter.  The door of the Ford Anglia was unlatched, hanging open.

You do not have to stay, said the voice, and Ron thought about that. He thought about what he wanted.

He closed his eyes and the white queen stood over Harry, crumpled on the cold chessboard, eleven years old.

Ron opened his eyes and it was summer behind the Burrow. Ginny was balancing a box of tools on the edge of the Ford’s open hood, looking inside. He was fifteen, a Triwizard champion. She was thirteen, bare years away from the cold sludgy water of the Chamber floor. She startled at the noise of his step behind her and the tool box fell, shining wrenches going bouncing and banging all over the dirty floor.

He squeezed his eyes shut again. The sound reverberated through his skull, clashing and clinging, metal on metal on wood. His heart beat in his ears.

Ron wanted to lie down and sleep forever. He was done losing brothers. He was done watching Hermione cry. He didn’t want to see that ever again. Hermione looked so brave, even when she cried, especially when she cried, and he wanted to run away to some place where no one had to be brave.

What did he want? Ginny was fierce and terrible, but she was so scared when there was no one looking, and so Ron didn’t look. Harry had hung, bloated, in the cold water under the Lake, and it had been a game, just a game, Ron knew how to play games. George had cried out, Ron had reached out, when Fred fell softly backward through that archway into whispering veils. Ron had reached out, and now he could catch him, catch up to a fate he’d been chasing for years.

You do not have to stay.

But Hermione was going to save the world.  Harry was going to tug at his already messy hair on late nights, studying to be an Auror like his mother, like his uncle, and he was going to help people. George was going to torment a whole new generation of Hogwarts teachers with the trinkets and tricks he’d sell to the schoolchildren. Charlie would burn pot roasts for dinners, years and years of them, and Percy, muttering, would fix them all as best he could.

Hermione was going to save the world, and Ron wanted to be there to see it.

They were going to lose things they had wanted to keep. He never wanted to see Hermione cry again, but he would, because he wanted to hear her correct his spelling, and to see her roll her eyes and to call giant old tomes “some light bedtime reading.”

He wanted to hear about all of the hazings Lily would gleefully concoct for Harry when he joined the Aurors. He wanted to teach Bill’s kid how to play wizard’s chess, and to see Charlie go back to school, and to argue with Ginny about comics.  He wanted to know what Hermione looked like in the morning, sleep-mussed and soft, smiling.

Ron opened his eyes. 

–excerpt from the last son by dirgewithoutmusic

#so this is really long and i apologize #but i really did want to put all of it down #i almost included the bit about draco that comes right after this #but i resisted #undiscoveredshades

[jalondna]

Grateful by Beto O’Rourke

Amy is watching Last of the Mohicans in the other room with the kids. We started it last night after Ulysses’ basketball game. Pizza, carrots, Mohicans and then early to bed.

This morning, before everyone got up, I went on a run with Artemis and then made breakfast. Scones, German pancakes, bacon, eggs, and some bread that Jim and Christine brought by last night with butter and jam on it. Some coffee from beans that a friend in Austin sent to us last week. It’s not Whataburger, but...

After breakfast, we went on a hike in the Franklins with friends and dogs. Glorious morning in El Paso, crisp and clear, you can see for miles at the top of Crazy Cat.

Listening to the war cries and shots firing from the TV speaker in the other room, I’m smiling because we are all together again. Doing something -- just hanging out, just being around, just being -- that I haven’t done in almost two years.

Been to all the kids’ games over the last few days, made dinners at home, seen some friends and got to be outside, on the mountain and down at the river with Artemis.

I can hear Amy yelling in the other room “Don’t watch this part! Don’t watch it!”

And Henry saying “I’m watching it!” and laughing.

Already miss the road. Miss our team and the volunteers we’d see in every city, every town. Miss the energy and smiles and joy that I found all over Texas. Miss the purpose, the goal. Miss being part of something so much bigger than me or my life. Organized for a common cause and end. We were all together, really together. Never felt anything like that.

While there is loss, I also feel intense gratitude, waves of it every day. How was I so lucky to be part of something so amazing?

I can close my eyes and see so many faces and smiles. Hear the laughing and the cheering. I can see us hopeful and connecting as we shook one another’s hand, looking at each other and nodding, knowing. All the stories that have been shared with me, all part of me. Every gift and kindness, every word of encouragement. Every bit of faith in what we had set ourselves to.

We were doing this for one another, doing this the right way, doing this for our country at what we all know to be a defining moment of truth.

The loss is bitter, and I don’t know that I’ve been able to fully understand it. I try not to ask what I could have done differently because I don’t know that there is an end to those questions or thoughts. There are a million different decisions I could have made, paths I could have taken, things I could have said or not said, said better or differently.  I did my best, everyone did. For our democracy to work, for us to be able to continue to work together, it’s important to be at peace with the outcome.

But what remains is this: I’m the luckiest guy in the world to have had the chance to do this with you. To bring power and joy to politics. People instead of PACs. Communities instead of corporations. Polls and consultants left to the wind and hopefully to the past. To have the confidence to move with the courage of our convictions. To open our hearts to one another. To not allow our differences (of party, of geography, of race or anything else) to divide us. To not know how it would end but to know that we had to give it everything.

I don’t know how to fully make sense of what remains or to measure the impact we’ve had.

Certainly, we changed something in Texas and in our politics. At the very least our campaign reflected a change already underway in Texas that hadn’t yet been seen in statewide campaigns.

Future campaigns will be won, influenced by the one we built. Candidates will run who otherwise wouldn’t have. Some will take heart in knowing that you don’t have to accept PAC money, you don’t have to hire a pollster to know how you think or what you want to say. They will have seen in our campaign that there is real joy and power in being with people, all people. Republicans, Democrats, Independents. People who’ve never voted and never will. People who will vote for you, people who won’t. People who live in the forgotten neighborhoods of the biggest cities. People who live in small towns that no Senate candidate has been to in 70 years.

I am grateful that you gave me a chance to be part of this. I feel responsible to you, to our country, to my kids and to my conscience to make sure that we continue to find a way to respond to the urgency that we still feel. It didn’t go away Tuesday night. Our ability to convert hope and inspiration into action and change must not be wasted or kept to a candidate or campaign lest it dissipate and be rendered unusable at the most challenging time in our country’s history.

Just know that I want to be part of the best way forward for this country -- whatever way I can help in whatever form that takes. Know that I am honored to have run this campaign with you and that I want to continue to honor and be honest to what was powerful about it.

For the time being, I am going to focus on being a better dad to our kids who have not had much of one for the last 22 months.

Movie is over. Now going to Molly’s basketball game and then we’ll see what’s next.

Grateful to you for being a part of this, for giving me a chance to be a part of this.

See you down the road,

Beto

#beto o'rourke #betofortexas #Beto2020