#books should never be banned that will never help us in the long run

[kararisa]

darling, starling

— 9. iridescence — ✦ (wc: 0.6k)

“Is this going to take any longer?” you ask.

It’s an interesting feeling, having Scaramouche in your lap while he does your makeup. The side of his palm gently rests against your cheek as he does your eyeliner, his brow furrowed in concentration while you rest against the cushions of your sofa. His indigo hair and indigo eyes are barely illuminated by the dimmed lights of your living room, an insistence of his even at your protest of the horrid lighting for makeup.

“It’ll only take a moment longer,” he responds.

“You said that ten minutes ago,” an over-exaggeration on your part, but you couldn’t see how a makeover could take so damn long.

Scaramoche grins, his voice dripping in mock innocence, “Perfection takes time. Or however that saying goes. I’m not used to putting makeup on another person so just cooperate with me, will you?”

You do your best to glare at Scaramouche as he finishes up your eyeliner. The two of you have been at this for a while now, bantering while he does your makeup. When he finishes, whenever that may be, the two of you will swap places so you can give him a makeover in return. Admittedly an interesting arrangement to re-enact for a scene in his book, but you have to admit it’s been alright so far. He isn’t terrible, he just takes too long for your liking.

“Part your lips a bit. I’m putting lipstick on you,” you oblige, and Scaramouche continues while he dabs color on your lips. “Our ruse has been quite effective so far. But people seem to think we’ve been in love for longer than we’ve been dating.”

Amusement colors your voice, “I mean, I like to think it makes our whole act more effective.”

He finally leans back to inspect his work after what seems like forever and declares that he’s done — time for you to switch places. He gets off you to take a seat by your side. You take the opportunity to reposition yourself and straddle him.

Only to get a proper look at him while you give him a makeover, of course.

A few minutes of silence pass when Scaramouche speaks up, “The whole point of me asking you to do this was for us to talk. So talk.”

“Like what, the groceries?”

“Doesn’t matter. Just talk.”

“Well,” you pause, twisting the makeup sponge in your hand before getting back to work. “I think we’re running out of eggs? And we only have a little bit of flour left.”

“Did you add it to the list on the fridge?”

“I already did, smartass. You were the one who told me to talk.” you laugh slightly when you see him glaring at you, and you move your other hand to rest on his shoulder. “Stop looking all grumpy like that. You’re gonna make me mess up.”

“I am not ‘looking all grumpy’.”

“Oh, you definitely are.” you chide, dabbing his cheek with your makeup sponge. “Ooooh is my grumpy face mad at me?”

“Shut up and just get this over with, will you?” Scaramouche averts his gaze. “Absolute terror.”

You move on to doing his eyeliner before you continue talking, “I could help you cook dinner tonight if you want.”

“Absolutely not,” he answers curtly. “You’re still banned from the kitchen.”

“The thing that happened with the air fryer wasn’t even that bad.” you protest.

“Do I need to remind you what happened? You quite literally –”

“Okay fine, maybe I should leave the cooking to you today. But one day you’ll lift my ban from my own fucking kitchen.”

“Not happening until you learn how to actually cook.”

“Gonna need a good teacher for that, so why don’t you teach me?” you jest

He gives you an incredulous look before responding, “Sure. Whatever. Are you done with my eyeliner yet?”

“Stop moving and I’ll get done quicker.”

✧— previous — masterlist — next —✧

summary: being the world-famous singer-songwriter "zenith", the limelight has been on you ever since the start of your career. however, the media becomes relentless when leaks of music you never meant to release begin to circulate. your friend scaramouche, meanwhile, seems to have gotten stuck while writing his second book. with a deadline fast approaching, he comes to you with a deal: act as if you're dating him so he can gather reference material and, in turn, he'll help keep the press' eyes off of your leaks until you release your next album. a win-win in your book, so why not help a friend out?

author's notes:

they're definitely not in love guys trust me

taglist — currently CLOSED:

@aestherin @unsterblich-prinz @yourstrulykore @krnzysh @syriiina @yumiaur @featuredtofu @kodzusmiles @meigalaxy @fangygf @motherscrustytoenailclippings @samyayaya @hiimera @beriiov @e0nssadrift @dazaisboner @nillajhayne @chluuvr @nillajhayne @deffenferofjustice @romyoia @xiaomainlmao @hotgirlshit5 @potabletable @letthewindlead @esuz @toriiee @kclremin @angelkazusstuff @phoenix-eclipses @sakiimeo @mayuumine @ako-ang-mahal-ko @only-cherry-blossom @keiiqq @what-just-happened-huh @n3r0-1417 @haunts-gh0st @layla240 @mamafly @duckyyyx @certified-shrimp @kgogoma @xtobefreex @aeongiies @mechanicalbeat1 @meidnightrain @nordicbananas @feiherp @erzarq

[fairy-princette]

i gave your name as my emergency phone call

AO3 link | 1 2 3 4 5 6 (you are here)

Stan receives a postcard from his twin brother - who he’s not seen in a decade - asking for his help. But like with everything else in his life, he runs into some trouble on his way there

6. epilogue // it’s all the same anyways

Ford was sat on the couch warming his hands on the propane heater Stan had dragged through for them - he really needed to get his heating bill sorted. The seat next to him dipped as Stan sank into it, handing him an opened bottle of beer.

“Cheers.”

They chinked the bottoms of the bottles together.

“I was talking to Fids earlier,” Stan started, “Him and Emma-May are working out custody stuff. They reckon Oregon and California are too far to do weekends or anything, but they were thinking maybe Tate cold spend the summer here. ‘Pparently he’s a pretty outdoorsy kid - we could take him on some more child-friendly adventures?”

“I don’t see why not - we managed to find the Jersey Devil without any adult intervention, perhaps a child’s point of view could be beneficial to our research.”

“Sounding awful close to child labour there, Pointdexter.”

Ford waved him off. “Speaking of research, I acquired the books from the library I mentioned yesterday.”

Stan laughed. “Still can’t believe you had to steal library books - or that you have a lifetime ban!”

“There were extenuating circumstances!”

“Sure there were, Sixer. Just accept that you’re just as much a criminal as the rest of us Pineses.”“At least I’m in good company. Anyway, it’s a bit dense to get through but- here,” he handed Stan an open book documenting all the laws and by-laws of Gravity Falls, dating back to it’s founding, pointing out the correct subsection. “There’s some rather odd laws in here and a lot of them never seem to have been over-turned, which is good news for us.”

He watched his twin squint at the page, trying to read the small text on thin paper.

“Here,” he pulled his glasses off his face, proferring them to Stan.

“I don’t need no nerd glasses, Ford.” Stan tried to push him away.

“That book is two inches from your face, just-” he shoved the glasses onto his twin’s face.

“Oh.” Stan blinked a couple times, pulling the book away to a more reasonable distance. His mouth moved slightly as he parsed through the text. “So basically, according to this law from eighteen whatever, twins are just two halves of the same person, and both hafta be accused of committing the same crime before either can be tried for it?”

“I- yes. How did you understand that so quickly? It took me thirty minutes to read that page.”

Stan shrugged. “It’s just English, Sixer.”“That is not English, that is legalese and whoever invented it deserves their own personal nightmare dimension.”

“Eh, lawyers are just another flavour on con-man. Like I said, you just gotta know how they think.”

“Well from my understanding, as long as you are a permanent resident of Gravity Falls, any past records of your crimes should be null and void.” Ford looked down at his beer, playing with it in his hands. “There’s still a lot of research for me to do here to work on my Unified Theory of Weirdness, and was wondering if- I know you said you would stay until the summer, but I was thinking that perhaps, if you weren’t opposed-”

“I’d love to stay.”

Ford looked over to Stan sat next to him. “I know it’s not the Stan O’ War and I can’t promise any treasure-”

“Ford.” Stan smiled at him. “It was never about the boat, or the treasure, or even the adventures really. It was about being here with you.”

The two relaxed back into the couch, sitting in a comfortable quiet.

“I’m glad you wrote me that postcard.”

“And I’m glad you called. Now all I have to worry about is the guy coming to steal my eyes.”

Stanley sprayed his beer over the floor in front of them.

“What?!”

[linkemon]

Musical AU headcanons 1

Friendly reminder that English is not my first languge. You can check my Masterlists both in English and Polish here.

Warning! Musical AUs do not completely follow the plot of the originals. They are adjusted enough to make the characters more canonical.

The Greatest Showman ✧ Yun Jin

✧ Yun Jin owed a lot to her parents. Especially her passion for music. When financial problems appeared in her family, she decided to take out a loan and open her own traveling circus. No one found out that her pledge was a cargo of her parents' trading ships from Liyue that had actually sunk.

✧ Her opera performances were not enough, so she started to gather a troupe of people desperate to make money like her. Albedo with her magic tricks, Sayu balancing on a tightrope, Itto and his great strength, Nilou with her dancing and Beidou who, as a former captain, managed them all. Together, they were a strange yet wonderful team that people wanted to see.

✧ To climb to the top of her career, Yun Jin paid a visit to a rich woman named Ningguang. The lady wasn't convinced at first. However, when she met the captain Beidou, she changed her mind. After negotiations, she decided to push some gold in their direction for further development.

✧ However, the more attention a troupe attracted, the more stigmatized it was. An emotionless boy, a dwarf girl, a dangerous giant, a dancer from a distant country and a former pirate. The group couldn't stand it and raised a protest to the people when Yun Jin was away. In retaliation, everything she worked for was burned.

✧ Currently, the girl is sitting at Xiangling's restaurant, wondering what to do next. She must have made a mistake getting used to the luxuries Ningguang gave her and forgot about her friends.

Heathers ✧ Childe

✧ Childe has been attending Teyvat High School for as long as he can remember. He was considered a quiet and calm boy. Until the day when he accidentally met Il Capitano in one of the parking lots and everything began to change.

✧ When he accidentally got into a fight with opponents of the Harbinger gang, it turned out that he is not as bland as he was called. Il Capitano personally offered him to join them on a trial basis. La Signora did not mind but Scaramouche did. However, his voice turned out insignificant.

✧ It didn't take long for Zhongli to realize that something was wrong with his friend. It worried him how he started faking hall passes for his new bunch of friends. He had access to them because the teachers gave him the role of running the club. Zhongli tried to talk to him but it didn't help much.

✧ The Harbingers have always cared about their image. It was impossible to miss them because they wore stylized jackets. The day Childe got his, the three of them gave him a new nickname. He was to be Tartaglia from now on.

✧ They gave him his first task. It was Scaramouche who invented it and the boy felt it would be more difficult than it should be. However, it turned out to be simple, but cruel and testing loyalty.

✧ Tartaglia is tasked with introducing Osial, an old friend of Zhongli, to high school. Ever since the fight, Zhongli had avoided Osial like the plague. The attacker was banned from approaching and entering the school grounds. What should he do now? Stick with the new group or go back to the way it was?

Dear Evan Hansen ✧  Chongyun

✧ Chongyun was never interested in Xingqiu's life. The boy had pushed him once by accident in the hallway and that was it. When a few days later he came to sign his cast as an apology and read his letter, fresh from the printer, which was a form of therapy, he was furious. How was Chongyun supposed to know that the dark-haired one was the author of the book he was reading? Xingqiu immediately stated that he must have been following him and would now tell everyone.

✧ Shortly after, Chongyun was summoned to Principal Keqing's office. It turned out that Xingqiu had committed suicide and a letter was found on him. He couldn't explain that they didn't know each other at all. He lied that they were friends. It turned out to be a big mistake.

✧ The Xingqiu's family wanted to meet him. Rich people who run one of the department stores invited him to their place.

✧ After that, he was regularly invited to dinners and gatherings. He wondered how he could get out of this situation but he only made it worse. He even wrote a whole series of e-mails to prove to his family that Xingqiu and him really were buddies.

✧ Everything was stable until his aunt Shenhe got annoyed at how often he was away. It was true that he much preferred spending time away. And, although parents of Xingqiu considered him close, it was a huge lie.

✧ Now, Xingqiu's parents offered to pay for the expensive exorcist training that Chongyun always wanted. Shenhe told him to refuse. He doesn't know what to do.

[belamuse]

PLEASE, FORGIVE ME, IT’S MY FIRST TIME ON EARTH

Forever in awe of the Coastal Redwoods.

I am still learning how to be alive– how to allow my heart to leave my sight, to attend school, to grow up. I cannot comprehend the arguments used to bomb the lungs of children, to leach the Earth of her marrow, to ban books about love. Some days, I am paralyzed by grief. There appear to be pages missing from my manual. Perhaps I was improperly configured when they installed my software. I do what I can. I am asking the experts. I am Googling for answers. I am trying my best. Please forgive me, it’s my first time on Earth.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve felt out of place–like the only actress on stage without the screenplay. Some days, I wish I could have Please forgive me, it’s my first time on Earth permanently emblazoned on my chest. A reminder to others to be patient with me as I fumble through existence. 

I don’t ever remember a time where it felt easy to be human. As a child, I was often confused by other people. I did not understand why America’s Funniest Home Videos was popular. I could not comprehend what was funny about watching people get hurt. When I began to watch the news, it was unfathomable to me how humans could allow humans to go hungry. And war, why were we always fighting over lines on a map, wealth, weapons? I expected it to get easier as I aged. It never did. Rather, it became increasingly more confusing. Academia, corporate culture, romantic relationships, parenting. I cannot begin to guess how many hours I lost asking Google for answers. How can I study more efficiently? How do I network? Is my relationship healthy? How can I communicate with my child when he’s hitting me without losing my mind?

For most of my life, I thought it was just me. I didn’t share the inner workings of my mind with anyone. I was embarrassed to admit how uncomfortable I felt, the daily burdens of living in a bipedal body. Somehow I must have been improperly configured, so I committed to learn the rules. Perhaps I too could learn to be the right kind of human. I self-lobotomized as a passion project, convinced at some point I would feel normal and less like an impersonation of what a human should be. 

I numbed and escaped through avoidance and alcohol. It gnawed at my rib meat for years, but when it threatened to become a death sentence, I understood silence and numbing were no longer sustainable. Bit by bit I opened up, shared with those I thought most likely to understand– my closest friends and my peers in recovery. I explained how I felt I’d spent my life trying to learn the rules to a game I did not understand and would never win. And almost every time, the response was SAME, SAME, SAME.

We often forget we are all new, novice explorers in uncharted terrain. We watch our children experience the world with freshly hatched eyes. We parent them, do our best to impart our wisdom as they begin their journey on Earth. But we still know so few of the answers. Our eyes and ears and tongues are still dawning.

There are times I envy other species. How they do not require a personal development industry to help them navigate their existence. The honey bee collects nectar. The mama bear feeds and nurtures her cubs. The orangutan plays. They do not read books about increasing productivity, how to be the best parent, or how to decrease stress. They do not have development plans and performance assessments. They simply exist. 

It feels less lonely knowing there are others who find being human as uncomfortable as I do. The experience of shifting body and skin, how the playbook we grew up with as children is now outdated. On tough days, friends and I send each other long voice notes detailing when insecurities run rampant, when howling darkness sets in and we have lost all sense of the sun. It’s here, in the messy midst of it all, that I’m finding how to be human– where former versions of our past selves decompose. I welcome all of it— the blooming, the molting, the rotting, the growth. And on days when I struggle, please remember, it’s my first time on Earth.

Picture: Redwood National Forest Circa June 2020

[goopychaosgremlin]

Also the thing is Republicans literally try to make it harder for POC to vote. Why do people think they do that if voting doesn't matter? Why would they be gerrymandering and taking away ballot boxes and making it illegal to pass out water if it didn't matter? A lot of the time, it feels like Democrats don't want to help normal people. But they also don't want to make being trans illegal or repeal interracial marriage or take away one party divorce or make child marriage legal or force ten year olds to deliver rape babies or let our country be run on biblical values.

We definitely should be doing more than just voting (though I wonder what people who don't vote actually do other than voting because I've never heard them actually suggest alternatives) But it's crazy to think that conservatives spent decades and millions of dollars making it harder for non Republicans to vote for no reason. And your "protest" is doing exactly what they want! How is it a protest to agree with the nazis that say you shouldn't be allowed to vote?? Until there's an actual plan for a revolution (which seems to be a long ways away when most leftists prefer to argue with each other than actual facists and class solidarity is a major requirement in a successful revolution), you're just letting things fall more to shit and not even trying to slow it down. It's like some of these people WANT things to get worse. Or are completely apathetic to it. You think it doesn't matter who wins until they're bringing back residential schools and banning languages other than english again. (Or overturning Roe v Wade. Or using carcinogens for roads to spite the woke. Or banning books. Or arresting black people for voting with ballots sent to them by the government after telling them they were allowed to vote. Or blocking bills to make it illegal to marry children.)

I'm not blaming people who refuse to vote for how evil Republicans are, but you're making their jobs a lot easier when you don't vote and I just genuinely can't understand why you would want to do that. Can you really tell me you don't see a difference between Minnesota and Florida? None at all?

Saying "voting doesn't matter" might reach your younger peers online but it certainly hasn't reached Clangus Hargbarg who was part of the kkk in 1951 and still sends in his ballot. He hasn't missed a one.

[ear-worthy]

Never Post Podcast Debuts: Why The Internet Can Be So Good, Bad & Evil

Think about the biggest disappointments so far in our lives. Not your life. Sure, you didn't get that job because you never went to the interview, but we're talking about our society. 

Maybe it's that flying cars and jetpacks are still relegated to Bond movies. Or the Marvel Cinematic Universe went down like the Hindenburg in 2023. Or Elon Musk went from genius to someone who makes less sense than your grandpa.

Just like Apple's old slogan -- "There's an app for that" -- we've updated it for podcasting -- "There's a podcast for that."

I have a new podcast for you that should make your ears burn.

  Never Post, a groundbreaking member-supported, employee-owned podcast, is making its mark in the podcasting space with a mission to redefine discussions surrounding the internet. In bi-weekly episodes, Never Post explores the weird, wonderful, and contradictory aspects of the online experience from philosophical, legal, linguistic, and artistic perspectives, among others. 

What does that all mean? Simply, why is the online experience so time-saving, helpful, supportive, and informative, and, at the same time, a Dante's Inferno of trolls, incels, conspiracy theorists, racists, Russian bots, Chinese Bots, and Elon Musk.

Well, Never Post will draw connections and pose questions, hoping to unravel the complexities of technology and human relationships. Through engaging conversations that foster collective curiosity, Never Post aligns itself with a community of listeners marveling at, being frustrated by, or simply navigating the intricate landscape of the internet.

Made by a collective of writers, independent producers, researchers, composers, and inquisitive creators, Never Post’s staff live online. They set out to understand why the internet – and the world, because of the internet – is the way it is.

The show is hosted by Mike Rugnetta (Fun City, Reasonably Sound), a five-time Webby award-winning co-creator of the YouTube series Idea Channel (PBS Digital Studios), original cast member of the renowned Know Your Meme web series, and internet video pioneer. Rugnetta is joined by senior producer Hans Buetow, an award-winning podcast veteran whose work at The New York Times and American Public Media has reached millions of listeners.

Prior to never posting himself, executive producer and Charts & Leisure founder Jason Oberholtzer grew a community of nearly a million followers on Tumblr, and has published two books related to the internet as a creative space.

Never Post explores why the internet – and the world, because of the internet – is the way it is. In addition to reporting on current events, the show facilitates conversations about what it's like Being Online in 2024, looking at the internet through the lenses of art, philosophy, fashion, linguistics, and more. Big ideas meet personal stories, with tech lawyers, security researchers, artists and others as guests.

Led by a team of dedicated, long-time creators, Never Post is committed to modeling a content-production process that is sustainable, and inclusive both on the mic, and behind it. The team of Never Post is also working towards providing resources for those who want to learn how to tell stories with audio, or run their own audio-first productions. Never Post is available on all podcast distribution platforms starting January 31, 2024, with exclusive premium content accessible at www.neverpo.st for members and subscribers.

Check out Never Post. It's employee-owned, so it's not some media play toy owned by a narcissistic billionaire. Plus, it'll explore the internet for us. Thank goodness, because I don't want to deal with Nigerian Princes, QAnon sycophants, flat earthers, people who don't read books but still want to ban them, people who fire off a Bible quote for every possible situation, evildoers tricking you into clicking that one link, deepfakes, photos of Aunt Rose's colonoscopy, and Walmart clearance items that even China won't take back.

[baconpncakes]

Amber Lives AU - Part 2

(read part 1)

Amber survived the bus crash! House found a way to save her but still feels responsible for her injuries, so Wilson and Cuddy guilt him into helping her get back on her feet.

Please accept the following vignettes of silliness and genuine human connection between characters who deserve it. Also lesbianism.

~

House comes into Amber's room to check on her while his team runs tests.

Amber: "What's wrong with your patient?" House: "Well, she's got a case of terminal bitchiness." She rolls her eyes. A: "Your other patient." H: "My team has a case. I am playing babysitter." A: "C'mon, House. I have a concussion. I can't work. I can't read for extended periods of time and I'm banned from screens. I know you're as bored in here as I am." H: "...Patient is thirty-five years old. Presenting with-"

~

Amber: “I don't blame you, you know.” House: "....." A: "It was my choice to go pick you up. My choice to follow you onto the bus after you told me not to." H: "...." A: "You weren't driving that truck, House."

~

House: “You’re moping. What’s the matter?” Amber: “I’m not moping. I’m bored.” H: “Bored in a hospital? And you call yourself a doctor. I’d have you do my clinic hours if I thought we could get away with it.” A: “I would love to see Cuddy hunt you down after finding me down there.” H: “But seriously. What’s the mood about?” A: “If I didn’t know any better I’d think you care.” H: “You’re acting weird. I’m curious.” A: “Can’t figure it out on your own?” H: “Probably could. But your life is terrible for a lot of reasons right now and I don’t really feel like narrowing it down.” A: “...I haven’t had any visitors.” H: “What are you talking about? The team came.” A: “Out of pity! Because they'd feel bad if they didn't come. Nobody here likes me and that's fine. I don't need them to." H: “......”

~

House sits by Amber's bedside, brow furrowed, chin and hands resting on his cane, deep in thought. He’s looking at Amber’s leg, as if he can see her stitches through the sheet.

Amber: "...My leg is going to be fine." House: "What?" A: "I know that's what you're worried about. You think that you've crippled me. You think you've ruined my life and turned me into you. Well, you haven't. Even if my leg never fully heals, it wouldn't ruin my life." H: "......Guess we aren't the same after all."

~

House is alone in his office, his mind is clearly worlds away. Cuddy enters.

Cuddy: "Are you okay?" House: "One patient is dying and I don't know why and the other one is a doctor, notoriously the greatest people to treat. I'm totally psyched. Can't you tell from my radiant smile?" C: "I know we said that you should help Amber-" H: "No. You guilted me into keeping her company." C: "-but that doesn't mean you need to spend all of your time here! For god's sake House you've barely left at all since she woke up." H: "I have two patients. You should be thrilled I'm spending so much time here." C: "I'm worried. You can't keep going like this House. You're still recovering." H: "The stimulation didn't do any damage. I'm fine." C: "House." He looks at her. C: "You were on that bus too." He keeps looking. She repeats herself, softer this time. C: "Are you okay?" He looks away.

~

House sits down at Wilson’s lunch table.

House: "Does Amber have any friends other than you?" Wilson: "Are you doing that thing where you confuse yourself with Amber? I have to say it's getting old. Don't you have any new material?" H: "I'm not kidding." W: "Neither am I! The gag has run its course!"

~

Thirteen sits in Amber’s room, reading a book. Amber stares at her. There’s no indication of how long this has been going on.

Amber: "Why are you here?" Thirteen: "I thought you could use some company." A: "Out of everyone here, you have the most right to hate me." 13: "Well I don't." A: "But you don't like me." 13: "You tried to make me question my sanity by taunting me with reminders of the patient I killed. To get a job.” A: "You won in the end. I got fired. You got to stay." 13: "So that makes it all go away? I won, you lost, so we'll call it a wash?" A: "I didn't say that! ...Like I said. You have every right to hate me." 13: "And like I said. I don't." A: “....” 13: “Besides, you’re the one who told House that you hated me.” A: “Spirit of competition. You should be flattered that I considered you worthy of my hate.” 13: “Of course, my mistake.”

~

House: "So. You tried to pick a fight with Thirteen." Amber: "She told you?" H: "Nope! But I know she was in here earlier. And after our conversation earlier it doesn’t seem like something you’d just let slide." Amber nods, relenting to his point. H: "You don't like pity. I get it. But if you think that’s what they’re doing, you’re wrong." A: "Please. Why else would they come here? You sure as hell didn't tell them to. And I'd like to think James is more subtle than that." H: "Obligation maybe. That's what it is for Taub and Foreman at least. For Kutner, I think it's genuine concern. For Thirteen? My guess is curiosity. Could be concern. Maybe even this empathy I've been hearing so much about." A: "Since when are people allowed to have pure motivations?" H: "...Did even half of those motivations sound pure to you?" Amber looks at him for a moment. A: "You are hellbent on showing me that it's not pity. You want me to think they're good people, because you believe that they are. You need me to think that they don't pity me and that they don't hate me, because if they don't hate me or pity me after all I've done then there's a chance they don't hate or pity you either."

~

H: "Wilson must be the worst boyfriend ever. Why am I spending more time in here than him these days."  A: "Very funny. He's just taking some space. He still visits, because of course he does, but I don't exactly blame him for not being here every second."  H: "What are you talking about? You almost died. Doesn't feel like Mr. Needy would want to be away from you after that."  A: "Oh shit. He hasn't told you."  H: "Hasn't told me what?"  A: "..." H: "Oh my god. You guys broke up."  A: "Yes."  H: "After all of this! You break up? What the hell happened?"  A: "Dying changes everything. I was dead, House. Legally, medically dead. And it made me realize some things. I love James and I always will. But he's not what I need."  H: "You really are a cutthroat bitch! Do you have any idea what he sacrificed for you?"  A: "I do. And I know how much that hurts you. Because it is you. And you are everything to him. He was willing to sacrifice everything for me! And even then I still didn't feel how I should!"  H: "What does that even mean!"  A: "Oh my god, House! I'm gay! I'm a lesbian! I can never love James as much as I should because he's not a woman!"  H: "...Give me a minute to process this before I start making jokes about the best relationship of Wilson's life being with a lesbian." A: "I should send a warning before you leave. Give him a chance to prepare himself.”

~

It’s late. House solved the case and his team started the treatment. House went to tell Wilson that his failed lesbian relationship solved the case and is now going to Amber’s room to tell her the same thing. Only when he enters, Thirteen is already there.

Unlike earlier, where she was in a seat a few feet from the bed, lounged back with a book in her hands, this time she’s sat right at the bedside, leaned forward, actually engaging with Amber.

H: “Didn’t realize you were double-booked.” 13: “Sorry, I was just updating Amber on the case.” H: “The case that I solved.” 13: “That’s debatable.”  H: “My epiphany.” 13: “That I had six hours ago before you dismissed it.”  H: “It was stupid six hours ago. If you really believed it, you would have defended it. Which you couldn’t.”  Both women roll their eyes. Amber addresses Thirteen. A: “As entertaining as this is, you better check on your patient.” House cuts Thirteen off before she can start talking. H: “Nope. Kutner is monitoring tonight. Thirteen is off the clock.”  Amber blinks in surprise and looks to Thirteen as if to confirm that House isn’t lying. Thirteen squints at the stupid grin on House’s face and then looks away and shrugs. 13: “Just wanted to drop by. But I probably should get going.” She turns to Amber. 13: “I’ll see you tomorrow. Maybe by then you’ll feel well enough and stay awake long enough to read something.” Thirteen picks up the book that she was reading earlier and places it on Amber’s bedside table. She gives her a small smile and leaves. House watches Amber watch Thirteen leave. Amber realizes that she’s being watched. She scoffs at House. A: “It’s like you think she’s the only bi woman in the world.” House nods at the book beside her. H: “People like you.”

[fific7]

Unexpected - Part 1

King Caspian x Reader

Summary: What happens if you push the respectful and well-behaved King Caspian a little too far? You’re about to find out.

A/N: This does not follow canon, it’s mainly a mix of fluff and angst with some lemon zest 🍋 Friends to Lovers AU.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content including debatable consent at first, loss of virginity and oral and unprotected* sex between consenting adults. Some drinking & swearing.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

(My video edit)

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You and every unwed woman in Narnia knew that the handsome King Caspian was being pressured by his advisors to find a Queen for himself.

Most knew that to become Queen of Narnia would be unattainable for them - no doubt that would be some Princess from another country - and you had no illusions about your own chances. Your father was one of the lords at court and owned a large amount of land near Cair Paravel, but you were not a Royal so you were sure you’d never be considered.

You and Caspian had been friendly when you were younger but you doubted he’d remember you, so much had happened between then and now.

You’d been restless at home recently, mainly because your parents had started speaking of finding you a husband. Appalled, you’d pestered, pleaded with and finally persuaded your father to arrange for you to see Professor Cornelius as you wanted something with which to fill your days instead of playing the piano, embroidery and reading.

Cornelius had suggested you come to work with him as his research assistant, and you’d leapt at the chance. It also meant that you would live at Cair Paravel, away from the slightly smothering atmosphere at home. Your mother had not spoken to you for a week before you left (or your father, whom she blamed for setting up the interview in the first place). But she’d reluctantly accepted that you were flying the nest, however you’d had to endure an extremely long lecture about how you should behave while living away from home.

It seemed that you would be able to eat, drink, speak and bathe and not much else.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

King Caspian made his way to Cornelius’ study, knocking once before entering. The older man looked up at him, smiling and greeting him. Caspian threw himself into the chair in front of the desk, having lifted three books from it first.

“You are in need of some time away from your advisors, Caspian?”

The King nodded, running his hands over his face. “They just go on and on and on about how I need a wife and an heir. I am sure I will find a wife one day but I have other things I wish to concentrate on at the moment.” “Your next voyage?” Caspian nodded, “Yes. There is still much to do. The construction of the Dawn Treader is well under way, but I have an itinerary to decide upon and courses to plot.”

“I have a new research assistant starting tomorrow, I am sure she will be able to help you with that. She is well read and knowledgeable of the many other lands you may wish to visit.” Caspian looked up quickly at him, “She?” “Yes, she is my Lord Tirian’s daughter.” Caspian smiled, “I remember her. We played silly games together when we were young, whenever her father brought her to the castle. It will be so nice to see her again.”

Cornelius, hiding a smile, replied, “Oh, I think you will be very pleased to see her again, my King.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Feeling nervous for some reason, you tapped on Cornelius’ door and heard “Come in” in response. Stepping into the room, you were amazed at the numbers of books, manuscripts and charts which occupied the small room. You could hardly see the diminutive Cornelius in amongst it all, and he saw you taking in the piles stacked everywhere.

He chuckled, “Yes, there are too many, my dear. I’m hoping you can help me catalogue and store them as I confess the situation is getting out of control.” You bowed your head to him, “I’ll be happy to assist, Professor Cornelius.” “I’m so glad to hear that. On another note, the King is looking forward to meeting you again. I’d quite forgotten until I spoke to him about you that you were childhood friends.” You smiled, “Well, I’m not sure the King would have actually called me his friend as such, but we did spend happy hours playing hide and seek and pretending to fight dragons.”

Cornelius nodded, “He remembers those times fondly, my lady. He was not allowed to play with many other children, and I’m certain he considered you a friend of his. Come, let us go and reintroduce you to each other.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Caspian looked up from the document he was reading at his desk. There had been a sharp knock at the door of his chambers and then it had opened, Cornelius striding into the room with another person following him. He was transfixed as he looked upon the grown-up face of his childhood playmate. He stood and walked around the desk towards the two of them, whispering her name as she curtsied in front of him.

He was still staring at her. Cornelius cleared his throat seeing that the young King was lost for words, but Caspian ignored him as he heard her soft voice, “It is so nice to see you again, your Majesty.” “Caspian,” he said immediately, “we never called each other anything except our first names, did we?” She was smiling up at him, and he was still a little overwhelmed. This was the skinny little girl he’d run about with all those years ago? Now, she was a woman - a beautiful woman. “No, Caspian, we didn’t.”

Cornelius interjected, “I’ll leave you two to get reacquainted, so I’m going back to my study. Your Majesty, my lady.” He gave a small bow and left the room.

Caspian indicated the large couch by the window and she made her way to it, gathering her dress underneath her as she sat down. He sat at the other end, and without thinking he reached out and took her hand. She smiled, wrapping her fingers around his hand as they’d done so many years ago, while running headlong through the orchards next to the castle.

“I’m so very sorry about your father, Caspian. He was always so kind to me. You must miss him dreadfully.” Caspian looked down quickly and she heard him say quietly, “Thank you. Yes, I miss him every minute of every day.” He met her eyes once more, “But we were able to right the wrongs done to him and Narnia, for which I am very grateful.” She smiled at him again, “And here you are, a King! My childhood friend. I really didn’t think you’d remember me.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Caspian’s dark brown eyes gazed into yours and he held your hand even tighter. “Of course I remember you! Do you think I’d forget my only friend?! Your visits and the little time we spent together made my life bearable.”

You were shocked, and felt so sad for him. “Oh, Caspian! I can’t have been your only friend, surely?” His eyes filled with tears and he looked down again, “Believe me, you were. I was so lucky that we’d met before my father died, so it would have looked strange if my uncle had banned us from meeting. He kept me totally isolated most of the time. I think he did that so people maybe wouldn’t notice when it was time to kill me.”

Cornelius hadn’t told you it had been this bad for him! Your own eyes were watering now as you thought about the hardships he’d had to face at such a young age. Without giving it much thought, you flung your arms round him and hugged him tightly. His head came to rest on your shoulder and your hand went to the back of his head, stroking his silky hair. His shoulders shook slightly and you knew he was crying, so you just held him until he was ready to sit back from you. He stood up abruptly and turned to look out of the window, a hand swiftly wiping his cheeks dry.

He gave a choked laugh, “I’m so sorry, this was supposed to be a happy reunion and we are both crying,” looking down at you as you also wiped tears away. “I’m sorry, Caspian. I mentioned your father and perhaps I shouldn’t have?” He shook his head, “No, I’m glad that you did. And at least we have now spoken of his passing and can remember and talk about happier times.” You smiled at him, “Yes, I shall enjoy that. Although maybe I should speak firstly about how worried I was on the occasion we came to visit, and you were not there. I asked as many guards and lords as I could where you were, but I was told to stop being a nosy child. My father would say nothing to me either, despite my tantrums!”

Caspian burst out laughing, “Oh I remember your tantrums so well! I’m impressed he didn’t give in to you in the face of one of those!” You slapped him lightly on the arm, also laughing, “Caspian! You’re supposed to be my friend!” He became serious again, “I most certainly am. I’m overjoyed to have you back in my life. So much has happened in the past few years, and there has been so much to do, but rest assured I would have tracked you down eventually.” His hand went to your face, stroking your cheek gently and you felt your breath catch. He looked so handsome. Very much a man now, rather than the adolescent boy you’d once known.

His head moved much closer to yours, and you thought for a moment that he was going to kiss you.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Caspian suddenly realised what he was about to do, and pulled back sharply. He should not kiss her.

They’d only just met again, but he knew that all his feelings for her were still there. He’d just pushed them down, deep deep down, so that he could carry out what he’d needed to do for Narnia and for his father’s memory.

He’d been in love with her when he was a boy, and now that he was a man - he knew that he still loved her. He’d nearly passed out when he’d seen her again today after being apart from her for so long. All those suppressed feelings had come raging back through his veins in an instant, overwhelming, all-consuming, setting his mind and body alight with a burning passion.

But she’d said he was her friend. So he doubted that she felt the same kind of love for him that he felt for her. He must bear that in mind and act accordingly, no matter how much he wished it wasn’t the case.

Stepping back from her, he let his hand fall from her face and smiled sadly at her.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

[mckitterick]

Feel free to not answer this if you don't want to get into it, but what's with all those people saying that AO3 hosts child porn? Like where is it coming from? Is there actual child porn?, I highly doubt it, but like, you seem to know a bit more a bout these "ant1s" (the anti Vs. Pro debate is something I've been trying to avoid cuz it seems v. Stupid, but like, if they are accusing it of hosting CP, is not something I can easily ignore???)

hi anon, and thanks for asking! I appreciate your effort to learn more. I'll do my best to round up the arguments and share further reading

(full disclosure: I'm a pro author, editor, educator, and long-time fan of science and speculative fiction, not a fic writer. one of my friends helped establish the academic side of the Organization for Transformative Works, I know lots of fans and fanfic writers, I've volunteered at fan conventions and academic conferences for decades, and I teach fandom-related things, but I don't personally claim to be an expert)

let's start with this:

Any decent person is against actual childprn.

that includes those who run AO3 - it's specifically not allowed on that site. the site does allow fiction tagged with potential triggers (especially the Big Ones, which require "Archive Warnings")

people who claim AO3 hosts cp are the same folks who seek to ban books with uncomfortable sexual situations and LGBTQ characters just, y'know, living their lives

No decent person approves of actual cp or exploitation of children. that includes the Organization for Transformative Works, which operates AO3.

most folks also feel uncomfortable about a lot of media (including fiction) for a lot of reasons based on real concern for the well-being of others, especially kids and those with trauma in our past. AO3 requires creators to tag potentially triggering things. those who don't get strikes against them

it's easy to tag - and block tags - on AO3, so no one should have to deal with trauma triggers. children under the age of 13 not permitted to have an account or upload content. the volunteers who run AO3 do not tolerate abusive behavior or those who otherwise abuse the community:

so that's the background

I've posted a couple other things today about what some of the anti-fic and anti-LGBTQ contingent have been doing in attempts to limit free expression, but to consolidate here are some relevant pieces

first and most relevant to your ask:

lots about the debate on Fanlore:

basically it comes down to purity culture - that includes homophobes, transphobes, and general conservative antis - seeking to hetero-fy social media. just as they do elsewhere, their basic strategy is to call things they don't like scary names "to protect the childrens!" while they actively work to outlaw everything that actually helps protect kids, especially LGBTQ kids

so, no, AO3 does not host childprn

it does host a bunch of stuff I'd never want to read (even if I read much there), but then I don't have to because tags exist to help block such things

look deeper at the anti-fic folks to better understand why they say this - to be fair, much of it comes from honest concern, as with you, anon. just as many of us accidentally reblog TERF rhetoric because it seems well-intentioned, it's a natural reflex to feel uncomfortable or even disgusted by some stories

but if we let the anti-LGBTQ crowd win re: AO3, what's their next target? even discounting the massive loss of stories and community that would mean, if we begin banning uncomfortable fiction, who decides what's "uncomfortable" next?

I'd rather live in a world that contains both disgusting and LGBTQ-positive fiction than one that only allows straight-cis-white fiction and hard-right propaganda

I urge anyone with concerns like anon's to read the linked posts and talk to someone more deeply involved in fandom - Tumblr is one of the last bastions of pro-fic culture, so you're in the right place to learn more!

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Dishwashers have become Iphones

Apple is a true business innovator: For more than a decade, they have been steadily perfecting an obscure anticompetitive tactic, turning a petty grift invented by console games companies into a global, cross-industry mechanism for extracting rents and centralizing control.

I'm speaking of App Stores, of course, and not just any app store, but one that's illegal to compete with or switch away from. This started with console companies, who used technical tricks to ensure that they could skim a rake from every program you bought for your system.

Consoles used proprietary hardware or media formats to ensure that software vendors couldn't sell directly to you, that every sale would be forced through their storefronts or licensing systems.

These tactics acquired the force of law in 1998 after Bill Clinton signed the Digital Millennium Copyright Act (DMCA), whose Section 1201 made it a felony to traffick in "circumvention devices" that bypassed "access controls" for copyrighted works.

Broadly, that meant that you could go to prison (for five years!) for making anti-DRM tools. What's more, DMCA 1201's drafters rejected tying the law to acts of copyright infringement, making it illegal to remove DRM, even if you did so for a perfectly legal reason.

For example, if your games console had some code that ensured that the software you were running had been taxed by the manufacturer, then removing that code could become a criminal act - even though that has nothing to do with copyright infringement.

To make that concrete: copyright is supposed to help creators and audiences transact with one another. If you own a console and I wrote some software for it, then copyright should facilitate you paying me money for it and then running it on your console.

But if the console's manufacturer had designed its product so that it got to impose a tax on transactions like this, then I can't sell you my copyrighted work anymore unless I pay the tax. Doing so is a felony, but not because it infringes copyright.

No, it's a felony because it's bad for the manufacturer's shareholders. It's what Jay Freeman calls "Felony Contempt of Business Model."

Now, the defenders of this practice say it's not anticompetitive because I can invent and manufacture a different, competing console, sell it to you, and then sell you my code without paying tax.

But this isn't how competition works. Companies don't get to say, "You can compete with me, but only on the terms I set, and in the domains where I think I have an advantage." Excluding competition in "complimentary goods" (like apps) is 100% anticompetitive.

For several years after the passage of the DMCA, the abuse of Sec 1201 to create "Felony Contempt of Business Model" stuck mostly within the realm of games consoles, with the exception of mixed results in the printer ink market.

Then along came the App Store for Apple's Ios devices: these were designed to be locked to a single app store, so that people who made copyrighted works (apps) and people who wanted to buy them (Ipod/pad/phone owners) couldn't transact without going through Apple.

Apple's paternalistic pitch was that it would only use this power to benefit its customers. The press *loved* this story, because Steve Jobs posed himself as a daddy-figure who would use apps to get us all to pay for media again.

https://memex.craphound.com/2010/04/01/why-i-wont-buy-an-ipad-and-think-you-shouldnt-either/

The consensus that Apple should be able to decide how other companies could compete with it was advanced by its most loyal customers, who'd long considered themselves to be a kind of oppressed religious minority.

They insisted that there was no reason to allow a third-party app store because everyone who owned an Ios device loved using Apple's App Store.

But when anyone pointed out that if this was true, then there would be no reason to ban third-party stores (because they'd fail), they'd switch tactics, saying that any Ios user who switched stores was Doing It Wrong.

This is the Apple fanboy No True Scotsman argument: "Everyone loves the limitations of Apple's walled gardens, and if they don't, they're not really Apple customers. If they didn't want to be locked into the walled garden, they should have bought a different device."

To understand how weird this is, consider the inverse: we live in a market society based on property rights. Once I buy an Ios device, I get to decide which programs I run on it and who I buy them from. If Apple didn't like that deal, it shouldn't have sold me an Ios device.

This belief-system is intrinsically conservative, in the sense articulated by Frank Wilhoit: "There must be in-groups whom the law protectes but does not bind, alongside out-groups whom the law binds but does not protect."

https://crookedtimber.org/2018/03/21/liberals-against-progressives/#comment-729288

How else to explain the indifference of Apple trufans for the company's decision to reverse-engineer all of Microsoft Office's file formats and make compatible players for them, and their defense of Apple's strict prohibition on doing this to Ios?

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/06/adversarial-interoperability-reviving-elegant-weapon-more-civilized-age-slay

But even if you think Apple will never abuse the power to decide who can compete with it to make complimentary products that interoperate with its own devices, the norms, laws and precedents backstopping Apple's business-model innovations can by used by anyone.

In 2015, I wrote a Guardian microfiction that exposed the perils of allowing companies to choose their competitors. It was called "If Dishwashers Were Iphones."

https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2015/feb/13/if-dishwashers-were-iphones

It was a letter from the CEO of an "innovative" dishwasher company explaining why his customers were wrong to try to wash third-party dishes in his products.

The comments swiftly filled up with Apple defenders who decried it as an absurd, over-the-top analogy.

To those people, I say, behold, the Bob Dishwasher! It's a cute, countertop dishwasher aimed at single-person households, and it uses a proprietary cartridge for detergent dispensing, at about $0.67/wash - about $242/year.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hVup5ya0WVQ

The company makes a lot of familiar, paternalistic claims to justify selling a non-refillable, single-use electronics package that becomes immortal e-waste once you've used it up and replaced it: the precision electronics and proprietary detergent ensure optimal performance.

dekuNukem bought a Bob and decided that he - and not the manufacturer - should decide whether the "advantages" of throwing out the cassette and buying a new one were worth it. He reverse-engineered it and made a defeat device he calls a "rewinder."

https://github.com/dekuNukem/bob_cassette_rewinder

The tale of how he did this makes for a fascinating read, especially the analog sleuthing he did using product safety labels to reverse-engineer the "proprietary" composition of the detergent and rinse-aid, which turn out to be commodity products marked up by 7700%!

Extraordinarily, he's actually selling the Rewinder, for $30. This shouldn't be extraordinary, but it is, thanks to the penalties under DMCA 1201 (and the UK equivalent law, derived from Article 6 of 2001's EU Copyright Directive).

https://www.tindie.com/products/dekuNukem/bob-rewinder-renew-your-bob-dishwasher-cassette/

It's not just dishwashers, either. Would-be digital rentiers have figured out that they can turn their shareholders' preferences into legal obligations to their customers by engineering their products so they have to be used in specific ways...or else.

For example, KLIM makes a motorcyclist's airbag vest that deactivates itself if you stop making subscription payments (of course, this means that anyone who exploits a defect in KLIM's IT can shut off all its airbag vests, everywhere).

https://twitter.com/TrashGoat00/status/1387301889356689410/photo/1

If that sounds extreme to you, it's really not. Tesla has many safety features that are marketed as downloadable content, which it remotely deactivates when a car changes hands through a private sale:

https://www.theverge.com/2020/2/6/21127243/tesla-model-s-autopilot-disabled-remotely-used-car-update

If you find yourself scrambling for reasons that it's OK for Tesla to do this with its cars, but not for KLIM to do it with its airbag vests, allow me to gently remind you that Tesla owners are not an oppressed religious minority, either.

This kind of rent-seeking is just getting started. As I tried to illustrate in my novella UNAUTHORIZED BREAD (part of my 2019 book RADICALIZED), there are limitless ways for Apple's pioneering business innovation to destroy our lives:

https://arstechnica.com/gaming/2020/01/unauthorized-bread-a-near-future-tale-of-refugees-and-sinister-iot-appliances/

And as I wrote in my story "Sole and Despotic Dominion," this is a frontal assault on the idea of personal property - it creates a world where property is the exclusive purview of remorseless, transhuman colony organisms (AKA corporations).

https://reason.com/2018/11/17/sole-and-despotic-dominion/

However, that future is anything but assured. Apple is being sued by Epic for antitrust violations over its Felony Contempt of Business-Model system:

https://www.nytimes.com/2021/05/02/technology/apple-epic-lawsuit-app-fees.html

And European competition regulators have opened an enforcement action against the company on the same basis:

https://www.cnbc.com/2021/04/30/eu-says-apples-app-store-breaches-competition-rules.html

Meanwhile, copycats who created their own Felony Contempt of Business Model walled gardens, like Valve did with Steam, are facing their own lawsuits, courtesy of Wolfire:

https://arstechnica.com/gaming/2021/04/humble-bundle-creator-brings-antitrust-lawsuit-against-valve-over-steam/

We've come a long way in a decade, and the No True Scotsman defense of the right of a dominant corporation to interpose itself between buyers and sellers, to control its customers' choices after a sale, is finally facing a real challenge.

https://locusmag.com/2021/03/cory-doctorow-free-markets/

[rosedive]

I’d Lie - G.W.

George Weasley x Reader

Summary: Y/N fell for her best friend, but she can’t let him, or anyone else, know that.

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: Alcohol usage/intoxication, swearing, mentions of food, LOTS of pining and unrequited love, I don’t think there’s anything else?

A/N: This is a song fic inspired by the wonderful unreleased song “I’d Lie” by Taylor Swift! mmmm this is my first fic without a *happy* ending and boy does that make me sad. But do not worry I quite literally already have a second part planned oops. Pictures are from Pinterest.

message to be added to tags :)

I don’t think that passenger seat 

Has ever looked looked this good to me

He tells me about his night

And I count the colors in his eyes

Y/N distracted herself with her fingers, tangling and untangling them and cracking her knuckles. It was all she could do to stop herself from completely ogling the boy sitting beside her on the couch. He was positioned towards her, one leg bent at the knee and resting between them on the couch. His hands moved back and forth wildly as he spoke, recounting some story that had happened during quidditch practice that night.

“Are you even listening?” George cut himself off, his tone light. When Y/N snapped her head up to look at him, she found that he was smiling, but still he looked a bit offended.

“‘course I’m listening.” Y/N reassured quickly, her eyes finally meeting his. That was all it took, and suddenly she was being reeled into those chocolate brown eyes, drowning in their various shades and hues, with no way out.

Y/N wasn’t sure when her feelings for her best friend shifted from friendly to something more. It was as if one day his messy hair transformed from something to giggle and roll her eyes at to something to swoon over. When his pranks made her admire his genius rather than scold the disturbance they caused. When his incessant teasing shifted from mild annoyance to exuberant joy from receiving any attention from him. Of course, these shifts all happened slowly, over a period of time, but the realization of them hit Y/N all at once. She was head over heels for the boy, and she hadn’t even realized she had been falling.

If she didn’t know any better, she’d be convinced that someone was slipping her a love potion. Or, maybe, she just hoped that, because Godric would it be less embarrassing than the reality of things. Because the reality was, Y/N really had just fallen for George Weasley, no potions or gimmicks needed, and while she was irrevocably in love with him, he had no clue. 

“Seems like you zoned out for a second,” George lightly nudged her with his elbow, although a glowing smile remained illuminated on his face. “What’s on your mind?”

“Just…” Y/N racked her brain for an excuse, something believable, because she knew George could always see right through her. “Just classes, I guess. Umbridge. All of it. I guess I’m just stressed out.”

“So you’ve been letting me carry on about quidditch?” George sounded shocked, but his teasing smile was comforting. “Please, love, if you need something to take your mind off things, you should’ve just said so.”

Without Y/N even having to tell him what she needed, he was up and off the couch, rushing towards the boys’ dormitory steps. Y/N only had a moment to furrow her brows, before George was rushing back down them with a jumper in one hand and a bag of sugar quills, her favorite, in the other. Y/N exhaled a deep sigh, before the involuntary glow and warmth overtook her. Because no matter how much she longed to only view George as a friend, everything about him permeated her subconscious, lamenting and solidifying his place as more.

He’ll never fall in love he swears

As he runs his fingers through his hair

I’m laughing ‘cause I hope he’s wrong

Y/N and George walked side by side down the corridor, laughter bubbling from both of their chests. Y/N adored moments like these, when she could forget everything for just a moment and just bask in the presence of her favorite person. Ultimately, they always were ruined by her feelings hitting her like a truck, or by someone coming to steal him away, so she always tried to live in those few peaceful moments for as long as she could.

George nudged her with his elbow after making a joke, and just as she was about to respond she noticed the change in his demeanor. He was no longer laughing, but instead a small smirk had appeared on his face as he nodded a few feet ahead of them. Y/N followed his gaze, her eyes landing upon his twin brother leaned casually against the wall. In front of him was Angelina, his girlfriend, rocking on her heels as she giggled at something he said.

“Sickening, aren’t they?” George prodded, shaking his head a bit as Fred swooped down to steal a kiss on her lips.

“I think they’re cute.” Y/N tugged her books into her chest, tilting her head to the side as she watched the love-stricken couple. Angelina could have a tough exterior, and Fred could be a lot to handle, but they just got each other so well. Y/N would never say it aloud, but she envied them.

“You would think so,” George scoffed lightly. “You don’t have to listen to him ramble on about her every bloody second of the day.”

“Maybe you’re just jealous.” Y/N teased, turning her body away from the couple to face George instead.

“Hardly.” George rolled his eyes, shifting his books into one arm. He slowly raked his fingers through his newly cut hair as he spoke again, entrancing Y/N entirely. “Love’s just not in the cards for me right now. Someone’s gotta worry about products, and about making Umbridge’s day as awful as possible.”

Y/N laughed at his joke, although she felt a little sting in her heart. Sure, he had said ‘right now,’ and perhaps that should have incited some hope in her, but it didn’t. It just made her chest ache. She knew it was foolish, but she couldn’t just drop it. She had to push on, test her luck and hope that George would offer her any sort of solace.

“Come on, I think it would be nice.” Her voice was quiet, and she found she suddenly couldn’t meet his eyes. “Someone you could share everything with? Yanno, they could just be like… your person.”

George seemed to mull over her words for a moment, before swinging his arm around her shoulder and continuing to push down the corridor.

“Well, I already have you for that, right?” George beamed down at her. “Why would I need a girlfriend? You’re already my person.”

Y/N was certain her heartbreak could be heard throughout the school.

He looks around the room

Innocently overlooks the truth

Shouldn’t a light go on?

Doesn’t he know that I’ve had him memorized for so long?

The party was in full swing, blinding lights and near deafening music. It was risky, what with Umbridge slinking around every corner, desperate to give students a detention, but they needed this. Something about this year felt different, and not in a good way, and Fred and George knew one of their infamous parties was just small way to lift spirits.

Y/N scanned the crowd of people, nursing sips of her firewhisky every few moments. Parties weren’t necessarily her thing, but she couldn’t deny that she needed to unwind. As her eyes finally fell upon their desired target, she couldn’t help the warmth that bubbled in her chest or the smile that involuntarily rose on her lips. Once George met her gaze, he shot her a wink and beckoned her over, and she was quick to oblige.

“Having fun, darling?” George rested his weight against her, clearly much more drunk than she was.

“A bit,” Y/N giggled. “Not as much as you, I reckon.”

“What’s that s’pose to mean?” George slurred, giving her a drunken pout. 

“Nothing, nothing,” Y/N teased innocently, shifting her weight to better support the boy. She wrapped an arm around his back, using it to steady both him and her. “Maybe you should lay off the drinking for now though, what d’ya think?”

“Fineeeee.” George elongated the last vowel before grinning down at the girl. “Always taking care of me, aren’t you?”

Y/N hummed in response, a small smile of her own growing as she felt her cheeks begin to heat up. “What would you do without me?”

“Hm. Probably die. Fred’s doing, no doubt.” He leaned down to rest his head against the top of hers, shutting his eyes for a moment as he centered himself. “Honestly though, I’m really thankful for you. I don’t think I say that enough.”

Drunk George was always a bit sappy, but Y/N certainly wouldn’t complain. His words felt like a shock flowing through her nervous system, hitting every neuron and sparking her to life. Alternatively, she also felt completely useless in producing a response.

“Godric, I really do have the best friend in the world.” He hummed.

And just like that, the shock was sucked from her body and she was left feeling nothing but empty.

He sees everything black and white

Never let nobody see him cry

I don’t let nobody see me wishing he was mine

Y/N had searched for George for hours. After Gryffindors win over Slytherin, what should have been a wonderful celebration quickly went south. Y/N had watched from the stands as three team members held Fred back and Harry loosely clung to George, as both boys attempted to charge Draco. Of course, she couldn’t hear whatever he said that got the two so worked up, but from the look on George’s face she was certain it must have been bad. Everything seemed to move in slow motion once she saw Harry let go of George, and she watched with bated breath and wide eyes as  he lunged at the Slytherin boy.

Of course, she had heard about the twins’ and Harry’s lifetime ban from Quidditch, and she knew George must be feeling awful now. So, she had to find him. Even if he didn’t want to see her, or anyone, she had to be there for him.

She had checked just about every spot in the castle she could think of, sighing profusely each time that she came up empty. Fred and George knew the hidden corridors and passageways of the school better than anyone, and she was certain he had used that to his advantage. 

Just as she was about to give up, she decided to check one last spot that she knew of. She crept slowly up to the seventh floor, careful to make sure no one was following her. She paced back and forth three times, just as she had been taught, and breathed a sigh of relief when the door appeared. Quietly, she pushed it open, and her breath hitched in her throat when she caught sight of the familiar head of red hair. She had found him.

It didn’t appear he had heard her come in, and she used that to her advantage as she slowly surveyed the room. She felt her heart shatter into a million pieces as she took in the familiar sight of the burrow living room and heard George’s quiet sobs from his place before the fire. After the day he had, all he wanted was the warmth of his home.

“Georgie?” Y/N whispered quietly, letting the door shut behind her. 

Immediately, George straightened up and wiped at his eyes. She had never seen him cry before, and she knew there was a reason for that. Fred and him both felt they had to be strong all the time, they had to be the ones cracking jokes and making people laugh even when it was hard for them. When he glanced back, his face was red and splotchy, but a forced smile was plastered on his face.

“Hey, darling.” His voice sounded scratchy, and it was clear it was taking all of his power to keep it together. Y/N could see that his lip was busted, illuminated by the fire, and she wanted nothing more than to cup his face in her hands and nurse him back to perfect health. “Reckon you saw the fight earlier?”

“Your lip…” Y/N spoke softly, approaching him with tentative steps. She didn’t have the capacity to answer his question, not when he looked so broken and beaten down.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” George swiped his thumb over his lip, and Y/N didn’t miss his slight wince. “You should see the other guy.”

“You don’t have to do that.” She finally reached him, taking her place beside him on the carpeted floor. “You don’t have to joke and pretend everything’s fine, not with me.”

George studied her for a moment before a shuddering breath left his lips. As the tears began to pool once more, he could no longer meet her eyes. And that killed her.

“I don’t know why I’m letting this get to me so much.” He spoke, sounding entirely disappointed in himself. “But, the things he said, about my mum, my family. And then Umbridge…” His words cut off as the tears began to roll down his cheeks once more.

“I’m so sorry, George.” Y/N reached out and gently cupped his cheek, allowing her thumb to brush a few tears away. When he leaned into her touch, her heart soared. “You don’t have to shut yourself off, though. I’m here for you, always.”

“I know.” His voice was soft as he squeezed his eyes shut, willing the tears away.

Slowly, Y/N leaned forward and brought her forehead to his, letting her eyes shut as well. Her hand drifted from his cheek to the back of his neck, gently playing with the hairs at the base of it. The action seemed to calm him a bit, so she continued to do it. By the light and warmth of the fire, the two sat in silence. Neither needed to say anything, they just wanted to be near each other. 

“I love you, you know that?” George was the first to break the silence, not bothering to open his eyes or pull away from her touch.

“I know.” Y/N spoke quietly. “And I love you too.”

And Godric, did she mean it. But she was aware that they meant it in entirely different ways, and that George had no idea.

He stands there, then walks away

My God, if I could only say,

“I’m holding every breath for you.”

Months had passed since that night in the room of requirement, and while so much had changed, so much had stayed the same as well. Y/N had felt herself drifting from George everyday, and not because either of them wanted to. George and Fred were leaving, Y/N knew that, and they had to get everything in order to do so. So, Y/N had to push through everyday with him no longer constantly by her side, and she swore it was killing her.

A few nights prior, he had let her know that this was it, that him and Fred were really doing it. She had faked a smile, excitedly throwing her arms around his neck as she expressed how proud she was. And she was proud, but her chest ached and she swore she felt her stomach in her throat. It was selfish, sure, but she wasn’t sure how she was supposed to get through the year without him.

Now she stood in the corridor outside of the great hall, bouncing nervously on her heels as she watched him say his goodbyes to Lee. She had promised herself she wouldn’t cry, but there was already a stinging behind her eyes and she feared no matter how hard she tried to keep her emotions at bay, it would be futile. 

When George finally turned and took a few long strides to where she stood, her fears were confirmed. Her tears spilled involuntarily as she threw herself into his arms, burying her face in his chest.

“Hey, none of that,” George pleaded softly, gently scraping his fingers up and down her back. “You know I’ll write the second that I’m out of here, and it’s only a short bit before you graduate and I see you again.”

“I know, it’s just…” Y/N sniffled, forcing herself to imprint the moment in her brain. She wanted to remember his scent, and the way it felt to be wrapped up in his arms, and the sound of his voice. Perhaps it was cheesy, or overdramatic, but Y/N could feel her heartbreaking by the second, and holding onto ever piece of him that she could was the only thing keeping her together. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too, darling.” George chuckled softly. He pulled back slowly, planting his hands on her shoulders as he looked down at her. “You’ll be out of here before you know it, I promise.”

“You’re right, I know.” Y/N sniffled, wiping at her tears before finally meeting the boy’s gaze. The look he was giving her made her knees weak, and she found herself wanting to spill all of the contents in her heart to him.

He studied her face for a moment longer, but then Fred was calling his name and they both knew it was time. He gave her shoulders a soft squeeze and pulled her into a hug one last time, placing a kiss to the top of her head. Nothing further needed to be said, so he gently ruffled up her hair and gave her a reassuring smile, before turning back towards Fred and beginning to walk away.

The moment was ending, he was really leaving, and she hadn’t told him how she felt. Her heartbeat started to pick up, and her palms began to feel sweaty, because it felt as though it were now or never. She wanted to tell him. She had to tell him.

“George!” She called out, causing him to halt and whirl back around.

“Yeah?” He smiled warmly at her, a few paces ahead.

As she gazed into his blissfully unaware chocolate brown eyes, she found that she just couldn’t. She couldn’t drop this on him, not on one of the most important days of his life. So, she bit down on her lip before shaking her head and forcing a smile.

“Give us a show, yeah?”

“Always do.” George winked.

And just like that, he walked away. And Y/N was left feeling entirely empty.

First thought when I wake up

Is “My God, he’s beautiful.”

So I put on my make-up

And pray for a miracle

Months had passed since the fateful day that the Weasley twins left Hogwarts behind. Just as Y/N had predicted, her time left at the school dragged on horribly. Umbridge only seemed to get worse, even in the twins’ absence, and George was no longer there to comfort her. Still, she pushed through.

After graduation, Y/N was quick to get a job at a coffee shop in Diagon Alley, figuring she’d save up her money while she determined what she wanted to do. It wasn’t the worst job, but with the Wizarding World getting darker by the day, she felt constantly in fear. Still, George was close by, and she once again had him for comfort. 

Most nights she’d crash on the twins’ couch, finding it easier to get up in the early mornings and go in to work than staying with her parents in the suburbs. Which usually meant waking up to George preparing breakfast, sleep thick in his voice and his hair still messy. And Godric, was he beautiful like that.

“Sleep well, darling?” George rasped out, a sleepy smile on his face. Y/N wrapped her arms around herself as a small yawn left her lips.

“Mhm.” Y/N hummed, leaning in the doorway of their kitchen. “You?”

“Pretty good.” George grinned, sliding a mug of tea down the counter towards her. Like always, he had made it perfectly to her liking. Y/N cupped the mug in her hands, letting the warmth slowly spread throughout her body and wake her up. “Think I might stop by the cafe on my break, pick up some pastries and coffee.” Just as he finished his sentence, Fred tiredly stumbled into the kitchen.

“You can just say you want to come see me, Georgie.” Y/N teased.

“It’s not just you he wants to see.” Fred winked at the girl, causing her brows to furrow.

“Oi, shut it, Fred.” George glared at his brother.

“What do you mean?”

“He hasn’t told you about his little crush?” Fred smirked, ignoring the daggers being shot his way. “Elizabeth, that girl that works with you. Georgie fancies her.”

Suddenly, even the mug in Y/N’s hand felt ice cold in her grasp. Quickly, she placed it back down on the counter, fearing she would drop it and let it shatter to the ground. A bit of hot tea sloshed out of the mug, scalding her hand and forcing her mind away from her breaking heart.

“Shit, are you okay?” George had already hurried towards her, but Y/N was quick to brush him off.

“‘m fine, I, uh, should just go get ready.”

Y/N didn’t give the boy’s time to question her change in demeanor, but rather quickly gathered her overnight bag and hurried to the bathroom, locking herself inside. She cast a silencing charm before slowly sliding down the wall, allowing herself to sob freely.

Just as she always knew, she’d never be what George wanted.

I could tell you his favorite color’s green

He loves to argue, oh, and it kills me

His sister’s beautiful, he has his father’s eyes,

And if you asked me if I love him

I’d lie

Y/N felt in a daze that entire day at work. She made drinks, rang customers up, and wiped down counters, but she was unable to think about anything other than the revelations of that morning. Of course, Elizabeth was the only other person working with her, and while she normally adored shifts with the girl, she couldn’t find it in herself to even crack a smile at her. It wasn’t Elizabeth’s fault, of course, and she would never purposefully take it out on her, but Y/N just didn’t have the energy to try that day.

When lunch time rolled around and Y/N knew George would be arriving soon, she busied herself with meaningless tasks, intent on avoiding him and saving her heart any extra heartbreak, at least for the time being. She offered him a small smile when he entered, then ultimately let Elizabeth take his order.

As they chatted, Y/N noted the way he lit up with every giggle he pulled from her lips, and she swore she could hear her heart shattering. When he finally left, coffee and pastries in hand, he called out a quick goodbye to Y/N, but she only offered a small nod in return.

“Godric, he’s charming.” Elizabeth sighed, coming to lean beside Y/N. “You two are friends, yeah?”

“Mhm.” Y/N didn’t look up from the sugar packets she was organizing, watching as her hands shook slightly.

“Well, tell me about him!” Elizabeth urged, nudging Y/N with her elbow. “Is he seeing anyone?”

“No,” Y/N sighed, finally forcing herself to look up after finishing her task. “What do you want to know?”

As much as it killed her, she knew what she had to do. George deserved to be happy, and she was his best friend, so she had to help him get there. George would never want her the way she wanted him, and maybe seeing him with someone else would help her get over that fact.

“Anything. Everything.” Elizabeth beamed, her perfect smile on full display.

“Well…” Y/N sighed, gathering her thoughts. “He has a twin, Fred, and they run the joke shop that just opened down the way. He’s a middle child, sort of, I mean Fred is technically the middle child but that’s just because he was born a few minutes earlier. They’ve got three older brothers, then a younger brother and sister. His favorite colors green, but if you ask him he’ll say it’s orange because of his hair. Um, he was shit at potions, but I think that was just because he hated the professor, because really he’s a genius. Oh, and he’s the funniest guy I’ve ever met, which I tell him all the time but cannot say in front of Fred. I don’t know, I guess he’s just about the best person I know, honestly.” Y/N sighed, finishing her rambling with a forced smile.

“Merlin,” Elizabeth stared at Y/N, wide-eyed. “Sounds like you’re in love with him.”

“No, really I’m not. We’ve just been best friends forever.” Y/N laughed, the lie tumbling easily from her lips. 

Because that’s what she had to do, that’s what she’d always done. To keep George in her life, to make things easier, she kept her feelings close to her heart. And no matter how much it killed her, she would continue doing it. If that’s what it took to see George happy, that’s what she’d do. 

She’d lie.

TAGS: @theweasleysredhair​ @letsgotothehop​ @wand3ringr0s3​ @sarcasticallywitty15​ @mischiefisbeingmanaged​ @gcdricreads​ @destourtereaux​ @thisismysketchbook​ @george-fabian-weasley​ @evermoreweasley​ @amourtentiaa​ @lunalovecroft​ @sunshineandshadowss​

[givemethatgold]

Fix’er Upper - Part Twelve

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader Warnings: Mentions of sex, swearing, mentions of drug use, fluff, smidge of angst? Length: 1.7k Notes: Managed to whip up this bad boy during a quiet moment today and should probably make y’all wait for it but I don’t really do posting schedules (as you’ve noticed) so enjoy. Not beta’d, not proof read, I’ll die on this messy hill.

Series Masterlist

Surprisingly, life didn't change too much after that night. Frankie continued to run his acreage and oversee the making of this year's cider. With some encouragement and support from you, he was starting to expand the business and already had a few pubs in the closest city clamouring to have his product on tap.

Meanwhile, the improvements on the house were nearing an end, for the indoors list anyways. The first thing Frankie had helped you do was to install your new soaker tub, immediately followed by christening it by making soft, slow love to you inside of it.

There hadn't even been any water, your impatience to be close to each other wouldn't allow for that. You had just stripped out of your coveralls, convenient work-wear for people who fucked like rabbits you had to admit, and sat in his lap with your arms and legs wrapped around him. His hands guiding your hips in a slow rocking motion, breathing each other's air as your open mouths hovered in a not-quite kiss, only breaking eye contact when you threw your head back as you came.

Autumn passed quickly and Winter had gripped Vermont, cloaking the countryside in a heavy blanket of white. Christmas was a cozy affair, you and Frankie had been asked to join Jacquie and Mark in their family's merriment. It had stirred something inside of you, watching a functional family laugh, sing, argue, eat, and love with such abandon. 

It was everything you'd dreamt, initially, for your future with Brad. Now? Now you were starting to picture that future with Frankie's face as the patriarch, you just haven't built up the nerve to broach the subject yet. 

You'd started working at the bakery, enjoying the early mornings surrounded by rising dough and sculling back coffees with the adorable older ladies who ran the place. You'd also begun doing the books for Morales Acres and Catfish Brewery. Frankie was a veritable genius but he claimed he had no patience for keeping receipts and tracking numbers.

You had a sneaking suspicion he was playing dumb in an effort to give you more time together but you really didn't mind. Your break-of-dawn mornings at the bakery had you tired, but after a full day of renovating or bookkeeping, you were downright exhausted and ready for bed by eight pm. This, mixed with Frankie monitoring the brewing, bottling, and distribution of his cider and networking at bars and pubs throughout the state meant the two of you rarely saw each other.

All of your hard work in your own house had made you a popular friend to call when someone needed decorating advice, or a helping hand once they realized they couldn't tile their kitchen backsplash solo. You never charged for your time, although payment had initially been offered until work had got around that you preferred a good meal and conversation over money. I mean, sure, you could use the cash but it just didn't seem right. And you loved helping people and making deeper connections with the town you now truly felt you belonged in.

Tuesday evenings had become an unofficial date night for the two of you. The bakery was closed on Wednesdays and bar owners tended to be less interested in business halfway through the week, something to do with the rush of the previous weekend having worn off and the worry of setting up for another one starting to grow.

This meant you could stay up late, enjoy a proper homemade dinner, maybe even watch a movie or share a bottle of wine while soaking in your big ass tub. It usually ended as a sleepover, your house being the preferred location; Frankie's loft was perfectly fine but it did lack a certain homey appeal.

This pattern, this life, that you'd created for yourself was making you happier than you'd ever been in your entire life. You weren't one hundred percent content, not yet anyway, but the path to getting there was on a direct trajectory. You still wanted to finish your college degree, maybe switch it over to horticulture. Building a greenhouse and selling flowers was still a pipe dream but something your heart truly longed for, something that Frankie was constantly encouraging you to do.

"Look, hun," he had called out to you a few weeks ago while supposedly researching the new line of bottles. "There's an auction next county over and they have all this confiscated stuff from a grow op that got busted!"

"What?" You'd made a face and laughed at the absurdity of it all. "What on earth would you use from a pot farm?"

He just gave you a salacious wink as an answer.

Frankie had been open about his past drug abuse and while some recovering addicts may want all mention of it banned from a conversation, Frankie found levity in treating the topic like any other person would.

It had taken you a couple of hours to realize why he'd brought up the auction. It had hit you with a jolt, knowing that he’d remembered your rambling from on top of the Ferris wheel. You didn't realize he'd been listening when you'd told him about your idea of taking over the flower stand at the market once the current couple retired.

Your heart had swelled and there was a concerted effort to prevent the sudden onset of tears from running down your face. God, you loved this man, maybe one of these days you should tell him...

This particular routine was working well for the two of you. It gave each of you your own space to relax, destress, enjoy the shitty tv shows you were too embarrassed to watch in front of another living person. It also forced the two of you to take your relationship slowly, communication being a constant learning curve. You were both really good and telling each other when you needed time alone, when you were feeling stressed or sad. You each had learned the tells for when the other was angry or just hungry, if it was hormones or if there was something that was actually pissing you off.

The thing you each seemed to struggle with was expressing the softer side of the relationship. Neither of you appeared to have the Words of Affirmation love language skill, yet you both craved to hear it. You showed how much you cared for Frankie with your acts of service; helping him with the boring side of the business, baking, deep cleaning the loft, even scrubbing out the massive fermenter in the Catfish Cider warehouse.

Frankie, on the other hand, showed his love through physical touch. At first, you had assumed it was a staking-his-claim kind of thing but then you noticed how he'd do it all the time. A hand on your lower back while walking, caressing your hand with his thumb when driving in the truck, carding his fingers through your hair while you watched tv.

This week's date night found you at his place, relaxing in the loft after a busy workday. You were making dinner while he 'helped' by sneaking bites of the prepped ingredients, arm slung around you with a hand in your back pocket.

"What're you looking for?" He asked, taking advantage of your distracted searching through his cupboards to sneak a few more pinches of grated cheese.

"A can opener!" You replied, exasperation raising your voice an octave. "I could have sworn I saw a white one around here somewhere..."

“No, pretty sure that one's yours. I don't think I have one?"

"Frankie," you deadpanned "how did you survive as a bachelor without canned food?"

"I ate a lot of take-out?" He looked indignant at your laughter, "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. Can you stop judging me long enough to eat some burritos?"

Smoothing his playful scowl with a kiss, you sat down at the counter and enjoyed your first meal together of the week.

An idea was formulating in the back of your mind, though, and you barely tasted anything. As the evening progressed, the idea grew and you were liking it more and more. The final straw was you not having a toothbrush in his bathroom anymore, having forgotten that it had fallen off the counter and into the trashcan the last time you'd spent the night.

Using his, with a strange mixture of distaste and nonchalance, before making your way over to the bed, you began to plan how the conversation could go:

Hey Frankie, so you know how I have a big house all to myself? Yeah... And it had everything we need in it? Yeah... And there's more than enough room for two adults to store all of their things? Yeah... And I wouldn't have to use your toothbrush ever again? Yea- wait what? I think you should move in with me.

It wasn't very romantic but it was the most likely, considering your dynamic. Just as you were crawling into bed and snuggling under the arm he'd raised to allow you to get closer, his cell phone rang.

"Hello? - This is he. - Yeah, biological. - Oh god, when?"

The immediate change in his tone from questioning to horrified caught your attention, sitting up to face him you grabbed his free hand, silently letting him know you were there for support.

His eyes were out of focus and a panicked expression was slowly morphing his face as the conversation went on, but he gave your hand a squeeze back in acknowledgement.

"Yes, in Vermont. Do you have my address? - Okay, good, good...okay - When? - I'll have something ready. Umm... does she... does she remember me? - Oh. Okay, thank you."

Slowly lowering the phone from his ear, Frankie sat staring into nothingness for what felt like hours. His side of the conversation and the way he was reacting had you rattled. You could guess as to what was happening but weren't sure if now was the right time to pry.

"Babe? Is, is everything okay?"

Silence.

Gripping his hand tighter and rubbing his back you sat with him for a few more minutes before trying again. You didn’t want to push him but your heart was constricting in your chest from nervousness and concern for him.

"Can I get you anything? What do you need?"

His hand was now completely dead in yours; eventually, he turned his head towards you, eyes never fully focusing, and shook his head.

"I- she- fuck... I think you should go.”

Part Thirteen

[writesowhatnext]

pretending is a gateway drug // george weasley

Summary: George bribes the reader into being his fake girlfriend for forty-two days, you can imagine how that plays out.

Request: hey lovey! absolutely in love with your writing; it’s so beautiful and i just cannot get enough of it! if your requests are open (and you like the idea) could i ask for our beloved george x reader—i’ve recently been obsessed with fake dating tropes where they end up together in the end.. i don’t have anything specific in mind for the plot, i know whatever you come up with will be fabulous :D thanks a ton darling.. keep on writing, you have a gift, x

A/N: I love this trope so much and this was the sweetest compliment and I was beyond excited to start this – also I usually try to keep it gender neutral but it was a struggle with this so sorry about that :( also this is so long oh my god

Reader: female

Warnings: female reader, making out

You hadn’t heard George sneak up behind you, but being friends with the twins for as long as you had, you weren’t surprised easily.

“Y/N, I need a favour,” he said, leaning on the bookshelf you were rifling through. You didn’t turn to face him; you already knew it was George by his voice.

“No.”

You dragged your fingers across the spines of a few books before finding the book on Potions you were after, a disproportionately happy smile lifting your cheeks at the prospect.

“You don’t even know what it is!”

You huffed, running your tongue over your teeth before turning to him, tilting your head.

“Fine. What is it?”

You raised your eyebrow, leaning the book on your hip. He smiled slightly.

“I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend.”

You blinked at him, staring at his hopeful expression.

“No.”

And with that, you walked over to Madam Pince to sign out the book. George stayed a few feet behind you, not wanting to incur Madam Pince’s wrath as he had done countless times before. Fred and George were notorious in the library; once they’d made Pince so mad she banned them for a month before McGonagall convinced her they needed to use the library for their studies. A laughable idea.

“Thank you,” you said to the librarian. She shot George a deathly glare over your shoulder and you couldn’t help but enjoy his discomfort. She then directed it at you and you found yourself walking toward the exit very quickly.

“Come on, Y/N, please!” George begged, walking next to you back to the Gryffindor common room.

“No.”

“Please…”

“Nope.”

“What if I split the money with you?”

You stopped in your tracks, frowning and turning your head towards him.

“What money?”

You wanted to punch him for the cheerful grin that erupted on his face.

“I am so very glad you asked. Ron said that I couldn’t get a girlfriend if I tried, which is a bit rich, really, don’t you think?”

Something about your expression told him he should get to the point.

“Anyway, so, Ron made a bet with Fred that I couldn’t get a girlfriend before the Yule Ball.”

“So why not just get one of the Beauxbatons girls to date you? It’s like two months away.”

“Forty-two days, actually. And, I don’t actually want a girlfriend.”

You narrowed your eyes.

“I don’t believe you.”

He rolled his eyes and grabbed your shoulders, spinning you around to face the window, the whole of Hogwarts in the view.

“There is a whole world of girls to make out with out there, Y/N. Now, why would I limit myself?”

You turned your head to face him, his face very close to yours from where he stood with his palms still sat on your shoulders. Your face felt warm all of a sudden.

“I hate you.”

“I know,” he smiled, letting you go so you could turn around. “But will you help me?”

“Why me? Why not Angelina? Or Katie?”

“Fred’s got his eye on Angelina and I think Katie actually fancies me…” his expression turned from pensive to cocky in almost a second. “Can’t blame her really.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms, your book perched in your hand.

“How much?”

“The bet’s four galleons.”

“Four?” you echoed, frowning. “Bloody hell, Ron must really think you’re undesirable.”

You smirked, tilted your head to the side. “Can’t blame him really.”

“Oi!” George huffed, pushing you to the side. You shoved him back, starting to walk again.

“I’ll do it for two galleons.”

“Two galleons! That’s bloody half!”

“Nice to see your years of Arithmancy has paid off.”

“That only leaves a galleon each for me and Fred.”

“Without me, it leaves nothing for you and Fred, because without me, you won’t win the bet.”

He stared at you for a moment, the only sound: your in-sync footsteps down the corridor.

“Fine.”

“When do we start then, boyfriend?” you asked, stopping directly outside the Fat Lady’s portrait and swivelling to face George with a smug grin, enjoying his annoyed reluctance far too much.

“Right now, girlfriend.”

And so, that’s how became George Weasley’s girlfriend in four minutes – no doubt a new record for him. When you walked inside, you rushed to sit down first, as you always did, and ended up on the opposite side of the sofa to Fred, your feet stretched out towards him and your back against the arm. As he always did, George lifted your feet with an eye roll and sat underneath them, resting them on his lap. The others all greeted you but nobody batted an eyelid.

But then George placed his hand on your leg, just above your knee and you felt your breath hitch at the contact. He seemed to notice your unease and turned to you, a silent question in his eyes as he began to rub his thumb up and down. You shot him a small smile, mainly for any audience you may have had, you told yourself, but you couldn’t deny how nice it felt, though and that both scared and delighted you.

“I’m sorry,” Fred said, his voice loud as he looked at you. No one had really heard him yet, but you knew it wouldn’t stop him, he was relentless. His eyes were full of amusement and you could only imagine how much he’d enjoy this whole arrangement. “What is happening here?”

He pointed at George’s hand on your knee and for some reason, George had the good sense to look almost bashful at the attention. Some part of you didn’t want him to make it a big deal or obvious but you couldn’t figure out why exactly.

“Bit saucy for you two, isn’t it?”

With a scowl, you lifted up the leg George’s hand wasn’t rested on and kicked Fred in the side, earning a grunt in response.

“Shut up, Fred,” you whispered, trying not to draw attention to yourself. George laughed at his twin’s pained expression.

“Brilliant, love.” He said so easily it was almost natural. You froze at the pet-name but thankfully you could blame it on Ron’s outburst that had cut through the room.

“Is something going on with you two?” he asked suspiciously, looking between you and George accusingly.

“Get a grip,” Ginny insisted, “Y/N would never stoop that low.”

You smiled at her comment but you knew you’d have to do something pretty convincing to earn your two galleons.

“Oh, shut up, Ron,” you said half-heartedly, drawing every eye listening to you. George’s hand squeezed your leg comfortingly, or maybe warningly. Hermione frowned, leaning forward.

“Are you dating George?”

You pursed your lips and leant into the back of the sofa, automatically towards George, a force of habit you weren’t aware of.

“Wow,” Harry said, rather observantly for him. You rolled your eyes before standing up and walking away from them. You knew all eyes were on you and so, you stopped and turned, eyebrows drawn down.

“You coming?”

George’s face lit up at your words and he stood up, grinning as he raced over to you. As you both walked towards the boys’ dorms, you could feel their stares on your back. George could too, it seemed, and as you started up the stairs, he rested a hand on your hip. You knew, at that point, that you were definitely getting paid after this.

You were two weeks in when you started slipping. You hadn’t forgotten that you were supposed to be dating, in fact, it seemed like you’d forgotten that you weren’t really. Something about George just felt so right and easy. He’d put his arm around your waist when you sat next to him or around your shoulder in the corridor and he’d kiss your hairline before he left and your cheek when you’d done something to be proud of. You spent more time with him to keep up appearances and whilst you knew you liked George - he was one of your best friends for a reason - you didn’t realise how much you liked his company. He made you laugh until you thought you’d throw up and smile so much your cheeks would ache. You had to remind yourself it wasn’t real but you didn’t suspect anything untoward about your feelings really – you were just close with your best friend, is all.

Ron, however, was immensely suspicious. After three weeks of the pretence, he stormed in to find you lying on the sofa with George, your head on his shoulder with his arm wrapped around you as you played with each other’s hands, talking about nothing. It wouldn’t have been an uncommon sight before your business deal but now everybody thought you were dating, there was something strangely intimate about it.

“I know you’re faking it,” Ron said, frowning and pointing his finger at you both. You snorted and George frowned, neither of you moving.

“Okay?” you said, not at all fazed. Maybe you’d gotten a little too used to it.

“I’ve never seen you kiss.”

You shot Ron a strange look before you felt George’s lips briefly pressed against the side of your head. Ron rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, a smug expression on his face.

“I meant properly. I’ve never seen you kiss properly.”

Fred, who’d only just arrived, sat down on a chair opposite you with an amused smile.

“You’re a right little pervert. Aren’t you, Ronniekins?”

“Oh, piss off, Fred. You know I’m right!”

“Fine,” George said, shuffling a little bit and sitting you both up. He stood on the sofa, dragging you up with him. He ignored your confused expression, looking around the busy common room with a grin. “Ladies, gentlemen and Ron, this is my very real girlfriend and we are very really dating and I love her very much.”

You knew it wasn’t real and you were fine with that, you thought. You couldn’t ignore, though, the unsettling feeling in your stomach. You didn’t have time to think on it though because within seconds, George had grabbed your face in his large, warm hands and kissed you. You were understandably startled at first, completely unprepared and very much not convinced about how fake the whole thing was – it certainly didn’t feel fake when he bit softly at your bottom lip. There were multiple wolf whistles and hoots from the people around, mostly Fred, you suspected. You couldn’t focus on them as your hands shot to George’s chest in surprise, his jumper soft under your fingertips. He leant you back a little bit, one of his hands holding you close to him by the small of your back. It wasn’t until you felt lightheaded that he pulled away.

Slightly dazed, you looked up at him and he sent you a dazzling smile before he turned to Ron, who was as red as a tomato and swallowing gruffly.

“Fine,” he muttered, shaking his head. He all but slumped away, cursing under his breath.

George turned to you, a smile on his face, as everyone decided they had better things to do than stare at you and George making out. You felt a lump in your throat as you stared at him and for a moment, it all felt way too real; one hand on your back and the other cupping your jaw, you felt like he was still kissing you and suddenly you couldn’t breathe again. George opened his mouth to speak but Fred beat him to it. His face was a lot lower than yours were from his place on the floor, a ridiculously smug smile on his lips.

“Brilliant work, you two,” he said cheerily, staring at you for a fraction too long. “Truly dedicated to the cause.”

You felt sick at his words, but you nodded anyway.

“Thanks for going with me there, Y/N. We definitely sold that kiss.”

You nodded again, feeling empty. Nothing made you feel more hollow, though than when George’s hands left you.

“Ready to go give Filch a lunchtime he won’t regret?”

“Always,” George replied, beyond excited. He shot you a wink before disappearing with his brother through the portrait hole. You sat down on the sofa with a huff, your eyes sad and your heart tied to an anchor.

You avoided George the fourth week. Not enough to make anyone suspicious, but enough to make you feel less horrible about the whole situation. You weren’t ready to think about why it had been bothering you so much; you knew it was fake when you signed up for it and it wasn’t like you liked George or anything. Fortunately, a voice calling your name interrupted you before you could go down that rabbit hole. Unfortunately, the voice belonged to George and he was chasing after you, rushing past shorter students. You knew full well you couldn’t avoid him, no matter how much you wanted to, so you plastered a big smile on your face and turned to him, fully aware that noise carried on the moving staircases.

“Georgie,” you said happily, ignoring the gnawing feeling inside. “How’re you?”

You expected an equally fake response from him, but, as always, he surprised you. He grabbed the top of your arm lightly and pulled you into a deserted classroom, shutting the door behind you and dropping his hand.

“Why are you avoiding me?” he asked, his eyebrows drawn together and eyes full of, what looked like, hurt. He was a better actor than you gave him credit for.

“What do you mean?” Your voice was the same light and airy tone you’d used in the corridor and it clearly wasn’t sitting well with George.

“No, no,” he shook his head, his long red hair swishing with the movement. He did look very handsome- “None of that crap, I’m serious. Why’re you avoiding me?”

“Why?” you frowned. “Does someone suspect something?”

“What?” he looked visibly taken aback. “No, forget that. I want to know why my best friend is ignoring me.”

You swallowed, not really looking at him, but through him.

“It’s nothing, George.”

“It’s clearly not nothing-“

“George, give it a rest, please.”

He paused, noticing how upset you seemed. He went to brush away a stray lock of hair from your cheek when you pulled away, avoiding his eyes.

“I’ll make sure nobody questions anything, don’t worry,” you said before rushing around him, leaving the door open behind you.

George officially didn’t know what he was doing. It seemed like a great idea, at first. He needed a fake girlfriend, his best friend was a girl and Fred had agreed, he’d pushed him to ask you and it was going great, it was very convincing. Truth be told, he loved it. He loved making you laugh and he loved the casual touches and the affection. But then he kissed you, and something changed and now you wouldn’t even talk to him.

“Fred?” he asked, sitting on the floor of his dorm opposite his brother. “Do you think I’ve messed it all up with Y/N?”

“What?”

Fred, who rarely worried about anything in life, was concerned. As soon as Ron had teased George about getting a girlfriend, he’d orchestrated the whole thing to try and get the two of you together. He’d been right, as well; those few weeks you spent pretending only further convinced him that you were both perfect for each other. But now, sitting there, playing around with random inventions, he felt slightly guilty.

“She won’t talk to me,” he paused, “I think it’s this stupid bet.”

Fred had never seen George look so sad.

“After I kissed her, she’s just been acting so weird. I just-“ he paused again, sighing. “I just want my best friend back.”

Whilst Fred was, of course, very sympathetic to his brother’s plight, he’d stopped listening. George’s words only further solidified his belief – if you freaked out after kissing George, there was only one reason why and he would get it out of you, kicking and screaming.

“You fancy George,” he said the next day, following you into an empty corridor on your way to the library to return a book.

“Firstly, stop following me, you creepy sod. Secondly, of course, I do,” your voice grew an edge, “he’s my boyfriend.”

“Now we both know, dear Y/N, that that is not what I meant.”

You stopped walking and frowned at him; his smile only grew.

“See, I thought about why kissing him would freak you out so much and it just became so blindingly obvious. I mean you picked the less good-looking twin, but I can understand it-“

“Does he know?” you asked, and Fred’s amusement faded when he saw your panic.

“No, but I suggest you talk to him about it. It’s definitely in your best interest.”

With that, he strolled in the opposite direction, whislting with his hands shoved in his pockets, leaving you with a big decision and also, probably, a library fine.

You didn’t decide to talk to George until dinner. You sat next to him the whole time, your arms touching, but never really interacting with each other and that only created a black hole in your chest. You couldn’t cope without George, as your best friend or the something more you knew you wanted him to be. After you’d both finished eating, you reached over and grabbed his hand, his head jolting towards you at the contact.

“Can we talk?” you asked quietly, everyone else too concentrated on their food to hear you. He nodded and with a carefully calculated routine, you walked out of the Great Hall hand in hand. Your hands dropped as soon as you turned the corner and that alone made you feel sick.

“George-“

“Y/N-“

You both stopped, nervous, breathy laughter filling the corridor over the soft hum of people talking from the hall next door.

“You go first,” you insisted, desperate to avoid what you knew you had to do.

“Well,” he scratched the back of his neck with his hand before sighing. “This whole thing started off really nice, like really nice,” your eyebrows drew downwards at the soft pink flush of his cheeks.

“But now it’s weird and we’re weird and I- Y/N, I don’t want us to be weird. I don’t care about four stupid galleons; I care about my best friend-“

“George, I like you. Like, like like you ”

You had to curse yourself for your timing, but you just couldn’t hold it in, looking at his sweet expression as his mouth said such nice things.

“What?”

You screwed your eyes shut and let out a shaky exhale.

“I didn’t know I did until we were pretending and then there was all the touching and the talking and it just felt so right and then you kissed me and I didn’t know what to do because it wasn’t real and all I wanted it to be was real and I didn’t know-“

His lips were on yours and his hands, cupping your jaw gently, pulled you into him. You barely registered it before he pulled away, a large smile on his face that only grew larger with your bewildered expression.

“Y/N, will you be my girlfriend?” he asked, wetting his lips as his thumb lightly brushed your cheekbone. You blinked at him, your mouth opening and closing like a goldfish.

“For real?”

He laughed.

“For real.”

You couldn’t help the slow smile that lifted your cheeks, unable to contain the happiness that flodded through you. Your whole body felt light and George’s smitten expression made your heart soar. His eyes twinkled and you knew that yours would be just as ecstatic.

“I thought you didn’t want to limit yourself to just one-“

Before you could finish your teasing remark, he was kissing you again and this time, it was even better; this time it was for real.

harry potter tag list:

@creator-appreciator

@loveisblindness​

@decadentwastelandtrash - I’m having trouble tagging you I’m sorry!!

@xinyourdreamsx​ 

@brainlesspasta​ 

[heliads]

Goodbye in C Minor

Luke Patterson was dating this incredible girl, Y/N, until he died along with Alex and Reggie. Now that he’s been stuck in the present day, he doesn’t know how to move on from the girl he left behind in the 90s.

masterlist

A girl leans against an open doorway. She takes in the band playing around her, the black and white Sunset Curve banners streaked with color. Her eyes flash over all members of the band in turn, but they tend to linger on the lead singer, a boy with a shock of brown hair and enough passion for an entire band of his own.

In fact, he doesn’t even notice that the girl has arrived until the song ends and he looks up, finally snapped out of his reverie. Instantly, a smile shoots across his face and he jogs over to her, unslinging his guitar strap from around his shoulders and setting the instrument down on a nearby stand. He picks her up and twirls her around in the air. The girl laughs, and her eyes meet his again once her feet touch back down on the ground.

One of the boys from the band shouts something to her from across the studio, his voice hopeful. “Did you bring us lunch?” The girl turns to face them, attention finally diverted from her boyfriend. She holds up a plastic bag full of boxed containers. “I did! Takeout, hope you don’t mind. And yes, Bobby, some are vegetarian.” A light-haired boy, Alex, does a silent fist pump. “You’re the best, Y/N. Honestly.” 

Y/N hands the bag of food over to the hungry bandmates, and all except one hurriedly dig in. Luke stays, interlacing his fingers with Y/N’s. “You didn’t have to do that, you know.” Y/N waves his concern away. “I absolutely did. You’ve gotten me into the Orpheum for your upcoming show, the least I can do is make sure you’re all properly fed. If I can’t help with music, I can at least help with this.”

Luke grins. “Trust me, I think the food is the best thing ever. By the way, Reggie wants me to tell you that we’ll invite you to every show on the planet if it means he keeps getting free lunch. Although technically you don’t have to worry about that- I want you by my side every step of the way, lunch or no lunch.” Y/N laughs. “That’s one of the most romantic things I’ve heard all week. Maybe you should put that into a new song. ‘I’ll love you even if you don’t bring me takeout.’”

Luke pouts, and Y/N giggles at his mock sadness. “I’m kidding. Mostly.” Luke leans forward to kiss Y/N. “You had better be.” From across the room, Alex yells something at them. “If you guys keep making out in the middle of practice we’re going to ban you from the studio.” Y/N waves her hand at him. “I brought you food, you can’t ban me! I’m too important to the future of the band.” Reggie shrugs. “She’s right, you know. We might starve.” Alex swats him on the shoulder, and Y/N turns back to Luke with a slight smile.

“I can’t believe you’re playing at the Orpheum in a week. That’s so exciting!” Luke nods fervently. “Sometimes it doesn’t even feel real. Like I’ll wake up and find out we were actually booked to some other place, not the actual Orpheum.” Y/N smiles at him. “You’re going to do great, and that’s final. I can’t wait to see you guys perform.” Luke absentmindedly runs his fingers over Y/N’s knuckles, tapping out the beats of half-written songs. “I know we’ll do great. I’ve got my muse. All of my songs are about you, you know that.” Y/N raises an eyebrow. “Even ‘My Name is Luke?’” Luke groans. “Okay, maybe not that one. Almost all of my songs are about you. How about that?” Y/N beams at her boyfriend. “That sounds perfect.”

Luke jolts back to reality. He’s still standing in that same studio, but he’s back to the present day. He’s not in the 90s anymore, and it’s been decades since he was writing songs with Sunset Curve, preparing to take on the Orpheum for the first time. He’s standing in the exact same place as that one memory, when he’d been talking to her. They’d both been so happy, so exhilarated at the prospect of Sunset Curve’s Orpheum performance. Neither of them had known that Luke, Alex, and Reggie would die that night, permanently taking Luke away from everything he knew best. Away from her.

There’s a slight motion next to him, and Luke freezes before remembering that he’s not alone in the studio. Alex has just walked up beside him, although his friend’s gaze softens when he sees the troubled look on Luke’s face. “You’re thinking about her, aren’t you? You’re thinking about Y/N.” Luke sighs. “Yeah. I just- I can’t believe that all this time had passed. She isn’t here with us, and she didn’t eat those street dogs, so she must not have died. That means she grew up and she’s probably older now. I don’t know what to think about that.”

Alex nods slowly, placing his hand on Luke’s shoulder in a show of comfort. “We left so much behind that it’s hard to think about. If you ever want anyone to talk to, you know we’re all here. Julie too, although that might be more of a difficult conversation.” Luke blows out a slow breath. “That’s the problem. Things are going so well with Julie and the new band and everything that I feel like I should be happier, and I am, and then-” His voice trails off. Alex finishes the sentence for him. “And then you remember what life used to be like.”

Luke walks over to a photo tacked onto the wall. Julie had found some old snapshots of Sunset Curve and set them out in the studio. They were nice to see, but sometimes they tended to hurt instead of inspiring fond memories. One in particular catches his eye- the band and a couple of friends, mere hours before the Sunset Curve show at the Orpheum. It’s a faded Polaroid, showing a group of beaming teenagers pointing up at the Orpheum’s sign glowing in neon lights above them. Look what we’re about to do, they seem to say, look what we never got to finish.

Luke’s eye strays on the far right corner. He’s standing there, arm wrapped around a girl. Y/N. They’re both smiling, although in this shot neither of them are looking at the camera. Instead, they’re both turned towards each other, as if delighted by the simple fact that both of them are together. Luke remembers the details of that night in perfect clarity. They’d all arrived at the Orpheum and taken the photo, and then the boys had headed back to begin their sound checks. Y/N had watched them perform, making friends with a girl who worked at the venue. Rose, who Luke now knows is Julie’s mother.

Y/N always had this easy way of making friends. One smile, a few words, and it was like she’d known a stranger all their life. She and Rose had both cheered when Sunset Curve had finished their warmups, and then looked down at her watch in surprise. She’d said something about how she had to run and do some final checks with the venue staff, and she’d be right back. Y/N had kissed Luke quickly before dashing out the door with a promise that she’d be back in a second. Luke, Alex, and Reggie had disappeared down the block to get some street dogs. By the time Y/N had gotten back, papers and signatures held triumphantly in her hand, it was too late.

Luke doesn’t know what happened after that. He’s not positive that Y/N was there when he died, maybe arriving a few minutes after the fact. He’s not sure if that makes it better or not- although she’d be furious with herself for not being there to save him, Luke knows there was nothing she could have done. Would it have hurt more to be next to him, unable to do anything but watch as he breathed his last, or to have missed the entire thing? He supposes Y/N has had years to think the issue over.

Luke turns away from the photograph. His legs are itching to take him away, his heart racing to find something to do. The band doesn’t have practice today, so there’s nothing to distract him from the awful loneliness beating against his chest. He has to do something to get away from all of this, from the memories and the photographs and the knowledge that he had left the girl he loved behind and there was nothing to do to get her back. Luke mumbles something to Alex about how he’s going to take a walk, then poofs out of the studio, no clear destination in mind.

Luke reappears in the middle of a path. At first, he’s not quite sure where he is. There’s a line of pavement under his feet, leading away in front of him. Spring green boughs wave overhead, framing the way before him. The trees eventually clear out to form a clearing, and only then does Luke realize where he is. It’s the local cemetery, the place where all of Luke’s family have been buried. The place where surely he, too, lies at rest. His head must have some twisted sense of humor to bring him here.

Luke wavers one last moment, then decides to take off down the path. He’s never actually visited his own grave, as it seemed too morbid an activity to actually set out and do, but if he’s already here he might as well see it. There’s some sort of curiosity affixed to seeing your own headstone, weird as that may be, and at least now he can glance at it once and forget about it.

Luke passes between the long lines of gravestones, reading through the names. It’s late afternoon, and there’s almost nobody here at all. At least, there isn’t anybody here except one woman, who’s crouching before a headstone in the middle of the cemetery. On second thought, she appears to be around the place where Luke’s family is buried. As he walks over, he realizes that this woman is actually next to his grave. 

She’s speaking quietly. “Nothing much happened today, but it’s a Saturday, so I had to drop by anyway.” Her head drops. “You’ve been gone for 25 years. Can you believe that? 25. I miss you still.” A bittersweet smile cracks her lips, and Luke’s heart twists at the pain in her voice. “I have children now. They’re just beginning to enter double digits. At some point, they’ll be older than you. I wish you could have met them, Luke. I think you’d like them a lot.”

Luke’s head flies up when she says his name. The way she said it sounded so familiar, like he’s heard this woman before. Like he knows her, and knows her very well. The woman freezes slightly- she must have seen his small motion out of the corner of her eye. But that doesn’t make sense, because lifers aren’t supposed to see ghosts like Luke. Yet the woman still stands, lightly brushing dirt off of her legs. “Sorry, I’ll get out of your way. Didn’t see you there.”

The woman turns to face Luke, and her eyes widen. She stands for a moment, staring, and then her voice comes again, faltering and weak. “Luke?” She looks away from him, studying her own hands as if expecting them to be ghostly and translucent. “But you’re dead. How can you be here- Am I dead?” Luke shakes his head. “No, you’re not dead. I mean, I am, but I’m a, uh, ghost. You’re not a ghost. At least I don’t think so.” Luke’s voice trails off when the woman looks at him again. When she’s finally turned towards him, her face seems so familiar. It takes him a moment, and then he realizes who she is. “Y/N.”

It has to be her. There’s no way around it. Indeed, the second her name passes through his lips he knows it’s true. The Y/N standing before him is far older now, maybe in her late thirties or early forties. That would make sense, wouldn’t it? They were teenagers when he died, and if it’s been 25 years since then, she would have to be older. A slight lump forms in Luke’s throat. What would it have been like if he hadn’t died? Would he have been like this too? Would they have grown old together?

Y/N rubs a hand over her face as if in shock. “This makes no sense. I mean, you sound just like yourself and everything but-” Luke laughs quietly. “But ghosts aren’t real.” Y/N gestures loosely with her hand. “Exactly.” Her eyes flicker over him again, taking in every detail of his face as if committing it to memory. This small action itself is so strange to see- Luke remembers Y/N doing this at shows and practices, and it doesn’t feel right to see this similarity in a version of Y/N that is so much older, especially when Luke himself is still a teenager.

Luke’s voice is quiet. “Do you always visit my grave?” Y/N nods. “Every other Saturday. I think your mom and dad come all the time too. I try to give them some space.” She looks back at him, as if she can understand what he’s thinking. “We haven’t moved on so easily. There was a time right after you died when I thought we never would. I didn’t see how the earth could keep turning without my boys. And then the years kept passing by, and although the pain never got any easier we learned how to be happy too, how to keep the grief but remember you with brighter memories instead.”

She smiles, although her eyes are tinged with pain. “I’m married now.” She holds up her hand, and Luke’s gaze is drawn to the ring on her finger. “I think you’d like him a lot. We have two children, a boy and a girl. They know your parents well, we get together all the time. They supported me when I was in over my head, they pulled me out of a well when I was drowning in grief. I check in on them, and they check in on me. We were trying to do right by you.”

Luke feels like his legs are about to collapse underneath him. To see Y/N like this, so much older and calmer, feels like an earthquake tearing him apart. He doesn’t know why, but some part of him had almost assumed that she wouldn’t grow old either, that if he looked hard enough he could find her and they could be the same again. He knows now that he was wrong, although the sight of Y/N is still so reflexively exhilarating that he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

Luke forces himself to speak. “Are you- are you happy? Now, with your family?” Y/N nods, a radiant smile breaking out across her face. “I’m incredibly happy. Things are good now, and they’re going to keep being good for a very long time.” She looks at him, seeing the questions he’s too afraid to ask. “I’m sorry that things happened the way they did. I would have liked nothing more than to see you shine on that stage and have your star career the way that we always planned. I have a feeling that you’ve got a new chance now, a way to move on. I’d take it. You’ve always been able to stay on your feet and keep running forward. Don’t let that go.”

Luke nods. “Thank you, Y/N.” They exchange their goodbyes and then Luke disappears back into the trees. After a moment or two of walking, he poofs back into the studio. Luke walks on leaden limbs towards his songwriting notebook, flinging it open and reaching for a pencil. He turns to one page in particular, a song he’d begun writing for Y/N a few days before their performance at the Orpheum. He changes some lines, adds new chords, transposes the song from a major to a minor key. He doesn’t know how long he sits there, but when he looks up at last, the song is finished.

The title sits at the top, a blurry gray after recent erasings. ‘Goodbye in C Minor.’ The beautiful start to a love he never got to see through.

[beelsnack]

Bad Influence - Beelsnack's 666 Follower Special!!

(Technically I'm over 666 - shoutout to the porn bots)

But seriously, holy shit, there's a lot of you. Thank you all so much for liking my stuff, and for interacting with me and sending me good vibes and all of that. I hope I can keep giving you guys quality work!!

And yes, I am a nerd and I consider 666 a milestone for a blog for a bunch of demons. No, I'm not sorry.

-----

Lucifer: He couldn’t help but wonder when the change had set in.

When the human first arrived in the Devildom, they had been humble and meek. If anyone complimented them, they deflected it with the mastery and resignation of someone who had been doing it for far longer than they should have. And if someone thanked them? You would think their entire world was dissolving around them.

But now?

He extended a gloved hand towards them as they descended the stairs. Tonight was one of the rare nights where they had the opportunity to be alone without one of his brothers tagging along, and they had been planning this date for nearly a week now. They slipped their hand in his without any of the hesitation they would have shown at first. They knew they deserved his reverence.

“You look radiant as always, my dear,” he curled his fingers around theirs as they reached the bottom step, bringing the backs of their knuckles to his lips. “Surely there is no star in the sky that could outshine you.”

They laughed - his theatrics always did amuse them. “You do have amazing taste, after all.”

He chuckled as well, guiding the two of them to the front door. “Of course. Do you think the Avatar of Pride would associate with anyone less than the best?”

“Definitely not,” the wind that came through the door when they opened it blew their hair away from their face, and Lucifer couldn’t help but preen at the fact that he had helped that quivering little animal grow into the proud swan that stood before him.

“Speaking of the best, where are we going for dinner?”

“Don’t worry, my dear,” he laughed as they made their way out into the night. “You deserve the world, and the world you shall get.”

“Unless ‘the world’ means a steak dinner, I’m not interested.”

Mammon: “Come on, don’t leave me hangin’ out here!”

The curtain covering the entrance to the changing room rustled, and Mammon heard a faint “Fine, fine, just give me a sec!” before it finally opened and out stepped the human.

Mammon always thought they looked good no matter what they were wearing, even if it was one of his old t-shirts and a pair of shorts. Actually, especially if it was one of his old t-shirts and a pair of shorts. But seeing them decked out in his fashion brand - one he had both designed and modeled - was definitely making him feel some type of way.

He let out a low whistle when they stopped in front of the chair he had seated himself in. The results of his own shopping spree were tucked haphazardly into a colorful assortment of bags at his feet, but the human had taken a bit longer than he did picking out their stuff. And damn, was he glad they did, because otherwise he wouldn’t get the chance to see them modeling his clothes.

It was a private fashion show, just for him.

The outfit itself was pretty simple. A black fitted tee beneath a cropped leather jacket, a pair of faded dark-blue skinny jeans, and a pair of black sneaks with a gold stripe going up the side. But the thing that brought the whole outfit together was the long necklace with a topaz pendent resting against their breastbone.

“Well?” they asked, giving him a spin before striking a pose before him. “What do you think?”

For a moment, he couldn’t speak. The human wearing his clothes...it was the next best thing to them walking around with “I Belong To Mammon” tattooed on their forehead.

“I, uh...I guess you...um,” he swallowed thickly. “Ya look alright, I guess.”

“That’s tsundere for ‘you look hot,’ right?” they grinned before spinning around to look in the mirror. “Man, this is a whole look! I have to have it!”

If this had been a few months ago, the human would have waffled back and forth about whether or not to buy anything. It didn’t matter how much they wanted something, it was almost like they just couldn’t do anything nice for themselves. There was being frugal, and then there was deprivation. Now, though, was completely different.

“I wonder if I should get some shades to go with?” they mumbled, looking themselves over in the mirror. “I think that would really pull it together, don’t you?”

“Just don’t go for the Ray Bans, it’s a fucking scam.”

Leviathan: "Come on, come on, come on…"

Very rarely was Levi the one watching someone else play games, unless it was a stream. And as mind-blowingly awesome it would be to watch the human stream one of his current faves, he definitely didn't want other people seeing how adorable they looked when they were focused.

They had come to him with absolute determination in their eyes, begging him to help them out. There were a limited amount of UR armor sets in the event, and they needed to get their hands on one. And, well, what kind of friend would he be if he didn't help them out?

(The fact that he already scored the armor is irrelevant.)

So, here they were, camped out in the pillow nest that they often made for themselves when gaming in his room, laser focused on the screen with Levi giving them guidance. The event level was brutal, but they were in the final hours, so it was crunch time.

"Okay, this boss is easy once you know the attack pattern. Four regular slashes, a jab, then you've got about five seconds to get behind a pillar before it uses the AOE."

"Gotcha."

Even then, it was a long battle, and they had used up most of their healing potions by the time the monster let out an anguished roar and disintegrated into a pile of bones. The human held their breath as they moved towards it to gather their loot.

"Yes!!"

They practically leaped out of the pillow nest in triumph. There, right on the top of the loot list in shimmering gold font, and the UR armor that they had been coveting.

"I got it! I got it!" they cheered. "Levi, I finally got it!"

"Hell yeah you did!" the two of them shared a crisp high five as the results of the campaign loaded on the screen. It was updating in real time, so they could watch as the final moments of the event ticked away.

Levi knew what they were looking for. Early on in the dungeon, another player had done them real dirty, sniping them from a few levels above and then taunting them over VC about how they would never get the armor now. So of course that only inspired the human to work harder, and here they were.

3...2...1

Event over. Quickly, the human scrolled up to the beginning of the list, checking the names of all the players who scored the armor.

Levi sat next to them, chewing his lip. What was that person's tag again? He didn't remember.

Suddenly, the human let out a snort that turned into a full-on giggle fit.

"They didn't get it!" they cackled like a hyena. "Serves them right, the jackass!"

Levi was pretty sure it wasn't a good idea to laugh at the misfortune of others. But, he knew better than anyone that spite was a hell of a motivator. When they had first gotten themselves isekai’d into the Devildom, they had let demons walk all over them, Levi had personally witnessed a lower-level demon shove them out of the way to get a sandwich they had been reaching for, and the human just stood there and let them take it. But they had grown to be a little more selfish, and if they wanted something, they were taking it.

And maybe, just maybe, seeing them like that turned him on just a little bit.

Satan: "You want to come and say that to my face?"

Satan stood there in stunned silence as the human spun on their heel to look the demons right in the eyes. They had their back to him, so Satan couldn't see the look on their face, but whatever it was made the two lesser demons flinch.

"Hey, come on, Human, we were just joking."

"Yeah, no need to get all worked up."

They scoffed, and Satan knew them well enough to know that they were rolling their eyes. "Is that right? So you don't think I'm a...what was it? A fleshy meat sack who thinks they can get what they want by sleeping with the strongest demons in the Devildom?"

Another flinch. Satan chuckled to himself.. Did those morons really think they wouldn't hear them? Humans might not have super-heightened senses but they weren't deaf.

A small crowd had begun gathering around them, waiting to see what would happen. It wasn't every day one of the human exchange students squared up to a demon.

"You've got some nerve," the human drew themself up to their full height - which, admittedly, was laughable compared to most demons - and crossed their arms. "What do you think Lord Diavolo would do to demons who messed with his exchange students?"

"I believe there's a special spot in the Royal Torture Chambers for such demons," Satan came to stand next to them, and the other demons downright cowered. "If I recall correctly, there's an Iron Maiden down there."

"Ooh, cool!"

"Alright, we get it!" One of the demons cried, throwing their hands up defensively. "We're sorry!"

Satan opened his mouth to spit a curse at them, but the human beat him to it. "I've got Lord Diavolo on speed dial, so start running."

The two demons turned tail and booked it down the hallway, nearly crashing into Beelzebub as he turned the corner with a sandwich hanging out of his mouth. He stood frozen for a moment before he swallowed and turned to Satan and the human.

"Were those two bothering you guys?"

Satan cast a sideways look at the human before a wicked grin spread across his face.

"They took care of it."

Asmodeus: "Well, someone's feeling bold tonight."

The door had barely shut behind the two of them before the human was pressing Asmo against it, mouthing at his neck as their hands traveled down the front of his silk blouse. He shuddered gleefully as their breath ghosted against his ear lobe.

"I can't help it," they murmured, fingers skirting just beneath the hem of his shirt. "You looked so good out there."

"I look good all the time, darling," he hummed, reaching up to grab a fistful of hair to gently pry them away from his neck.

"You looked especially good," they huffed as he let go of their hair. "Dancing like that, I could barely wait until we got home."

"Aw, sweetheart, you should have come to join me." Asmo rolled his hips in an echo of the dancing he had been doing at the club, delighting when he felt them shiver against him. "We could have put on a show that would have captivated the whole Devildom."

"I don't think the staff would appreciate it."

"They would be too busy watching to care," Asmo giggled, diving down to capture their lips in a quick and dirty kiss. "Although I can't say I'm not thrilled to be getting a private show."

Beelzebub: “Man, this place has the best barbecue!”

Dinner dates were a pretty common thing for the two of them. Over the course of the human’s stay in the Devildom, the two of them had figured out which restaurants would put up with Beel’s appetite and which would visibly freeze when the Avatar of Gluttony entered the establishment. The Hellfire Barbecue was one of the good places, probably because Beel made sure to tip really well, and one time personally went into the kitchen to tip the chef. Or, well, he tried, anyway. He ended up giving the money to the human and told them to give it to the chef because he knew if he went in there he would devour everything. But the sentiment was still there.

Beel smiled down at the human as they wiped the barbecue sauce off of their face. “You finished all of it this time.”

“Huh?” they glanced at their plate. “Oh. Yeah, I guess I did.”

“You usually don’t.”

“I was really hungry, I guess.” they grinned sheepishly.

Beel distinctly remembered the human telling him that they always tried to save some food for later. Whether it was being resourceful or because they had a weird sense of shame around eating too much, Beel didn’t know, but he had never pressed in case it was a sensitive issue. But, seeing them indulge themselves and looking genuinely full and satisfied made him happy. And was probably his main motivation for taking them out to dinner so often.

Well, that and getting his own food.

“I like watching you eat.” Beel said, waving to the owner as he passed by.

“You...like watching me eat.” the human repeated, looking somewhat confused.

“You look so happy when you eat good food,” Beel smiled. “I like seeing you happy.”

Belphegor: Oh, how the tables have tabled.

“Come on, I don’t feel like dealing with Lucifer’s lectures today.” Belphie grumbled, tugging half-heartedly on the human’s arm that was flung around his waist. “We should get up soon.”

For all of his complaining, Belphie didn’t move. If anything, he snuggled down deeper into the bed. He loved when the human agreed to have a sleepover in the attic with him. They got uninterrupted cuddle and nap time, since nobody dared to come up to the attic except Beel. And Beel was almost always welcome to join the cuddle puddle.

“Five more minutes…” the human mumbled sleepily, burying their face into Belphie’s neck. The soft, contented sigh they let out tickled, and he squirmed a little.

“Aren’t you usually the one waking me up?” Belphie nuzzled his nose against their hair.

“But it’s comfy here,” they whined. “I don’t want to get up.”

“You just don’t want to do the presentation in class today.”

“Your point?”

Belphie laughed. “Can’t say I disagree.”

“I did all the hard work anyway,” they shrugged. “We’ll make Mammon give the report.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

The two of them settled back down into the nest of pillows. The human had almost drifted back to sleep when Belphie brought his nose down to theirs to nuzzle them together.

“You’re cute when you’re sleepy.”

“You’re cute when you shut up and let me sleep.”

[headinthestaticsky]

Sanctuary with the Enthralling Moon: Jasper Hale x Fleur Swan, FINAL CHAPTER

All of the characters in Twilight DO NOT belong to me. All rights to go Stephenie Meyer.

Authors note:Sorry it took me so long to post a chapter today, I’ve been busy.

“When I think of you  I remember springtime That was when we fell in love Just me and you.”

Just Me and You, by The Dreamliners

“What? What is the Volturi?”

“It’s our version of a government love, they make sure we still concealed to the humans.” Jasper explained

“Where is it at?”

“Italy.”

“I need to go... Alice, take me there now!”

“Bella wait! Fleur what won’t you stop her?” Jacob pleaded.

“I’m sorry Jacob but, not matter how much I hate Edward’s guts right now...He can’t kill himself over guilt... especially since she isn’t even dead.”

“You’re completely useless.” He snarled at me.

“Hey if you didn’t answer the fucking phone we wouldn’t be in this mess right now.”

“How you know it was me?”

“I heard Bella screaming her head off all the way upstairs...”why didn’t you let me speak to him.” Is what she said if I remember that correctly.”

Jacob rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to Bella. She was aggressive packing a bag and filling through a drawer. She pulled out a passport, she pushed past me and ran outside. We all followed her and Alice zoomed to the car starting it immediately.

“Bella he left you, he didn’t want you.”

“Yeah well, I’m not going to let him kill himself out of guilt.” Bella swung the bag in the back seat and then got in the car.

“Bella, please...stay here for Charlie, for me.” Jacob pleaded.

I couldn’t make out what she had said to him next, but whatever it was... it didn’t seem good. Jacob turned away from the car, he looked livid. Carlisle’s car revved out of the driveway, dust from the dirt was the only thing left behind. Jacob glared at me and Jasper before taking off to the woods, morphing into a wolf.

“Jazz...what in the hell am I going to say to dad?”

“You can say she found out where Edward was... and Alice offered to take her to the airport since she had come by for a visit.”

“Yeah... that works.”

My phone vibrated in my pocket, jump scaring me.

“Hello?”

“Fleur... it’s me, Rosalie.”

“Rose... hey, it’s been a while.”

“Do you know where Edward went... I told him what happened with Bella.”

“Rose... he’s going to the Volturi to kill himself... He thinks Bella’s dead.”

“Oh god...” Her voice sounded like she was in shock.

“Why did you say something to him?”

“I don’t know...honestly I don’t...”

“Bella and Alice went to Italy to try and stop him.”

“I hope they get to him...”

“I do too.”

I saw my dad pull up in the driveway, I could see confusion and heartbreak on his face.

“Listen Rose, I gotta go. Dad just got here.”

“Okay, I’ll see you later Fleur.”

“See you, bye.”

“Jasper? What’re you doing back here?”

“My family and I are moving back in a few days, but I couldn’t help but want to see Fleur again so I came back a bit earlier than everyone else.”

“Oh, that’s good to here. Does Bella know you guys came back?”

“Dad... you should come inside, we have to tell you something.”

“Oh no... what did she do now?”

“Come on dad.”

He had a reluctant look on his face when we went inside.

“So? What’s going on.”

“Alice and Jasper had come by, they told Bella and I that the rest of the family was moving back. Carlisle’s job ended up not working out so they decided to move back here. Alice had told Bella where Edward was and Alice offered to take Bella to him.”

“Where is she?”

“She wouldn’t tell... she doesn’t trust me very much still. She had a passport with her so I can only assume she went out of the country.”

“When she gets home... that boy is banned from this house. He’s put us through Hell for months!”

“I’m really sorry for my brothers actions, Chief Swan.” Jasper said his smooth voice rung through the quiet house.

“It ain’t your fault...there is only so much you can do.... god, I lose one of my closest friend and then my daughter runs off on me again.” Dad said he pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

“I’m really sorry dad.” I pulled him in for a hug. I had walked away to get my dad something to eat and a bottle of water. I could hear Jasper talking to my dad but, I couldn’t make out what they were saying.

The rest of the night was quite tense. Dad was pacing around the living room for the entire night. He was waiting for a call from Bella, wanting to hear her confirm that she is safe and sound. But, it never happened. Jasper had left saying he needed to check into a hotel for the night. But in actuality he spent the night in my room.

“Jazz...you said this Volturi was like your government...what if they make Bella change? What if they find out about me? I’m not ready to change Jasper...I can’t leave dad all alone.”

“We will find a way to prevent you from changing as long as possible darlin. Besides, Bella is the only one there, she shouldn’t have to mention you.”

“I wouldn’t put it past her Jazz...she’s, changed in a way she seems self absorbed at this point. I remember when James was chasing us, she seemed to relish in all of the attention it got her.”

“I thought a felt bits of that in her emotions, yours over powered her though.”

I sighed

“Gosh, I need to talk about something else... I feel so nervous I think I might get sick.” I burrowed my face in Jasper neck in hopes to calm my nerves.

“Okay...marry me.” He said, his voice was calmer than I had ever heard it before. I on the other hand, was in shock. My eyes had shot wide open and I lifted my head up from his neck.

“Are you serious?” I asked, my voice was a pitch higher than normal.

“Why wouldn’t I be serious?” He said, humor was laced in his voice.

“So that’s what you were talking to dad about in the living room.”

“Yeah, that was it...so...” He got up from my bed and knelt down in front of me on one knee. 

“Will you marry me?” he pulled the velvet box he in his pocket open.

“Yes... I will.” I huge smiled made it’s way onto my face. Jasper pulled me into his arms and hugged me. My feet made it’s way off the floor for a few seconds, but I was then set back down. I looked down at the ring, it fit me pretty well.

“Is that Sapphires?” I asked.

“Yeah they are... thought they would be nice, since that is your birthstone.”

“It’s yours too you know... I remember your birthday... it’s September 14th.

Timeskip: 2 days later.

When Bella had finally gotten home from finding Edward, dad let her have it. He stuck to his guns at first, saying that Edward was banned from the house and that she was not allowed to see him. But, Bella being Bella threatened moving away. Dad faltered in his threat and said that Edward could come over but, dad would have to be there and he could only stay til 9:30. Bella also couldn’t leave the house without dad being there either. And even when she was going to leave with him there, she would have to tell him and call him every hour. She even had a curfew she had to uphold to, which was at 9:30 pm as well.

I was with the Cullens this evening, Rosalie, Emse, and Alice’s eye lit up in excitement when they saw my ring. Emmett had bear hugged me when he saw me again and Dean was finally able to hug me too, without wanting to kill me. Alice was just talking to me about floral arrangements when Edward and Bella walked into the room.

“Look... you all know what I want. I think it would only be fair... if you all vote.” Bella said. 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Edward snided.

“Shut...up.” Bella replied

“What’s the rush Bella?” I asked she of course, ignored me.

“Alice?” 

“Yes of course, I already consider you apart of my family.”

“I vote yes, it would be nice to not want to kill you all the time.” Dean said.

“Jasper?”

“Sure...I really don’t want to get separated from Fleur again because Edward can’t get over his hero complex.” Jasper snapped, he tensed in his place.

“Look... I’m really sorry to both of you for how i’ve acted but... this isn’t a life I would’ve chosen for myself. So I vote no.” Rosalie stated

“I say hell yeah! We can pick a fight with the Volturi some other way.” Emmett stated.

“Yes Bella, You’re already a member of this family.” Esme said

“Carlisle?”

“Why are you all doing this to me?” Edward questioned.

“You’ve chosen to live without her...I won’t live without my son.”

Bella smirked, but then I noticed she got nervous.

“I have something else to tell you.”

“What?” I asked.

“You see... when we wend to the Volturi I may have...”

“Don’t even finish that sentence...you didn’t Bella, you fucking told them about me didn’t you!?”

“Doesn’t feel so good having someone else make decisions for you does it?”

“You are more delusional than I thought!”

“Wait a second, you put her at risk too Bella?” Rosalie said... anger was rising in her voice.

“How long do you two have?” Jasper asked... he too was getting more angry.

“Til my graduation.”

“I can’t even look at you anymore Bella... you make me sick.” I snapped, I made my way outside and slammed the glass door. Jasper and Rosalie ran outside to join me.

“What am I going to do?” I said, my eyes filling with tears.

“We’ll figure something out Fleur.” Jasper said, pulling my into his arms.

“I won’t let her take that choice away from you.” Rosalie added.

I looked up at the sky, the stars and moon were out tonight.

“I’m so sorry love.” Jasper said.

END OF BOOK 2