#should be fun to figure out which sneak peeks I've shared before are from this same one hoho

[tervaneula]

It's WIP Wednesday and since I don't have anything new (and only a few people seem to be online so I just might get away with this) I'm sharing a really short bit from this exciting little fic because I've already shared all the (allegedly) tame parts from it LMAO

[grapenehifics]

Countdown to Chapter One!

My fellow Obikins: I am very, VERY excited to share my next fic with you. Some of you may remember a fic of mine called An Uncivil War, the first chapter of which I posted on AO3 almost exactly a year ago, in May of 2023, and wrapped up that July. At the time, I mentioned to a number of people in the comments that I was already partway through the sequel (An Uncivil War is listed as part one of a three-part series, Can't Stop the Suns), and that I hoped to have Part II ready to go by end of 2023.

Well, that obviously didn't happen. I started looking at February 2024. That didn't happen either. I pushed it to April. April has come and gone. May, though! May I am going to make happen! May 27th, 2024, to be exact. Chapter one of Pick Up the Pieces, a.k.a. part 2 of Can't Stop the Suns, a.k.a. the sequel to An Uncivil War, a.k.a. the thing I have been writing on and off for more than three years now, is going up on AO3. (Excerpt and way more ramblings below the cut.)

A) I wanted to make this announcement in advance because I'm just really excited to share this fic. Parts of it I've posted on Tumblr as WIP Wednesdays, but most of it I've tried to keep under wraps until it's ready and, frankly, I really want to talk about it!

B) @palfriendpatine66 specifically asked for a heads-up before I started posting, but I figured I'd share publicly in case anyone else has the same desire to read (or re-read) part one before starting part two. May 27th is the day!

I do want to say, though - prior knowledge of An Uncivil War is NOT required to understand or enjoy this fic. If you haven't read An Uncivil War, I would really love it if you did! I'm enormously proud of it and love, love, love talking about it. But I also don't want anyone to not give Pick Up the Pieces a try, assuming they were otherwise interested, because they're worried they won't understand what's going on. If you want to jump in, make sure you read the tags and the summary, and by the time you get to chapter three you should have a pretty good grounding in what happened previously. Obviously there are some little details here and there you'll miss but for the most part you should be okay. I did try to make it as accessible as possible.

C) Thirdly - mostly as a reward for reading this far - I thought it would be fun, over the next three Wednesdays, to give a sneak peek of one of the later chapters, because I've really missed doing regular WIP Wednesdays for this fic (for the aforementioned secrecy reasons).

The main part of the fic is set during what would have been the final year of the Clone Wars, except we take a departure from canon during the season 5 episode The Wrong Jedi and diverge off-course from there. Mixed in with that, though, are flashback chapters, covering some portion of Anakin's years as Obi-Wan's Padawan, which have just been a blast to write. They go in roughly chronological order, and this one in particular is set when Anakin is 17. I'll post a little bit today, the next part a week from today, the final section the week after that, and then you'll get the rest of it when chapter ten goes up in the actual fic :)

Chapter Ten preview starts below:

“Uh…” Anakin looked down at his cards and bit his lip. “Hit me?” he asked tentatively. The three other players around the table blinked slowly back at him. He reached out and flipped the top card of the table deck over, letting the rest of the players see it. “Damnit,” he hissed through his teeth.

“Tough luck, boy,” boomed the Besalisk on Anakin’s right, the one he was most worried about getting a peek at his cards. “That makes twenty-two.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Anakin snapped, frustrated. He tossed his cards face-down in front of him. “Don’t remind me.”

Anakin was losing, and quite badly at that. He really needed to slow down and stop the bleeding or Obi-Wan was going to catch him not only gambling, but totally out of credits, too, and he would not be happy about it.

“I’m going to take a break,” Anakin said suddenly, standing up so quickly his chair squeaked. “I’ll sit out this round. Be right back.” He scooped the (very meager) pile of credits he had left to his name into his hand and pocketed them before walking away. What he really wanted to do was take a quick minute to check the chronometer strapped to his wrist without any of them seeing him do it, but needing to take a walk was as good an excuse as any.

He didn’t leave the Castle (Takodana was a little too humid for Anakin’s liking), just took a slow lap around the edges of it, checking out the other gambling tables, the billiards games, the tourists, the regulars, the spacers, the spice runners, the spice addicts, the smugglers. The people who, if he hadn’t become a Jedi, probably would have been his friends and his enemies, his rivals, his contemporaries. His lovers, maybe.

The lower levels of Takodana Castle had once been an ancient Jedi temple, a fact Obi-Wan had mentioned rather a few more times than strictly necessary on their trip over from Coruscant. It had been built on the site of an even more ancient battleground, where Jedi and Sith had fought one another centuries – maybe a millennia – ago. The Jedi had won, that time, and built the original Takodana Temple as a kind of memorial. Anakin let the tips of his fingers trail over the wet, warm stone walls as he walked, feeling to see if he could catch any whispers of the old voices. Old hurts, old betrayals, old war wounds…

He had started doing this thing, about a year or so back. He had discovered, largely by accident (not that Jedi were supposed to believe in accidents, just The Will of the Force, and all that), that he could, rather paradoxically, up the ante on his meditation skills by upping the ante on his distractions. He’d been filling in for Obi-Wan, who was supposed to have been taking a turn sitting in with a group of the youngest Younglings but had been called away at the last minute (or so he had said, at least; Anakin still wasn’t totally sure he believed him). Anakin had tried to keep to the Younglings’ schedule, which included a quarter of an hour of daily mandated meditation time. Younglings not being particularly good at meditation (they were worse at it than Anakin was, which was really saying something), they’d lasted only about half that time before starting to get fidgety. It had started small – a few coughs here and there, a couple of giggles, wiggling on their mats – and then had progressed from there to full-blown chaos. Anakin was supposed to be setting an example, though, and was determined to sit still, keep his eyes closed, and ignore everything that wasn’t an outright cry for medical attention until the allotted time was up.

What he had found, though, was that it was actually one of his better meditation sessions. The noisier the room got, the more relaxed Anakin got. He’d eventually opened his eyes to find one Youngling on his lap, another chewing on his Padawan braid, and a third hanging from the ceiling rafters, but had felt…calm and at peace and a little floaty, but also grounded, connected to the Force, the air, even the children. He’d asked Obi-Wan about it later that night over dinner. Obi-Wan had suggested they meditate over it, which made Anakin roll his eyes because he already had meditated today, that was the whole thing he wanted to talk to Obi-Wan about, and how much meditation did a person need every day, really? But after they ate he’d dutifully sat down across from Obi-Wan and closed his eyes anyway. Obi-Wan had reached out and taken Anakin’s hands in his, which almost made up for the double meditation session. (Almost.)

And then, just as Anakin was starting to settle into something resembling regulating his breathing, something hard and poky had slammed into the side of his head.

“Ow!” he’d said, reflexively, and opened his eyes. Obi-Wan’s datapad was lying on the floor beside him. Obi-Wan himself was still sitting serenely, holding Anakin’s hands.

“What the kriff did you do that for?” Anakin demanded.

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan had said, without opening his eyes, “I thought you said you liked having distractions while you meditated.”

“Not painful ones!” Anakin shot back.

“Apologies.” The holopad, from the floor, flicked on and started replaying whatever the last thing either of them had watched on it, which happened to be a nature documentary about tee-muss. “Is that better?”

Anakin grumbled about it, but he had, sort of, asked for this, and admitting defeat now would be both embarrassing and would necessitate him letting go of Obi-Wan’s hands, so he closed his eyes and tried again.

Of course, the first thing he had to do was release the pain in his head into the Force, but once he’d done that, he found that, once again, sifting through his distractions was easier when he actually had distractions to sift through. He let the migratory patterns of wild tee-muss go, and felt Obi-Wan squeeze his hands. “Good, Anakin,” he murmured softly, so quietly Anakin almost couldn’t hear him over the documentary narrator. “That’s very good.” (Anakin had replayed the moment in his head, putting that voice of Obi-Wan’s into different and much more…naked contexts, so many times since then that he could get hard just thinking about it, now.)

So Anakin had started to experiment, on and off. He turned the holoprojector on in their rooms while he was meditating. He sat in the corner of the refectory and meditated during mealtimes. Once, he tried meditating during galactic history class, but his teacher had ratted him out to Obi-Wan and Obi-Wan had told him not to do that anymore. And, now, he wanted to see if he could do it while inside Takodana Castle on a bustling summer afternoon.

To be continued next Wednesday!

[hilarychuff]

Top 5 favorite fics of all time?

favorite fics of all time omg ok i'm sure i'm going to have forgotten about some because i'm not too much of a rereader so i'm relying heavily on my ao3 bookmarks for this one but

someone reaching back for me by @enoughtotemptme

i'm still in my chrissy cunningham phase and this hellcheer fic about eddie stuck in a groundhog day style time loop of the day chrissy dies until he ends up looping in the whole party and they figure out how to fix it is a big fave from this hyperfixation. i love it so much. it is so well done and it was so interesting and there are so many heartsqueezy lil moments and gut punches and eddie tries so hard!!!! until he finally got that much-deserved win 🥲

what lies beneath her skin by @chispas-and-broken-bindings

;) i thiiiiiink this fic was finished by the time i found it (at least part 1, part 2 i think hadn't started yet) and i was ready for a big ol deep dive. 100k words!! it's alayne/jon realness but in a different context than you usually get alayne/jon. sometimes you read something and you're like "i should befriend this author" which is actually how i made a lot of my fandom friends lmao.

the last enemy: the howling nights by @chdarling

i haven't been in my marauders era for a while now but @offbeatorbit and @julvett told me i had to read this fic and dragged me back in. and they were right!!! it's the best. ch wrote such a good first book in what is going to be a MULTI book fanfic. turned me into a marlene stan. need marlene to kiss any and all characters just to see how she'd react. studying marlene like a little bug under a microscope or whatever. poking her with a stick. etc. anyway if you need a long marauders fic to read, this is a great one. relatedly...

it's all politics by @offbeatorbit and love is a powerful sort of magic by @julvett

i'm combinging this into one for squad purposes. i remember reading it's all politics a decade ago and also being like i must be friends with this person. i love all of ashley's lily/marauders/snape stuff but i always distinctly remember the "complete fucking yoko ono" line about sirius from this fic. i also loved jules' ask jily comics and had started to weasel my lil way into her ask box way way back before messaging was even a twinkle in tumblr's eye and am so psyched now that jules has started sharing her writing, too!! i've gotten som sneak peeks and this is one to watch for sure

the ghost inside by @cellsshapedlikestars

a jonsa writer so prolific that it was hard to pick just one!!! i almost went with to all the boys i've loved before au but instead had to go with this one magic/dreamscape one as soon as i laid my eyes on it. dream scapes are always so fun but imo hard to pull off in a way that feels both like it is making good use of that premise while also furthering the story itself. jon and sansa visiting each other's dreams and slowly peeling back the layers on each other's backstories is so fun and special. also i love witchy sisters sansa and arya!!!!

[lovelytarou]

late night rendezvous

— in which suna rintarou invites you to a late night drive

pairing: suna rintarou x reader

genre: fluff, a lil angst

tags: suna waking you up at midnight to drive, late night driving basically, just you two being goofballs at midnight

a/n: i based this from the suna drabble i wrote a while back and it keeps nagging on my brain to write it. was actually gonna post it for his birthday but it's already the 26th at 2am here ://

suna didn't expect his party to be wild this year. granted, he should have expected the twins planning one without his knowing. leave it up to them to cause mischief and be the biggest party people he has ever known.

it was crazy, to say the least. he had recognized a few people who were in the party – his teammates, classmates, schoolmates, even past relationships and acquaintances he most certainly isn't aware the twins invited. he even spotted a few volleyball opponents they fought before and wished him a happy birthday.

he was surrounded by all of this people but his mind is looking for another person.

the twins couldn't have forgotten about you, could they? you're just as close to them as he is.

“what’s up, sunarin?” atsumu patted him on the back rather harshly, making him stumble a few steps forward.

he swear to the gods, his strength can be abnormal sometimes.

“have you seen y/n by any chance?” he asked, neck craning to and fro like a giraffe, “you invited them, right?”

“about that...” atsumu winced at suna’s harsh glare.

“we sort of...forgot?”

suna gave him a deadpan look.

“really? of all people, you forgot about them?” atsumu could only whine in return as he profusely apologized to the birthday boy.

deciding to ditch the party, he got out of the crowded house brimming with music and alcohol and got inside his car. he fished his phone from his pocket and immediately messaged you.

what he didn't realize was that it was basically 2am in the morning, and it's a weekday. you're probably asleep by now, suna thought. but will that ever stop him? nope.

cursing under his breath, he pocketed his phone and drove away.

the series of knocks stirred you from your peaceful slumber. after doing a shit ton of tasks, you immediately headed straight to bed, completely forgetting about giving your gift to your boyfriend – who forgot to invite you for his party. you slept with a slight ache in your chest upon seeing the posts the twins have on their socials and can't help but feel a little jealous.

the knocks ranged from gentle to hurried bangs on your window. huffing through your nose in irritation, you rolled over to the other side and peeked an eye. you almost had a heart attack when you saw who was looking through the glass.

“for fuck's sake, rin, you scared the shit out of me! some of us need to sleep for 8-10 hours, you know,” you scolded him, keeping your voice down as to not wake the people in your house, a bewildered look in your face as you take him in.

he's dressed handsomely and you guessed the twins forced him to because he doesn't really like to put much effort into his clothes, but he looks great in them always.

“i missed you,” he blurted, eyes searching your sleep-laced ones as he reached for your hand.

“we didn't see each other all day, i figured we can catch up now?” he offered, biting on his lower lip. he knows you might say no considering how late it is but he was also hoping you would say yes.

he wanted to end his day with a memorable moment with you.

“at 2 in the morning, rintarou?” you gave him an exasperated look but the thump in your heart and the voice inside your head convincing you that you've got nothing to lose is louder than any logical reasoning right now.

“alright, i'll get ready in five minutes.” you pecked him on the cheek, pushing his chest slightly as suna mouthed a yes before climbing off your window.

honestly, you don't know how he does that.

you sneaked to your door after getting ready and made sure you locked it again before joining suna in his car.

once you sat down on the passenger's seat, suna did not hesitate to capture your lips with his. the kiss seemed to stretched on for hours, his lips tasting like the alcohol he consumed in the party and faint smell of smoke. you giggled against his lips before pulling away.

“go eat some mint, your breath stinks!” you teased, nose wrinkling in mock disgust.

suna rolled his eyes, “says the one who has morning breath,”

the insulted look in your face made him cackle loudly inside the car as he pulled out of the driveway, his hand supporting your seat behind your head.

you fumbled with your seatbelt for a moment and suna seemed to have noticed it as his hands replaced yours and slid it down gently with a click. his hair tickled your neck as his face was so close to you, you can smell his perfume and him.

“if you keep looking at me that, we won't be going anywhere, baby.” he smirked, catching your eyes staring at his exposed chest that's been revealed by his shirt.

gulping down your saliva, you just smacked his arm in retaliation, earning another laugh from your boyfriend.

“just shut up and drive, rintarou.”

and so he did. suna connected his phone to his car and turned up the music. your eyes widened in realization as you recognized the song, or specifically the playlist. it was something the two of you made one boring afternoon. you were just playing around and adding iconic songs and some underrated ones to a playlist named after the two of you. you didn't know he would keep it and play it now.

suna had a faint smile on his face once the first few notes of the song played. he hummed to the music, fingers drumming on the stirring wheel. you yourself is tapping yours on your lap, but later, suna interlaced his free hand with yours and squeezing it lightly.

you enjoyed this moment more than anything. maybe it's because you just woke up and it's literally in the early morning and suna dragged you out of bed and you're still a little drowsy, but this all feels like a dream. something you don't wanna wake up from. it might be the city lights cascading down the road, the empty streets you passed, or the fact that the world is most likely asleep at the moment and getting to share it with him of all people is truly something magical.

as you were crossing a bridge, you felt the urge to turn down the window on your side, letting the wind hit your face as you closed your eyes. you danced to the music, albeit stupidly, but you didn't care. you sang loudly to your heart's content but you might be singing the words wrong, yet in suna's eyes, as you scream into the night, with your hair being ruffled by the wind and the city lights flickering behind you – he can't help the laugh bubbling out of him, because god, how did he get so lucky to have you?

you urged him to dance with you to the song and he did so although you made fun of him and his robotic moves. you spent the whole ride just singing and goofing off in the night.

after a while, you guys stopped at a restaurant to get some food before going home. by the time suna drove to your house, it was almost 6am. he forgot he still had practice later, but when he's with you, you're the only thing that mattered to him.

in the end, suna ended up showing you how he was able to climb up your window and even tagged you along with it. you almost fell and broke a leg but good thing your troublemaker of a boyfriend was there.

“so, i guess this is goodnight?” suna sighed forlornly as he sat at your windowsill.

“more like good morning to me,” you chuckled, staring down at your linked hands that are both refusing to let go. “i had fun tonight, rin –oh wait! i almost forgot!”

he was left confused when you suddenly ran around your room looking for something until you emerged with a small neatly wrapped box in your hands.

“for me? y/n, you really didn't have to,” he scratched his neck as he stared at the gift.

“just open it, rin!”

you bounced in place as you watch his face closely while opening the gift.

“is this real? how did you–” he got the camera out of the box, you had gifted him a polaroid since you saw how he loves to ‘document’ things so much and you figured he might want to make a lot of memories, hopefully with you in them as well.

“y/n, i love it. i love you,” he then wrapped you in his arms, his chest feeling warm and fuzzy with overwhelming love for you.

“i love you too, and i'm glad you did or else all the money i've saved up for will be useless.” you teased, smiling fondly at him as he examined the polaroid camera.

“this is the best birthday ever,” he leaned for a kiss, tilting his head to deepen it. you soon have to pull yourselves away before it got any late.

“now go home, rin!” you practically shoved him out of your window, he went in for one last kiss before hopping off.

he walked towards his car but before he get inside he looked back to you.

“i'll take to you to lunch later!”

you rolled your eyes, knowing full well suna's going to be sleeping in til the afternoon.

[georgemackayhey]

Rules For Falling In Love: #3

summary: In which George wants to get married. But… you’re not dating. Why should you say yes?

a/n: So sorry I've been MIA! Here's the news. There are only two chapters left of this fun little story. And something else is in the works for which I'll be posting a sneak peek of very soon (bet ya can't guess what it is!) I hope you're all still just as in love with this plot, though, because I know I am. Let me know your thoughts as always, dudes

w/c: 3k

───※ ·❆· ※───

"What the hell are you doing?" You hissed through your teeth at your very own reflection. You were dressed for any imaginable occasion. If folks noticed you waltzing down the street, they might assume you were on your way to lunch with friends. They might think you were headed to the market, or to the movies, or shopping around. But they most likely wouldn't imagine you were on your way to get married. But you were.

You perfected your lipgloss and fixed your hair, and when there was nothing left to primp, you stood there, still, waiting for the girl on the other side of the glass to reach through, grab your shoulders and shake some sense into your head. But she didn't.

///

"That's it? We're done?" You asked in a stunned breath. The cheery old fellow who'd walked you through the process of signing a bunch of papers and reciting a few promises smiled, but studied you for a beat before nodding.

"You're married, now. Congratulations!" He escorted you and your group toward the door, waving a bony hand from the entry before slamming the old wooden door shut, abandoning you in the massive marble halls.

"Oh, that's absolutely not it." George's sister whined. The girl yanked you and her brother out into the warm sunshine. She shoved some wildflowers in your hands, forced you to stand in place, and shoved her brother to your side. George draped an arm around your shoulder as you both grumbled for the girl to stop making such a fuss.

"Just think of all the things I was talked out of doing. The party I could have- no, should have thrown. Now smile!" She rose her phone camera and snapped a few shots, humming with satisfaction when she was decidedly finished. Bless her, she really did only want the best for the two of you. And you and George were due for some new photos besides the ones snapped of your forced smiles at the latest award show.

"Well, I forgot to bring cake as promised, but let me take you round the cafe uptown to kick off my stress eating. " Dean sighed as if someone was making him pitch the offer.

"Sounds like ya need it." You jested. Dean rolled his eyes and gave you a real, soft smile. George's sister left with a big wave and a dramatic congratulations.

Dean was excited to choose your celebratory treats himself, and was the first to dart inside the posh cafe when you arrived. You and George followed, laughing about how your friend had transformed into the classic "kid in a candy shop." You lost Dean to the winding line and moved to find some big comfy seats in the busy shop.

The reality of your latest achievement hadn't quite set in yet. George's laughter was such a familiar, comforting sound, as you settled beside him on some ridiculously oversized ottoman. Today was just... another day.

"Please tell me that what Dean just told me is a big fat joke." A familiar lilt pipped up from the other side of the paint chipped coffee table in front of you. George's agent was stood, slack-jawed with a big, whip cream filled to-go coffee in hand. How funny she happened to be here, you thought. Only her surprise greeting was much different from the times you'd bumped into each other and chatted in line at the markets, before.r

"It's nice to see you too, Donna." George laughed, watching as she set her drink down and moved to sit in the claw foot chair at your side. The woman reached for your hand in a flash, focusing on the ring you'd grown rather attached to over the week.

"Surprise?" You laughed, a twinge of worry settling in your stomach as the woman glanced up to you, eyes full of shock.

"Why on earth did you get married?" She asked in a slow squeak, turning to George as you drew your hand out of her clutch. "More importantly why haven't you told me?"

"Well, it's only just happened. Like half an hour ago." George looked to you, then back to his agent. Donna let out a laugh, and you understood her shock, but her reaction was a bit unnerving. She continued to ask a string of rhetorical questions, how, why, where, why, why?

That was about the time Dean emerged from the line that was now flooding out of the doors and around the building. Was it filling up in here, or was the place closing in on you? A nagging unease settled at the base of your lungs as George told Donna some of the things you'd discussed and what led you to signing some papers, together.

Your favorite third wheel plopped down a tray of little bite-sized cakes, decorated in different shades of pretty pastel icing. They reminded you of the macaroons George brought home from the last award show after-party, and never shared.

"Care to join in the celebration? Tea is on it's way." Dean spoke in Donna's direction before casting his gaze to you, sitting across the way.

"Unfortunately, I've got to get going, but I do wish we could continue discussing what the hell you two have gotten yourselves into." Donna stood, with a wavering smile, grabbing her condensation covered to-go coffee, and spinning toward the door to the tune of your crew's goodbyes.

You glanced down to the cakes Dean had picked out, as he piped up to explain their fillings and flavors. George reached over to place a hand on your knee, as he nodded along to his friend's excited dessert-themed rambles. All the worry that had sprouted at Donna's confusion was swiftly put at ease when you noticed the ring on George's finger. This was your decision, together. You'd talked it all the way through and back. Anyone else's worry over the matter didn't hold value over that fact.

When your tea came, you had managed to ask Dean about the girl he'd been seeing. The three of you noshed on divine desserts and listened to your friend gush over the girl he'd taken on a fourth date, just the night before last. His eyes sparkled and you couldn't help but smile when he paused to think up just how to describe his new beau. He was lucky to have found someone who brought a blush to his cheeks at the mention of their name. Hers, was Claire.

You'd been enraptured by Dean's rose-colored chatter, so much so that your phone's sudden rhythmic buzz in your pocket made you gasp aloud.

"Oh shit." You muttered, past a bite of cake. "We're gonna be late for that thing." You turned to George whose face lit up in recognition. He had an interview today, one for a late-night talk show that would be on air long after you'd settled in for the night.

George thanked his friend for the desserts and for being there today, for the both of you. You knew George meant it, you knew how important it was to him. But to hear his genuine appreciation in his goodbye to Dean made your heart lurch.

"I know I've been giving you both a hard time about this, and I'm still a bit confused by the whole thing, but honestly, I'm happy for you both. And I'm glad you let me come along today." Dean shrugged as you all stood to head your separate ways. Now your heart was a puddle, as you flung yourself to the fellow, wrapping him in a hug and thanking him for being too good a friend. You were lucky too, you figured.

///

It was almost actually funny how uncomfortable these things made George. He was so keen to be a movie star, in the most romantic sense, of course. He could go on for days (months, even, you suspected) about the magic of storytelling and all the lessons to be learned from his chosen career.

But promoting his works, promoting himself, wasn't something he was fond of in the very least bit. So once, you tagged along to some garish dinner party that was really just a competition for best dressed, in disguise. He mingled with the people he knew, and the people he was meant to know, trying with all his might to make genuine connections because if he'd failed to learn at least one person's life story on a night out, he considered the evening wasted. And when they asked about him, he'd get it over with in a flash before turning his attention to you, introducing you, asking you to tell that one story. And when you were left alone to await the next celebrity encounter George begged you with his hands clasped together to come along with him to all of the ridiculous Hollywood shindigs he was ever required to attend. And of course, you couldn't tell the boy no.

So tonight was another one of many. You went home, tossed on a dress, and spun out of the door again without a second to breathe. All your focus was spent reminding George that this would all be worth it in the end. How selling his latest film to millions of viewers would ensure the story he was so proud to have been a part of would effectively become dear to most everyone who tuned in to hear his interview.

When you crept through the studio doors, hand in hand, the welcome George received was perplexingly warm. Interns offered both of you snacks and drinks, directors passed through the green room doorway with beaming smiles, and instructions for George to follow. Writers breezed in, covering the last of the bases, and a friendly old makeup lady fussed over his look just in time for George to float to the stage. When he did, he dragged you along with him. You let go behind all the cameras, promising you'd be near the door's he was meant to exit- near enough to give him the odd thumbs up and dash away when it was all said and done.  

A small audience murmured as the set changed, and cameramen fluttered about. And then it was off. A man in a casual suit sped through a nauseating, over-rehearsed introduction and you wondered how many of the audience members were laughing for real or because they'd been told to.

And then, out of nowhere, without any warning, the interview took a turn you hadn't prepared for in the least. After the usual quick nice to see you again greetings had been passed back and forth, the host asked George a question he already knew the answer too and presented a photograph you hadn't even gotten the chance to see yet.

It was the one his sister had taken this morning, with the wildflowers, out in the midmorning sun. She'd posted it to her Instagram, tagging you in the caption that featured some long-winded sentiment. And you knew that the girl only had you in mind. She probably wasn't dreaming of George's next interview when she uploaded the photo for the world to see. She most definitely probably wasn't thinking of a moment like this coming true, and how her brother would hate it. In the blink of an eye, you envisioned George angrily phoning his sister and her dramatic defense, and a big unnecessary row breaking out.

But then you zoned back to life and watched George answer the interviewer's question with a small smile. He confirmed that he was officially married, and glad to be. George swiftly moved the conversation toward the film he was meant to prompt, which didn't sway the host on a strict schedule to cover all sorts of topics in the next three minutes. But George wasn't dismissive of the subject. He didn't squirm when the aspect of his personal life was spoken aloud to a room full of strangers. He smiled and caught your eye from the stage. You were too stunned to give him the usual thumbs up from where you waited, you just watched as he grinned, and nodded when the host offered his congratulations.

Then it was over, and the audience flooded away, and you and George hurried to collect yourselves and leave in as big of a hurry as you could without seeming rude. He held your hand like a vice, and you led the way out of the exit, toward the car park.

Before you could reach sweet freedom, a small crew of George's fans had been waiting near the back, with hopes of catching a moment of the guys time they'd come to watch get interviewed. The three young girls held out a marker and asked for his autograph in a shy manner. You noticed most of the fans George encountered over the years were just as meek and mild as the guy himself.

So he smiled and agreed with pleasure, as you awkwardly shifted on the sidelines, unable to flee to the car across the way because he had the keys.

"We're really happy for you, by the way." One of the girls piped up, facing you. "You guys have like, always been our favorite couple."

"You restore our faith in love." Another one of the girls giggled, approaching George with movie posters in hand.

All the complex feelings in your gut the rose at the girl's comments didn't matter. It was entirely too sweet of them to say something. So you thanked them with a smile, and waved goodbye when the last of them had their selfie with George. He said goodbye and turned toward the car with a sigh. You could practically see the weight of the evening's events fall off of his broad shoulders.

You piled into the passenger seat, debating on what to have for dinner, already knowing he dreamed of nothing more than a self-indulgent end to the long night. When you both agreed on what to have, a silence fell over the two of you for the first time all day.

It was heavy with different versions of the same question, the same subject. You'd woken up in one era, one that ended around ten this morning. And neither of you had much of a chance to talk about the fact that you were married now.

"Are you... happy?" You spoke up, at last, watching the world float by on your drive through the city.

"I am. Are you?" George smiled, turning to catch your eye, glancing back at the road ahead a couple of times.

"Yeah." You laughed a little. You wouldn't have agreed to any of this if you weren't dead sure you'd be at peace when the decision was made. And you were filled with that same calm that filled you in the cafe, this morning when George rested his hand on your knee. You'd made the right decision for the both of you, and you were very glad for it indeed.

///

Three months had passed. They were quite busy, and filled with all the usual stress that any typical trio of months held. But as the days passed by, you found George was right, somehow. Things... were easier. Maybe you'd talked yourself into believing so, but you noticed celebrities had stopped leaving you out of chit chat when they breezed through after-parties. You notice stranger men had stopped pestering you at the bar, half of the time. And when you met new people and wound up in new places, you didn't have to go through the long spiel of who Geogre was to you, and why he was always around. He was simply your husband, now.

It was strange to get used to the tile at first, but by the time you'd made it to month four, it rolled off your tongue like melting butter. George seemed most keen to use your unity to get out of other plans.

"Sorry I'll have to miss the next gala, my wife wants to go kayaking." You'd never kayaked. You didn't know how, and you'd never brought it up.

"Ah yes, I am that guy from that one movie but sorry I can't come back to your motel, I've got to help my wife pick out dinner." He had rushed you along grocery store stalls in a hurry to escape the odd, unnerving encounter.

That's how your week started, avoiding the scary fan who kept stalking through the market, stopping George with strange questions around too many corners. It wasn't his most unsettling encounter, but one that left the poor guy on edge for another day or so. You'd get home after fifteen-hour shifts, too tired to talk about it. Too tired to ask what he'd been up to all day.  

By the end of your week, you'd barely seen George, and he'd been just as busy. You ended your last, hellish never-ending shift with tears in your eyes from the thousands of little things that had piled up and left you stressed till it was time to clock out.  

You got home to find George in the living room, reaching for the remote. He left the thing on the coffee table when he twisted to see you in the doorway, worn down, strung out, over it. He asked if you were alright as you kicked your shoes away and hung your coat up in a hurry to decompress.

You demanded George wait to watch whatever film he had in mind for you to join him. You desperately needed to shift your focus from your own worries to an unrelated fictional realm. In a hurry, you showered the day from your achy body and slipped into your comfiest nightclothes.  Then you piled up your best blankets on the sofa, using a couple as faux pillows while you and George shared one big, massive quilt, and flipped on the film.

"What'll be tonight then?" You asked, sinking into the cushions at long last.  

"That one my mum won't shut up about. About that couple who gets divorced? WOn a bunch of awards." George muttered, clicking on Netflix. He'd always made it a point to watch the films the public raved over, to find out if the fuss was worth it.

"What if this kick starts our own divorce." You joked, the thought escaping your lips as soon as it passed through your head. Regret might have seeded itself in you if George wasn't so quick to laugh.

"I solemnly swear I will not let a fictional couple's marital issues affect my promise... no, my genuine desire to continue working at being with you for better or for worse."

Where the hell did that come from? You gapped at George as he queued up the film.

"Damn. You're getting good at this whole husband thing." You let out a small, stunned laugh. It made the dull ache in your head hammer. George noticed as you drew a hand to your brow, waiting for the thrum to settle.

"I'm sorry you had another bad day," He whispered.

"Thanks, You softened, knowing he truly empathized.

George lifted his arm and bobbed his head, beckoning you closer. You took the invite to curl into his side with a sigh. He was warm, and comforting, and his bicep was the perfect pillow. You relaxed for the first time in forever, it seemed, closing your eyes in to soak up the calm, quiet evening. The sounds of the film faded as you fell into an accidental nap.

You were jarred awake by a dreadful buzzing coming from the coffee table. George's phone was ringing, and when he twisted too slowly to reach for it, you realized he'd fallen asleep too. You noticed Dean's name flash across the screen as George answered, lackadaisically holding the cell in the hand that wasn't still closely wrapped around you.

"You're on speaker," George warned, as you stayed lethargically content at his side.

"Good! I have a question for both of you." Dean 's voice crackled through the telly. His assumption that you were already wherever George was, made you chuckle.

"Claire and I are staying in that quaint little seaside town, this weekend. Fancy coming along? In fact, it was her idea to invite you both to join us." Dean explained, it sounded as though he was walking through the city, shouts and clangs passing through the call.

You glanced up to George from where your head still rested near his shoulder. Neither of your expressions held signs of disinterest so when George carefully responded to Dean that the idea sounded nice, and asked for more details, you grinned and relaxed back into place.

Dean listed off some more information as George hummed and murmured in response. When the call had ended and new plans were made, George tossed his phone back on the table, and settled deeper into the sofa, shifting the weight of his arm beneath you, but hardly disturbing your peace a bit. The sun was peeking through the cracks of your curtains, and the movie must have been nearly over. You both drifted back asleep without another word, and all seemed well. It must have been.

You and George were closer than ever before- and you had already been classified as inseparable. But you'd hardly gotten to enjoy each other's company since making whatever you had official. Rule number three of this marriage enforced you must take every opportunity to for a bit of fun, as possible. It was time for a small getaway. A peaceful sleep would have to do, till then.

───※ ·❆· ※───

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