#I screamed when he mentioned fred I may colour him soon

[nais-doodles]

... He’s hot okay, I feel it in my bones. And yes I did make up the collar thing, sue me.

Find the rest of my actor au stuff here

[rogue-durin-16]

THE RIGHT MOMENT

Summary: Y/n and George had been crushing on each other for too long, but neither of them said anything. They both were waiting for the right moment to do it, but with a war upon them, was there really such thing as 'the right moment'?

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Genre: angst-fluff

Tags:

George Weasley: ———

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog

Warnings: injuries, blood, implicit beating

A/N: (dis bish long lmao) Idk what is this, I just wanted to do something for George. Bill and Fleur's wedding came to my mind and I was like, ok but what happened after the death eaters arrived? And this came out, so enjoy <3

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

I wasn't expecting to see her.

I had heard my mother mention her name whilst talking about the Order, and I knew she had befriended Fleur at the Triwizard Tournament, but seeing her apparate in our yard was... Well, surprising.

"Son, snap out of it!" My father called me out and I corrected my wand movement; I had almost messed up the canopy, and I blamed the way her dress and hair flew with the wind as she approached our home's entrance.

Fred walked to me the moment we had secured everything, glancing at the house before questioning, "am I delirious or that was Y/n?" with a knowing grin and an intent eyebrow wiggle.

As if taking a cue, we saw the girl coming out, now with a borrowed jacket on, making a beeline to us. "I'm... Pretty sure it's her." I replied, giving the girl a smile when she waved. "Morning, lady."

"Morning, gentlemen." Fred then turned around and stepped to her in order to give her a hug. "Long time no see, huh?"

"Indeed." I agreed, following my brother's lead and hugging Y/n; her arms were quick to wrap around my neck and shoulders and squeeze me tight; I would have sworn she let out a relieved sigh. "Fleur invited you?"

"Your mom, actually." Her reply left me puzzled. "I heard your night was... Eventful." She pointed at the bandages covering my ear with a worried look. "How are you feeling?"

"Better than last night." I replied, scratching the back of my neck.

"You sure, Georgie?" It was then that I remembered we weren't alone. "Last night he was feeling Saint-like." Y/n frowned in confusion. "Because he's holey." Fred pointed at his ear just like I had done the night before and I could feel my cheeks burning. "Get it?"

"Oh, no! it's sooo bad!" She laughed at the joke and a smile tugged the corners of my lips. "I think that's the lamest joke you've cracked." She pointed out.

"I know! I told him."

"Okay, I was bleeding out." I defended myself. "I think I'm allowed to crack a lame joke."

"Dunno, George, it was really bad." I threw my head back with a groan at Y/n's teasing. She waved at Fred, who said something about having things to do inside, and when my eyes landed on him over Y/n's shoulder, he mouthed a clear 'go for it'. "Tonks told me about Mad-Eye." She spoke again in a more serious note.

"You said it," the smile vanishing from my face. "Last night was eventful."

"When your mother told me you got hurt, I just... I got really scared." Her anxious words took me aback. "I went straight into the house to see you." The wind made her hair flow again, and I had to put my hands in my pockets to stop myself from tucking that bloody strand that kept getting in her face back behind her ear. "I was so happy you were out preparing stuff and not in there, unconscious in a bed."

"Well, I'm very happy to see you." I replied, my eyes digging into hers to make sure she knew how much I meant that. "Missed tons that smile of yours."

"I missed your lame jokes." I rolled my eyes at her response. Right after, she stepped forward and gently pulled me down; one of her hands holding onto my forearm, steadying her, while the other one cupped one of my cheeks so she could press a kiss to the other. "See you." And with that, she was off to greet the rest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Do it."

"She's talking with Luna."

"Excuses." I puffed tired at Fred's reproach before taking a sip of my drink. "C'mon, you got absolutely nothing to lose."

"My dignity?"

"She fancies you!" I shook my head no. "How many times are you gonna have the opportunity to dance with her, Georgie? Stop being a twit."

"Not yet."

"Oi, have you seen Y/n?" Ron approached us, taking a seat by my side.

"It's the only thing he's seen." I pinched the bridge of my nose, unable to deny what my twin had just said. "Just do it." I groaned. "Okay, I'll do it."

"No!" I jumped up and tugged Fred down in the process. "Alright, I'll go."

READER'S P. O. V.

"Yeah, I was about to—"

I involuntarily let out a squeal when a hand tickled my side. "Hello, ladies." I spun my head to see George behind me. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but may I have this dance?"

Luna replied before I could. "You see, I was wondering how much time it'd take you to ask her." I turned as red as a beetroot; my only comfort was that the towering ginger's face was the colour of his hair. "I think I'm odd man out." She waved us goodbye and headed to see Harry.

"I reckon Luna is way too observant." He spoke, tugging my hand.

"Were you ogling me, Weasley?"

"Maybe." He came to a stop in the middle of the dancefloor and pulled me close. "Couldn't take my eyes off you." He confessed quietly.

As we swayed, I let my forehead land on his chest, savouring what I dreaded would be one of the last precious moments before everything went down.

"George?" He hummed, raising his brows as a prompt for me to talk. I took a deep breath and told myself that what I was going to say mattered little compared to whatever was looming over us. "I've been wanting to tell you this, but I just... Didn't find the right time." Our faces were mere inches away. "But I don't think I'll ever find the right time at this point so—"

I jolted, holding onto George, when a blue volute plunged into the tent; a Patronus.

It was not until Shacklebolt message was ending that I realized George's arms were around me, pulling me flush against his chest.

Both our hearts were hammering violently, and I was sure he could feel mine as clearly as I felt his.

When the Patronus vanished, panic began to spread. I noticed how my own breathing picked up. "Y/n." This time it was George the one calling my name; his whisper sounded so clear compared to everyone else's screams and cries. "If I don't say this out loud, I'll combust—"

"Y/N! GET DOWN!" Tonks's shouts snapped us out of it. We obeyed just in time to see a red hex flying over us, being stopped by Tonks herself.

George and I grabbed our wands and pulled each other back to our feet before joining the Order.

"FREDDIE!"

"LUNA!"

We parted ways, George making his way to reach his twin while I ran to a moderately tipsy Luna, who seemed to be struggling to find her father.

As soon as I made sure she was out of the picture, I jogged to help the twins, casting protection spells against two death eaters.

"STUPEFY!" I managed to take out the one attacking George, and he was quick to stun the one duelling his brother.

"Leave!" George tugged my hand, attempting to get me out of the canopy, his brother quickly rushing to their little sister.

"I'm not leaving!"

"Y/n—" I moved him out of the way to shield us from another hex. "Please— Flipendo!!" I saw another death eater flying away from us. "Shit!" George's hand gripped mine for dear life, making me back off with him to get back in when he realized it was too late for me to leave.

Soon enough it was just the Weasleys, Fleur and her family, Tonks, Lupin and me inside the tent, all back-to-back, surrounded by death eaters.

Corban Yaxley stepped out. "My apologies to disrupt the celebrations." he offered a fake apology to the newlyweds which was equally disgusting and scary. "Let's try by fair means." I knew my knuckles had gone white, given the strength with which I was gripping George's hand. "Where is Harry Potter?" He knew no one would speak. "Aight, by foul it'll be."

I looked around and I saw Molly and Arthur shielding Ginny; Bill and Fleur held onto each other; Lupin and Tonks pulled Fleur's sister and parents behind them; Fred gave a quick look at his twin before moving closer to us.

"Take them inside and register the house."

Soon we were being pushed into the Burrow, a bunch of death eaters before us ready to put all upside down.

We stayed quiet meanwhile, leaving out an occasional 'don't touch that' or a 'there's no need to break that' from Molly and Arthur.

"I reckon you won't find Harry in my grandma's glass cabinet, smart arse." We all turned to Fred, his mother giving him a pleading look.

"Maybe he's between the plates, Freddie," George jumped in, attempting to draw the attention off his brother. "You'll want to check the cutlery too, in case he's now a teaspoon." He suggested to Yaxley with a challenging look.

The death eater tilted his head to the side, as if he had noticed something worth of interest in George. "What happened to you?"

Everyone went livid.

"I fell downstairs." George replied through gritted teeth. His tone was full of what could be easily passed as anger, but by the way his hand was shaking, I reckoned it was fear.

Yaxley seemed to think for a second before turning to two of his mates. "Start with him, then the twin and we'll move on to—"

Before I knew what I was doing, my wand was out and hexing one of the guys that had tried to remove George from us.

"Take their BLOODY WANDS!" Yaxley stalked to me and grabbed my arm, pulling me away. "We'll start with you, miss."

"No! Wait, she doesn't know anything!" George tried in vain to persuade them, pushing through the death eaters in an attempt to get to me. I looked at him and shook my head no, already psyching myself up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

They were rather quick, and not half as bad as I thought they would be. I was thrown back into the living room with only a shiner and the promise of bruised wrists.

It was enough for George to jump up; not to check on me, though, but to do something as stupid as my impulsive hexing.

"Okay, crippled," three death eaters grabbed him before he could do anything and dragged to the bathroom they had gotten me in. "your turn."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

He looked bad.

Molly was about to throw hands when we saw George leaving the bathroom; a cut on the cheek, a bloody nose, a black eye and by the way he flinched while walking, probably an injured rib.

But the worst was the red pooling the bandage around his head, and the way he was struggling to keep his hand off it.

"C'mon, blabber." It wasn't surprising when Fred willingly approached Yaxley and punched him strong enough to throw him down. "You know-” He got up, motioning at his minions so they would get Fred in. “that just made it worse."

I spared Molly an enquiring look, to which she replied with a nod; in an instant, I was gently pulling George to the settee. "Let me see..." I pursed my lips, tilting his head to the side so I could check his wound. A sigh left my lips, suddenly realizing I couldn't really take off the bandage in front of them. "Can you sit it up?" I whispered only for him to hear.

He nodded, his hand travelling up to mine, which rested on his cheek, to give it a reassuring squeeze. I didn't think twice about how wrong the timing was before leaning in and placing a kiss on his lips.

GEORGE'S P. O. V.

My body moved forward by itself when she pulled back, attempting to chase her lips. I managed to stop myself when I remembered we were surrounded by death eaters and my family was right behind Y/n.

She then gave me a small smile and moved to grab a fresh towel from the kitchen. I caught a glimpse of my family's looks before she came back, ready to clean the blood on my face.

She aided Fred along with my mom; he bore the burnt along with me.

The sun was rising when Yaxley decided to leave. My father rushed to send a Patronus to the trio, and everyone felt a bit of relief and finally scattered through the Burrow. Ginny claimed she would take care of Fred, and she took my twin to our room.

"Now, let's check that." Y/n spoke, standing up so she could remove the damp bandage. "What happened?"

"He threw a punch and—" I hissed when the bandage left my ear, earning a concerned ‘sorry’ from Y/n. "The wound opened. It began to bleed, and they decided to stop." She only nodded, grabbing again the towel, now mildly red due to the blood it had cleaned. "That kiss was too short." I didn't even know how I managed to let that out.

She stopped, her eyes going up and down my body before inquiring, "want another one?"

"Please." She didn't need anything else for her soft lips to return to mines. This time it was one hell of a kiss, but my mouth chased them again when Y/n pulled away, only that this time her lips did return to mines for another short kiss. "Should I ask you on a date?"

"I doubt we'll be able to go on a proper date." We both chuckled; as sad as it sounded, it was true. "You can make me a coffee after I fix this, though."

"Gladly." I replied, my thumb caressing her cheek before bringing her to my lips one more time.

"FINALLY!" We both jumped at Fred's yelling. "It was about fucking time, really."

"Do you wanna get beaten up again?" Y/n harmlessly shoved my shoulder, hiding a laugh. "I just realized," I signalled my black eye and then hers. "We're matching."

"What a lovely way to match, is it not?" She replied, shaking her head with a smile on her face. “Come,” she caressed my cheek before carefully pulling me up. “I saw clean bandages over the sink.”

“Yes ma’am.” 

“Y/l/n,” her eyes travelled to my brother. “don’t you snog my brother in the lavatory where we just got beaten up.”

“Piss off, Fred.” She responded indifferent, pulling me with her into the bathroom, leaving the door completely open; she probably feared my mother would burst it open at the possibility of us doing inappropriate things in there.

“Yeah, piss off.” I agreed, siting down on the toilet so she could clean the wound. “She can snog me wherever she wants.” I added, muffling a laugh when Y/n cursed us both under her breath. “I’m sorry, love.”

“No, you’re not.” 

“No, I’m not.” I confessed with an amused grin.

“Why do I even fancy you?” She questioned, faking disappointment in herself.

“I’m very handsome?” I casually suggested, tilting my head for her to wrap the bandage without much difficulty. 

“Must be.” She agreed, leaning on to peck my lips. “Now where’s that coffee, sir?”

I got up, leading Y/n to the kitchen and instantly preparing the coffee pot. “It’s gonna be the best coffee you’ll ever taste.” I stated, as if it was a scientifical fact.

“Confident, are we?” she laughed, sitting on the counter besides me.

“Well, my four-year-long crush just kissed me.” I confessed. “So yeah, very.”

“Fred’s right.” I hummed, looking at her with an eyebrow raised as I handed her the coffee. “It was about fucking time.” We smiled at each other, way too widely for two people who had just gotten roughed up. We stayed next to one another in silence, looking through the window; I found the customary landscape particularly beautiful. 

[spine-buster]

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Epilogue 3: A Love So Tender

A/N:  Well, here it is, folks...the last epilogue of The President Wears Prada series.  It’s been a blast.  Like with Alone, Together and The Storm Before the Calm, we’ve created a little community on this blog, except this time we joined together during quarantine and a global pandemic!  I posted the prologue to this April 27th (so right in the thick of it lol) and I’ve been so happy giving you guys something to look forward to every Monday these past eight months!  Keep asking your Willberdeen canon questions forever and ever!

Be on the lookout for the post date of my Brock Boeser mini-series “Peaceful Easy Feeling” -- I’ll announce it and put it on my Masterlist.  Then, I’ll start my next big series!

As always, happy reading :)

March 2034

“Mooooommmmmyyyyyy!  Mommy look!” six-year-old Saoirse Nylander ran through the house to the kitchen where she knew her mom was ready with breakfast.  “Look!  Daddy let me do my own hair!”

Aberdeen looked down at her daughter to see her blonde hair fixed in to a half ponytail…well, a six-year-old’s version of a half ponytail.  Aberdeen smiled down at her daughter.  “Looks good!” she smiled.  “Can I fix it a little bit before we go to Andy and Maia’s house?”

“Can I eat first?” Saoirse asked as Aberdeen heard more footsteps coming down the stairs.

“Of course!  Your oatmeal is right over there,” she nodded her head towards the bowl already set up for her daughter.  As Saoirse moved and climbed into the counter stool to eat, Aberdeen looked to her left to see William enter the room, holding their three-year-old son in his arms.  “My two Williams,” she smiled.

“Mowning mama,” William Jr. said as Willy placed him down in his own stool, his own bowl of oatmeal also ready to go.  

William walked around the island and gave Aberdeen a kiss on the cheek before placing his hand on her stomach tenderly.  “Morning, minskatt,” he said before pouring himself some coffee.  He looked back at his kids, eating their oatmeal.  “Are you excited to see Maia, Saoirse?”

“Mhm,” she smiled.  “Can I bring my colouring book so Maia and I can colour?”

“Of course you can!” William smiled.  “You know how much Maia loves to colour with you.”

“When you and mommy get home, I’m gonna have a beeeeeeautiful picture,” Saoirse exclaimed before spooning some more oatmeal into her mouth.

Both Aberdeen and William looked at their fridge, adorned with ripped out pages from colouring books that Saoirse and William Jr. did for them.  “We can’t wait,” Aberdeen smiled.

***

“Mr. and Mrs. Nylander, I know that we’ve confirmed your pregnancy,” Dr. Collinson spoke to the happy couple.  

“We needed the tie-breaker,” William joked.

“Indeed,” he chuckled.  “But I must ask you both…have you gone through any fertility treatments that I’m not aware of?  IVF, artificial insemination?”

William and Aberdeen looked at each other before looking back at their doctor – the same doctor who had been there and helped birth Saoirse and William Jr.  “No…” William shook his head.  “We figured we were okay…I mean, with Saoirse’s and William’s pregnancies being pretty easy with no major complications, and the fact that we didn’t have to try for very long before Aberdeen got pregnant…” he trailed off.

Dr. Collinson nodded his head.  “That’s good to know.  Because I do have some further news for you.”

“What’s that?” Aberdeen asked.

“You’re having twins.”

The words hung in the air for an excruciatingly long period of time.  “Excuse me?” Aberdeen asked.

“Twins.  You’re having twins, Mrs. Nylander.”

Aberdeen looked over at William.  “I’m going to cut your penis off.”

***

“TWINS!!!!!” Bee exclaimed, jumping up and down as she hugged Aberdeen.  “Twins, Aberdeen!  Oh my goodness!”

“More Nylanders?” Morgan piped in.  “Christ almighty.”

***

“TWINS?!” Aleida was shocked when Aberdeen told her the news over the phone.  “Twins!”

“Who’s having twins?” Aberdeen could hear Fred’s voice in the background.

“Aberdeen and Will!”

There was a pause.  “More Nylanders?  Good God.”

***

“Twins, William?  You knocked her up with twins?” Jason deadpanned into the phone.

“We’ll have four, just like you,” William said.

“More Nylanders…Jesus Christ.”

***

“Oh!  What fantastic news!” Svea beamed over the FaceTime call.  Elias was smiling beside her.  “You must be so excited, guys.”

“We are.  We joked that we were only supposed to have one tie-breaker though,” Aberdeen said, looking at William beside her briefly.  “Now we’re getting two.”

“Do you know the sexes?”

“Not yet.  In a few weeks they’ll tell us if they’re identical or fraternal, and I think that will be very informational,” William said.

“More Nylanders…” Elias shook his head.  “God help us all.”

***

“This is fantastic news, Aberdeen.  You’re such a great mom already,” Brendan said from across the table, his smile stretching from ear to ear.  “Saoirse and Will Jr – I mean they’re just delights.”

“Thank you, Brendan.  There will be two more to add to the MLSE family room during games.  Not to mention more Nylanders occupying the city of Toronto.”

“More Nylanders…wow.”

***

September 2034

The Toronto Maple Leafs and the entire MLSE organization would like to extend our heartfelt congratulations to William Nylander and his wife Aberdeen Bloom on the birth of their twins, Jonas Alexander and Astrid Elina.  Jonas and Astrid join big siblings Saoirse and William Jr.  

***

November 2035

BREAKING: Aberdeen Bloom, the youngest person ever to win the Booker Prize for Fiction, has just won the prize for a second time for her latest novel, A Love So Fond.  Bloom becomes the third woman (after Hilary Mantel and Margaret Atwood) to win the Booker Prize twice, but the first woman under forty to accomplish the feat.  

***

The First Monday in May, 2036

William looked at Aberdeen lovingly as she touched up her lipstick in the mirror of their hotel room.  She was wearing a beautiful dress, styled to perfection.  He was wearing a suit, tailored to equal perfection.  “You look beautiful, minskatt,” he said, hoping it would calm her down a bit.  He knew she was nervous.

She looked over at him as she clicked shut the lipstick tube.  “We’re going to the Met Gala, Willy,” she said as if it was the first time he’d heard the news.  He’d heard.  He’d heard for months now.  Anna Wintour invited them to the event.  Aberdeen screamed bloody murder when she got the invite.  “We’re going to the Met Gala.”

He giggled slightly.  “I know.  Who would have thought all those years ago two kids who hooked up the night of a graduation would make their way to the Met Gala.”

Aberdeen smiled.  “Who would have thought an aspiring writer and a hockey player would accomplish so much that we’d even get invited to the Met Gala.”

“I had nothing to do with this,” William shook his head, smiling.  “You did all of this.  I’m just in the background, remember?”

Aberdeen couldn’t help but smile.  The man in front of her supported her dreams without question.  There was nothing she thought of that William didn’t think she’d be able to accomplish.  Her two Booker Prizes were evidence of that.  Her Governor General’s Awards and Giller Prizes were evidence of that.  Her numerous other awards were evidence of that.  “You’re not in the background, Willy,” she told him once more.  It was something she told him time and time again, even though she knew he was joking.  To think he still used a joke he made when she was twenty-two years old…she couldn’t help but laugh.  “You’re the reason I’m able to do this.”

Their conversation was cut short by Aberdeen’s phone ringing.  When she dug it out of her purse, she saw Orla requesting a FaceTime call.  “It’s the kids again,” she said, holding up the phone and turning around so that when she answered it, whoever was calling would see both their parents.  When she accepted, she saw Saoirse’s face first.  “Hi baby,” Aberdeen cooed.  “Did you forget to tell us something?”

“Maia wants to know if she can come over this weekend to play.  Is that okay?” she asked.

“Of course,” William answered.  “I’ll talk to Uncle Morgan about it when we get home tomorrow night.”

“Let me see!” William Jr.’s voice was heard off camera.  Soon, Saoirse had turned the camera around so he could see his parents.  “Hi mom and dad.”

“Hi baby,” Aberdeen cooed again.  “Do you have a question too?”

“No,” he said.  “You look pretty, mama.”

Aberdeen couldn’t help but swoon.  “Thank you, baby.  Are you having a good time at grandma and grandpa’s house?”

He nodded his head enthusiastically.  “Grandma just made popcorn!”

“Wooooo!  Movie night!” William exclaimed from behind her.  “Be good!  Go to bed on time.”

“I will,” William Junior nodded his head.  “Bye daddy.  Bye minskatt.”

Aberdeen furrowed her brows but couldn’t help but laugh at her son.  She could hear William chuckle from behind her too.  “William!  Why’d you call me that?!”

Williiam Junior didn’t know what the big deal was.  He knew he was named after his dad; it was only fitting that he test his limits and call his mom by her first name too.  “Daddy’s name is William, and my name is William, and your name is minskatt!  Daddy always calls you that!  Hi minskatt, bye minskatt, I love you minskatt.  Minskatt is your name!” he argued like it was the most obvious thing in the world.  

William thought back to so, so many years ago.  To Aberdeen asking him why he called her minskatt and him telling her why.  A tear escaped his eye and he brought his hand up quickly to cover it.  Aberdeen noticed.  She looked back at William Jr.  “Okay William.  We’ll talk more when we get home, okay?  You better be good for grandma and grandpa.”

Aberdeen ended the call with a couple of more air kisses.  When she was finished, she placed her phone down and saw that William kept wiping his cheeks with his thumb.  “Hey…hey come here,” she said gently, walking over to him because she knew he wouldn’t move.  “Was it Junior?” she asked.

William nodded his head.  “You remember what I told you, like, fifteen years ago?  About why I call you minskatt?”

Aberdeen nodded her head automatically.  She’d never forgotten.  “Of course,” she said softly, bringing her hands up to wipe some of his tears away with her own thumbs.  “It was always your dream, wasn’t it?”

William nodded.  He leaned down slightly to kiss her, even though he knew he’d get lipstick on him and that Aberdeen would have to reapply it for the fourth time before they even left the hotel.  “I know you’ve accomplished so much with your writing and I’ve accomplished so much with hockey but my best accomplishment is you.  Us.  Our family.  The love I have for you.”

Aberdeen nodded her head.  She understood.  She knew.  “Mine too.”

“It’s been fifteen years.  Fifteen years and four kids, Aberdeen.  And still.  Still.  I think about you when I’m not even thinking.”

Aberdeen smiled.  She kissed him once more.  “Jag tänker på dig när jag inte ens tanker.”

[megalony]

Detox- Part 3

Another part to my latest Roger Taylor series which I have gained some lovely feedback for.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @luvborhap @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac

Series taglist: @killerqueenbucky @the-ridge-farm-raven

Warning: Mentions of drug use.

Series masterlist

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Please..."

Tears began to fall from Roger's eyes as his hands trembled like someone was vigorously shaking him. Both his hands were enclosing one of Brian's that he was holding very tightly to try and get his friend to agree with him but even he knew his attempts were not going to work.

The guitarist felt tears welling in his eyes as he stared down at one of his oldest friends who was in absolute agony. They had just put Roger into a coma so he didn't go through the symptoms and effects of withdrawal from heroin and yet he looked like he was being put through those symptoms right now. He was trembling, a light coat of sweat was beginning to glisten on his exposed skin and his eyes were red-rimmed. Roger had been awake for one day and he was close to breaking. He was dangling on the edge of a cliff and if no one helped him then he was going to let go and fall into the crashing waves below.

Everyone knew that Roger was not making a threat out of pain or agony, he was making a threat that he was willing to go through with because he had been lied and ignored before. If they didn't give Roger painkillers soon or treated him for his back then he was likely to do himself in. He was in a hospital and he was a biology major. He knew the tricks of the trade and when they had him in a room with medication in every draw and a crash cart by his bed, they were leaving him in a room full of goodies just asking to be tried out.

Six months of agony had left Roger vulnerable to needing an escape as soon as one became available. Which was why he was now begging for Brian to get him drugs. The doctors weren't giving him any painkillers because they needed him clean for the tests they were running. They had taken two blood samples this morning, they had done an x-ray, MRI and CT scans of his back and spinal cords.

Roger wanted any form of drugs that he could get his hands on now, he didn't care what tests they needed to do. He couldn't stay clean, he needed to be under the influence of anything, hell he would even drown himself in alcohol if it would take the pain away.

"Rog, they'll give you something soon. You've had nearly all your tests now." Brian's words were not as soothing or calming as either of them thought they were going to be. He only told Roger that he was being denied relief by everyone around him and that hurt. Roger wanted Brian to get him something or he would just ask whoever else came through the door. The drummer would call for the media and give them a story if they gave him something for the pain.

"I- I have a stash under the bathroom sink... t-there's still some in my green jacket at the studio. Or ask Robbie... Bri, please, just something to take it away." Roger leaned his head back against the pillows that were surrounding him. He had two under his back and about three under his head to try and ease the pain but he needed meds, not feathers.

He watched Brian's jaw slack at the sudden revelations but Roger couldn't find it in himself to care. He only cared about Brian either getting a doctor to help or going and grabbing something from his stash at home and bringing it back to give to him. Roger would screw up every test they did with a small dose of heroin if Brian would give it to him because he was in that much pain. But Brian couldn't do that. He couldn't ruin Roger's health and potentially kill him, he would sit by his side and make sure he didn't do anything stupid and he would chase after the doctors to make them give him something as soon as they could. But he couldn't help or encourage Roger's drug abuse anymore.

"Robbie gives you the drugs? Fucking hell, Rog. I'll call Fred and he'll get rid of the stash in your jacket because the studio can't know about that. (Y/n) will search the house and clear it out and I'll bloody kill Robbie myself."

Robbie was one of the tour managers who helped to set up the sounds and stages when they went on tour. He also hung around the studio a lot when they were making their albums. He was a good friend up until now. Brian wouldn't have him fueling Roger's addiction because if Roger had drugs again he could kill himself without meaning to, Robbie needed to know this. He shouldn't even be dealing drugs in the first place.

"No! I told you so you could get me them! I'll call Robbie if you don't-"

"Stop it." Brian snapped. Roger should have known Brian would only raid his stashes and get rid of them, he wasn't going to play along anymore. He had watched Roger get high and drunk and be pain-free due to that for too long. He was taking a stand now. "You've detoxed. If you have one small amount of heroin your body will break down because you can't tolerate it anymore. You will overdose and I am not being at fault for that Roger."

"I wish I'd died in that coma." Roger spoke slowly, punctuating every word and syllable that passed through his chapped lips as he kept the eye contact with Brian so he knew Roger wasn't having a tantrum. He was being deadly serious which was proven by the malice in his eyes and the sudden tsunami of tears flooding his face.

If Roger had passed away he wouldn't have woken up in more agony than he had been in the car crash. He wouldn't have had to sit here for hours and have every test in the book whilst being two seconds away from wanting to kill himself. He would have been put out of his misery and not left to suffer like this because everyone had let him down at one point or another. (Y/n) and the band fueled his addiction, the doctors wouldn't give him the medication he needed for his pain management and he had reverted to drugs because of that. Miami had brought this on for Roger's own good but it wasn't doing him much good right now.

Robbie had been the only one who helped in Roger's eyes because he never gave Roger enough to overdose but he kept him in supply and never asked why. He shouldn't have been dealing drugs but he had taken Roger's pain away.

"Your life may not mean anything to you but to us, you are everything."

Brian brushed the tears out of his eyes as he left the room, begging for Roger not to do anything stupid whilst he was in there alone. He couldn't let Roger die and he couldn't have Roger thinking his life was that worthless and agonising that it needed to end. Brian needed Roger in his life, he provided that stability for Brian because he was one of Brian's rocks. His world would shift and gravity would be lost if Roger died.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "I-is this the last test?" Roger spoke through gritted teeth as he tried to keep his eyes locked onto (Y/n)'s. Trying so hard to let her features captivate his attention like they normally did but the pain was overriding everything. He couldn't focus on her dazzling eyes, her button nose or her lips her even her cheekbones anymore. All he could see was the colour red swimming in front of his vision from his back.

He had a few pillows propped up behind his head as he was now laid on his side facing (Y/n). A nurse was stood behind him, peering closely as she got ready to perform a lumbar puncture. The moment she told Roger what procedure he was going to have he had wailed like a newborn. His back was shredded to pieces. His spine felt like it had been severed and dislocated in every column. His nerves were sparking like the electrical impulses were getting cut off and it was torture. Even the shredded muscles in his back felt like they were withering and dying. He could feel fragments of muscle just dropping from around his spine and withering into nothing like the fallen petal from a rose.

His back was causing him a headache and that was making him even more agitated and it was getting worse from the sobs he couldn't help but let out. They had to give him meds now or he would act out until they sedated him.

A lumbar puncture was a needle pressed straight into one of the spaces of the vertebrae in between the bones of his spine. They took the fluid in there and checked for anything abnormal or wrong but they were going straight for the affected area. They were putting a needle through the swelling skin covering his spine, straight through the bruises and into his spine that was damaged.

They'd already had to give him medication when he was in a coma and drain some of the blood that had formed beneath the skin because it could cause an infection. So his back was swollen even worse and battering away like someone was continuously hitting his spine with a baseball bat.

"I'm not sure Mr Taylor. Your doctor will be in soon to talk to you about the tests, he'll sort out your medication for you."

(Y/n) reached for Roger's hand but he batted her away, his eyes suddenly bulging from their sockets the moment he felt the tip of the needle puncture through his skin. When it hit the swelling his eyes managed to go back into their sockets so he could clamp them shut. Curling up just that little bit more as he began to shiver. When the needle pushed further, Roger groaned which ended in a choked sound as it pushed further. As soon as Roger felt the needle getting to his spine, he felt the air leaving his lungs begin to get cut up into little pieces that scratched against his already raw throat. His voicebox churned the simple air into one of the worst screams he had ever let loose which he was unsure actually tore from his own lips.

"Take it out!" Roger belted the words as if he was singing along to his favourite song in the car but his tone showed he was not singing in delight. He was screaming in torture from one of the smallest needles he had ever seen. Such a small pinprick went straight through to his spine but he would never have thought it would hurt on a level such as this.

Roger's head started to feel foggy like it was filling with water that each thought had to swim through in order to get heard. He could feel the room spinning very slowly around him in an anticlockwise direction so much so that he could almost feel the bed lifting from the floor as his head swayed.

"Take it out!" Roger repeated the words that broke off into the cry of a dying man. This shouldn't take this long, the fluid dripped straight through the needle into the vile she held and there wasn't a lot of fluid to collect. If she didn't take it out soon she would find Roger's hand reaching around to do it for her. Roger's fist bashed against the murky cream plastic of the bedframe just as the nurse started to pull the needle from his tortured skin. As soon as Roger felt the foreign instrument leaving his skin he let out the most animalistic growl that vibrated against his throat in all the wrong ways.

His hand continued to bash against the frame of the bed until his knuckles split in a feeble attempt to force his mind to focus on the fresh pain. The brain automatically focused on the newest source of pain which allowed Roger to focus on his hand instead of his back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Leaning her head back against the wall, (Y/n) glanced up to Brian and Freddie who were sharing words that her mind hadn't been interested enough to take note of. After the lumbar puncture, Roger had been sedated when he wouldn't calm down which was very understandable in his current form of pain. But something told (Y/n) that even though he was in immense agony, Roger knew that if he attacked himself like that they would have to sedate him. Either way he was only just beginning to wake up now and everyone thought it would be better to leave him be.

The doctor would be down soon enough to give Roger the results of each test he had and to finally put him on the medication he so desperately needed. But until then, (Y/n), Freddie and Brian were waiting outside so they were not at the brute end of Roger's temper.

As Brian and Freddie continued to share words that were becoming rather rowdy as if they were starting an argument, (Y/n) turned her head to the side so she wasn't watching them anymore. Her head tipping in acknowledgement as she smiled kindly at John who pointed to Roger's room before slowly heading inside. Braving the room that no one else fancied going into for the time being.

Just as Brian was about to retaliate to whatever Freddie just said, his brows furrowed as he turned to look at (Y/n).

"John?" He questioned, pointing to the room asking for confirmation that he hadn't imagined the bassist walking past them. (Y/n) nodded her head, wondering why Brian looked confused or as if he had just woken up and didn't know where he was. "What was he taking in?"

"Rog left his jacket at the studio, asked Deaky to bring it back for him. Why?" (Y/n) shrugged her shoulders as she spoke, her head pounding from lack of sleep and the trauma of the day. Roger had gone through so many tests today and each one had made him feel worse than the last. He didn't deserve any of this and yet they were putting him through it. She didn't know what any of them would do if Roger wasn't on medication by the end of the night. They would surely have to resort to desperate measures to make sure Roger wasn't tempted to do anything stupid. Especially after Brian confided in them all that Roger seemed to be feeling suicidal or on the verge of suicidal.

"Green jacket..." He muttered under his breath. He hadn't been seeing things, John had walked in there with Roger's dark green jacket which the drummer confided in Brian held some of his heroin. Roger was going to take it. 

Brian's face fell like the strings holding it together had been severed as his shoulders sank down an inch or two before he suddenly turned in the direction of Roger's room. His body suddenly beginning to run, his feet slipping on the newly polished floor as Freddie and (Y/n) scrambled to follow him. Both unsure what he was doing or what was happening.

"He's got heroin in that jacket!"

Roger was going to overdose.

[delicrieux]

the phases of a firework

pairing: fred weasley x f!reader

fandom: harry potter

summary: fred weasley experiences the lana del rey-esque american dream 

d’s note: not written by me, but rather by a lovely nonnie! it’s a honor to post it xoxo leave some love in the comments! 

-------

I. Lifting Charge

Mother says they’re going to Florida for the summer. Florida means mosquitos, and sunburns, and salty skin and hair and breath because yes, Florida is a fucking cesspool, but for some reason, he doesn’t find himself thinking of any of that and is actually, really when you think about it, kind of calm. Everyone in the household finds this alarming. -“You’re not upset?” -“No.” -“Disappointed?” -“Not really.” -“Dad’s got a cousin in the Keys, that’s why we’re going.” -“Sounds like it’ll be nice.” -“We went to Egypt, you know, like, saw the pyramids and everything.” -“We can make sand pyramids.” But Florida doesn’t have sand. It doesn’t have beaches, either, at least not the part they could afford, because Molly and Arthur Weasley had scraped together everything to get that trip, because the kids didn’t need to know that it was possibly the last time they could leave the Burrow for a summer, because things weren’t safe at home and maybe a temporary home could suffice for a while. They didn’t need to think about the fact that people would die, statistically speaking, people they probably knew, and the kids didn’t need to worry or ask questions or complain, and they didn’t, because all they could afford was a trailer, enchanted, yes, but not exactly a condo, but you know what, no one really paid it any mind. Everyone was quiet, actually, and Molly and Arthur Weasley gripped their trunks and asked themselves how they thought they could hide a war under a swimming suit.

II. Time Delay Fuse

It’s not that it’s hot out, it’s just that balding grass patches and What Type of Blue Even is That sky doesn’t attract many, or really anyone at all. Ginny is on her side of the bunker, writing letters to friends, or maybe no one, just herself. Ron has been napping since they hopped off the portkey, Percy didn’t bother to come, and the parents are off doing parent-y things. George is who’s left, and that’s never a problem, but he’s worried about sunburns, and Fred assures him mate, we’ve got sunblock but it isn’t enough, and that’s why he’s sitting by himself in a lawn chair, Wayfarers resting on a sweating nose, and Johnny Thunder’s playing in a distant trailer and world. It’s oddly therapeutic, the bottom of the classes. There’s no worries, no cares, it’s like retirement but better because there’s no one they know anywhere around, and everything is finally kind of calm. He finds that alarming. -“You like fireworks?” It’s a nasal, chirpy sort of a voice she has. Like an alarm. An alarm goes off in him, not anything bad, just the inner male siren that blares and rings and screams Girl! Girl! Girl! He smiles to himself, thinking about the gargling sort of noise that would make when spoken aloud. George would’ve found it funny. -“Hello?” -“Sorry?” -“Fireworks. You good with them?” He doesn’t know why he’s nodding, maybe it’s because her hair shines that weird, oil gas spilled on a pavement colour, or maybe it’s because she’s standing there, expecting him to go, and who is he to disappoint, and he finds himself leaving the security of the lawn chair and following her up and into the empty part of the balding grass field. It takes half a day and three bottles of what the fuck is this anyway and they’ve managed to set up the perfect show. It’s the fourth of July, American Independence Day, yet it feels like everyone in the park is shackled.

III. Bursting Charge

He’s proud, drunk, and finding himself patriotic for a country he’s spent barely seven hours in. He’s had too much of Swamp Juice, that’s what she calls it, the mixture of Fanta and Bourbon, and the bottom of his stomach is twinkling and tingling, like there are mini little bombs going off in his gut. She says it’s a normal feeling, but he’s not too sure about that. He’s had liquor, of course he has, and one could consider him a sommelier, of sorts, in the way teenagers often pride themselves on knowledge of Grown Up Things. One of his favourite memories are when he and George broke into the liquor cabinet and stayed up till six in the morning downing bottle after bottle of gigglewater. Their stomach hurt, cramped, and their eyes were dried, but it was a night he’d cherish to the grave. But that wasn’t the same feeling. That was what it meant to be drunk and happy, happy that you’re drunk and drunk enough to be happy, but this, the sinking yet soaring and bubbling and fizzling sort of brew in his gut wasn’t that at all, and he’d heard Charlie mention a year back about some guy he’d met that bred some creature he couldn’t remember the name of at the moment. Charlie’d said it was indistinguishable, a feeling you get once or twice. Fred didn’t believe in soulmates, and he didn’t know if he really believed in being in love. It was a dangerous thought to have in a time as dangerous as these, but it wasn’t as if he cared all that much about the danger of things. -“You gonna dance?” She had her hand stretched out to his, hip cocked and lip quirked, and maybe it was the way the fireworks danced behind her shoulders. She was metallic nail polish and Disney World flip flops, two dollar tube tops and stolen hair ties, but she was smiling at him through a Cherry Coca Cola flavoured lip gloss grin, and who is he to disappoint, so he’s standing, swaying, dancing along to the sound of cracking and popping and booms, and he may have snuck in an enchanted firework or two, and the crowd is cheering and smiling and just nearly crying, and so is he when she leans in for a kiss. They’re proud, drunk, and Fred decides that Cherry Coca Cola is the greatest drink in the world.

IV. Stars

The summer stays hot, in every way possible. They spend afternoons melting ice cubes on each others backs and smoking cheap hash on the roof of her mobile home. He learns her parents are dead. She learns his aren’t. He doesn’t invite her to meet the family, but she, in a way, invites herself, and Molly and Arthur are absolutely ashamed when they find out that Fred didn’t immediately bring over the poor girl, look at her, she’s far too skinny. Ginny, dear, put on a kettle and a warm meal, she’s positively gaunt! She finds it amusing. She has dinner that night in the Weasley vacation trailer, and every night after it, too. Fred doesn’t mind. Some nights, he sneaks to her place and they read travel maps, planning future road trips to Nevada and eating Quaker Oats by the handful. She looks at the stars, he looks at her, it’s all very cliche, including her admiration for his super cool accent. He finds it amusing. -“So, what’s gonna happen when summer ends?” -“Whatya mean?” She huffs her smoke, a sign he’s familiar with. She’s frustrated but calm. Patient, but not for long. -“I mean, what’s gonna happen to you? To us? You’ve got school, yeah, but after, I mean, like, I don’t wanna jump to conclusions or anything but-” -“I like you.” -“I like you, too.” -“And I like hanging out with you.” The light in her joint goes out, and it matches the light in her eyes. -“So that’s it then.” - “I’ve just, I mean, there’s a lot going on back at home and, really, I don’t wanna drag you into it.” -“Yeah.” -“There’s a lot, really, there is, and I just wouldn’t want to-” -“No, yeah, it’s fine. I get it.” It takes him a few days, and a few talks with George, but it’s three in the morning and he’s had some liquid luck and he’s knocking on her door in Tommy Bahama shorts and a Life is Good shirt and he’s pretty sure he should’ve put deodorant on and spent more than two-fifty on the gesture but- -“It’s three in the fucking morning, Freddie. Either I’m about to die or you’re about to die, and neither option is really good, so what the fuck-” -“Marry me.” She stops talking, and breathing, and she’s about to laugh until he holds up a plastic little Made in China ring he got at one of those machines in the front of the supermarket, and it probably doesn’t even fit her, but all she can really think is thank God it’s not a damn Ring Pop. -“Are you fucking kidding me, red?” -“I don’t mean today, or tomorrow, or anytime soon. I mean that when that thing going on is over, and when I’m out of school and ready to live life, I wanna live it with you. We could get a bigger trailer, or maybe an RV, and we could ride around America and, and collect special fireworks from around the world. We could have a kid or two, and they could live with us, or maybe we’d just start out with a dog, I don’t know, all I know is I wanna live my life like it’s a never-ending summer with you.” She’s not sure now if she’s laughing or tearing up, either is pathetic, but she crosses her arms over her Betty Boop pajama top and decides to find this adolescent adoration somehow sweet. - “What colour RV are you thinking?” - “Red.”

V. Ash

It’s in the form of a letter, and in a way, that’s better than a call, because then they couldn’t hear her sobbing on the other end. She doesn’t really know why she’s crying. They hadn’t spoken in years. They were sixteen and stupid, as all sixteen year olds are, but the worst part is believing in that sixteen year old dream and thinking the flame was still lit. She couldn’t blame it on her age anymore. She was just stupid. She stares at the paper, passed away, as if that was a better way of phrasing it instead of just saying dead. She can’t be too horribly upset. As far as she was concerned, he’d been dead for four years. Four years. Fuck. He was four, already. -“Where are we headed?” -“I dunno. Nevada?” -“Cool.” He’s got his hand stuffed in a Quaker Oats box, and she finds hers traveling to the two-fifty Made in China ring she keeps on her neck. She’ll tell Molly and Arthur someday soon, maybe once they hit Oregon, she’s not ready for England winters, because right now, life is red. Red with pain and anger, yeah, but also with love, and with red hair, and red lips, and red Cola, and red American fireworks, and red rings, and flip flops, and RVs, and yes, life fucking sucks and war fucking sucks and everything nowadays should be really very alarming, but when she sits back in the driver seat, travel maps sprawled and a four year old in a faded Life is Good shirt sitting in the passenger seat, she finds that life is actually, really when you think about it, kind of calm.

[i-writing-is-hard-i]

Blood Traitor pt7

Summary:  You are Draco’s older sister.  A pureblood Witch, without the prejudice and anti-muggle beliefs of your family. Who just so happened to fall in love with none other than a blood traitor, just to complicate matters more Voldemort has returned.  What will you do?

okay, I suck at writing descriptions,

[Disclaimer] Mentions of sex, violence, and hints of torture, I may have screwed up the timeline somewhere along the way, and no one dies, because, thats sad

[Begining]  - [Previous] - [Next]

Part 7

Days had passed since George’s love confession, yet you still had a spring in your step.  You had noticed George looked happier than normal too.  The two of you managed to meet up every two days.  Thankfully.  Even if it meant sitting in silence to do homework.  Well, you did homework, he goofed off, but he let you get on with it without much fuss.  Sometimes you would read while he worked on something for his shop.  It was nice, and you couldn’t hope for more.

It was now time for the first Quidditch match of the school year.  Gryffindor v Slytherin, even if your boyfriend was on opposing team, you had to root for your own house right?, though most were nothing but thugs.  Today was the first time you had ever felt embarrassed by the other supports.  They had come up with a cruel chant for Ron, he already had confidence issues, this was not helping.  As the crowd chanted, Lee Jordan tried to drown it out.  You could faintly make out a lion’s roar, scanning the Gryffindor crowd you found the source, someone was wearing a large lion’s head,  it actually looked pretty cool,  you quickly enchanted it, without being noticed so that the roars would drown out the noise of the Slytherin’s but it only made them sing louder, they were pretty much screaming at this point.  It was deafening

You were actually a little disappointed when your team was winning, you had a feeling it was because of the chanting, but the snitch still had to be caught, that would turn it around and just as you were thinking that, Harry dove, followed by your brother.  Harry caught it.  The Gryffindor’s won.  The crowd erupted into cheers and complaints.  You watched the teams land, Gryffindors players swarming Harry.  Your heart sunk when you watched Draco walking towards them.  Just as you guessed, he said something, probably cruel.  Whatever it was angered the twins, from here you couldn’t really tell who was who, but one of them was being held back by two people, while Harry held the other.  Suddenly Harry and the Twin he was holding back dove on to Draco, you instinctively stood up, he was an arse, but he is still your brother.  You didn’t have to do anything though, Professor McGonagall intervened.  The two were ushered away from the rest, while Draco was seen too.  

You had reached the common room, before Draco, but he as soon as he entered everyone bombarded him.

“Draco what did you say to them?” Pansy asked

“Nothing, I only spoke the truth” Draco feigned innocence.

“Then why would they attack you like that, That Potter really is crazy, and those blood traitor Weasleys” someone spoke, you felt yourself become defensive.

“You were talking about their mothers” someone explained, in an indifferent tone

“Well, of course, they got angry you insulted their loved one’s idiot.  You don’t get to play the victim when you do something like that” you pointed out.  Some people agreed with you, others just glared.  

“Well, I only told the truth” Draco lied.

“Really? And what was it you said” you continued.

“I simply pointed out that their house stink” Draco smiled

“You insulted a dead woman Draco, that’s pretty shameful” you were getting annoyed at how calm and okay with that he was, but you didn’t let it show.

“And? why do you care?” Draco asked defensively

“Why do I care that my brother is acting like a right dick? Because it’s embarrassing” you kept your cool,  the people around you stiffened, turning their attention to other things, but of course, they were still listening.

“Since when did you start caring so much about the Weasley’s and Potter?”

“It’s not them, its the fact that you're, well, you are a childish bully and it’s embarrassing, and I am not going to argue with you, especially in front of everyone, so I am going” you stood up leaving Draco and heading to your room.

The next day you were waiting for George, he had detention, thanks to his ‘outburst’ you knew it would be after curfew, but you didn’t mind.  You kind of wanted to apologise on behalf of Draco.  Finally, he came in rubbing his hand, like he was in pain, you looked down to see the scarring. instinctively you ran over to him, grabbing his hand to get a better look.

“What is this?” you asked, looking up at his face.  He looked annoyed.  You looked back down to his hand, though it was healing, you could tell it was, words, layered on top of each other.

“Did Umbridge have something to do with this?” you asked.

“It’s fine don’t worry about it” George went to pull his hand away, but your grip tightened, pulling out your wand

“Hold still” you ordered.  You used Episkey on it, healing the remaining scarring and easing the pain it had caused then you kissed it.

“I know Draco insulted your mum and Lily Potter” you mumbled, “I am sorry, he’s an arse”

“Forget it, it wasn’t your fault” George was blushing bright, from your kiss.  Your eyes drifted back to his hand.

“So, what happened?” you repeated.

“Eh, Umbridge’s new punishment” George explained,

“Excuse me, Umbridge’s new punishment? it’s abuse, she hurt you” you were clearly annoyed.

“Well, who’s gonna stand up to her about it, besides’s Fred and I will get her back for this” George smiled, he kind of liked it when you were being protective

“Well, it better be good, but it’s still wrong, do the other teachers know? we should tell them, she can’t get away with this, the old bat” you ranted, pacing the room.  George’s smile grew, but then he quickly looked sad again

“This isn’t the worst of it” he muttered.

“What?” you turned to him again, he could see the anger in your eyes.

“Fred, Harry and I have been permanently banned from playing Quidditch while we are at Hogwarts, she got our brooms locked up”

“What!” you practically yelled, “But that leaves your team with no beaters of seeker!”

As annoyed George was, he couldn’t help but smile at your reaction “Gah, you two better make her life a living hell here” you ordered.  This made George burst out laughing

“You are adorable, sometimes love” he breathed, “But don’t worry we have it all planned out”.  

You joined in on the laughing.

“Good, but this is Draco’s fault and for that I am sorry” you spoke.

“Your brother said some mean things, but we shouldn’t have gone for him like that, bloody deserved it though”

“I should really say no to that, but if the tables were turned I would have probably done the same” you mumbled feeling a little guilty for agreeing

“By the way, where did you learn that spell?” George changed the subject for you.

“Charms, Weasley, some of us pays attention in class” you smiled, George simply shrugged,

A few days later, you were sitting in potions working on the brew in front of you, when you felt eyes watching.  You had expected to see George looking at you, but it wasn’t him, it was Tommy, a Slytherin.  He used to flirt with you all the time, but Ignis had warned him off you since then he barely talked to you let alone.  He wasn’t a bad guy.  He seemed to have gained confidence again because recently he had started flirting with you since the start of the year.  When you looked up he gave you smile, you quickly smiled back as to not be rude, then turned your attention back to the colourful liquid.

After class, he caught up to you, as you left the room

“So, huh, Y/N, I know we are pretty busy with all this school work, but I was thinking we could head to Hogsmeade this weekend,” Tommy asked, smoothly, with just the right amount of confidence that most girls would love, not you of course.  He slowly leaned into inter the pretense that it was so he could hear your reply over the crowd, but it was a little too close for your comfort.

“Actually, I uh, have plans” you replied, you actually hadn’t.

“Oh, well we could hang out after class, it’s not like we have much time left at school to spend together,” Tommy asked

Your eyes darted up to see George watching you could really read his expression, it made you smile.

“Well, maybe pretty busy with school work, but I will let you know, when I am free” you smiled sweetly at him, you had no intention in hanging out with him but you didn’t want to be rude.

You weren’t aware that George was now in earshot of your conversation.

“Great, I look forward to it” Tommy looked pretty happy the outcome, you felt a bit guilty, but it wasn’t like you could tell him ‘Sorry I’m dating someone’  after that rather awkward moment you headed down the corridor towards the library, it was a free period, before Dinner.  There was so much work to do.  Just as you reached the door, a certain redhead slid a note into your hand, you quickly read it, ‘Meet me’ it was all it said.  You were supposed to meet BFF/N but decided you could come up with a good excuse later, besides the two of you had agreed to meet later on anyway so you assumed it would be quick.

Pretending you forgot something in potions you made your way down the corridor, slipping down another without being seen until you reached the far empty room.  George was pacing around inside.  Once you had closed the door, he had you pinned up against the door.  Kissing you harshly.  It took your breath away and caused you to drop your bag.  

“George?” you breathed, but he moved his lips to your neck, sliding kisses down while his hands gliding down to your arse.

After some more intense moves from George, he pulled away.  Looking sheepishly at you.

“Sorry, Tommy has been flirting with you too much for liking”  he mumbled.  Looking at your slightly annoyed expression.  The reason of which was because he pulled away.  To show this, you pressed your lips to his, just as urgent as he had.  Pushing him back onto the table.  He didn’t put up a fight as he stumbled back, you took the opportunity to remove your jumper and his before pressing your lips against his.  Part of you was doing this because you simply wanted him, but the other part of you wanted him to know you only cared for him.  George didn’t complain at all, lifting you up letting you wrap your legs around his waist.

Things only heated up from there.

The two of you laid in breathless silence beside each other.  Your clothes were scattered around the room.  It wasn’t exactly the first time the two had done it, but it was never quite as intense.  Once you two caught your breath, you both quickly got dressed, rushing down to dinner, looking a bit of a mess, but you covered yourself by saying you had fallen asleep when BFF/N asked.

Later before you were to meet up with George again you headed up to your dorm room to get changed.

“So, What is going on?, I know you are seeing someone, and I am guessing it’s someone you shouldn’t be seeing” BFF/N suddenly asked.  You froze mid-change.

“What makes you say that,” you asked, returning, tossing your shirt on the bed.

“Well those marks are a dead giveaway” she continued.  You quickly looked in the mirror, finding love bites scattered around your body.  You stared wide-eyed at yourself, you hadn’t even noticed them earlier when you were getting changed.

“Uh, well, I” you stuttered what were you going to tell her? You knew she wouldn’t tell anyone, or even judge but was it still the right thing to do?

“Oh, great Godric, is it a teacher, but who would it be?” she started pondering to herself.

“It’s not a teacher” you stated, blankly.

“Oh, then who, if you can’t tell me then that’s okay” she smiled, at you with a slightly sad expression.  

“It’s not that I don’t want to tell you, it’s just” you did really want to tell her.  She looked so sad, and a little hurt.

“It’s George” you, blurted out.  Feeling a little bit better already.

“George who?” just as she asked that realisation hit her. “George Weasley?”

You nodded as she stared.

“Ah, I see, that’s why would can’t tell anyone” she looked sad again.

“Yeah, well, after this year we won’t have to worry about keeping it hidden” you smiled.

“So, how long as it been going on?, is this who you're with when you disappear?, who asked who out” BFF/N bombarded you with questions, it felt normal.  You smiled at her, maybe sharing somethings wouldn’t be bad.

“Well, we’ve been dating since the ball, George made the first move and yes he is who I am with when I go off, I am not telling you where I do” she shared, as you continued to get ready.  BFF/N wanted to know more and more details but you were going to be late.

“Don’t worry Y/N, I won’t tell anyone and I can help cover you, when you go know” you were grateful for it, you said goodbye and left to go meet George.

You were sitting there for a while before he arrived.  

“Sorry I am late, Fred wouldn’t get off my case, he’s eventually going to notice” George replied, he gave you a kiss on the cheek then plopped down beside you.

“You can tell him if you think that’s okay,” you said.

“I think I will if you are really okay with that,” he asked

“Well, thanks to you, BFF/N knows” you pulled down your shirt revealing one of the love bites he had left.  George's face went the same colour as his hair.

“Uh, Sorry” he was smiling a bit pleased with himself but then he caught on.

“She won’t tell anyone” you reassured.

George relaxed, laying his head down on your lap,

“I thought we were going to homework” you smiled.

“I have an idea, you read and I listen” he suggested.  In Transfiguration, you had to read a few chapters of the textbook, for a quiz tomorrow so you agreed. Reading the book out loud.

George loved the sound of your voice, he could listen to you talk all day, and somehow he managed to take in every word you said and remembered it all.  You quizzed him every so often to see if he was actually listening, and he got it right, then again it might have been because you gave him a kiss every time he got a questioned right.  All in all, it was a rather productive night.  George was the first to get up, helping you up.  He quickly gave you a kiss and a hug.

“I love you” he smiled

“I love you too” you kissed him quickly then left.

The next day at breakfast, none of the Weasleys showed up, it was the same at lunch and dinner.  Maybe they went home early?.  Later that evening you were supposed to meet George again before the Christmas holidays, but he was a no-show.  You were getting worried, but who were you to ask?  BFF/N tried to reassure you but nothing she said worked.  

[jugaddict]

Riverdale Marriage Types

Okay, so since I am your basic sociology major, I couldn’t help but try to classify our beloved Riverdale characters into sociological theorems. 

As a fandom we can all seem to agree that 99% of the Riverdale parents suck (Except Fred Andrews, our resident adult hero) or at the very least, have very lackluster parenting skills. This is interesting in it’s own sense because not one of the main characters other than Archie (who had a simple Troy Bolton complex arc with his dad) don’t have a strained relationship with their parents. 

What is even MORE interesting is the obvious strains in each set of parents marriages. 

In order to try and and understand the behaviour of Riverdale’s parents, I’m going to attempt to identify which marriage type the couples fall into based on Cuber and Harroff’s 1965 models. My analysis for this little project is heavily based on season 1 and the first two episodes of season 2. 

The first thing to understand that marriages are categorized into two types. Utilitarian and Intrinsic. The majority of marriages in the world are utilitarian. If you live in North America, this might come as a surprise because of the huge cultural and societal emphasis to marry your true love. Marriage is romanticized in television and depicted mostly as intrinsic. 

None of Riverdale’s marriages are intrinsic according to my analysis. 

Ok so let’s get this started. 

Alice and Hal Cooper - Devitalized Marriage

Hal and Alice were actually the easiest one for me to classify. 

A devitalized marriage is when a couple is typically married for several years but has lost it’s spice and meaning. Both partners were once deeply in love but it has fizzled. Time together is spent more often on “duty time” which puts their focuses on children, property, and reputation. Despite the bleak satisfaction, the marriage remains stable.

This screamed the Coopers to me. Alice and Hal were high school sweethearts, as Betty said in season 1. I honestly do believe that they were in love, despite bumps along the way (Alice giving up her first born for adoption, etc.) We see how they bicker and fight, however Alice’s top priorities are indeed her success at The Register, Betty’s success and the Cooper reputation as a whole. Although the means to maintain the reputation are questionable: They sent Polly away after discovering she is pregnant and made a town announcement in front of a church to inform the town about Polly’s pregnancy when she returned; Hal went as far as to break into Sheriff Keller’s office to conceal information that would damage the family’s image.

I’d also like to stress the utilitarianism functions this marriage has, economically. Established in 1x10, Alice grew up on the South Side. Marrying Hal allowed her to shed her south high skin (so to speak) to gain higher social status. 

Penelope and Clifford Blossom - Passive Congenial Marriage 

While Clifford is no longer alive, we can piece together the kind of relationship he had with Penelope based on their conversations and behaviour to each other and their children in season 1. 

I placed their marriage as Passive-Congenial. This type of marriage emphasizes qualities other than emotional closeness, and never expected marriage to encompass emotional intensity. Rather, partners engage in casual companionship. The union is centered around the sensibility of marriage as well as a huge focus behind financial stability. 

From what we can tell, Penelope is unemployed. This suggests her dependency of Clifford rests in her desire of affluence rather than love. (This can be debated though, as it was established that Penelope was wealthy even in high school. Hermione tells Cheryl “You’re mother also couldn’t tell the difference between having money and having class” Whichever way you’d like to see it, her wealth only vastly multiplied with her marriage to a Blossom). We never saw Clifford or Penelope share any mutual care for each other. They sat next to each other, ate together, and spewed the word “Blossom” more than anything else. Clearly financial stability (read luxury) was at the crux of the Blossom’s priorities. To the extent their children would be abused (and killed) if they stood in their way of abundant success. An argument can even be made that Penelope was chosen as a suitable wife for Clifford because of her hair colour, in which the very image of the Blossoms could be maintained through the lineage of their children. This reinforces the “sensibility” notion of their marriage. Furthermore, Penelope showed far more raw emotion at her mansion/estate being engulfed in flames than from her own husband’s funeral. “Why are you crying, you hated him” She says to Cheryl, while she herself had dry eyes. 

Hermione and Hiram Lodge - Conflict Habituated

I wasn’t quite sure how to classify Hiram and Hermione just because we were only just introduced to Hiram as a character, and might have been given unreliable narration about Hiram’s intentions throughout the first season. Their relationship is tricky because although Hermione maintains her unwavering loyalty to her husband despite his crimes, she seems to flip from having power in her relationship (making it appear like an egalitarian marriage in which both partners are well aware of what they are doing) to being frustratingly manipulated and under the control of her husband. We will see as the seasons progress. 

As it stands right now, I put them in a tentative Conflict- Habituated marriage. This is when the marriage has considerable tension, unresolved conflict, both spouses acknowledge incompatibility or tension as normal and do not attempt to solve or expect to resolve differences. The relationship as a whole is still very stable. 

Clearly Hermione was uncomfortable with being stripped from some of her wealth and her husband being jailed, “Baby, we are guilty”  she snaps at Veronica and breaks down and sobs when things look sour. But she doesn’t let it drag her down. She tries to make her own business decisions, working at Pops Diner and doing business with Fred despite knowing her husband would disapprove. However, the moment her husband is back in town, she defends him, lies for him and behaves incredibly submissive. Is it pretend? Is it real? We don’t know. What we can boil it down to is that there is some conflict, this relationship is not all sunshine and roses (will Hermione ignore it as she has been so far or fight against it?) and ultimately the extent of this will soon unfold as we see them interact more together on screen. 

Mary and Fred Andrews - (Dissolved) Vital Marriage

Ok so I cheated a little because I said none of the marriages in Riverdale were intrinsic. But Mary and Fred are separated and planning a divorce so for the sake of simplicity I’ll consider them as no longer married. So. When they were together I believe they were in a vital marriage. 

A vital marriage is when two partners define being together as being intensely enjoyable and important. Conflicts are likely to center around real issues and there is a focus on individual autonomy. The minority of marriages in the world are vital and they are in fact very hard to maintain, especially in North American culture where the value of marriage in juxtaposed with individual happiness, in which if a partner is not feeling happy, rather than trying to solve conflicts in the marriage, they leave the marriage. 

I believe this is what happens with Mary and Fred. This doesn’t mean that they don’t both still care for each other or even dislike each other. Clearly Mary has made a life for herself out of Riverdale, perhaps restless from being tied down to such a small town (lmao I don’t blame her I wouldn’t want to be Riverdale’s resident lawyer right now). She makes an appearance twice, reevaluating her choices about leaving her son behind when she realizes Archie may not be be safe alone with his father, showing concern for the family she left and even taking phsyical care for Fred after he is injured. 

So basically, even though somehow even though they have to worst “marriage” in the sense of marriage as an institution, they still have arguably the best, healthiest interpersonal relationship out of all the parents on the show. Way to go Andrews!

Sierra and Myles McCoy - Conflict- Habituated

Once again, my guess for this one is as good as yours. I placed this marriage as a conflict-habituated union. Similarly to Hermione and Hiram, Myles is largely absent throughout season 1 which makes it difficult to analyze the relationship. The difference between Myles and Hiram however lies in Myles’s behavior towards his family when he did show up. It is clear from the get-go that Sierra and Myles have relatively different world views.  Sierra tells Josie in 1x06 that she’d hate for Josie to let her father down because if she did “He will somehow blame me” Myles disagrees with Josie pursuing music despite being a professional jazz player himself, whereas his wife is supportive. When together, their conversations were brief, but tense, and Myles ended up walking out on his daughter’s performance mid-act, as well as his wife, who he was attending the event with, and didn’t want him to go. This mutual tension is what flagged me as identifying the marriage as conflict-habituated because we see no attempt between Mr and Mrs to resolve any issues they have. They seem to just live on separately, together. 

Gladys and FP - Who knows???

I can’t classify these two because the only thing we know about them is that Gladys left FP and Jughead behind to live with her parents in Toledo (and also is refusing to visit her suffering son… not a fan). There’s also this mention about hospital bills. Not sure who was in the hospital. Jellybean? Gladys? Not clear. I’ll be honest I can’t even find any proof that these two were married. (Does FP wear a ring??) What we do know is that before FP was arrested he told Jughead he’d make an effort to win his mother and sister back, which might lean towards looking at another devitalized marriage? Not sure. I won’t put a label on it. 

That’s the end! Hoped you liked this! Feel free to comment or send me an ask on this is you have any insight. Hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I did putting it together! :)  

[lollercakesff]

soft touch

chapter 20 | ao3 pairing: anne/gilbert rating: mature wordcount: 3,548

The weather turns hot in the Glen and I finally find an apprentice in the next town over who’s willing to cover for me as I take Anne home. Susan declines the invitation, choosing instead to visit her daughter and give us what she has kindly termed ‘family building time’ which none of us will admit is actually coded words for letting Anne and I roam the house together whenever Harris is down for a nap or tucked away at night.

Though she would never admit it, lately whenever Anne and I found each other after too long apart she would give a knowing look and then disappear out of the house for as long as she could, returning only to help us prepare supper and care for Harris throughout the evening. It was almost predictable, by now, and while it made our cheeks flush with embarrassment it was the only time we managed to find each other with the summer activities and my work calling at all hours.

Not looking a gift horse in the mouth we took it kindly when she excused herself for her trip, preparing ourselves for the journey to Avonlea and mentally checking every box. When the day finally comes to depart I step out of the house and press my hand to her back in greeting. She holds Harris tightly in her arms as she works to convince herself off the first step.

“It’s okay to be nervous,” I state, my hand cupping her elbow as she looks out at the waiting buggy with trepidation.

“I’m not - I just haven’t been home since school. Is it very much different?”

Shaking my head I step down and stand before her, urging her forward. “Some things are. But it’s still Avonlea. Just think - Diana is on the other end of this and won’t she be so thrilled to meet Harris?”

“Oh, Diana! My sweet lovely Diana... “ She sighs and steps off the porch, closing her eyes tightly for the briefest of moments before exhaling on a rush. “It will be nice to go home. To say goodbye like I should have.”

“Nobody holds it against you, you know. Bash and Mary remind me that with every letter. I think they’ve made sure to fill the rumour mill with so many other things,” I chuckle, thinking of Bash’s story about the children in the Easter play and their off-key meandering songs.

“I’m glad we’re going, Gil. I am. I’m just nervous.” I don’t offer her any words for that, choosing instead to help her into the buggy and begin our trip to the station.

We travel through the day and into the early evening, trips up and down the train cars to soothe a mutinous Harris as the travel wears him out. When finally we pull into the station near Avonlea it’s with a sense of relief, of peace, that we disembark and collect ourselves on the platform.

“Anne!” A voice calls excitedly, Diana Wright crashing through the people and wrapping Anne up in a bone-crushing hug. Tears abound as the two friends reunite, their words babbling over one another until they pause for breath, screaming like schoolgirls. I stand to the side and watch it unfold, holding a sleeping Harris against me with a dopey smile on my face.

“Aren’t they just a sight for tired eyes?” Fred Wright says at my side, nearly making me jump out of my skin as he claps a hand on my shoulder.

“You’re telling me. It’s good to see you, Fred,” I greet brightly, turning towards him and offering him an extended hand. He takes it quickly and then reaches for Harris, eyes wide.

“Let me see him! It’s been years since I held a wee one like this,” he coos, holding the child to his chest and running his thumb along the boy’s nose.

“Gilbert! Oh it is so good to see you again!” Diana shouts, apparently finished with Anne and now moving onto me. In unladylike manner she lunges at me, wrapping her arms around my waist. “You found her! You found her again - I couldn’t - oh, Gil!”

Diana’s tears come quickly against my chest, her composure failing as she turns back to Anne and holds her once more. I rub a thumb under my own eyes quickly, looking away as Fred chuckles. “They’re a real pair, aren’t they?”

“You could say that,” I respond and watch them for a moment longer. When Harris begins to cry I turn to Fred and extend my arms, only to be cut off as Diana instead pulls him to her chest. Together the two women fret over the wails, leaving Fred and I to collect the bags and steer us out towards the waiting carriage.

The ride to the Wright household is filled with excitement, boisterous stories from the couple keeping us in stitches as we ride down the trails. When we eventually crest the edge of their property I breathe a sigh of relief, my hand squeezing Anne’s side gently as we pull up their lane.

“We’ve prepared the spare room for you, Anne. It should be big enough for the three of you,” Diana explains as we step through the front door to the expansive house.

“And you’re sure it’s no trouble for us to stay here? Rachel said Green Gables was still furnished but…” Anne’s voice slips as she swallows her words. Diana reaches out and squeezes her hands as I step instinctively closer.

“We’re sure. My home is your home,” Diana insists and breathes through the shake in her voice. She settles herself once more and leads us through the space and towards our room to start settling in.

It’s later, after night has fallen and the stillness of the house has crept in, that I hold Anne against me as the tears finally catch up to her. We don’t speak, our touch enough to keep us grounded as all of the hurt rises and colours our day. When finally she drifts off to sleep with her back pressed to my chest I breathe a sigh of relief, my lips pressing a gentle kiss to her shoulder before I follow her quickly into slumber.

Morning comes later than we expected, Harris’ cries not rousing us at dawn like they always seemed to now. It’s almost disorienting, I find, to wake up well rested and with Anne curled into me. Disorienting and wonderful, I have to admit.

But the peace is short-lived as soon she stirs, her short red hair a tangled mess as she raises her head to look at me. “Why does it feel like I’ve slept for five years?” She yawns, tightening her arms around me before starting to withdraw.

In a quick move I chuckle and lean towards her, capturing her lips in a deep kiss that leaves her dazed. As I withdraw she groans, lifting her hand to my neck to keep me with her a moment longer.

If not for the knock at the door I wasn’t sure we ever would have gotten out of bed, the taste of her making me feel lightheaded as we reluctantly pulled apart.

“May I come in?” A small voice calls through the wood. Anne lifts a brow at me and I lean to the side of the bed, pulling on my shirt as I hand her her oversized sweater.

“You may,” Anne replies lightly, watching as a little girl carries in an overflowing tray.

“Father said not to bother you but Mother wanted to make sure you had sus-sus-tan-eze,” the girl greets, looking up at us with wide eyes as she stumbles over the word. I can see the recognition come over Anne’s features, her gaze softening.

“And what lovely girl brings us breakfast in bed?” Anne’s voice shakes as she takes the tray from her hands.

“Why, I’m Anne Cordelia!” The girl replies, a wide smile on her face.

“I’m so very pleased to meet you. I’m Anne Shirley Cuthbert Blythe,” Anne whispers, reaching a shaking hand out to the girl.

“Mother said we had the same name but you’ve got oh so many more than I do!” Anne Cordelia insists, taking Anne’s hand and shaking it thoroughly. “But I need to get back to the kitchen. Father said I couldn’t bother you for too long or else I’d have to do Fred’s chores. Are you coming out soon? It’s almost mid-day you know.”

“Yes - we’ll come see you as quick as we can,” Anne replies with a laugh, squeezing my hand tightly and watching as the girl retreats back out the door. Once the latch has clicked shut she turns to me abruptly, launching herself against me in a bone-crushing hug. “I’m so glad we’re here.”

“Me too,” I mumble and rub my hand along her back.

We finish the tray and dress as we go, preparing ourselves for the onslaught of Avonlea that awaits us this afternoon. A church picnic happened to fall later that day and Diana urged us to attend, promising that it would be a merry event for everyone to visit and see the long-lost scholars.

“Has he been behaving?” I ask Diana as we join them on the porch, reaching for Harris and settling him against me with a soft smile.

“Of course! We collected him this morning from your room when he was getting hungry. You looked too peaceful to wake up,” she says with a cheeky smile, her cheeks flushing. I feel my own colour rise as we share a knowing look that makes Anne slap at my shoulder.

“Are we meeting Bash and Mary at the picnic?” Anne asks, sitting down beside Diana and looking out over the rolling fields with a wayward gaze.

“Yes. They were helping set up and couldn’t get out of it,” I reply as I bounce Harris playfully on my thigh. He smiles and wobbles, his expression bright and warming.

“You look so lovely with him, Gil. I always knew you would make a splendid father,” Diana interjects, watching us with a soft gaze. I catch her eye as she smiles, looking between the three of us. “Did I mention how wonderful it is to see you together? After all this time?”

“Don’t start again or you’ll get me going too!” Anne groans, shifting towards her friend and grasping her knee. The two laugh and shake their heads, words unspoken but conveying the closing of the miles of distance between them.

“To have you home Anne… It’s a dream I could not imagine after all those years where we didn’t hear from you. It was the longest silence,” Diana sighs, lifting a handkerchief to her eyes and dabbing at the tears that appear.

“It really was the loneliest too,” Anne adds before standing and pulling Diana into her embrace, a proper tight hug bringing the two bosom friends back together.

I take my leave to let them re-connect and head towards the pond, toting Harris along with me as I show him the beauty of our home. By the time we arrive back it’s nearly time to leave again and we quickly get ready, dressing in our best under strict instruction from Diana.

The church courtyard is full of people when we arrive and for a moment Anne simply sits in the carriage looking out at all of our old acquaintances and their families. “I can’t believe how many people I recognize,” she whispers as Diana and Fred head with their children and Harris towards the gathering. I sit with Anne’s hands in my lap, waiting until she’s ready.

“It’s different but still the same,” I agree softly.

“Blythe!” A familiar voice calls out from behind us, Bash coming into view with his arms raised wide and over his head. He climbs into the carriage and pulls us into tight hugs, eventually dragging us down and towards the crowd excitedly.

With my hand wrapped tightly with Anne’s we approach the cluster of people, eyes wide as they all look towards us. Bright smiles greet us as the crowd parts, inviting us forward and towards a small arch lined with summer flowers. Below the structure stands Reverend Allan, aged but still smiling.

“Bash,” I hiss, looking towards the man who gives me a wink. I look to Anne who freezes mid-step, the whole picture starting to come together as her brow furrows.

She turns to me then with a stricken look, grey eyes wide. “Is this what I think it is?” She questions, her fingers squeezing mine so tightly that I nearly lose feeling. Instinctually I pull her into my arms, ducking my head so that I can whisper my replies into her ear.

“It just might be. Do you want to leave?” I offer. Anne pauses, her hands coming up to draw my gaze to hers.

“No. Do you?” With a shake of my head I grin and turn us back towards the altar, leading us forward with a blush colouring up my neck. “Reverend, it’s been a while.” I greet as we join him. Behind us the crowd quiets, anticipation filling the air.

“As it has, Doctor Blythe. Mrs Wright informed me things were a bit unorthodox in your marriage which, to be honest, only surprised me a little. Miss Anne, how are you?” The Reverend greets, beaming down towards Anne with a knowing look.

“I would like to hug you - Oof!” Nearly knocked off her feet with the impact, Anne laughs as Reverend Allan pulls her into a quick hug.

“It might not be proper but you’ve always held a special place in my heart, dear girl. I couldn’t pass up the chance to be here for you,” he replies, settling his hands on her shoulders as she wipes away tears.

“Kindred spirits still?” She laughs and we join her, my own eyes blinking away tears.

“Always. Now - shall we get onto the real reason we’re all gathered here today?”

The wedding happens in the blink of an eye. One minute we’re slipping off our rings and then next we’re placing them back with weighted words, our hands shaking as we say our vows before the people of Avonlea and God himself. Though surely we would offend some in the crowd with our out of order nuptials and the obvious glaring truth of Anne’s existing marital status, on that afternoon there doesn’t seem to be a care in the world for propriety and the idea of right and wrong. There was only us, our family, our friends, standing with us as we promised each other for now and forever.

“And now you may kiss the bride,” Reverend Allen announces to a roaring applause. I grin down at Anne, her beaming smile meeting mine, before I pull her against me in a breathless kiss that makes the crowd whoop and Bash let out an ear-piercing whistle.

“Mrs Blythe,” I breathe as we part, her arms still tightly wrapped around my neck

“Doctor Blythe,” she counters softly, her fingers playing with the curls in my hair.

“You’ve got your whole life to kiss her, Blythe!” Bash interrupts eventually, jovial in his excitement.

The gathering dissolves into a party unheard of in the small town, a band setting up under trees filled with lanterns as the evening begins to set in. We dance and visit until our feet ache, only giving ourselves a moment of peace when it’s time to settle in to eat.

“Miss Anne!” Seb shouts and leaps to his feet as we tuck ourselves into the table. He’s at Anne’s side in a flash, his arms outstretched as he barrels towards her before he stops abruptly, nearly colliding into her as he slows and puts his arms down. “Sorry Miss Anne, I almost forgot. May I hold your hand and say hello?”

My heart nearly stops in my chest, the memory of Christmas flooding back into my mind as little Sebastian curbs his excitement for a more refined approach.

“Oh Seb,” Anne sighs, reaching towards the boy. “I do wish you would give me the biggest hug you can provide.” He holds nothing back and leaps towards her, arms wrapping around her neck as tightly as he can make them.

“I was afraid you were still scared of soft touches and I didn’t want to ruin your day,” he whispers conspiratorially, leaning back and lifting his palm to her cheek. Her eyes shine as she glances over towards me, colour rising in her cheeks as the boy smoothes her hair back.

“Well, Seb, I’ve had quite a good teacher these last few months. Uncle Gil has been helping me remember how to let - how did you say it? Love speak through our hands?” Seb nods vigorously, a wide smile beaming from him. “He’s helped me realize that you were very right to say it like that. I’m not as afraid as I used to be and I’m even able to help Harris with it too.”

“So do I have to ask first everytime I see you?” He asks pointedly, dark eyes gazing into hers.

“It’s always good to ask first but if you get really excited and you just want to give me a hug, I wouldn’t mind that so much. Okay?”

“Okay Miss Anne, you got it.” He crawls down from her lap and heads back towards his chair, stopping once to look up at Anne with a charming smile. “I almost forgot - I like your red hair a lot better. It fits my memory of you best.”

I feel like I’ve been run over by a horse, Anne’s hand clasping tightly in mine as she takes the compliment and blows the boy a kiss. He runs off in another second and she turns to me with the widest smile I’d seen from her in decades, her colouring flushing out her freckles. I could nearly drag her into a bedroom right now for how the joy makes her look, stunning and alive.

“You pick good, Doctor Blythe,” she whispers into my ear, resting her chin on my shoulder for a moment before the food is placed before us.

“Tell me about it,” I murmur back, my hand squeezing her thigh until she chuckles and brushes me away. The meal passes and I don’t remember tasting a thing, at some point finding myself tied up with tiny dancers, the daughters of our friends having taken my dance card and filled it so that I barely have a chance to sit down.

When I finally do it is with a surprised glance that I realize Anne is nowhere to be found, Diana and Fred sitting with Bash and Mary, Harris soaking in the attention that the group would provide him.

“Has anyone seen Anne?” I question over the music, watching as they all look at me with confusion. Only Mary smiles sadly, nodding in the direction of Green Gables without a word.

I don’t hesitate to go to her, making my way through the fields and hopping the long standing fences between the properties. The graveyard sits in the corner of a field and it’s there I see a small figure seated on the ground amongst the tombstones.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming here?” I ask as I come to join her. There’s fresh tears on her cheeks, her hair a wayward mess as she sniffs and looks up at me.

“I felt like maybe I needed to tell them on my own,” she replies lowly, looking between Matthew and Marilla’s graves. I settle beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and letting her lean back into me.

“Were they happy to hear the good news?” She chuckles and absently plays with my fingers, drawing her nails across the back of my hand in a soft pattern.

“I like to think so. I saved that part for last though. I wanted them to know the whole story so that they understood why I didn’t come back but I didn’t want them to be sad for me. How could they be knowing that it all brought me back to you?”

“They would have understood. They loved you Anne,” I say unnecessarily.

“I know.”

We sit there together until the moon is cresting the horizon, dusk evolving into night and the cool evening air wrapping around us. Occasionally Anne shares another tale, a funny story from the Glen or a charming piece from school, sometimes it’s me with a recollection of admiration for their girl, something that would have pleased them so.

“I’m glad we came back,” Anne admits as we get to our feet, our arms linking together as we head back towards the party. “It’s almost like I’ve closed this book on my life. Like I’m ready to start fresh with you, finally.”

“Are we on the same page then?” I ask with a pause in my step. She twists and wraps herself around me, looking up from where her chin has settled against my chest.

“I’d argue we’re in the same sentence,” she whispers and without thinking we hold tight to one another, my hands lifting her chin so I can meet her lips with mine in a promise of forever.