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lumosandnoxwriting · 3 years

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Forever Just Isn’t Enough - George Weasley

Title: Forever Just Isn’t Enough Pairing: George x Fem!Reader Warnings: NSFW!! Fingering, female receiving oral, unprotected sex, dirty talk, cockwarming, feeling full kink ?? again idk if that’s a real thing but oh well Extra Warnings: major character death!! Minor character death. Slightly alcoholism, unhealthy coping mechanisms, grief and dealing with grief, one comment that could allude to suicide, mentions of death and infant loss, mentions of blood and blood loss. Mentions of injuries. Mentions of childbirth. Summary: just when things seem like they can finally fall into place, everything nearly falls apart. Will George and Y/N really get their forever? Or will their dreams crumble around them? A/N: summary is shit but here it is! Here is its, the mammoth that is good girl part 3!! This fic has been nearly a month in the making and it is officially the longest thing I’ve ever written!! It’s 23k words so buckle up! This really is the final part, and I have definitely become attached to this universe. Everything in italics is flashbacks!! I would like to give a huge thanks to @pineapplesandpinas who left a reply on one of my posts that actually inspired this fic! I’d also like to give a huge thanks to the person who gave me some editing help and is coincidentally the person who requested this in the first place, I hope you like it!! As always feedback is welcome! Tags: @feltondarling @pandaxnienke @raerae27 @allforthexgame @pigwidgexn @hufflrpuffforfred @wand3ringr0s3 @whiz-bangs78 @gcdric @starlightweasley @vogueweasley @theweasleysredhair @dracoswhore007 @lexymoniqu @amourtentiaa @mischiefisbeingmanaged Read Part 1 here, Read Part 2 here

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Y/N’s chest heaves with deep breathes as she runs down a corridor, watching walls crumble as they get hit with stray curses. She used to be able to walk through Hogwarts with her eyes closed and know exactly where she was in any given moment. But now her heart hammers in her chest as she stands at the junction of two different hallways, unsure of where they’ll lead her. Y/N can hear footsteps barreling towards her, and in a moment of panic she heads to the left, gripping her wand tightly in her hand.

Her legs carry her as fast as they can down the hallway as she silently prays to find someone she knows. By the time she clambered into the room of requirement from the passageway that starts at the Hogs Head Inn preparations for the impending battle were already in full swing and the Order was spread out around the entire castle. Y/N had caught a flash of red hair as she helped Cho Chang cast a protection spell, but by the time she turned her head it was already gone. Death Eaters reached the castle nearly 30 minutes ago, and Y/N has been on her own the entire time, casting curses and spells at them as she searched for Ginny or Hermione. For George. She’s already seen a few bodies lying still on the floor, and her heart is in her stomach with the thought that George could be one of them. Laying lifeless in some hallway all by himself.

Y/N starts to slow down as a wall approaches and she can hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears. A dead end. The footsteps behind her persist, and she has no choice but to stop as she reaches the end of the hallway, turning around to face her fate. She raises her wand as she looks at the person coming up towards her, but it falters slightly as a familiar face stops just a few feet away. “Adrian?”

Adrian grins as he takes a few steps closer to Y/N, but it’s not the same fond smile he’d shared with her many times. It’s wicked, evil almost and Y/N tries to swallow the lump that’s suddenly formed in her throat as memories of the last time she’d seen Adrian come swirling to the forefront of her mind.

Y/N turns around when she feels a tap on her shoulder, a wide smile on her face. Seven years of hard work has all lead to this: graduation day. She feels absolutely euphoric, and when she turns around and spots Adrian she pulls him into a hug – too excited to second guess herself. It’s the first time they’ve hugged in nearly half a year and while it feels familiar, it’s mostly awkward.

After the conversation Y/N and George had on the train ride back to school from winter break Y/N really made a conscious effort to start a new life with George. The way they had been operating as a couple was only leading them towards disaster, and they were both willing to do anything to avoid that possibility.

The main change they made together was to spend more time together as a couple that didn’t involve getting rid of their clothes. Instead of sitting with each other’s friends during meals all the time, they decided to sit on their own a few times a week so they would get a chance to just talk to each other and reconnect after a crazy day. Y/N started to spend the night over in George’s dorm with him, and while they did have sex most of the time, they took the time to just lay there and hold each other too. While Y/N was busy doing her homework in the library George would just sit there with her, sometimes working on stuff for the joke shop, but sometimes just sitting there and watching her work.

But by far the biggest change was one that rested in Y/N’s hands alone, she needed to set new boundaries with Adrian. Her friends had become her security blanket over the years, their friendship began on that first train ride to Hogwarts, when they were all nervous and scared. She relied on them heavily to be her emotional support, and when George came into her life Y/N made no efforts to change any of that. Y/N had thought George could just slip into their friend group as if he had always been there, but it quickly became clear that wasn’t the case.

Her relationship with Adrian was definitely the biggest point of contention in her and George’s relationship, and was thus the one thing that really changed. It was common for her and Adrian to be physically affectionate towards each other. An arm around the shoulders, a tight hug after a long day, even the occasional hand holding. Y/N hadn’t realized how that might hurt George, and so she put a stop to it immediately. On the occasions where she did sit with her friends at meals she stuck by Daphne’s side, instead of falling into her usual seat next to Adrian. She stopped wearing his Quidditch jumpers to their matches and she made sure to quiet his flirtatious comments, reminding him that she has a boyfriend now, and comments like that make her and George uncomfortable.

So now being close with Adrian feels too close, and while he tries to linger in her grasp Y/N pulls away with a tight grin. “I can’t believe it, we’re finally done!”

“This is the last chance we have, Y/N,” Adrian starts, placing his hands on her hips. Before Y/N can shake off his grasp Adrian lurches forward and presses their lips together.

Y/N moves her face away and tries to push Adrian off of her. “Adrian, stop. I’m with George, you know that.”

“But you could be with me. You should be with me,” Adrian tells her, tightening his grip on her hips. “That’s how it was supposed to be, Y/N. Marcus and Daphne would get married, we would get married. Our kids would grow up together, we’d stand on the same platform we met on holding hands as we send our kids off to school. I love you. And you were supposed to love me too.”

Before Y/N has a chance to respond, a familiar hand is grabbing Adrian’s shoulder and pulling him away from Y/N. George stands in between them, and while Y/N can’t see George’s face, she can tell from the way his back muscles are tensed that he’s pissed.

“What the hell are you doing, Pucey?” George spits. “Y/N doesn’t feel that way about you. She never has and she never will. If this wasn’t supposed to be a special day for her I’d knock your fucking lights out like I’ve wanted to since November. So, get the fuck out of here before I make you get the fuck out of here.”

Y/N wraps her arms around George’s neck as he turns around, watching Adrian stalk off over his shoulder.

“Long time no see, Y/N,” he taunts, keeping his wand pointed at her.

Y/N tightens her grip on her wand, keeping it at his chest. Their friendship may have ended in disaster, but she hopes that the years of memories they had before that keep him from doing anything. Adrian may not be the person she thought he was, but Y/N doesn’t want to hurt him. “How’ve you been?” she asks, trying to keep her voice even.

Adrian scoffs. “Don’t act like you care about me now, Y/N. You had your chance to be with me. And you gave it up, for what? True Love?” his voice is mocking, condescending and it makes Y/N’s stomach turn. “But where’s Weasley now? When you need him most?” Adrian’s eyes fall from Y/N’s face to her neck and she lets out a gasp as he places his wand on her chest and lifts up the end of her necklace with it. The tip of his wand is now directly in front of her neck, and a cold sweat runs down her back. “Still wearing this cheap necklace, I see. If you were mine you’ d be dripping with diamonds and pearls. You’d want for nothing.”

“All I want is George,” Y/N answers firmly. Y/N hasn’t taken the necklace George gave her for their first Christmas together off since the day he put it on her neck. It’s like a promise ring, it’s George’s promise of forever, and in these times she’s needed it now more than ever. “So, go head and kill me, or Crucio me, or do whatever you want. But I’m gonna die thinking about George, I’m going to die loving George. And I hope that knowledge drives you crazy for the rest of your life.” Y/N closes her eyes as Adrian’s mouth opens, getting ready to cast her own curse. But before either of them can say anything a familiar voice is casting a curse of their own.

“Stupefy!” George shouts, his wand aimed directly at Adrian’s back.

Y/N’s eyes pop back open as Adrian’s body slumps to the ground, and there George is, standing just a few feet away, his stance firm and his wand raised high. Tears start to spill down her cheeks as she steps over Adrian’s unconscious body before Y/N is running at full speed towards her boyfriend and jumping into his open arms. “Oh my god Georgie,” she sobs, pressing her face into his neck.

“Hi teacup,” he chuckles, wrapping his arms firmly around her waist. He can hear her laugh at the nickname, and George presses a kiss to Y/N’s temple. “I’ve been looking all over for you, darling. I’ve been losing my fucking mind.”

Y/N pulls away from George’s neck so she can kiss him desperately. It’s been far too long since she last saw him, and Y/N can’t help but think about the last time George held her like this.

“Y/N! Grab my hand!” George shouts, reaching out to her.

Y/N shouts a curse at a snatcher as she runs towards George, gripping onto his hand tightly with her own. She shuts her eyes tight as George pulls her into his chest, and it feels like all the air is being sucked from her lungs as George disapperates them to safety.

“Fucking hell,” Y/N groans as she lands on her back in the middle of a field, George landing right on top of her. George’s fingers dig into her sides and Y/N laughs as she pushes at his shoulders. “Get off of me you oaf I’m suffocating!”

They both giggle as George rolls off of Y/N, settling on his back next to her. “Are you okay, teacup?”

Y/N takes a few deep breaths, trying to find the answer to George’s question. Official Order business put them in the middle of some forest on the outskirts of Essex, and just before they were leaving they ran into a band of snatchers. They ran and fought them for nearly 20 minutes before George had managed to take them to wherever they are now.

“I’m okay,” Y/N answers honestly a few minutes later. She turns onto her side so she can look down at George. “Are you doing okay? Where are we?”

“Aunt Muriel’s house is about 100 yards north of us, we used to play Quidditch out here when we’d visit her as kids. It’s the only place I could think of that would be safe and secluded.” George reaches up and tucks a stray piece of hair behind Y/N’s ear. “I’m doing okay. Better now that I’m here with you.”

Y/N smiles at George sadly and leans down to kiss him softly. After the ministry fell Y/N left her training program at St. Mungo’s to work for the Order full time, and she was placed in a safe house up in Wales. Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes has been closed for weeks, and Fred and George have turned it into Potterwatch Headquarters. It’s now early November, and Y/N hasn’t seen George since the beginning of August at Bill and Fleur’s wedding.

“I wish I could come home,” she says quietly, running her fingers through George’s hair. He hasn’t been home for Molly to cut it and it’s starting to get long again. “It’s so lonely up in Wales without you. Feels like I can’t get a proper nights sleep without you in bed next to me.”

George grabs Y/N’s chin and pulls her down into a searing kiss. “Our bed is cold without you, teacup. Your pillow doesn’t even smell like you anymore.” He reaches up then and untucks her necklace from the collar of her shirt. “Still wearing this old thing?” he teases, toying with the charms. “I should get you something new, flashier. Even with Diagon Alley closed we’ve been doing some mail order business. And I’ve got all that savings. Could get you something nice.”

Y/N scoffs and slaps George on the chest playfully. “I love my necklace, Georgie. You act like you still don’t wear that stupid teapot pin every day,” she teases. “Teapots are kinda our thing and I love that. Besides you should spend your savings on something important. Like a new broom or something.”

“Or an engagement ring, or a wedding, or a house,” George muses with a grin. “I’m gonna end up spending it on you either way, Y/N. You take your pick.”

“Stop, don’t say that,” Y/N responds, her cheeks flushing pink.

George pulls Y/N onto his chest, wrapping his arms around her waist. “I promised you forever, didn’t I, Y/N? Once this war is over I’m going to put the fattest diamond money can buy on your ring finger and officially make you mine forever. Got it?”

“It doesn’t have to be the fattest diamond, just something simple and classy,” Y/N mumbles, pressing her face into George’s chest. She can feel his laughter rumble in his chest, and she smiles against his shirt. “I wish we could just lay here forever.”

“Me too,” George responds quietly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I love you. So much that it hurts sometimes. You know that, right?”

Y/N looks up at George, a look of concern on her features. “Of course, George. I love you too.”

“I just,” George pauses to clear his throat, needing to choke back the rush of emotion he’s suddenly feeling. “I need you to know, how much you mean to me. In case, in case this is the last time you ever see me. This war, everything is so uncertain. I could die, I just-,” George’s words cut off as he suddenly sobs, and hot tears start to roll down his cheeks.

“Georgie,” Y/N coos, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw. She rolls off of him then onto her back, pulling George so he’s half laying on top of her with his head resting on her chest. She starts to run a hand through his hair, while the other rubs his back soothingly. “You can’t think about stuff like that, okay? I know things are scary out there but we gotta stay focused on the positive. That fat diamond and the big wedding and the house. The dog, the chickens, the babies. How am I gonna get my six little ginger babies if you die? Hm?”

“Six?” George asks with a sniffle. “I thought we agreed on four.”

“Yeah well I’ve had a lot of time to think while I’ve been on my own and I changed my mind,” Y/N chuckles. “Either way you have to stay alive in order to give me all that. So promise me George, that you’ll stay alive. That you’ll fight hard, for me. For you. For our ginger babies.”

George picks his head up and pulls Y/N’s face down to his, kissing her slowly and with so much love it makes his head dizzy. “I promise. Forever.”

That moment was already six months ago, but to Y/N it’s felt like a lifetime, so she hugs him a bit tighter, trying to convey six months’ worth of feelings and sentiments into one embrace. Time is not on their side, and while Y/N would happily stand here in George’s embrace for the next few weeks, if they both plan on staying alive they can’t linger too long.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Y/N asks, pulling away slightly so she can properly look at George. There’s dust and debris all over his face, she doesn’t see any blood, and as her hands roam around his torso and arms she can’t feel any bandages and he doesn’t wince at all.

George chuckles and cups Y/N’s face in one of his hands. “I’m absolutely fine, teacup. Not a scratch, I promise. Can’t give you those six ginger babies like I promised if I’m hurt, can I?”

“It’s seven now,” Y/N mumbles, pressing her face into his chest. “And I want a sheep too.”

“And a sheep? That’s it, that’s where I draw the line,” George teases, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “What about you? Are you okay, Y/N? I thought Adrian. I thought Adrian was gonna kill you.”

Y/N shudders at the thought of what might have happened and looks up at George. There’s so much that’s happened since they last spoke, so much she needs to tell him. But now is certainly not the time or place for it. Once they get through this night they’ll have the rest of their lives to be together, heal together. “I’m doing alright. Better now that I’ve seen you. Have you seen anyone else?”

George shakes his head. “Fred and I got separated a bit ago, I saw him with Percy not too long ago, just before I found you. Ginny was on bridge duty with Neville and Seamus so who knows where she ended up. Dad and Mum were in the Great Hall when I left them, and I haven’t seen Ron, Hermione or Harry since the preparations began. But honestly I haven’t been paying attention too much. I’ve been trying to find you, teacup. I was worried when you didn’t show up in the room of requirement.”

“I was on duty, with Tonks. By the time we got the memo and got over here stuff was already going on, people were running around and making preparations and stuff. I tried to find you, but Cho needed my help. I’ve been running around this damn castle trying to find you,” Y/N explains.

Just then a wall somewhere near them collapses, and George covers Y/N’s head with his body. George kisses Y/N again as the dust around them settles, needing to feel close to her for another moment. “I love you. I love you. I love you,” he murmurs, pressing a brief kiss to her lips between each set of words. His eye catches the shine of her necklace and George reaches up, feeling the charms between his fingertips. “Just a little bit longer until we can have our forever, yeah?”

“As long as you don’t die on me,” Y/N tries to tease, digging her fingers into George’s shoulders. The fear bubbling in her stomach creeps into her voice, and she rubs her thumb over the teapot pin stuck to the lapel of George’s jacket, needing to ground herself with something familiar. “You can’t die on me, George.” Y/N can feel tears running down her cheeks, but she doesn’t move to wipe them away, not wanting to let go of George, even for a second. “I can’t live without you.”

“You’re my everything,” George murmurs, cupping Y/N’s cheek so he can brush away some of her tears with his thumb. “And you’re never getting rid of me. Got that?”

Y/N nods and leans up on her tiptoes to press one last kiss to George’s mouth. “I’ll see you on the other side, yeah?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Y/N runs as fast as her legs will carry her back to the Great Hall. It’s been hours since she saw George and her hands haven’t stopped shaking since Voldemort started to speak to them, urging them to stop fighting and collect their dead. George could be one of those dead and even though Y/N’s eyes are blurry from the tears she’s shedding, she doesn’t stop to wipe them away. She feels like she can’t breathe, and it has nothing to do with the fact that she’s running. Y/N knows she won’t be able to properly breathe until she sees George again, so she just keeps moving.

Her legs are on fire when she reaches the Great Hall and as she pushes the heavy wooden door open her legs finally come to a screeching halt. There are makeshift gurneys all over the floor, some covered, some not. But Y/N is sure the one thing they have in common is the fact that there’s a dead body laying on top of it. She tries not to let herself linger on their faces too long, just trying to spot a shock of red hair.

That’s when she sees it. The Weasley family is at the other end of the Great Hall, standing around one of the gurneys. Y/N can see Bill and Fleur clutching each other, and everyone has tears in their eyes. She can’t see who’s laying on the ground, but as she lets her eyes pass over everyone a gut-wrenching sob leaves her throat as one thing becomes clear. It’s one of the twins. Whichever one is still alive has their back towards her with their head bowed, so she has no idea who it is.

Y/N’s knees quiver as she forces herself to walk over there, bile rising up her throat. He had promised. George had promised her forever. Had promised her that he’d stay alive. Had promised to spend the rest of his life loving her. They had planned out their entire life, and now that may be all gone.

“George. George, please,” Y/N chokes out as she approaches, her legs feeling like jelly. Whoever it is finally turns around, and Y/N takes her first full deep breath in what feels like forever.

“Teacup,” George cries as Y/N launches herself onto him, his arms wrapping around her waist to hold her close. He presses his face into her neck and just sobs, his shoulders shaking from the force of his tears.

Y/N starts to shush George and rub his back, trying desperately to soothe him. It has always been Fred and George. The only person she ever had to share George with was Fred and she never minded a bit. Fred and George were the most dynamic duo the Wizarding World has ever seen, destined to live out the rest of their days making the world laugh and causing chaos wherever they go. But now it’ll be just George, and Y/N has no idea how to make that okay.

Fred and Y/N certainly had their issues. Years of hating someone will do that to you, and when she and George started dating it became a silent agreement between them to be civil. But now, looking at Fred’s pale face over George’s shoulder, Y/N can feel her momentary relief rush out of her body, and overwhelming sadness takes its place as fresh hot tears start to roll down her cheeks.

Her and Fred had just barely started to come together when the war started, and now they’ll never have that chance again.

“He’s fine you know,” Fred comments as he comes to stand next to Y/N. “You’re looking at him as if he’s going to fall apart into a million tiny pieces with a hard gust of wind.”

Y/N chuckles, and finally looks away from George so she can look up at Fred. Bill and Fleur’s wedding is in full swing, and while Y/N knows this is supposed to be a time to celebrate, a rare moment of sunshine in the darkness of the Wizarding World, panic settled deep in her stomach the moment she stumbled into the Burrow with Ron and saw George lying on the couch, bleeding out of his head and it hasn’t left since. Had the curse been aimed half a centimeter to the left they’d be at a funeral right now, not a wedding. Molly had managed to heal George up fine, and he’s been his usual jovial self over the few days it’s been since his injury, but Y/N can’t help but still worry.

“It makes me feel better,” Y/N admits honestly, letting her eyes find George again. “I’m afraid that if I look away for too long he’ll just disappear. That all my fears will be confirmed and there will forever be a George sized hole in my heart and my life.” Y/N swallows thickly, trying to push away the tears threatening to spill over her cheeks. “He could have died, and I truly wouldn’t know what to do with myself if that happened.”

“I thought he was dead,” Fred says after a few moments of silence, surprising Y/N. “When Dad and I got back he asked where George was, and no one said anything. Remus, Harry, they all just looked at us. I figured he was dead. That’s why they wouldn’t tell us. There was so much blood when we got in there, I actually thought he was dead. And then he moved, and it felt like I could breathe again.”

Y/N worries her bottom lip between her teeth as she watches George fiddle with the gauze wrapped around his head. She wants to just go over there and slap his hands away and remind him he has to keep it clean if he wants it to heal, a conversation she already had to have with him this morning after she found him sipping coffee in the kitchen with his toothbrush sticking out of the side of his head.

“It’s my fault. I wasn’t even supposed to go. But Tonks is pregnant, and she shouldn’t be putting her life on the line like that. Not even for blimin’ Harry Potter. George tried to convince me not to go. Said he’d worry about me too much if I was out there.” Y/N shrugs, taking a long sip of champagne. “Maybe if I had stayed here like I was supposed to he would have been able to dodge the curse, or he’d have been focused enough to send Snape out of the sky before he even got a chance to hurt George.”

Fred nudges Y/N with his elbow so she’ll look up at him. “You like, really love him, don’t you?”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Really? It took George almost dying for you to realize that? Figured your first clue would have been all the times you heard us having sex. Or maybe the fact that I’ve been living with you guys for over a year now.”

“Okay, no need to be nasty,” Fred huffs. “Obviously I know you guys are in love with each other or whatever. But you’re like really in it, yeah? For the long haul. Thought maybe you guys shouting about how you’re going to be together forever was just some weird sex thing.”

“I mean it is a weird sex thing,” Y/N tells him, laughing as he grimaces. “But it’s more than that too obviously. There’s no person on this planet I’d rather be with than George. Or who I love more than George. He’s my everything, Fred. I’m not going to hurt him, I promise.”

“Better not,” Fred mumbles with a scoff. “I’ll curse you into next week if you do, bloody girl or not.”

Y/N can hear the smile in Fred’s voice, but before she gets a chance to respond George is heading over towards them, looking far too pleased with himself.

“Look at this, my brother and my girlfriend getting along, how cute,” he teases, wrapping his arms around Y/N’s waist. She reaches up to fix his bandage where it slipped, and her gentle touch makes his knees feel weak. “Just in time too. Be a bit awkward for Fred to be my best man if you two hate each other still.”

“Who said I’d want to be your best man anyway, git?” Fred jokes. “All this wedding crap is for the birds.”

George rolls his eyes fondly, pressing a kiss to the top of Y/N’s head. “Fine, I’ll just ask Ron or Harry or Lee. Maybe even Charlie. You’re not the only man for the job, Freddie.”

“But I’m the best man for it,” Fred responds, causing both Y/N and George to groan at his lame joke. “Try and replace me as your best man again and you’ll never hear the end of my cheesy jokes, moron.”

“No need to be feisty, I was just playing. Of course, you’re the only man for the job.”

Now Fred will never get to be the best man at their wedding. Or be there when their children are born. Or have children of his own. Just like how Y/N and George planned out their lives, he and Fred had done the same. Buying houses next to each other so they never had to travel far to see the other. They both wanted to have a boy first, close in age, so they each had someone to hand the joke shop down to. But in the blink of an eye all of that has changed, and Y/N doesn’t know if George will ever be the same again.

“You’re okay, George. It’s all gonna be okay,” Y/N coos, just wanting to calm him down. She presses a few kisses to the side of his face slowly, just letting him know that she’s there. Her arms wind around his neck as George’s grip tightens on her waist and she just hugs him tightly.

Y/N hears someone sob behind her, and she releases George so he can pull Ron into a bone crushing hug. She pulls Ginny into a hug next, letting the younger girl rest her head on her shoulder. Y/N isn’t officially a Weasley, not by any means, but this family has shown her nothing but love and welcomed her with open arms and she wants to do everything she can to help them through this. She and Hermione lock eyes, and Y/N can tell by the way the other girl is hovering on the edge of the circle with her hand on Ron’s shoulder she feels the same way.

Harry is hovering just behind Hermione, but instead of coming closer like Y/N expects he turns on his heel and heads out of the Great Hall. Y/N knows that can only mean one thing. This battle is far from over, and she hugs Ginny just a little tighter, hoping it gives them both the strength to keep fighting.

The sun is already high in the sky when everyone makes it back to The Burrow. They’re living in a new world, a world that will never be plagued by Voldemort’s darkness, but it seems darkness of other kinds has already started to take its place. 50 people lost their lives that night alone, not to mention the countless others who’ve been lost along the way. Death has touched many families in the Wizarding World, and everyone can feel its burden as they collapse into chairs at the kitchen table.

Molly starts worrying about food and making everyone tea, while George shuffles up the stairs without bothering to say anything. They all had lingered in the Great Hall for as long as they could, not wanting to leave Fred’s body there alone. It wasn’t until people from St. Mungo’s showed up to take away the dead that Molly and Arthur suggested they all head home, and Bill and Charlie had to practically drag George away from Fred. He barely even looked at anyone as they started to apperate home, and when Y/N tried to grab his hand he shoved her off.

Y/N tried not to take it personally, obviously George is going through the hardest moment of his life, but she couldn’t help but feel a little hurt. Her and George are supposed to be there for each other through everything, and it makes her chest ache that in the time where he needs people the most he’s pushing her away.

“He’ll come around,” Charlie whispers, nudging Y/N’s knee with his. She finally looks away from the staircase, trying to return his warm smile. “Fred and,” he starts, pausing to clear his throat. “George is tough, probably the toughest guy I know, and I’ve seen some things in Romania. He just needs a bit of time.”

“Thanks, Charlie.” Y/N takes a sip of her tea, just needing something to distract herself. It’s still fairly hot and the liquid burns the roof of her mouth, but the uncomfortable feeling of her singed tongue is a welcome distraction from the pain in her chest, and Y/N takes another sip.

“Y/N dear, why don’t you go ahead and owl your parents? I’m sure they’re waiting to hear from you,” Molly suggests, before turning back to whatever she has cooking on the stove.

Y/N rests her mug back on the table and plays with the sleeves of her jumper, trying to fight the tears that threaten to spill over her cheeks. “They’re um. They died actually. About three months ago now I think.” The kitchen goes still, and Y/N drops her gaze to the table as everyone turns to look at her. “They wouldn’t let me move them to a safe house, they kept going on about how they weren’t afraid of Voldemort, that they weren’t going to let him force them out of their house. But when death eaters come knocking you either join or die, so.”

Her parents may have refused to be moved to a safe house, but they allowed Y/N to set up an undetectable communication system, so they could at least keep in touch. When her parents went more than eight hours without responding to her last message Y/N started to freak out, and she convinced Remus to go with her to check on them. They were sitting on the couch as if they had simply fallen asleep together, but Y/N could tell something much sinister had happened. She managed to find their house elf Marjorie hiding in the garden shed, and she told Y/N everything that had happened. How people in masks had shown up and when her parents refused to leave with them jets of green light came from their wands. Y/N ended up being called away on a mission, and her parents were buried in the small cemetery at the end of their road, with no one in attendance but the grave digger.

Y/N can feel arms wrap around her, and she presses her face into Ginny’s neck finally letting herself cry. There wasn’t proper time for her to mourn her parents, not in the middle of the war, and as Ginny squeezes her tight Y/N finally lets the emotions that have been building inside of her for the past three months spill out. “They were my only family. And now they’re just gone and I’m all alone.”

“You’re not alone,” Ginny coos quietly, rubbing her back. “We’re your family too.”

George barely gets out of bed for days. The only times he moves are to shuffle to the loo or when Y/N or Molly is forcing him to drink water or eat something. His eyes are blank, lifeless and Y/N hasn’t heard him speak since the battle. He doesn’t even make sounds when he cries anymore, the tears just run down his face as he takes shaky breaths.

And as much as it pains Y/N to see George like this, pains them all to see him like this they just let him be. Of course, they all feel Fred’s death. But no one, not even Y/N can fathom what Fred’s death feels like to George. So they let him lay in Fred’s old bed, stopping in to check on him periodically throughout the day and talk to him even though he never talks back. And every night before she crawls into George’s old bed Y/N is sure to kiss George on the top of his head and whisper how much she loves him before going to sleep alone.

The first day they actually force him out of bed is the day of Fred’s funeral. Bill and Charlie pick him up under the armpits and deposit him in the bathroom where Y/N is waiting, situating him in the empty tub. Y/N gives them both an appreciative smile before they leave, and as soon as the door is shut tight behind them she turns to George.

“Gotta get you undressed, okay bub?” she asks softly, kneeling down next to the tub. George keeps his eyes facing forward but gives a little nod, and Y/N takes it as her cue to get him undressed. Once she’s gotten rid of his clothes Y/N lets the tub start to fill up with water, and she runs her hand through his hair, scratching at his scalp as they wait for it to finish.

Y/N washes George quickly, just talking to him about whatever things come to mind. At one-point George reaches up and cups her cheek and Y/N can’t help but lean into his touch. It’s the first contact he’s initiated since they left Hogwarts, and it makes butterflies erupt in her stomach.

Once George is clean Y/N drains the tub and uses a spell to dry George off before pulling a fresh pair of boxers up his legs. “Your suits in your room. Do you want me to get Bill and Charlie or will you be okay going on your own with me?”

All George does is make a noise in the back of his throat, but he starts to stand up then, so Y/N lets him move, following behind him back into his and Fred’s old room. Molly is standing in the hallway, and she and Y/N share a hopeful look before they disappear into the room. This is the most life George has had in him since Fred’s death, and Y/N hopes this means they’re on the road to recovery.

“I got you a new suit,” Y/N tells him as he takes a seat on his bed and she heads over to the wardrobe to grab it from where it’s hanging. Her and Molly had gone to the flat above Wheezes the day before to grab some things for the both of them, but the main thing they needed was something for George to wear. The only formal clothes he has at the Burrow are the dress robes he wore to the Yule Ball, so they needed to get him something.

But as they examined George’s closet they mostly found t-shirts and sweaters, nothing proper for him to wear at a funeral. Turns out the only suits George owns are the few he rotates between for work, and when Molly had reached in to grab one Y/N put her hand out to stop her. Because all of those suits have a matching one hanging in Fred’s closet across the hall. And even though George isn’t ready to jump back into work Y/N knows that he will be, someday. And she doesn’t want any one of these suits to be tainted with the memories of Fred’s funeral. Not when they already hold so many happy memories. Memories of the first day the store was open, of all their late nights brainstorming new products or dealing with paperwork. Y/N had seen George at his happiest while wearing those suits, had watched him and Fred share mischievous smiles as their dreams became a reality. Someday George will step into one of those suits again, and Y/N doesn’t want the first thing he thinks about to be Fred’s funeral.

She gets George dressed quickly, pressing a lingering kiss to his forehead once it’s done. “I love you, George. And I know you love me too, even if you can’t say it right now, okay? I’m here for you always. No matter what.” Y/N goes over to the desk in the corner and grabs the teapot pin she bought for George all those years ago. It feels thin and flimsy in her hand, and she almost feels silly as she pins it to his jacket. Like she’s still that eager teenager, shopping in London with her Mum for the perfect gift to give the boy of her dreams that she loves with her whole heart. But it’s their promise of forever, and Y/N thinks George needs that now more than ever.

Fred’s funeral is packed, which is a surprise to no one. Fred was magnetic and left an impression on everyone he ever came in contact with. Y/N stays by George’s side, greeting everyone that comes to talk with them. Most of their classmates show up and Y/N even recognizes a few regulars from the joke shop. Even Professor Slughorn shows up, despite the fact that he never taught Fred, and Y/N is pretty sure she catches McGonagall wiping away a few tears out of the corner of her eye.

Andromeda comes through with baby Teddy in her arms, and even George cracks the faintest of smiles when the sparse hair on his head turns bright orange. The only time Y/N leaves George’s side is when Lee shows up and she goes to stand with Ginny and Harry who are comforting a teary-eyed Oliver Wood so that the two friends can have a moment alone. George doesn’t say anything, but when Lee goes to sit down George has tears running down his cheeks and Y/N goes back to his side so she can wipe them away.

Ginny ends up being the one to give the Eulogy. Both Bill and Charlie had tried, but every time they sat down to write something they just couldn’t get the words out. Percy had declined his dad’s offer, still too unsure of his place in the family and still too busy blaming himself to feel comfortable enough to talk about how much Fred meant to him. George had been the obvious choice, but he can’t even talk about the weather, and no one wanted to pressure him into doing something he wasn’t ready for. Ron had actually managed to write out a beautiful tribute with the help of Hermione, but two words in he got so emotional he started hyperventilating.

So, it fell onto Ginny’s shoulders to be the one to give the tribute to Fred. Y/N watches Ginny’s knees shake as she stands in front of her brother’s casket, her eyes never once straying to the cards in her hands. Her voice is clear and strong as she tells the story about the first prank she’d ever helped Fred and George pull off, but the tears streaming down her face glisten in the sunlight. Both Fred and George always held a soft spot for their younger sister, so as she stands up there and talks about how much she loved Fred it only seems right that Ginny be the one to say the final goodbye to him.

As Fred’s casket lowers into the ground everyone stands up, holding their wands high as they cast a bright white light into the sky. Y/N slips her hand into George’s, giving his fingers a tight squeeze as they give their final tribute to Fred. Ron waves his wand so a few whizbangs he and Harry had set up can go off. They had found them in Fred and George’s room so of course as they erupt into the sky the colors burst into a few different explicit words.

Everyone, even George, manages to laugh and it feels like the perfect way to send off Fred, the guy who dedicated his life to making people laugh and who died with his final smile still etched on his face.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay a bit longer?” Molly asks, placing her hands on Y/N’s shoulders. “It’s not a bother at all having you two here. It’s nice, to have the house a bit full again.”

Y/N nods, sparing a glance over her shoulder at George. He’s sitting on the arm of the sofa, listening to Ron chatter on about who knows what. It’s nearly June now, and while things with George have been progressing slowly, Y/N is optimistic that they’ll only get better as time goes on. He gets out of bed for short stretches of time now, and when you talk with him he actually seems like he’s listening. He’s said a few quiet things to both Molly and Y/N, but when the whole family is around he tends to just sit there and let everyone else do the talking for him.

Things have started to get back to somewhat normal for everyone, and Y/N decided it was time for her and George to do the same. Bill and Fleur are back at shell cottage, working hard to get Gringotts back in working order, and Charlie finally went back to Romania last week. Arthur and Percy will be back at the ministry next week, and even Harry and Ron will be joining them for their Auror training.

George isn’t ready to reopen the shop yet, but Y/N figures just being back in the flat will help him continue to heal. “I think some normalcy will help George. Get him in a routine, back to living his everyday life. We’ll be back plenty, but I think it’s time we go home.”

“My boy is in good hands with you, Y/N, that’s for sure.” Molly leans in and presses a kiss to Y/N’s forehead. “And you’ll owl? If anything happens?”

“Of course, Molly.” Y/N gives Molly a final smile before turning back to look at George. “You ready to go home, love?”

George nods and doesn’t say anything, but the corners of his mouth twitch up into a smile. He takes the hand that Y/N offers him, holding it loosely in his own. He still isn’t as physically affectionate as before, but Y/N is sure that with time everything will go back to how it was before.

“Are you going to get out of bed today?” Y/N asks, unable to stop the annoyance that creeps into her tone.

It’s nearly October now, and things with George have only seemed to stay the same, if not worse. Some days he gets out of bed and hangs out on the couch, flipping through muggle tv stations for hours on end, holding small conversations with Y/N when he feels up to it. Other days he lays in bed all day, or sometimes for days, his lips shut tight and him barely eating. Firewhiskey seems to be the main component of his diet and Y/N has no idea how he keeps getting more of it after she pours it down the drain, since he never leaves the house.

Everyone has been coddling George, and while Y/N can’t even imagine the pain George has been going through, she’s nearly reached the end of her rope. She’s brought in several different Wizard therapists to try and get George to open up, but each one just ended up leaving the flat after a frustrated hour of George not saying anything. She just wants to figure out some way to help him, and he’s been completely unresponsive in the whole thing.

“Maybe,” George mumbles, rolling onto his other side.

Y/N can hear the unmistakable sound of a Firewhiskey bottle opening and she flips the light on as she enters their room, heading over to George. “Where the hell do you keep getting this crap? Give me the bottle, George.”

George makes eye contact with Y/N as he takes a swig from the bottle, draining quite a bit of the amber liquid. It’s the only thing that has managed to make him feel something in the months since Fred’s death and he doesn’t care how much it bothers Y/N. “Last I checked you weren’t the boss of me,” George responds flatly before taking another drink.

The rude attitude is something new too. Along with his lack of physical affection, some days when George finds the energy to talk his tone is always crass. He’s never said anything horribly mean, but the way he says things never fails to cut Y/N deeply.

“I’m just trying to help you, George,” Y/N reminds him, softening her tone.

George scoffs and tosses the now empty bottle onto the floor. “Well no one asked you to.”

“Because that’s what you do when you love someone, George. You’re there for them no matter what.” Y/N waits for George to say something, and when he doesn’t she lets out a soft sigh. “I’m worried about you, Georgie. You barely get out of bed anymore, you’re not eating. I can’t even imagine the pain you’ve gone through these months. But it’s been nearly six months, love. And Fred wouldn’t want-.”

“Don’t. Don’t talk about him like you knew him. You and Fred had one civil conversation over a year ago. You have no idea what Fred wanted,” George says harshly, cutting Y/N off.

Y/N can feel tears pricking the corners of her eyes and she takes a deep breath to try and calm down. She knows this isn’t George talking, it’s the alcohol and the grief, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. “I get your upset George, I lost people I cared about too. But I don’t get all this anger. Why are you so mad at me? Is it something I said? Something I did? Just talk to me George, please.”

“You want me to talk? Fine, I’ll talk.” George sits up and crosses his arms over his chest, his eyes narrow as he looks at Y/N. “It’s all your fault, he’s dead because of you. I should have been with Fred. I could have cast a protective spell or pulled him out of the way. And he’d still be here. But I wasn’t with him. You know why? I was faffing about the castle looking for you, saving you. When I should have been with Fred.”

Y/N can feel hot tears running down her cheeks, and her fingers shake as she reaches up to wipe them away. “What are you saying, George? That you regret trying to find me? That you regret saving me? That you would go back and let Adrian kill me so you could save Fred?” Y/N pauses to swallow the lump in her throat. “You wish it had been me who died, don’t you?”

George doesn’t say anything, but it’s answer enough for Y/N. “Fuck you, George. I’ve spent the past five months of my life giving you my everything. Trying to help you, trying to make you feel better. And you’ve been what? Laying there wishing it had been me instead of Fred?” Y/N can feel her heart shattering as George just continues to look at her, the same cold expression on his face as before. “Well I’m done. With helping you, with coddling you. With everything.”

She can feel the necklace George gave her pressing against her skin, and while it’s normally a comforting feeling, now it feels as if it’s burning her skin and she reaches up, tearing it from around her throat. It’s the first time she’s taken it off since George gave it to her and as she looks at it in her hand Y/N wants to put it right back on. But instead she throws it at George. It lands on his legs, and they both just stare at it for a moment.

“Take your promise of forever and shove it up your ass, George. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything, more than I’ve ever loved myself. But clearly you don’t feel the same way and I’m not going to spend the rest of my life pretending that it doesn’t kill me inside that you don’t love me the same way I love you.”

Without another word Y/N storms out of their bedroom and out of the flat, unsure of where she’s going to go next.

“You look dreadful,” Percy says honestly when George opens the door. His eyes are red with dark circles underneath, his hair is a mess and the pajamas he’s wearing are wrinkled and creased from him tossing and turning in his sleep.

Y/N had sent an owl to the Burrow after she ended things with George, and Percy had been the one to volunteer to visit George to try and talk to him. He gave him a few days to think about things before deciding to come and see him after work one day. The war took enough from George, and Percy couldn’t sit back and let George destroy one of the last good things in his life.

“What do you want?” George asks flatly, shuffling over towards the couch. He’s felt sick to his stomach since the moment Y/N walked away from him. He was angry and kind of drunk and sad when they fought, and George hadn’t meant a word of what he said to her. But he needed a way to get her to leave. Because George doesn’t know when he’ll ever feel normal again, when he’ll be able to love her properly again, and watching her throw her life away to help him fight a losing battle was getting to be too much.

It started two weeks ago, on one of his good days. He woke up in the morning feeling like himself, feeling like he did before the battle of Hogwarts. George had finally had a dream, not a nightmare or darkness in his eyelids while he slept. It was an actual dream, and when he opened his eyes in the morning the images of him running around a backyard with a redheaded toddler on his shoulders were still fresh in his mind.

And when he made it out into the kitchen where Y/N was making breakfast, she looked gorgeous and the smile on her face when George greeted her was bright enough to light up the world. He finally felt like things were going to be okay. He didn’t feel haunted by the closed bedroom door down the hall. George felt like he was ready, ready to get his shit back together and give Y/N everything he’d ever promised her.

But then he found it in the trash. A letter from the head Healer at St. Mungo’s. She was inviting Y/N to come back into the Healer program, to finish the training she started before the war. All she had to do was send a letter back confirming her reenrollment. But judging by the fact that she hadn’t mentioned anything, and the letter was in the trash, George figured Y/N wasn’t going to reenroll. It killed him that she was giving up on her dream to stay there with him--he was having a good day, but George knew that tomorrow, he could wake up and be right back to struggling to get out of bed. Y/N wanted to be a healer long before George occupied any of her thoughts, and he couldn’t let her throw that away.

So that day, he decided it was best if he let her go. Y/N had given up a lot for George already. His insecurities back at Hogwarts led her away from her best friends, his grief stopped her from dealing with the loss of people she cared about, and now, his inability to get his shit together was going to stop her from fulfilling her dream--the dream that made George start to fall in love with her in the first place. He couldn’t let her give up more of her life than she already had.

When Y/N tried to talk to him that day, he let whatever vile words he could think of spill out of his mouth. Seeing her so hurt, so broken, crushed whatever part of his soul was left, and he couldn’t let her keep living that way. But seeing her tear that necklace off broke something inside of George. He finally felt something other than numbness, and it was complete and utter pain. It felt like his heart was torn from his chest when Y/N slammed the door behind her, and even though George knew not being with him is what’s best for Y/N, his heart still beats for her and he’s sure it always will.

Percy sighs and follows George over to the couch. “What’s going on with you, George? You’re not acting like yourself.”

“I wonder why,” George responds, watching Percy sink into one of their armchairs. It’s weird, seeing him here. Percy barely wanted to enter Fred and George’s bedroom when they lived at home together, so he knows something must really be bothering him if he decided to come to the flat to see George.

“This isn’t about Fred,” Percy starts, holding up his hand to keep George from responding. “I’m not saying that you’re not still upset about him or that your grief isn’t valid. I’m talking about Y/N. She owled Mum about what you said. And while I imagine you’re still very hurt, we all are, I know you would never say anything like that to her. I’m not going to pretend that I know what your relationship with her was like, but I know you, George. And I saw the way she took care of you after what happened. So I know there’s no way you could have meant those things you said to her.”

“I’m not good enough for her anymore,” George says suddenly after a few minutes of silence. “I’m broken, damaged goods. And Y/N deserves the world. She was wasting her life sitting here and taking care of me. I couldn’t let her do that anymore.”

“George you’re not broken, or damaged. You’re healing, there’s a difference. And keeping all of this in is certainly not helping.” Percy sits back and just watches George for a moment. “We talked, down in the kitchen that first night after the battle, Y/N and I. I couldn’t sleep and she came down for some water. We were talking, and I asked her what changed, how she went from hating your guts to looking at you like you’re the only person in the world. Do you wanna know what she said to me?”

When George just shrugs Percy leans forward so he can look at George better. “She told me about the night in detention. About how you guys had an actual conversation for once. And that you made her feel like someone was actually listening to her. That you validated her dreams and made her feel like they were attainable. Y/N said that she told you stuff she never even told her closest friends, because just being around you made her feel safe, like she could be vulnerable around you.”

George thinks about that first night in detention often. After that night, he couldn’t stop thinking about Y/N. He even remembers having a dream about how nice her hair smelled, and how good it would have felt to run his fingers through it. He thinks about that night in the broom closet too, hiding from McGonagall; he’d wanted to kiss her so badly, being so close to her made his knees shaky and his chest tight. George had planned on kissing Y/N that night when he dropped her off at the Slytherin common room, until Umbridge had run into them. When they finally had their first kiss a few nights later in that secret passageway, George knew that from that moment on, he couldn’t live without Y/N.

“Why are you telling me this? It doesn’t matter now.”

Percy sighs. “I’m telling you this because you need to know that it’s okay to be vulnerable with Y/N. Keeping all of this in is only hurting the both of you, George. She very clearly loves you, and I know you must love her too if you’re willing to be miserable for the rest of your life to make her happy. But you can both be happy, George. Happy together. You just need to, and pardon my language, take your head out of your ass.”

George chuckles at that. “Wow, Perc, you must be serious, I’ve never heard you say anything so lewd.”

“Yeah well I slacked on my big brother duties for a few years, I figured it’s time to make up for it.” Percy pauses, pursing his lips. “Y/N’s staying at her parent’s house, getting it all cleaned out. Think about what you’re gonna say and then go over and apologize to her. You deserve to be happy, George. Fred would want you to be happy.”

It takes a few days and a visit from his Mum to get his haircut, but George gets his shit together so he can go and talk to Y/N. He spent quite a long time trying to figure out what to say to her, and while it’s not exactly perfect it’s what George feels and that’s what matters to him. Because there’s no doubt in his mind that Y/N is the only person he wants to be with for the rest of his life, and he shouldn’t let his inability to express his thoughts get in the way of that. They’ve already been down that road together before, and George vowed to spend forever with Y/N and he still plans on making good on those promises.

He pushes the front door right open, letting the noise of Y/N muttering to herself as she shuffles things around lead him to where she is. He finds Y/N digging through the drawers of the dresser in her childhood bedroom. She’s wearing an oversized t-shirt that George thinks used to be in his closet and her hair is tied up on her head. George can feel his legs shaking as he leans up against the doorway, and he takes a deep breath to calm himself down.

“Hey, teacup.”

Y/N jumps at the sound of George’s voice and she spins to face the door, her hand clutching her chest. “For Merlin’s sake, George. You scared the shit out of me.” She can feel her heart racing in her chest, and it’s not from the fright George just gave her. He looks good, like his normal self and it feels like she’s seeing him for the first time. Molly has definitely cut his hair recently, and even though he’s still in comfy clothes the Gryffindor t-shirt and sweatpants he’s wearing are uncreased and look like they’ve been washed recently.

“Sorry, love, thought you heard me when I came in.” George bites his lip, fiddling with his thumbs. “You doing okay?”

Y/N shrugs, looking down at the floor. George is the last person she expected to show up here, and she’s not sure how she feels about it. He’s been on her mind since the moment she walked out the door of their flat last week, and the last words he spoke to her have been running on a constant loop in the back of her mind. She’s still so angry and hurt over what he said, but Y/N would be lying if she said every cell in her body isn’t screaming at her to just go up and hug him.

“I’ve been doing better, than before,” George continues when she doesn’t say anything. “Percy came to talk to me a few days ago, made me realize what an ass I was. Though I must say he was much nicer than Ginny was when she did the same thing a few years ago.” He lets out a breathy chuckle, and his stomach flips when Y/N looks back up at him with a small smile. “I owe you probably the biggest apology I’ll ever give in my entire life and I’d love to give it to you if you’d let me.”

It reminds Y/N of that day on the train when their only problems were jealousy and what house table they should eat dinner at. Y/N instinctively reaches up to grab the charms of her necklace, her hand faltering when all she meets is the cloth of her shirt. It’s something she’s done several times in the days it’s been since she ripped the piece of jewelry off, usually when she was missing George and wanted to feel like a piece of him was still nearby.

“I guess that’s something I could do,” she says quietly, going to take a seat on the edge of her bed. She pats the spot next to her, encouraging George to come sit. His hands are shaking as he comes and sits down, and it takes all of Y/N’s restraint to not reach out and grab one of them.

“I lied to you. I don’t blame you, for what happened to Fred. And I don’t regret anything I did that night. If it had been you who died instead of Fred I don’t think I would have been able to carry on with my life. Because Y/N you are quite literally the only reason why I wake up every morning, you’re the reason why I have the energy to get out of bed somedays, and the reason why I feel okay when I don’t. Falling in love with you, being with you has been the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

George reaches up to wipe away a few of the tears Y/N has started to shed, his fingers trembling as they softly press against her cheek. “And even though I haven’t been the best person to be around lately, you’ve been by my side through everything. You’ve been so patient and understanding, way more than I deserve. You put your life on hold to help me, and I’ve been rejecting all of your efforts. I don’t know how to do all of this. How to grieve and handle my emotions. Talk about my emotions. And instead of just trying I’ve been keeping them all in, letting them settle in me and get worse. I haven’t felt like myself in months, haven’t allowed myself to. And yet every day you were there, with a smile and a reassuring touch, telling me how much you love me. I started to feel guilty, so overwhelmingly so it felt like my chest was going to cave in. Because there you were, putting your life on hold, giving up your dream to try and help me and I couldn’t even manage to tell you how much I love and appreciate you.”

Y/N reaches up and wipes away a few of George’s tears this time, letting her fingers gently caress his cheek. “George I didn’t mind, doing all of that for you. That’s what you do when you love someone. You make sacrifices, change your plans. I would give up everything to be there for you.”

“That’s why I said all of those things to you, Y/N. Pushed you away, forced you to leave. Because I don’t want you to give up everything to be with me.” George cups Y/N’s cheek gently so he can look her in the eyes. “You deserve to have everything you’ve ever wanted in life, and you deserve to have a partner that can be there for you. That can support you fully in everything you do. And I didn’t think I could be that person for you.”

“Didn’t think you could be? Or don’t think you could be?” Y/N asks through her sniffles.

“Didn’t,” George confirms, his voice serious. “Because living without you, even for a few moments was the most intense pain I have ever felt. And even though I don’t know when I’ll feel completely back to normal there are a few things I do know. I know that I love you. And I know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I know I want to support you and be there for you in everything you do. And I know that I want to try and be better for you. And for me. Most importantly I know that I want you, forever. I want all those things I promised you, the stupid diamond and the wedding and the seven ginger babies. I know that I actually want to live my life, not just watch it pass me by. And the only person I want to do that with is you.”

George pauses to dig around in the pocket of his sweatpants, and a moment later he pulls out Y/N’s necklace. Except this time along with the teapot and G charm, there’s a simple diamond ring hanging from the chain. “So I am so, so sorry for treating you the way I have, the way I did. And teacup, if you’ll let me, I promise to cherish you and support you and love you forever.”

It’s not the way Y/N ever imagined this moment would take place, but as she surges forward to kiss George properly for the first time in months, it feels absolutely perfect. She knows that they have a long road of healing and mending ahead and that their lives will probably never be the way they imagined them. But none of that matters. All Y/N needs and has ever needed is George. “Of course, George. There is no one else I want to spend forever with.”

George lets Y/N pull him into another kiss as he fumbles with the necklace, trying to get the ring off so he can slip it onto her finger. She starts to kiss down his neck, and George lets out a soft moan as he finally gets the ring in his hand. “Hang on teacup, wait a minute.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Y/N mumbles as she pulls away, her cheeks flushed pink. “It’s fine if you’re not ready to we can wait for as long as you want I just figured that-.”

George cuts her off with a laugh. “Oh no that’s not what I meant, Y/N. I am more than ready to be with you like that again. I just wanna put your ring and your necklace on first.”

“Oh right I kinda forgot about that,” Y/N says with a giggle, holding her left hand out for George. Between the war and George’s grief they haven’t been intimate in well over a year now, and Y/N’s fingers stopped being sufficient long ago so in her haste to get George into bed she completely forgot about the ring.

“You can’t not have your ring on the first time we do it as an engaged couple,” George teases as he slides the ring down her finger. The diamond glistens in the sunlight streaming in through the window and to George it looks as if the ring was made to be on Y/N’s finger.

Y/N examines the ring up close for the first time as she turns around so George can clasp her necklace back around her neck. It’s simple, but gorgeous and everything she’s ever wanted in an engagement ring. George finally gets the clasp of the necklace closed and Y/N shivers as the cool metal settles against her skin. A moment later George’s warm mouth is pressing kisses into her skin and she lets out a quiet noise.

“I missed you so much,” George murmurs as he turns Y/N back around, kissing her softly. He starts to slowly lay her back against the pillows as their mouths move together, crawling on top of her. “You did such a good job taking care of me, teacup. Now it’s my turn to take care of you.”

George helps Y/N out of her top before he starts to slowly kiss down her neck, his hands slowly rubbing up and down her sides. It’s been far too long since he showed Y/N just how much he loves and appreciates her, and he plans on making up for it now. He moves his lips down her chest, taking one of her nipples between his lips. The tip of his tongue flicks at the sensitive bud for a moment before he sucks on it gently.

“Oh, George,” Y/N moans, tangling one of her hands in his hair. She tugs on it lightly as her hips move off of the bed to grind up against George’s. She can already feel her arousal pooling in her panties and she’s ready for more.

“God you are gorgeous,” George murmurs before capturing Y/N’s other nipple in his mouth and giving it the same treatment as the other. “I don’t deserve you,” he mumbles into her skin as he starts to kiss down her stomach. “You are perfect in every way, Y/N.”

“I love you,” Y/N tells George quietly as he gets rid of her bottoms, lifting her hips up to help him. She shivers as she rests back against the bed, completely bare for him. His gentle touch on her knees makes goosebumps rise on her skin, and she lets out a whine as he spreads her legs open.

“I love you too, teacup. So much. More than anything in the world.” George starts to kiss Y/N’s inner thigh, leading a trail up to her dripping cunt. He pauses to suck a mark onto the inner most part of her thigh, just a few centimeters away from where she needs him most. George brings two fingers to her cunt, spreading her wetness around as he rubs through her folds.

Y/N’s hips grind down against George’s gentle touch, and she tugs on George’s hair when he chuckles. “Please, George. I need you.”

George slips two fingers into Y/N’s cunt as his lips attach to her clit, moaning against her when walls clench around his digits. He sucks on her clit gently, slowly moving his fingers in her, curling them with every push back into her entrance.

“Oh yes, Georgie, fuck. Feels so good,” Y/N groans, her hips starting to grind down against George’s face and hands. She spreads her legs even wider, whining when the fingers of George’s free hand dig into her thigh.

“Such a good girl for me, teacup,” he praises, pressing a wet kiss to her clit. He starts to move his fingers faster, scissoring his fingers to help stretch her and get her ready for his cock. “Making such pretty noises for me, just like you always do.”

Y/N lets out a low moan as George reattaches his mouth to her clit, bringing her free hand up to pinch at her nipples. She can already feel the familiar heat of an orgasm building in her stomach, and her toes curl as George’s tongue starts to trace patterns over her clit. “Love being your good girl, George. Always wanna be your good girl.”

George hums as he sucks Y/N’s clit harder, fucking his fingers back into her cunt harder. Her walls are clenching and twitching around him, and George has to grind his hips against the bed to get some relief on his aching cock.

“So close George, fuck,” Y/N moans, her toes curling as George’s fingers brush her g-spot once again. She can feel shocks of pleasure radiating through her cunt as her orgasm approaches, and she starts to move her hips sloppily, chasing her climax. “Can I cum? Please Georgie, wanna cum. Wanna be a good girl,” she babbles, tugging on George’s hair.

George takes his mouth away from her cunt and starts to rub harsh circles on Y/N’s clit. “Go on, darling. Want you to be a good girl and cum for me.”

With a few more pumps of George’s fingers Y/N is cumming, her thighs trembling as pleasure washes over her in waves. She can see stars behind her eyes, and she doesn’t even realize that she’s moaning loudly until George is kissing her and the room gets infinitely quieter.

George rubs Y/N’s hips soothingly as she comes down from her high, his lips gently pressing to her neck in a series of slow kisses. “Do you have any idea how fucking hot you sound when you’re moaning like that for me?” he asks, pulling away so he can look into Y/N’s eyes.

“I could wager a guess,” Y/N responds playfully, pulling George down into a kiss. She slowly starts to sit up as George deepens their kiss, letting out a moan against his mouth. Y/N trails one of her hands down George’s chest to his crotch, palming his erection through the fabric of his sweatpants. “Is this another present in your pants for me?” she teases, nipping at George’s lips.

“Why am I marrying you again?” George teases as he pulls away so he can take his t-shirt off. He gets off the bed then and starts to get rid of his bottoms, pulling them down slowly to tease Y/N.

“Georgie,” Y/N whines at his teasing, jutting her lower lip out into a pout. She gets up onto her knees and wraps one of her hands around the back of George’s neck as the other reaches down to wrap around his cock. Y/N pulls George down into a hot kiss as she starts to stroke him, her thumb swirling around the tip to collect the precum dribbling out, helping her hand to glide easier.

George kicks his bottoms off as Y/N strokes him, moaning into her mouth. “Godric I missed this. Missed you, teacup. I can’t believe I get to have you for the rest of my life.” He crawls back onto the bed as he kisses Y/N again, sitting down with his back against the headboard. His hands settle on Y/N’s hips and he pulls her so that she’s straddling his waist. “You gonna show me how much you missed me too?”

Y/N reaches behind her to grip George’s cock and she lets out a whine as she teases her slit with the tip. She lets George pull her into another kiss as she starts to slowly sink down, but it falls apart as her hips move and her mouth drops open to let out a few pants. “So fucking full,” she groans as their thighs meet, her hips rocking slightly now that George is fully inside of her.

“Fuck your cunt is tight,” George moans, digging his fingers into Y/N’s hips. Her walls are pulsating around him and he can’t help but jut his hips upwards. Being buried inside of Y/N feels like pure ecstasy to George, and it takes all of his restraint not to just flip them over so he can fuck into her hard. “How do I feel, teacup? You like the way my cock fills you up?”

“George,” Y/N moans as she starts to rock in his lap, moving her hips in tight circles as she grinds down into him. She can feel George deep inside of her, and the way his cock brushes her g-spot with every moment causes pleasure to radiate through her core. “Feels good, so good. Missed being,” Y/N pauses to moan as George starts to help guide the movements of her hips. “Missed being full.”

George presses his face into the crook of Y/N’s neck, letting out grunts against her skin as she starts to rock against him quicker. He starts to move his own hips up into her and her walls clamp around him even tighter. “You’re incredible,” he pants, pressing a kiss to her neck. George pulls away so he can look at Y/N leaning in to kiss her briefly. “Feel so fucking good, teacup. Riding me so well, Y/N. Being such a good girl for me.”

Y/N tips her head back and moans as she starts to move faster, desperately trying to cum again. Her clit is grinding against George with every movement and the way he’s stretching her out has gone straight to her head, and Y/N’s mind is clouded with pleasure. Maybe it’s because they haven’t been intimate like this in so long or because they’re engaged now but Y/N feels complete with George inside of her and she never wants it to end as she grinds down against him harder.

“Please George, please,” she begs breathily, digging her fingers into his shoulders.

“What do you want teacup?” George asks as he stats to thrust his hips up harder. Her walls twitch with every movement and he can already feel himself getting close to his release. “Whatever you want it’s yours.”

Y/N tilts her head forward so she can rest their foreheads together. She looks into George’s eyes and a shiver runs down her spine at how dark they are. “Just want you, Georgie. Please.”

George kisses Y/N desperately as he flips them over, pressing Y/N down into the mattress as he starts to slam his hips into her hard. “You’ve got me,” George promises as he brings one of his hands down to her core, starting to rub harsh circles on her clit. He braces himself on a hand above her shoulder and presses their foreheads together again so he can look into her eyes. “Forever, Y/N. I mean it this time. Forever.”

“Oh fuck, George,” Y/N moans as she cums, her legs winding around George’s hips to keep him in place, fucking her deep. Electric shocks of pleasure radiate through her body and her chest starts to heave with deep breaths as the pleasure washes over her.

Y/N’s walls tightening and pulsating around him pushes George over the edge, and he cums too, a cry of her name leaving his lips. He kisses her messily as his cock twitches inside of her, his hips slowly rolling to help them both of them through the tail ends of their orgasms.

“No,” Y/N whines when George moves to pull out, her legs tightening around his waist. “Not yet, George. Wanna be full with you for a bit longer.”

George chuckles and presses a kiss to Y/N’s sweaty forehead, carefully turning them on their sides so they can lay somewhat comfortably, his cock still buried deep inside of her. “Of course, teacup. Anything for you.”

“Forever, yeah?” she murmurs, clenching her walls around George.

He reaches a hand between them and presses the charms of Y/N’s necklace into her skin. “Forever.”

“You’re the most beautiful woman in the world, did you know that Mrs. Weasley?” George asks with a dopey grin as he twirls Y/N around in a circle.

They decided to keep their wedding small. Partially to distract from the fact that Y/N really has no friends or family to invite. But mostly because they don’t need all the theatrics. It’s the middle of June, and the backyard of the Burrow is draped in twinkling lights, making the warm air seem as if it’s glowing as everyone talks or eats or dances. George had suggested they get married as quick as humanly possible. He even tried to convince Y/N that they should just get a marriage license from the ministry and get married right in Shacklebolt’s office before they even had the chance to tell anyone they were engaged.

But Y/N insisted that they have some sort of ceremony with their family. June seemed like the perfect opportunity, since both Ginny and Hermione would be done with school and Fleur would have already given birth to the first Weasley grandchild. Y/N also thought it would give George some more time to deal with his grief.

After he proposed George really did start doing better. He started getting out of bed every day and taking proper care of himself. Y/N encouraged him to reconnect with his family and friends, and they even started leaving the flat together at least once a week. George started seeing a wizard therapist, and as he learned how to identify and deal with his emotions, Y/N watched the light slowly come back to his eyes. By Christmas he was back to joking around again, and he even charmed some mistletoe so that the people who met underneath it wouldn’t be able to move unless they kissed.

In the new year Y/N reenrolled in her Healer training program, and while being by himself again gave George a bit of anxiety, he packed a lunch for her and sent her off with a kiss on the cheek and a smile. And it worked out in the end, because George found himself so stir crazy without Y/N around that he managed to go back down in the joke shop. Y/N ended up finding him sitting in the office when she got home, some of Fred’s old notes clutched in his hand while he cried. She was worried that he would start to move backwards, but when George noticed her presence he opened up to her about how he was feeling instead of pushing her away. He managed to make the trek back down into the shop every day after that and now Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes will be back open for business on July first.

“You’re only saying that because it’s our wedding day, Georgie,” Y/N teases, titling her chin up so he’ll kiss her. George presses their lips together briefly and Y/N rests her head on his shoulder, watching Arthur twirl Molly around on the other side of the dancefloor.

George presses a kiss to the top of Y/N’s forehead before resting his cheek there. “You think that’ll be us in thirty years? Dancing like fools at our kids wedding?”

“I hope so. I reckon we’ll be those proper embarrassing parents, like the kinds who’s kids hate going out with them in public,” Y/N muses with a laugh.

“You mean like your parents?” George asks softly, pulling Y/N into his chest tighter. “Your cheeks were so red the first time I met them I thought you were gonna turn into a tomato.”

Y/N turns her face into George’s chest to hide the pink flush of her cheeks as the memory of George meeting her parents for the first time comes flooding back to the forefront of her mind.

“Not another one Mum, please,” Y/N begs before picking up a pillow off of the sofa and shoving her face into it to hide her embarrassment. All her mother does is grin as she comes back into the living room with another album full of pictures from Y/N’s childhood.

It’s easter break for Y/N, and it’s only been a few weeks since George and Fred had their grand exit from Hogwarts. While George has been busy getting ready for the joke shop’s grand opening, he agreed to come to dinner at Y/N’s house so he could finally meet her parents. He was a little nervous leading up to it, unsure of how Y/N’s parents would take to the fact that their daughter is dating a poor blood traitor who’s a recent school dropout, but the second he walked through the door all his worries washed away.

Y/N’s family manor is large, but yet somehow still feels like home. It’s bright and warm and feels lived in. Y/N’s mother had hugged him tightly as soon as he stepped through the door, and her dad playfully fell to his knees to bow down to George, making a joke about how gracious he was that someone fell in love with his smart ass daughter so he wouldn’t have to deal with her for the rest of his life. Y/N was standing just behind him looking as if she wanted the world to just open up and swallow her whole, but George found it hilarious and gave her dad a curtsey in response, telling him that her smart mouth would greatly reduce the dowry he’d be willing to pay.

Even Marjorie their house elf had teased Y/N a bit as she brought them all drinks in the parlor. She said something about how the photo Y/N keeps of George under her pillow certainly did not do him justice as he’s much more handsome in person and Y/N’s cheeks went so red it was as if she had spent hours outside in the cold. They had only been sitting down for a few minutes when the first photo album came out, and now George is about to start flicking through the fifth.

George laughs as he takes the book from Y/N’s Mum, trading her for the one he just finished flipping through. “Oh, come on, love. It’s only fair. Ginny tells you embarrassing stories about me all the time.”

“Yeah, pumpkin. It could be worse, I could have Marjorie go dig the old Muggle video player out and we could pop some of the home movies into it,” her Dad teases.

Y/N groans at that and she puts the pillow down so she can glare at her father. “Fine, fine, the photos can stay.” She leans her head against George’s shoulder as he starts to flip through the book, and she just barely sees her Mum bring the camera out from behind her back before she’s taking a picture. “Mum! We talked about this, you promised no photos!”

“Oh, come on, one photo never hurt anybody. You’ll be thankful I took this photo someday when you’re old and fondly reminiscing about your youth to your grandkids,” Y/N’s mother says, putting the camera down. “And it’ll be a nice visual aid when I tell the story about how embarrassed we made you tonight at your wedding.”

“Can we not with the wedding talk? George and I are barely eighteen.” Y/N hides her face in George’s neck, her cheeks heating up even further when George chuckles and turns his head so he can kiss her on the temple. Both of her parents let out an aw, and she picks up the nearest pillow to throw at them.

George laughs as Y/N faceplants onto her bed later that night. They’ve just finished dinner with her parents, and Y/N snuck them upstairs when her Mum went to go find another old photo album. “You regretting asking me to come to dinner?” he asks, sitting down next to Y/N.

She turns her head so she can glare at George, but it quickly turns soft when he starts to rub her lower back. “They promised me they’d be on their best behavior. Clearly they lied.”

“It’s cute, that they embarrass you or whatever. Clearly they love you a lot,” George responds softly, giving her a reassuring smile. “How much of our wedding do you think your Mum has planned?” he teases with a chuckle.

“Don’t joke about that, George. Knowing her the answer is probably the whole thing,” Y/N answers with a giggle. She rolls over onto her back so she can look up at George, letting one of her hands reach up to run through his hair. “I hope they didn’t scare you away with all of their baby photos.”

“Darling if Daphne Greengrass’ iciest glare doesn’t scare me a few photos of you with some missing teeth is nothing,” George reassures her. “Your Mum even had me mark some of my favorites for her to include in the wedding slideshow when you went to the loo.”

Y/N groans and places one of her pillows over her face, before deciding to hit George with it when he laughs at her pain.

“They were quite embarrassing. Though I wish we could have seen the slide show my Mum was gonna make. Bet your Mum would have added a fair few photos of you to the mix,” Y/N points out, grinning up at George.

George leans down and presses a kiss to Y/N’s forehead. “And half of them would have been of Fred I reckon, we were even harder to tell apart when we were babies.” He lets out a quiet sigh and kisses Y/N’s forehead again. “I wish he was here.”

“I know, Georgie.” Y/N squeezes George tighter for a moment, letting her eyes wander around the backyard. Ginny has a very excited Teddy Lupin on her shoulders, with both Harry and Andromeda laughing as the toddler’s face and hair changes into something new every few seconds. Bill and Fleur are in the corner trying to coax a restless Victorie to sleep and Charlie and Lee are taking shots together at one end of the bar. Percy is standing at the other end of it with Ron and Hermione, telling them a story about his new girlfriend, Audrey. “Percy did a pretty good job though, as best man. Don’t you think?”

Turns out the hardest decision in wedding planning was figuring out who the best man would be. Ginny was the natural choice for maid of honor, but it took George weeks to pick out his best man. Both Ron and Harry volunteered themselves for the role, and spent more time arguing with each other over why George should pick them rather than trying to convince George why they were the best choice. Charlie actually took himself out of the running, since he’d been Bill’s best man and didn’t want to take the opportunity away from another brother. And Lee was pretty chill about the whole thing, he was perfectly happy just to be the one in charge of the DJing.

Percy had been shocked when George asked him. Despite the fact that Percy had really tried to step back into the family after the war everyone could tell he still felt awkward. He was always the first to head home after family dinners, and the one who opted to sit on the single armchair rather than pile up with the others on one of the couches. At Christmas after he opened his Weasley sweater he excused himself to the bathroom, and they all pretended not to notice the red rims of his eyes when he came back. He always waited for someone to address him before he spoke, as if he thought no one cared about what he had to say. Most notably he always braced himself when someone brought up Fred, as if he was waiting for someone to shout at him for failing to save his brother.

But George had reassured him endlessly that he was the only person he wanted to stand up there with him while he promised Y/N forever. For one because Percy had been there for George during a time when he needed him most, and he gave George the push he needed to make things right with Y/N. George also ended up admitting later that him choosing Percy to be his best man would have annoyed Fred endlessly, and it made him feel like he was pulling one final prank on his brother.

George hums as he nods, letting go of Y/N briefly so he can twirl her around, before bringing her back against his chest. “Who knew he could be so funny? I’m pretty sure Ron nearly threw up from how hard he was laughing. It’s nice to see him be comfortable around everyone again. Feels like it did before, you know. That’s what I wanted, when I chose him. For him to feel like family again.”

“That’s actually really sweet of you, George. I’m sure Percy appreciates it,” Y/N murmurs, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Well it was either let him be the best man or name one of our kids after him, and I’m not sure I like the ring of Percy ll,” George says with a laugh.

Y/N rolls her eyes at that. “I’m revoking your naming privileges, George. You’re not allowed to name any of our eight ginger babies.”

“Eight? I thought we agreed on seven?” George asks with a soft chuckle.

“Well I decided I want eight. And a few hours ago, you stood up in front of our friends and family and promised to spend the rest of forever making me happy so it’s too late to take it all back,” Y/N states matter of factly, sticking her tongue out at George.

George shakes his head fondly and leans down to kiss Y/N slowly. “Fine, fine. Eight it is. Though we better start thinking about moving out of the flat then. Because if my height is anything to go by we’re gonna have some big babies, and I reckon we can only fit two or three of ‘em above Wheezes. And with the way you look tonight there’s no way there won’t be at least one more Weasley grandchild on the way when I’m done ravishing you.”

“How long do we have to wait?” George asks with a groan, flopping down onto the mattress.

“Three minutes. Same as when I told you before,” Y/N responds with an eye roll, throwing the empty pregnancy test box at George.

Despite George’s comments on their wedding night, it took them several months to even talk about getting pregnant. Once the joke shop reopened business was as good as ever. Even now eight months after reopening the store is still so busy that George has to sometimes eat his lunch while working the till or filling out paperwork. And once Y/N completed her Healer training she got stuck working the graveyard shift, so often the only time she and George saw each other was when one of them was coming home from work as the other was on their way to work.

Thankfully after a few months of hazing Y/N was switched to a much more reasonable shift, and she was back to spending most of her nights at home with George. It was then that they started discussing the next steps of their future, and both of them were set in the fact that they wanted to have a baby sooner rather than later. But they both decided to wait just a bit longer, until they had bought a house. Because even though they both love the flat above the joke shop, it’s just not big enough for a growing family.

Fred’s room hasn’t been touched since the Battle of Hogwarts. Y/N knows George has gone in there a few times, on the days when he misses his brother the most. But nothing has been moved or tidied up. There’re still shoes, and clothes and random papers all strewn about that George just hasn’t had the heart to get rid of. Y/N figures it helps George feel like Fred is still close by, so she doesn’t push him to clear it out. Except their bedroom in the flat was too small to have all the stuff needed for a baby, so they decided that a house would come before their family.

But as it turns out, there’s a possibility they’re happening at the same time. It took them a few months to find the right house, and with Y/N’s inheritance from her parents they were able to buy a nice piece of land out in the country with a beautiful house with enough room for the large family they both want. There’s a great little pond and a tire swing, and enough room for a Quidditch pitch too.

And Y/N had figured her missed period was due to the stress of the move. But a few days ago, she woke up from a dream covered in a cold sweat that made her start to think otherwise. Fred was there. He was in the field behind her and George’s new house running around in the warm summer sunshine, chasing after a little boy. And when the little boy finally turned to look at her, Y/N felt like she couldn’t breathe. His hair was the same color as her own, but his face was all George. The same deep brown eyes, the same light freckles dotted on the same pale skin. It was uncanny really, and when the boy finally noticed her he called her Mum and started running towards her. Just before Y/N could wrap her arms around him she woke up, her heart pounding and the image of the little boy still fresh in her mind. She decided then it was time to take a test.

“What a great way to spend the first night in our new house eh?” George asks with a nervous laugh, patting the spot on the mattress next to him.

“Certainly not the way I imagined us breaking in the new house,” Y/N responds with a laugh as she settles down on the mattress with him, the pregnancy test clutched in her hand. They barely have any furniture set up and their mattress is laying on the ground and yet they may need to start planning for a nursery.

George takes the pregnancy test from Y/N’s hand and puts it face down on the bed before he takes her face in his hands and kisses her softly. “I love you, teacup. And whether this test is positive or not I can’t wait to start our family.”

“I love you too, Georgie.” Y/N lets her eyes flutter shut as George presses a lingering kiss to her forehead, unable to stop herself from thinking about the time she and George first talked about having children.

“You still awake down there, teacup?” George whispers into the still air. He didn’t want to say anything and after falling asleep next to Y/N for the past year he’s gotten pretty good at telling if she’s asleep by the pace of her breathing. But the bandage wrapped around his right ear is making it hard to hear, and he needs to know if Y/N is still awake or not.

Y/N’s head pops up immediately and she looks over at George. “What’s wrong? Does your head hurt? It is bleeding?”

George chuckles and shakes his head, shutting his eyes when the room starts to spin. “I’m fine, I’m fine. Just an idiot, give me a minute.” Once George can no longer feel his heartbeat in his temples he opens his eyes and gives Y/N a reassuring smile. “Will you stop fussing? Mum’s done enough of that for you tonight.”

“I can’t help it, George. I thought you were gonna die.” Y/N’s voice cracks as the final word of her sentence falls from her lips, and she can feel the tears welling in her eyes.

The Battle of the seven Harrys had been a shitshow from the moment they left the ground. Y/N was riding a Thestral with Ron, and from the second they took off Death Eaters were everywhere. Luckily Ron is pretty talented with his defensive spell casting, and all Y/N really had to focus on was flying them back to the Burrow safely. Which was good, because the fight she’d gotten into with George earlier in the evening was still weighing heavily on her mind.

She wasn’t even supposed to be there. The original plan had been that Y/N would stay behind at The Burrow with Ginny and Molly, that way if anyone came back injured she’d be there to help assist Molly with any healing. But then Tonks announced that she’s pregnant and Y/N made Mad Eye Moody change the plan so Y/N could take her place during the actual mission. Which George was not happy about and they left the Burrow for Privet Drive still fuming from their fight.

“Teacup,” George coos, reaching out to stroke Y/N’s cheek. “You didn’t think you could get rid of me that easily, did you?” he teases, trying to get her to crack a smile. “Snivellous has wanted to take me out for years I reckon, it was only a matter of time before he tried.”

Y/N turns her head so she can kiss George’s palm lightly. “That’s not funny, George. You really could have died.”

“And you could have as well, Y/N,” George reminds her.

“Better me than Tonks,” Y/N mumbles, looking down at the floor.

“Don’t say that,” George responds firmly, gripping Y/N’s chin so he can make her look at him. There are tears spilling down her cheek, and George lets go of her chin so he can wipe them away with his thumb. Even in the dim light of the living room Y/N looks breathtakingly beautiful, and just the thought of living without her makes his stomach lurch. “Tonks is a big girl and would have been just fine going on the mission.”

“What if it was me? Hm?” Y/N asks, looking at George expectantly. “What if I was the pregnant one about to go on a mission that could kill me? Kill our unborn child? Wouldn’t you want someone to take my place?”

“Of course, I would, Y/N,” George chokes out around the few tears streaming down his cheeks. He’s not really sure when they started pouring out, but he imagines it was when Y/N mentioned their unborn child and death in the same breath. “But this is different.”

Y/N shakes her head. “How? How is Tonks being pregnant any different?”

“Because Tonks isn’t the person I want to spend the rest of my life with, Y/N. She’s not the person who I want to carry my children or raise my children with. It’s you.” George reaches down and grabs the charms of the necklace he gave Y/N, rubbing them between his thumb and his pointer finger. “When I gave you this necklace and promised you forever I meant it, teacup. I wanna marry you and have babies with you. And I can’t do that with you if you’re dead, can I?”

“You really think about all that stuff?” Y/N asks through her sniffles, her tone full of a mixture of surprise and disbelief. While she knows that her and George were both on the same page about starting a life together someday, she had no idea he was thinking that seriously about it. They’re just barely nineteen, and Y/N figured marriage and babies were far away in their future, so far away that they would never even cross George’s mind.

George motions for Y/N to come up and lay on the couch with him. “I’m not going to break. Get up here. I wanna hold you, teacup.” Once Y/N is settled on his chest, her head on his shoulder and their legs intertwined he continues. “Sometimes I can’t stop thinking about all that stuff. Like how we’re gonna get married someday. And live on a load of land somewhere. With some chickens and a dog. And a few ginger babies of course, can’t forget about them.”

Just George talking about them having children spikes Y/N’s heart rate, and she has to take a few deep breaths to try and calm herself down. “How many ginger babies are we gonna have?”

“Hm, I reckon maybe two or three? A boy first, and then a girl. And then I think another girl would be nice,” George explains, starting to slowly rub Y/N’s back. “Why, teacup? How many do you want?”

“At least four,” Y/N says seriously, tilting her head so she can look at George. “Two of each. Maybe even a set of twins. A mini Fred and George perhaps.”

George chuckles and leans down to kiss Y/N softly. “Really? You sure you could handle another set of me and Fred? We gave you quite a bit of hell back in our school days if you remember correctly.”

“Yeah and look at where we are now. Laying on a couch together talking about all the babies we’re gonna have,” Y/N points out with a chuckle. “Besides can you imagine McGonagall’s face when two mini versions of you show up at Hogwarts one day? Bet she’d quit on the spot.”

“Oh come on, good old Minnie loved us. And let’s not forget you caused a bit of trouble as well, Y/N. Just the thought of planting a garden still gives me nightmares after you dropped that load of Dragon Dung fertilizer on Fred and I,” George reminds her with a laugh.

“And you made my hair turn yellow for weeks! And made my tongue nearly explode,” Y/N counters. “You want me to list more? Because I can list more.”

“No it’s okay, I get the point.” George just sits there quietly for a moment, enjoying the feeling of Y/N’s weight on top of him. “Just promise me you’ll be careful out there, yeah? Can’t have our four ginger babies without you, Y/N.”

Y/N pulls George’s mouth down to hers again for a few moments. “You too, George. You’re kind of the whole ginger in the situation, so you’re pretty essential in the mix.”

“I promise,” George mumbles, pressing one more kiss to Y/N’s mouth.

“You think it’s been three minutes yet?” George whispers, bringing Y/N’s mind back to the present.

“Probably,” she responds, looking up at George. Y/N reaches up and touches his cheek softly. “You wanna do the honors?”

George reaches his hand out and grabs the pregnancy test, keeping it flipped upside down. “How about we look together?” When Y/N nods George brings the test in between them and he uses his free hand to grab one of hers. “On the count of three, yeah? One, two three.”

As soon as the last number leaves George’s mouth he flips the test over to look at the results. There’s two dark pink lines staring back at them, and her and George look back up at each other.

“What did the two lines mean again?” Y/N asks.

George frowns. “I was gonna ask you the same thing.”

They both start to throw their blankets and pillows away, trying to find where the box landed after Y/N threw it at George a few minutes ago. “Why didn’t you just buy the one with the words? You had to get the one you need a diagram to figure out.”

“I was overwhelmed, okay? I’ve never been in a muggle pharmacy before and there was like 25 different tests and I couldn’t tell the difference between them all and I just grabbed one at random,” George huffs. He feels his fingers skim over the cardboard box and his eyes light up as he grabs it. “Aha! Here it is!” George skims his eyes over the directions on the back a few times to make sure he fully understands them. “Two lines means pregnant.”

They both let out a small gasp as their eyes drop back down to the test still clutched in Y/N’s hand. The two lines look even more defined now that they know what it means, and when they make eye contact again there are tears pooling in both of their eyes.

“We’re pregnant?” Y/N asks breathily.

“Well I don’t know how pregnant I am. But you’re definitely pregnant,” George teases with a grin.

Y/N rolls her eyes and shoves George’s shoulder before she grabs it and pulls him into a kiss. “Can’t believe I’m having a baby with an idiot like you,” she mumbles between kisses.

“And I can’t believe I’m having a baby with a meanie like you,” George responds playfully, placing his hand on Y/N’s stomach. He spreads his fingers and presses down lightly, as if there’s something there for him to feel already. “I love you,” he murmurs, resting his forehead against Y/N’s.

“You talking to me or the baby?” she asks quietly, placing her hand on top of George’s.

“Both.”

Fred Weasley ll comes into the world amidst a flurry of chaos, and it only feels right considering who his namesake is.

The day started out like any other. With her maternity leave in full effect, Y/N decided to head to the joke shop with George. While she can’t do much of anything besides sit behind the till and ring customers out, it made her feel good to be helpful rather than just sitting around the house twiddling her thumbs waiting for George to get home. And she knew George liked the fact that he could keep an eye on her throughout the day.

The pain started not too long after opening. At first she just passed it off as normal pregnancy pains, because she was nearly full term and she couldn’t remember the last time she didn’t have a dull ache radiating through some part of her body. But by midafternoon the pain was radiating through her back and down into her pelvis and not even sitting down eased it. She tried to hide it from George, not wanting him to go into full panic mode during the workday. But then he noticed her wincing as she sat back down after lunch and George started keeping an annoyingly close eye on her.

And then her water broke. George was cleaning up around the checkout counter and some dust that had been kicked up irritated Y/N’s nose and she couldn’t help but sneeze hard. When the liquid first started to leak out she was mortified, figuring she’d just pissed herself. But then she stood up and a large flush of liquid came out along with the largest pain she’d ever felt in her lower half. Y/N and George had just stared at each other for a moment, before realization hit them both. Clearly this baby was coming and coming soon.

George had one of the shop employees send an owl to his Mum while he helped Y/N up the stairs, wanting to Floo them over to St. Mungo’s as quickly as possible. Every few steps they’d had to stop so Y/N could breathe through a contraction, and by the time they reached the fireplace in their old flat George was surprised the baby hadn’t slipped out yet. Except when he reaches into the bowl on the mantle to grab some Floo Powder his fingers didn’t find anything.

They’d had to shuffle their way through Diagon Alley to use the public Floo at the Leaky Cauldron, and by the time they reached St. Mungo’s Y/N was already on the verge of giving birth and both she and George were soaked to the bone from the torrential downpour the sky unleashed halfway through their journey.

Baby Fred was born as thunder started to rumble, and he let out his first cry just as a flash of lightening came crashing down. Y/N is sure both she and George were crying harder than the rain that was going on outside. Fred’s eyes were already open when the Healer placed him on Y/N’s chest, and he was blinking up at her with wide brown eyes. He was already the spitting image of his Father, but the tufts of hair coming out of his head more resembled the color of Y/N’s hair. And while Y/N has never been particularly confident in the magic of Divination, she felt deep in her chest that he was the little boy she’d seen in her dream.

“What’s on your mind, Dad?” Y/N asks George quietly with a grin. It’s well past midnight, and little baby Fred is sleeping soundly against Y/N’s chest. George has been sitting in the chair next to Y/N’s hospital bed for the past hour watching their son’s chest rise up and down slowly, a look of concentration on his face.

“You sure it’s okay we named him after Fred?” George asks, looking up at Y/N. “We could have named him after your Dad. I didn’t even think about that. I should have thought about that.”

Y/N chuckles and pats the edge of her bed carefully, inviting George to come and sit with her. “Can I tell you about a dream I had? I think it might make you feel better.”

“Was it a sexy dream?” George asks with a raise of his eyebrows as he comes and sits down with Y/N. He rests one of his hands on Fred’s back, lightly stroking it with his thumb.

“No, it was not a sexy dream you oaf,” Y/N responds with an eye roll. “It was a couple nights before we moved, before I knew I was pregnant. It was summertime, and I was out in the backyard at the house. And Fred was there. He was chasing this little boy around in that field, the one we turned into the Quidditch pitch. And the little boy, he had my color hair but his face, his face was all you George. And then he called me Mum, and ran towards me, but I woke up before he got to me.”

George just sits there for a moment, letting Y/N’s words sink in. He suddenly feels overcome with emotion as he thinks about what she said, and he has to wipe away a few of the tears that escape his eyes. “That’s funny you say that, because I had a similar dream to that the night we found out you were pregnant.”

Y/N raises her eyebrows as she looks at George. “Really? What happened?”

“I was back at the Burrow. It was empty, quiet. But I could hear a creaking noise. And I followed it all the way up the stairs, to Fred and I’s old room. It looked the same, except there was a rocking chair in the corner. And Fred was sitting in it, and he was rocking back and forth, holding a baby. We made eye contact, but he didn’t say anything. He just gave me a little wink and then I woke up.”

“I don’t know a lot about divination or dream analysis. I don’t really know if I believe in any of it either. But I have a feeling we had those dreams for a reason,” Y/N explains, reaching up to cup one of George’s cheeks. “Like that was Fred, I dunno. Hand picking his name sake or something. Someone just as mischievous as him. A little pay back for Percy being your best man, perhaps?”

George laughs quietly and reaches a hand up to grab Y/N’s intertwining their fingers and giving them a soft squeeze. “You know what, teacup. I think you’re right. I have a feeling we’re in for a wild ride. And I can’t wait.”

And what a wild ride it is.

By the time George and Y/N are celebrating their 10-year wedding anniversary their house is steadily filling up with kids and with all the trouble they get into it’s a good thing George pushed Y/N to fulfill her dreams of being a Healer. It seems every day at least one of their kids is getting injured in some way: a scraped knee, a bump on the head, a bit of smoke inhalation from a whizbang George let Fred set off inside of the house. With how wild and unpredictable their kids are every day is an adventure, even the most mundane family days always seem to end up with something unexpected getting thrown into the mix.

“Mum! Mum! Can you open this for me? Please?” Fred asks excitedly, holding a candy bar up to Y/N’s face.

She eyes him wearily, taking it from him slowly. “Did your Dad say you could have this?”

Fred grins up at Y/N, and he looks so much like his Dad that it melts her heart. “Well he didn’t say no.” When Y/N narrows her eyes at him he lets out a giggle. “He was in the middle of filling something out and he told me to ask you.”

It’s a Saturday, so the whole family is at the joke shop together. Once Fred was born George hated having to leave him and Y/N at home when he went into the shop, so she started tagging along with the baby. It was a nice way for them to spend time together as a family, and when Y/N went back to work and the weekend became their only full family days it seemed natural for her and Fred to tag along with George to work. Now several years and a few more kids later, it’s still Y/N’s favorite family tradition.

“And so, you decided to ask me if you could have the candy bar, by asking me to open it?” Y/N asks with a laugh.

“Well if you said yes to opening it, that kinda already answers the whole, can I have it question,” Fred reasons.

Y/N rolls her eyes fondly and tears open the candy bar. “Nine years old and you’re already trying to out smart me. I’m so proud of you.” She leans down to press a kiss to his messy hair before handing him the sweet. “Share that with your sister, yeah? It’s 10 am I don’t need you on a full sugar rush already.”

“Thanks Mum!”

Fred runs off just as George comes up and he watches his son disappear with a fond shake of his head. “Oh to be young and have energy,” he muses with a grin, wrapping his arms around Y/N’s waist.

“Please, you still have plenty of energy left. Or have you forgotten how we got into this mess?” Y/N asks with a grin, pointing down at her bump. In just a few short weeks their family will be growing by two more, and Y/N is already exhausted just thinking about having to run after five kids.

“Oh trust me, I definitely remember how I got us into that mess,” George responds cheekily, leaning down to kiss Y/N sweetly. Luckily the store has been pretty slow so far, and they can spend the next few moments moving their lips together softly, just enjoying being in each other’s presence.

“Ew, gross,” Freya giggles, standing up on her tiptoes so she can peer at her parents over the checkout counter.

Y/N pulls away from George’s mouth with a sigh, turning her head to look at their youngest. All that’s visible over the counter is her wide eyes and the mess of fiery red curls on the top of her head. “Can we help you with something, nugget?”

Freya’s head disappears then and a few seconds later she reappears next to George’s leg, raising her arms up and bouncing on her toes. “Up please!”

“Ah, the Queen has made her demands!” George announces playfully. He gives Y/N a wink before letting her go, and he leans down to grab Freya, placing her on his shoulders. “Is this high enough for you, my Queen?” he asks, tickling her sides lightly.

“Daddy!” Freya squeals between her giggles, trying to get away from George’s attack. “No more, no more!”

George chuckles and gives her one more tickle. “Alright, alright, no more tickles.” The bell above the door jingles then and George leans down to give Y/N one final kiss. “Duty calls. I love you, teacup.”

“Love you too, Georgie.” Y/N reaches up and tugs on one of Freya’s curls. Despite the fact that she’s only three and has quite a bit of hair they’ve yet to cut any of it, and Y/N watches the long curl bounce back into place when she lets it go. “See you in a bit, nugget.”

Freya gives a little salute as George starts to head towards the customer before tangling her hands in his hair and pulling on them as if she were pulling on reins. “Horsey, horsey!”

George actually starts to move as if he were galloping, and Y/N shakes her head fondly as their daughter starts to laugh.

The store starts to pick up then, and for a few hours it seems like there’s a never-ending stream of people filtering through the door. Every once in a while Y/N gets a glimpse of George over the crowds of people, since Freya is still happily sitting on his shoulders, and every now and again Y/N watches the crowd part as Fred or Roxanne run through it.

They’ve just opened back up after shutting down for lunch, and Y/N has her back to the shop as she sorts through some of the mail. She turns around at the sound of someone clearing their throat and her heart drops into her stomach.

“Daphne. Hi,” she greets quietly, stepping back up to the counter.

It’s been over a decade since she last saw her old best friend, but the memory of their last conversation comes flooding back to her as if it took place yesterday.

“I can’t believe you’re moving in with George Weasley,” Daphne muses with a grin as she watches Y/N pack a few things away.

It’s been just over a month since they graduated from Hogwarts, and with her Healer training starting soon, Y/N decided to take George up on his offer to move into the flat above the joke shop with him and Fred. Now that they’re both transitioning into adulthood, their free time to spend together is sparse, and even though taking this next step is scary Y/N can’t wait to be officially living with George.

“I know, right? This time last year all I could think about was getting revenge on him and Fred for turning my hair yellow. And now all I can think about is the fact that I get to wake up next to him every morning,” Y/N admits with a soft blush.

“Just George and his little teacup,” Daphne teases, laughing wildly when Y/N throws a pillow at her.

Ginny had once jokingly suggested Y/N get a teacup pin after she noticed the teapot pin Y/N bought for George, since they’re always together and Y/N is so much smaller than George. After that day George’s new nickname for Y/N became teacup. And while she pretends that it annoys her, deep down she actually really loves it.

“You’re one to talk, Daph. It’s only what? A month until the wedding?” Y/N points out with a laugh. The smile on Daphne’s face falters and Y/N gives her a look. “What’s up? You’re not getting cold feet, are you?”

Daphne shakes her head as she sits up, giving Y/N a look. “No, of course not. I like to give Marcus a lot of shit pretty much all the time, but I really do love him. There’s just something I wanna talk to you about.”

“Oh?” Y/N asks quietly, sitting down across from her. There are very few things Daphne gets flustered over, and with the look she has on her face Y/N can tell she’s about to say something serious.

“You um. You can’t come. To the wedding,” Daphne stutters out, casting her gaze downwards. “Adrian said he’s not coming if you do and he’s Marcus’ best friend and I just want our wedding to be perfect and I know he’ll be upset if Adrian doesn’t come.”

Y/N can feel tears start to form in the corners of her eyes and she quickly tries to blink them away. “What? Daphne we’ve been best friends since we were eleven. You’re not going to be upset that I’m not there?”

“No of course I am! Y/N you know you’re like a sister to me. But Marcus is going to be my husband and it’s my job to do everything in my power to make him happy,” Daphne responds, reaching out to grab Y/N’s hand.

But Y/N pulls away and stands up. “Daph, it’s your wedding day too. You should have a say in who gets to be there.” Y/N pauses and just looks at Daphne, thinking about all the things they’ve been through together over the past seven years. “You’re really going to choose Adrian over me?”

“You chose George over us,” Daphne reminds her, finally making eye contact with Y/N again.

“That was different Daphne and you know that. I put space between me and Adrian because he was breaking the boundaries of our friendship and it was making George uncomfortable. And it was clearly the right decision since he kissed me and tried to get me to leave George at graduation.” Y/N sighs and crosses her arms over her chest. “George didn’t force me to do anything, Marcus is clearly forcing you to do this.”

Daphne rolls her eyes. “Marcus isn’t forcing me to do anything, I’m just doing my duty as his future wife.”

“That’s a bunch of crap and you know it. If Marcus really loved you he wouldn’t let some stupid drama from school get in the way of you being just as happy as he is,” Y/N responds firmly.

Daphne stands up then, her expression angry. “Don’t act so high and mighty, Y/N. Just because you have ambitions outside of being someone’s wife or a mother doesn’t mean you’re any better than I am.”

“Well at least when I get married I’ll be an equal in the relationship, rather than my husband’s little pet for him to boss around,” Y/N spits.

“You know what? Fuck you. You’re not welcome at my wedding. Or in my life in general.” Daphne grabs her bag and starts to storm out of Y/N’s bedroom.

“Who said I wanted to be in your life anyway?” Y/N shouts at Daphne’s back, listening to the sound of the front door slamming shut echo through the house.

“Oh. Um, hi, Y/N. I didn’t know that you worked here,” Daphne responds awkwardly, placing the few things in her arms down on the counter.

“Oh, I don’t work here, not really. I just come in on Saturdays, with the kids. It’s a good way for us to spend time together as a family.” Y/N starts to key the products into the register, not really sure what to say. The air between her and Daphne is awkward, and Y/N can see Marcus fidgeting a few feet behind Daphne, looking at some things on a shelf with a little boy. “These for your son?”

Daphne spares a glance over her shoulder at her son and Marcus, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “No, they’re for Adrian’s son. It’s his birthday today, we’re having dinner with them tonight. Although MJ does love his fair share of Weasley products.” She pauses, letting her eyes flick down to Y/N’s bump for a moment. “Is that your first?”

“Four and five actually,” Y/N responds with a laugh. She gestures to where George is standing talking with one of the employees, Freya back on his shoulders. “That’s number three over there, Freya and funnily enough she also happens to be three. And over there,” Y/N pauses gesturing to the pygmy puff cage where a little girl with curly hair the same color as Y/N’s is happily petting a little black puff. “is Roxanne, number two. She just turned six and has spent the past few weeks trying to convince us to let her take home another pygmy puff.”

Y/N scans the store for a moment, trying to find Fred. When her eyes finally land on him he has his knees hooked around a rung of the ladder George uses to reach products on the upper shelves, and he’s hanging upside down with a toothy grin. “Fred Weasley ll you get off that ladder right now! You’ve already cracked your skull open once this year and I am not cleaning up anymore of your blood.” Fred laughs wildly as he climbs down, and Y/N shakes her head as she looks back to Daphne.

“That’ll be Fred, our oldest. He’s only a few years off from Hogwarts, and is it bad if I say I’m looking forward to it just a little bit?” Y/N asks with a small laugh.

Daphne laughs as well, grabbing her wallet to pay for their stuff. “Oh trust me, I’m right there with you. I don’t know how you do it, we’ve just got MJ and I feel like I can barely keep up with him. I’m looking forward to the peace and quiet when he’s off at school.”

“George is a great help, I don’t think I could do it without him. He loves being a Dad, and he’s pretty good at it too.” Y/N hands Daphne her bag and gives her a final smile. “Thanks for coming by. It was nice to see you.”

Roxanne comes up just as Daphne and Marcus leave the store with their son and pulls up a chair so she can climb up onto the counter, being careful not to let the black pygmy puff on her head fall off. “Who was that, Mummy?”

“Just a girl I was friends with, back when I was at Hogwarts,” Y/N responds sadly, tucking a stray curl behind Roxanne’s ear.

“Oh. You’re not friends anymore?” Roxanne asks with a frown.

Y/N shakes her head and leans forward to press a kiss to her daughter’s forehead. “No, not anymore. But that’s okay. We used to have loads and loads of fun together, and now I get to have loads and loads of fun with you and your siblings and your Dad.”

“I can’t wait to make tons of friends when I’m at Hogwarts. It’s so not fair that Freddie gets to go sooner than me.” Roxanne pauses, giving Y/N a cheeky grin. “Do you think if I snuck on the train they’d just let me stay?”

“Hmm, I don’t know love. Why don’t you give it a try when it’s time for Freddie to go?”

Roxanne giggles as Y/N presses a kiss to her forehead and she gives her mother an excited look when she pulls away. “Oh trust me, I’m planning on it.”

“You think she’s going to try and sneak onto the train?” George asks, leaning over to whisper in Y/N’s ear.

They’re heading towards the entrance to Platform 9 and ¾’s to send Fred off on his very first train ride to Hogwarts. Despite the fact that it’s been over two years since Roxanne first divulged her plan to sneak to Hogwarts with her older brother, she still hasn’t forgotten about it, and she had reminded Y/N and George of her plan last night when they tucked her into bed.

“I dunno, but I don’t think it would be a bad thing to keep an extra close eye on her,” Y/N responds with a chuckle. Roxanne and Freya are walking out in front of everyone, holding hands and twirling each other around. Their curls flounce as they move, and as if she can tell they’re talking about her, Roxanne looks back at her parents and gives them a wink.

Fred is in the middle, pushing his cart along all by himself. He insisted that he could handle it on his own, since he’s going to be off at Hogwarts, and even though Y/N can tell he’s struggling a bit the grin on his face keeps her from intervening. Not that she or George would be much help. Archer and Leo, their twins, are two now, and George has one attached to each leg, giggling wildly as he walks and Y/N has a baby wrap tied around her torso, with their three-month-old daughter Scarlet laying in it fast asleep.

When they reach the wall between platforms nine and ten, Roxanne and Freya pause, looking back at their parents.

“Can we go?” Roxanne asks hopefully, mischief in her eyes.

George laughs and shakes his head. “Let your Mum and Freddie go first, yeah? You two can go through with me after.”

Roxanne pouts but steps aside, nonetheless, pulling Freya to her side as Y/N comes to stand next to Fred. She puts one of her hands on his shoulder, and the other on the handle of the cart. “Ready?” she asks, looking at her son.

“More than ready,” Fred responds with a laugh.

They push through the barrier together, and the platform looks just the same as Y/N remembers. It’s bustling with people as per usual and as George and the girls join them they navigate through the crowd to try and find a spot to say goodbye.

Once Fred’s things are loaded onto the train, Freya and Roxanne are the first to hug him goodbye, but they’re both too entranced by the Platform and the train to really care that they won’t see him for the next few months. Archer and Leo are too busy chasing each other around the small area to care, but Fred grabs them both and presses a kiss to their heads before letting them toddle off after each other again.

George pulls him into a hug first, and his hands shake as a few tears slip down his cheeks. “Love you so much, bud. You’re gonna have so much fun, I promise. Your Mum tried to take it out, but I slipped that box of Wheeze products into your trunk this morning. Just send an owl when you’re getting low and I’ll send more.” He pulls away so he can look at Fred, and the bright look in his eyes reminds him so much of him and Fred when they were that age he has to take a moment to calm himself down. “I’m handing the prank torch down to you, and I know it’ll be in good hands.”

By the time Y/N is pulling Fred into a hug there are tears fully falling down her cheeks and they fall into his hair when she brings him in as close as she can. “Don’t get into too much trouble, yeah? But have fun and learn a lot, that’s kinda the whole point.” She pulls away to press a lingering kiss to his forehead and runs her hand through his wild hair. “And don’t be too hard on the Slytherins, yeah? Your future wife might just be one of them.”

“Ew,” Fred responds, scrunching up his nose.

Y/N laughs and presses one more kiss to his forehead. “I love you, Fred. Write loads, yeah?”

“All the time,” Fred promises. He reaches into the wrap to give his littlest sister a kiss on the head before he steps back to look at both of his parents. “Bye, love you guys.”

“Hang on, one more thing.” Fred pauses and looks up at George, watching as he takes the teapot pin off of the lapel of his jacket. “A piece of me and mum for you to have with you, yeah?”

It’s the first time Y/N has seen George without it and the tears streaming down her face fall harder as he pins it to their son’s sweater. Almost subconsciously she reaches up to grab at the charms of her necklace, letting their familiar texture soothe her as she watches Fred climb up onto the train.

Forever seemed like a long time when Y/N and George first promised it to each other on that journey back to Hogwarts all those years ago. But now, watching that same train carry their first born away as their other kids laugh and play around them it just doesn’t seem like enough.

#George weasley #George Weasley smut #george weasley imagine #gw #golden

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schrijverr · 3 years

Text

Hold Me Together

Chapter 1 out of 4

Eliot gets hurt on a job and then sick. Hardison and Parker waste no time to jump in to care for him and it becomes harder and harder to say no to their care when it’s just so nice. After he has a nightmare, they’re there for him and feelings come to light.

AKA Eliot has a terrible time physically (and partly emotionally), but gets lots of cuddles and two partners in the end.

On AO3.

Ships: Thiefsome OT3

Warnings: Eliot's self-esteem issues, minor injuries.

~~~~~~~

Take My Hand

Eliot wouldn't even classify himself as badly hurt per se. He was mostly just bruised up with a dislocated shoulder, a slight stab wound and the only thing that made him this unstable was the damaged ankle and the fact that he’d been fighting out in the rain and was completely soaked to the bone.

He knew better than to lie to himself about it, but he would be just fine on his own to take of it, before crashing into his hotel bed and sleeping the horrible day off and ride back home the next day in Lucille. Now only if Hardison and Parker believed that too.

The two of them had been keeping an eye on them ever since he had let out a slightly pained grunt over the coms, after his ankle had been kicked.

They were hovering over him as he came limping back after a con well done. The asshole had been charged with tax fraud and they could be on their way, but neither Hardison nor Parker had relaxed, both wearing a pinched face when they saw the bruises on his. For gods sake, Hardison had tried to give him a hand into the van.

However, during the ride to the hotel the adrenaline had worn off and his ankle throbbed and the hand he was pressing against his stab wound was getting soaked, he would need stitches. His shoulder also ached, but he wasn’t about to pop it back under the watchful gazes of the others.

When Lucille stopped in front of the hotel, the last thing he wanted to do, was get up.

He was shivering and he ached. He knew the gazes of everyone were on him, but he didn’t care, all he wanted was a warm bed and dry clothes.

He laser-focused on getting up from his seat, not caring about the slight hiss, before he set the first step to the door. The moment he put any weight on his ankle, he buckled and the only reason he didn’t end up on his face was Hardison, who had been hovering, jumping in to save him, making him hiss again as he caught him on the stab wound.

Hardison steadied him before pulling his hand away for a second and paling at the blood, before squeaking: “What the hell, man! Why didn’t you tell us you were bleeding?”

Eliot tried to remember why, while his brain focused on how nice it was to have Hardison’s large hand splayed over his side and wrapped around his waist. He leaned into the other to stay upright, faintly remembering that he shouldn’t. He straightened up and blinked as he mumbled: “Have stuff for stitches in my room.”

“It needs stitches?” Hardison exclaimed. “And you didn’t tell us? We could have at least bandaged it for you until we got here.”

“‘sfine, Hardison,” he frowned, suddenly remembering why he hadn’t told them. “I can manage fine, jus’ need to get to my room.”

“You- you- The man just needs to get to his room,” Hardison guffawed. “What are you going to do there, Eliot? Bleed to death? Or would you rather freeze? You’re still drenched and cold as fuck, man.”

“I’ve had worse,” Eliot protested, ignoring that he was shivering slightly.

“That makes it worse, I hope you realize that,” Hardison told him, which he had not. Having the other there as a crutch was already more comfort than he was used to and it was messing with his brain in a way an adrenaline-crash wouldn't. The warmth from Hardison made his head fuzzy and he hated how it made him feel vulnerable when there was still so much he needed to do.

Ashe busied himself withthinking about how he needed to get away from Hardison, while also not wanting to let go, he missed how Hardison and Parker shared a look, making a decision.

Parker turned to Sophie and Nate, who had been waiting under an umbrella until the others could join them in going inside. “We’ll take care of him, you two go ahead.”

The words unlocked something in his chest and the fuzziness cleared up. He shouldn’t be cared for, he was the caretaker. He was the one, who made sure everyone else was okay and the job was not done, not until they were all safely piled into Lucille on the highway far from here. Only then he could rest.

Not now.

He needed to be away from here, letting people close was dangerous and he could already feel his control slipping. He leaned more weight back on his own feet, clenching his teeth at the pain, before he mentally made a plan.

No matter how hurt he was, he needed to be alone and deal with it before it would go back to normal. However, he wouldn't get to his room on his own and maybe if he gave Hardison the idea that he’d done something, he would let Eliot go.

“Are we standing here all night?” he asked. “I wanna get to my room. Come on.”

Both grinned happily at his allowance to help him and he tried to ignore the contraction his heart made when he realized he put that grin on their faces.

Parker took his hand on his non-dislocated side to support him when he stepped out of Lucille, while Hardison supported him around his waist, also avoiding his dislocated shoulder. It was a slow going with his ankle and one support place down, but they managed.

Crossing the parking lot was equally slow with Hardison steadyinghim as Parker held up an umbrella against the unending rain.

When they finally entered the elevator, Eliot had never been more glad to just stand. Even if his companions were glancing at him in concern. He just closed his eyes and tried to block them out, which was easier said then done with Hardison’s hand still on his waist, while Parker stood close enough that he could feel her breath.

He would have run, if he could, but instead he was stuck in the elevator with them as human crutches. He focused on all the pain and the cold in order to block out the warmth of them and how nice it was.

It shouldn’t be nice.

Eliot was used to worse than this and had toughed that out on his own. He was fine by himself and having others there was only a weakness. What if they thought him as incapable of taking care of himself and therefore of them? What if on the next job they wouldn't trust him in watching their backs? He couldn't risk that.

Still, the elevator had stopped and unless he wanted to be in unnecessary pain, he would need them to get to his room where the distances were more manageable for his mangled leg.

So he grudgingly allowed them to help him to his room, thinking he could shake them off there and crash in peace.

Alas no such luck was on his side and the universe turned against him as Hardison and Parker followed him into his room. He made a protesting noise, but before he could tell them to fuck off, Hardison said: “No, man, you look terrible right now, no offense. But I’m not leaving you here to pass out on the floor, okay.”

He turned to Parker for support, but she made a seriousface, before smiling: “I’ve been working on my first aid.”

“I can also manage my own stitches,” he still attempted. He couldn't risk them seeing him as weak, even if Hardison’s hand was still warm and Parker’s smile eased a bit of the ache in his bones. He just couldn't.

“Your hands are shaking from the cold and your eyes keep glazing over,” Parker observed quite bluntly.

And he hadn’t even realized he was fazing out to avoid the pain, also avoiding any potential threats around him. He cursed and blinked, hissing when all the aches came back. He now remembered that Parker had said something and he should probably react. “I’m fine, alright. I’ll take a warm shower.”

With the pain buzzing in his head, it was harder to argue and he was tired. He wanted to get them out of his room, but neither looked willing to go, so he would need to be more stubborn than them to get them to leave.

Hardison was the first to realize Eliot was going to be stubborn about this, so he let him go, making Eliot sway as he nearly toppled over before catching himself with a groan. Hardison crossed his arms and said: “Alright, if you can walk to your bathroom, we’ll leave, otherwise you let us help you.”

Eliot looked at the bathroom, which was on the other side of his bed. A double bed, because Hardison craved luxury and projected that on everyone else. It was relatively far, but he could grit his teeth and get there.

The first step was hell. His ankle screamed at him and leaning any weight on it was a very bad idea, he would need to bandage it and cool it and rest for a few days. He definitely shouldn’t be walking on it. Still, he gritted his teeth like he promised himself and walked. He didn’t react, he had trained himself not to react and now that he was consciously thinking of not reacting, he could. Even if he wanted to scream in pain.

“Eliot, stop!” Parker exclaimed after three steps of agony. “You’re hurting yourself. If you keep going you’ll only injure yourself further. Who will protect us if you hurt yourself? Just let us help you.”

It spoke testaments to how far she’d gotten that she could figure out her feelings and verbalize them and Eliot would appreciate it more were he not still reeling from the pain.

When he had gotten reality back into focus, he thought about her words. He could allow himself a helping hand when it meant he would heal faster, because that was their reason. They didn’t want the guy having their back to be injured, especially with how fast Nate went from job to job, it would be bad.

His brain could allow that logic. It was business, no emotions and just ensuring their cons. It wasn’t twisty and complicated.

So, he nodded and smiled tiredly when Hardison exclaimed: “Oh thank god.”

They were at his side in moments, Hardison again wrapping his arm around his waist again while Parker fluttered around him to catch him should he collapse.

In the bathroom, they set him down on the toilet. Parker was at his side, asking him about how to treat his wounds. He replied: “It’s best if I do stitches before I shower and wrap it afterwards. I’ll do my shoulder myself now and my ankle just needs to be wrapped and cooled, maybe elevated while I sleep. It’s not that bad, Parker, promise.”

She studied his face for a moment, before nodding and asking: “You sure you don’t need help with your shoulder? And I can do the stitches.”

“Nah, I’d rather do the shoulder myself. But fineon the stitches,” he told her, he shouldn’t be doing stitches with his recently dislocated shoulder making him unsteady anyway. It had nothing to do with her hopeful face, not at all.

He braced himself, before he brought his hand down, letting out a long muffled groan as the shoulder popped loudly back into place.

“Oh man, that’s just wrong,” Hardison said at the noise. He had been following their movements from his place at the sink, still not all that well with injuries. “You okay, man?”

“I’m fine, Hardison. Dislocated shoulder is hardly the worst that happened to me,” he said, realizing he had already told them that and it hadn’t been received well. “Now if I can get stitched up you both can leave me in peace to shower.”

“We’re not leaving you here,” Hardison protested.

“What?”

“No, man, you’ll pass out or slip or something. I’m not leaving you here to accidentally hit your head and bleed out in the shower,” Hardison explained. “That’s undignified.”

“And you standing here isn’t undignified?” he shot back, hoping Hardison would leave, before the twisty feeling in his chest could take over.

“It isn’t,” Parker said, stuff for the stitches in hand. “Now, shirt off,” she ordered.

He hadn’t thought of that and braced himself as he took off his shirt. It was slightly awkward with his still sore shoulder, but he managed, even if he got slightly stuck at one point and someone tugged it the rest of the way. It was Hardison, he saw after, since he still had his wet shirt in his hands.

Without the shirt, the cool air reminded him how cold he was. He was even shivering, which was good, but also bad. He would need to hold still for the stitches, but he wasn’t hypothermic.

They didn’t have a local anesthetic, so he would have to tough it out anyway. Parker cleaned his wound as best she could with rubbing alcohol and water, before disinfecting the needles and setting to work.

Eliot focused on Hardison, forcing himself not to react to the needle sliding in and out of his flesh as he held still.

Hardison was also not looking at his wound, instead choosing to lay a hand on Eliot’s shoulder as if he was comforting him instead of the other way around. Still, it was a grounding touch to focus on and Eliot tried to ignore the weird flutters in his chest as he relaxed, sagging slightly against Hardison, who took that as an invitation to lay Eliot’s head against his stomach.

The gash at his side was more long than deep and it took a while before it was stitched up completely.

In that time, Eliot had allowed his mind to drift as his body became plaint against the warmth. It was only when Parker patted his leg lightly and told him she was all done that he blinked back into reality, immediately blushing as he realized how he had cozied up to Hardison in that time.

He quickly retreated and tried to play it off by examining his wound. It was neat stitch work and he smiled at Parker and said: “Looks good,” feeling warm when she returned the gesture. It would be a small addition to his scar collection and he was glad neither had said a word about it.

Meanwhile Hardison had walked to the shower and turned it on, playing with the heat until he was satisfied. Then he turned back and said: “You can’t sit in the shower, well you could on the floor, but that’s nasty. Think you can stand on your own?”

“Yeah, of course,” Eliot lied, hoping it would be true.

Now he just had to get his jeans off and get into the shower with Hardison’s help, which should be mortifying, but he was mostly scared of him and Parker leaving, despite how much he had wanted them to go moments before. Parker wasn’t much of the heavy lifting, but she hadn’t strayed from his side and he found he would be sad to see them go and have to tend to his wounds alone, even if that was the best course of action.

His silence had dragged on too long, because Parker asked him: “Do you need help with the pants?”

“What? No, I’m alright,” he said, unbuckling his belt, before realizing getting up on his own was a challenge. “Maybe a hand with getting up?” he admitted, hating that he had to ask for help and hoping he wouldn't find judgment in their eyes.

He didn’t find any, both were glad to lever him up, which was a two men job now that his body’s control had left him in place of tiredness.

Once standing, he found that getting his jeans off was harder than he assumed with how they wetly clung to his legs. He couldn't put any weight on his ankle, so he was standing lopsided, which pulled on his stitches.

After a moment or two, they took pity on him, with Hardison giving Parker a look, who then asked him if he needed any help. He wanted to deny it for a second, but he didn’t see himself getting out of his jeans alone and he reminded himself that it was just bad for business if he went down and then wondered why it made him flush when Parker shimmied him out of his jeans while Hardison held him up. He pushed the thought down.

The track to the shower was hell and Eliot couldn't remember the last time he’d felt this woozy, which was strange because he’d definitely gotten injured worse and it hadn’t had this effect on him. Of course beforehe hadn’t hadHardison and Parker to takecare of him.

It should worry him more how much he was giving in and how badly it messed with his head, but it was hard to think when there were hands guiding him, keeping him steady, making sure he wouldn't fall.

When the spray first hit him, it hurt and he hissed, nearly falling again, only just caught by the others. His skin tingled until it itched as he warmed up.

He hadn’t even realized he was still leaning against Hardison until he asked: “You good to shower on you own, man? Because I don’t mind holding you up, but I’m ditching my jeans and shirt then.”

“Wha?” he blinked, before he processed. “No, ‘m fine.”

“You know what, I don’t believe you,” Hardison said, then he turned to Parker and said: “Hold him for a moment.”

His large soft hands were replaced by Parker’s calloused and small ones. Her long sleeves got wet under the spray, but Eliot couldn't bring himself to apologize for it, just too exhausted to even think of moving as he wondered why he had ever thought it’d be a good idea to handle this on his own.

Soon Hardison joined him in the shower, wrapping his arms around him from behind and letting Eliot lean against him under the spray.

It was warm and comfortable and for a moment he could forget that he was injured and cold and barely warming up. He could forget that he was technically not safe yet and that the people in his shower, holding him up were his coworkers and nothing more. He could just let go and exist for a moment.

“Parker, can you sponge him down?” Hardison’s voice broke the spell. “Gently,” the hacker added in a warning voice.

He tried to protest that he could clean himself, thank you very much, but he tripped over his own tongue, which never happened, and before the words could be formed, Parker had already appeared in the shower sans shirt, armed with a sponge.

Contrary to his expectation, she was gentle and it somehow bothered him more than if she’d been rough for reasons he couldn't explain.

She worked him down methodically, but the sponge soothed his bruises and he got lost in the sensations of her scrubbing him down. He was in just his boxers and Hardison was too, while Parker was only wearing leggings and a sports bra. It should be weird, it should bother him that he wasn’t even fighting his closing eyes, nor fighting the fact that he was practically burrowing into Hardison, but it didn’t. He just felt content.

Still, even all that contentness couldn't make the pain go away completely. He was exhausted as were his muscles and they let him know along with his ankle and minor stab wound. It took him a moment to register the hurting as bad, then he said: “I need to sit,” and it was strange how easy admitting that came to him.

“Yeah, man, no problem,” Hardison said. “You still wanna wash the blood out of your hair? Because it’s fine where it is, but I can also imagine you wanna take care of your luscious locks.”

“There’s blood in my hair?” He must have been really out of it that he hadn’t noticed that, but he didn’t like the idea of that being there. He would probably be too exhausted to wash it out later, hell, he was too exhausted now, but blood in someone’s hair was a reason for suspicion and they weren’t home yet. So, he groaned, realizing he still had to do that with his hurt shoulder and tired arm, not to mention the stitches.

“Hey, you good?” Hardison asked at the groan.

He tiredly tried to explain, hoping it would come across. “‘S jus’ that blood in ur hair is susp’cious and my arms’re tired, but my hair nee’s to be clean and jus’,” he groaned again as he attempted to lift his hands to show them.

What he didn’t see was their concerned gazes at how out of it he was. Parker checked his eyes and he frowned at her. “Do you have a concussion?” she asked.

And that would make a lot of sense, if he had been hit in the head hard enough and he knewhe hadn’t been, so it couldn't be. So, maybe it was the blood loss? Or just the exhaustion. He had been awake for quite some time and taken a bunch of hits, but that was standard. Poison? No, not poison. Just- just tiredness, he supposed.

“No, ‘m fine, Parker,” he finally replied. “Jus’ ad’enaline crashin’,” yeah, that sounded about right, he could believe that.

“Does this always happen after a con?” Hardison asked, “I’m moving us to the floor, by the way, don’t mind me,” he added, indeed lowering Eliot until he was sitting on the shower floor between Hardison’s legs, despite the fact that it had been nasty earlier.

“Nah,” he assured them. “Mus’ve been more ti’ed than I thought.”

“That’s okay, that’s okay, we’ll get you sorted,” Hardison said, before turning his attention to Parker and asking: “Can you hand me that shower head.” a small pause, “Ah, thanks, baby.”

Eliot was confused about the interaction for a moment, then felt the spray in his hair, startling him slightly. Hardison shushed him, saying: “Can’t have a security risk,” and if Eliot was a bit clearer he would have caught the joking tone, but instead his brain went: ‘yeah, makes sense,’ and let it happen.

He heard Parker’s excited voice ask if she could do the soap and Hardison chuckle out a ‘course, mama,’ but nothing really registered.

At some level he knew it was slight dissociation, a trick he used more often than he’d like to admit to deal with going through the pain when something needed to be done, such as tending to the wounds, like now.

But, the pain wasn’t even that bad, and the care was much better than he was used to. He shouldn’t be distancing himself from the whole experience so much, still his mind was pushing him away from his body, while it relaxed in the hands of his coworkers.

His teammates.

His people.

He should really be getting back to his body, Hardison was shielding his eyes and the warm spray was running over his head. He focused on that, on the water running down his bare back, on Hardison still murmuring nonsense to him, on Parker poking his leg, not quite his ankle, but close enough to feel it. He kept his focus on the ankle.

In his mind he defended it by telling himself that he was just assessing the damage and that was why he was focusing on the ankle, because it would be bad for business if the team’s muscle couldn't walk. He didn’t tell himself the pain was more familiar and easier to cope with than the gentle touch.

Getting out of the shower was a different challenge and while Eliot was finally warm again, he still wasn’t much help and his muscled frame was heavy.

He got jostled around quite a bit and he had to bite his lip to stop himself from making any noise when he accidentally caught himself on his hurt ankle, but in the end he was standing and his stitches were still in tact. A victory in his books.

Parker was still mostly dry, so when Hardison was done maneuvering Eliot onto the toilet, he grabbed a towel for himself as well, throwing the other to Parker as he said: “I’m grabbing us some clothes and a bit of ice, alright, mama?”

“Yeah, I’ll take care of him,” Parker assured him as he left. Then her focus was completely on Eliot, who still sat dazed on the toilet, slightly upset at the cooling water and cold air, but not enough to do something about it in his exhausted state.

Parker filled up his field of vision again, first patting down his face, then producing a tiny towel to wrap his hair in. She moved over his neck, down his back, doing his arms as she went. She took extra care around the stitches and Eliot felt overwhelmed.

The twisty feelings he’d been trying to push away came back. Parker was being gentle with him when there was no reason for it, Hardison was getting him ice and had sat on the nasty floor with him instead of leaving his hair uncomfortable and bloody.

They didn’t need to do any of that. They could just leave him to his own and he would have been fine. They hadn’t needed to jump in when they saw he could tough through it. So why were they still here? Why were they still being nice to him? And why did it hurt so much that they cared? He shouldn’t care so mu-

Oh.

Oh no.

He liked them, no, he loved them. They were so nice to him and part of his brain enjoyed the comfort so much that the survival part of his brain had jumped in to make his consciousness disappear, because it didn’t know how to cope with that.

Parker was still drying him and he should really push her off right about now, because this was way too intimate and she had a boyfriend. A boyfriend he also had feelings for, but he didn’t think that made the situation any better.

It didn’t seem Parker noticed his internal breakdown as she went down his legs, thankfully ignoring other areas luckily still covered by the boxers, even if he knew that wet as they were, they didn’t hide much.

Okay, back it up, Eliot, he told himself. What do we know?

He went over it in his head. He had wanted to push them away, he remembered that now and the twisty feelings he had also pushed away in order to see it as a business transaction, but Parker and Hardison had gone much further than a business transaction. And he’d liked that. That could be number two, he liked that they cared for him.

Was that just a touch starvation thing, he wondered. He examined it further, then came to the conclusion that it wasn’t, not entirely at least. Having the contact for contact’s sake was nice, but it was nothing compared to the women(and sometimes men) he had spend a night with. It felt like much more, just more. Intense.

So, it wasn’t just the touch, it was the fact that Hardison and Parker were the ones touching him. Fuck. They were dating each other, he shouldn’t be weird about it. They were good together and his feelings should not interfere with what they had.

How he hadn’t figured out he liked them before now, he didn’t know, because it washed over him in waves suddenly and he had a hard time getting it under control.

Of course, his mind had disassociated so badly during the time they showered him (which was another thing he had just let them do) just to avoid feeling things over them, so maybe that wasn’t entirely accurate. God, this was a fucking mess.

Semi-luckily for him, his life had been a series of messes and he knew how to deal with them: repress all feelings about it and move on without ever telling a soul.

He had only just decided on that course of action when Hardison returned to make it hard for him again. He’d only just gotten used to Parker’s gentle patting.

But Hardison had clothes and maybe getting covered a bit would be better. Of course, he still couldn't lift his arm properly and standing was out of the question, so this reverse-strip was about to become up close and personal. He would say he hated it, but that was a lie and he hated himself a bit for it.

Not that he had much time to think about it, since Hardison immediately began talking the moment he entered the bathroom. “I know your shoulder still hurts and I went through your stuff, but you only have shirts with you, so I got you one of my zip-up hoodies, because I’m amazing. I also have boxers here and I know that’s kinda weird that I went through your stuff and got you boxers, but mine wet were very uncomfortable and I didn’t want to subject you to that. Also I have sweatpants.”

“You went through my stuff?” he asked, finding the thing that was the most normal to comment on, hoping it would keep the whole thing normal.

“Yeah, man, I’m sorry, but we need to get you dressed and into a bed,” Hardison answered. “You looked like you were about to fall asleep standing earlier.”

And that was hard to deny and he felt a bit fuzzy when he imaged Hardison taking care to select one of his hoodies, just so that Eliot wouldn't have to lift his arm. He made a tired gesture, any fight he would have leaving his body, then he smiled: “It’s okay. ‘m pretty tired anyway.”

“Good, you need the rest,” Hardison nodded, before laying the clothes down and picking up the hoodie, holding it up with a question mark in his eyes.

Eliot nodded and the towel he’d had in his hair fell. He made a small noise, before admitting: “I’d forgotten that was there.”

“It looked funny,” Parker told him, before adding, “I’m glad you’re not slurring your words anymore. I was worried.”

“Ah, sorry about that,” Eliot blushed, remembering his antics in the shower. He still felt near that person, but now that there was less pain and contact to distance himself from and he had more control over his emotions, he could once again regulate his speech.

“Wanna talk about what happened?” Hardison asked, easing his right and hurt shoulder into the hoodie while Eliot let out a measured breath at the stab of pain.

He remembered being in a daze, cuddling up to Hardison and letting Parker wash him gently with a sponge, despite the fact that they were together and he should stay far away from that. He remembered tripping over his words and needing to sit, while they washed his hair, because he couldn't. He remembered it being nice and he quickly put a lid on all of that.

“Did anything happen?” he finally shot back, deflecting, as he put his left arm into the other sleeve of Hardison’s hoodie. It hugged his arms tightly, since he was slightly more built than Hardison, but the sleeves were longer and fell over his hands.

“That’s a no, then okay,” Hardison nodded, “You need pants. Now, we tried letting you take of your own pants off and that didn’t work. So-”

“You’re not changing my fucking underwear, Hardison.” Eliot had to put a stop to that line of thinking ASAP. It was too close to things he wanted and he couldn't risk that.

“Why not?” Parker asked.

She was completely genuine and he could never not answer her. So, he started to stumble through a reply: “I’d be naked, Parker and you- you’re-I- it’s fucking embarrassing. I’m a grown man, I can change my own fucking clothes.”

It looked like Parker wanted to say something to that, but a look from Hardison cut her off. The man turned to Eliot and put his hands together as he did the point thing to Eliot, while he talked: “Okay, man, look I get it. This sucks for you right now and all that, but me and Parker care about you, right, and we are worried about you. So, neither of us want to really leave you here to hurt yourself. You get that?”

His brain had mostly stopped when Hardison told him they cared about him, static filling his head as alarms blared while other parts flashed with hidden meanings he shouldn’t seek. Faintly he was aware he should answer, so he mumbled: “Wha- yeah.”

Hardison rubbed his forehead and said: “See, this is what we’re talking about. Where did your mind run of to? Did you even hear what I said?”

“Partly. Man, get off my case, I’m trying, okay,” Eliot snapped, a bit harsher than he’d intended, but all the emotions were twisting up inside his chest and making it difficult for him to focus without spilling anything.

“Hey, don’t get grumpy at us for trying to help,” Hardison snapped back.

Something shriveled inside Eliot. He’d never wanted to make Hardison upset with him. He was just exhausted and slightly upset at the whole situation. He looked back to see why he had even agreed to them helping him. Their worried faces came to mind again and he felt a pang of guilt go through his chest.

“Come on, Eliot, say something, before you start shivering again,” Parker pleaded and when he looked down, his legs were covered with goosebumps.

“…Fine,” he gave in, “please be quick.”

“Alright, man!” And there was relief and pep in Hardison’s voice and the fact that he wasn’t angry anymore did more good to Eliot than any painkiller could have. “We’re gonna be quick and discreet. Parker’ll hold you up and I’ll change. Won’t peek, promise.”

“Just get it over with,” Eliot sighed as he was heaved to his feet, still unsteady, but now more due to the tiredness pulling at his limbs rather than the pain that still pulsed in the background.

As promised it was quick, didn’t mean it was any less awkward.

Parker kept him steady with her arms around his forearms, but he still couldn't put his weight on his left ankle. So when Hardison pulled his underwear down, he could step out of one of his leg-holes by himself and Parker had to shift to under his shoulder, before Hardison could exchange the wet underwear for a new one.

Still it could have been much worse and the clean, dryunderwear felt indeed much better. He was now sitting on a towel on the toilet, while Hardison knelt in front of him, bunching up the sweats so he could put his feet into it.

When it came to his injured ankle. He clenched his teeth, not managing to keep a groan in his throat. Under his breath, Hardison apologized softly.

Then Parker knelt down with bandages and set to work on his ankle, wrapping it. She had not been lying when she’d said she had worked on her first aid. The bandaging was secure, but not too tight and tied off neatly.

“Now I still need to do your side,” she said. “I wanted to wait until you were warmed up a bit. How are you feeling, still cold?”

“No, ‘m much better, Park,” he smiled at her and let her undo the zipper, before she bandaged his side as well.

He was then once again pulled to his feet and Hardison tugged his sweats the rest of the way, before he could think of bending down and doing it himself.

The track to the bed was slow, but less painful than last time. With his mind back in order a bit, it took effort to not sink into Hardison’s side or think too much about the hand on his waist and how careful he was with his shoulder. It was all so tender and Eliot needed it to stop before his brain could write all sorts of meanings about the gesture.

Parker had already pulled back the sheets on the bed and had put down a pillow for his foot. He smiled at her, but it turned into a wince once he sat down. He had enough strength left in him to lay down on his own, but the moment his head had hit the pillow the exhaustion slammed into him and he knew he would make a longer night than 90 minutes.

Small calloused hands lifted his ankle onto the pillow, before a towel-wrapped ice bag was dropped on it and a finger poked the ankle one last time. He didn’t have the energy to react to the poke and he felt lightly touched at the gesture, something he pushed down immediately.

He still felt as if there were a thousand things he had to do before he could rest. He hadn’t been able to check the parameter, or if his door had been locked, if Nate and Sophie were alright, where Parker and Hardison would be when he was asleep. Hell, he hadn’t even brushed his teeth.

Eliot contemplated getting back up for his teeth. He could check the other stuff while he was at it and dental hygiene was important.

Hardison would probably scoff at that and laugh with the way he only drank orange soda and other sugary stuff, but Eliot knew what dental infections could do at the wrong moment and most of his teeth were fake and had cost him a lot of money. He was very careful with his teeth.

Still, he found himself drifting off despite all that, faintly feeling his mattress dip under familiar weights.

A/N:

How oblivious can this man get? And other questions about Eliot’s emotional state. Repression is one hell of a drug. But he figures it out, shout out to Eliot for sifting through his feelings like a somewhat functional person, what a lad. Even though his answer was in the end suppression, he tried.

I am also excited to announce that I’m making it both better and worse for him >:3

(don’t worry, he’s getting compensated with hugs, so he should be fine, mostly)

#RR writing #tw: minor injury #tw: self esteem issues #eliot spencer #alec hardison #parker #leverage parker #leverage #leverage ot3 #eliot x hardison x parker #thiefsome #hitter hacker thief #leverage tv #nathan ford #sophie devereaux #Hold Me Together #Hold Me Together Part 1

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prof-peach · 3 years

Note

Hello professor, I have a pretty heavy question I’m afraid, but I’m running out of people to ask, so I’ll try my best to keep it PG13.

It’s my Mienshao, Daisy. Up until recently, she and I were members of a police task force tasked with rooting out illegal Pokemon smuggling rings and underground high stakes tournaments. We’ve been partners for a long time, me and Daisy, we grew up together, and I dare say we made a great team. But then things went wrong.

For the sake of security I can’t go into too much detail, but we were participating in a raid when we got ambushed. Someone must have tipped the smugglers off, because they were waiting for us when we got there. During the firefight, there was an explosion, a gas tank got set on fire by a charizard, I believe, and Daisy and I happened to be close. She got out with a few minor burns and scrapes, I... Did not.

I’ll spare you the gory details, but I have been confined to a wheel chair ever since, and I am due to be fitted for a prosthetic leg next week.

I won’t lie, the transition has been hard for everybody, me, my friends, my family. My other Pokémon have been hovering around me like over protective nannies for weeks. But I think out of all of us, Daisy has been taking it the hardest. Half of the day she spends locked to my side like a bodyguard, threatening to punch anyone that gets too close into oblivion. And the other half, well...

She’s started putting herself through some kind of hellish self training routine. Doing katas until she all but collapses from exhaustion, running laps for hours, fighting every Pokemon she can convince to fight, wild or trained. Daisy’s always been tough, and she’s always loved training, but this... This isn’t training, it’s a death march. I’m getting extremely worried, and that’s not even everything!

She’s stopped eating her favorite foods, deliberately choosing ones I know she hates, she won’t let me pet her anymore, she just steps out of reach, trying not to look at me. But most worryingly, she’s started cutting off her whiskers. She’s always been so proud of her whiskers, she groomed them every day, always got grumpy when I teased her for having a big ol’ mustache. Now anytime they get longer than an inch, she slices them off with her claws and throws them in fireplace, like some kind ceromony.

I’m almost certain Daisy feels guilty for coming out mostly unscathed, when I didn’t. She’s always been a bit protective, even before we joined the police, and she’s saved my life multiple times out in the field, but now she feels like she’s failed me, I think. I’ve tried to convince her that it wasn’t her fault, but that only seems to redouble her efforts. I’m terrified she’s going to burn herself out if she keeps going like this, and I don’t know what to do.

I know this is a pretty heavy question, but I I’m not sure who else to ask. Is there anything I can do to convince her that she doesn’t need to hurt herself like this? Or, something? Just anything to help! Losing my leg was jarring, but losing Daisy would be unbearable!... I just... I just want my best friend to be okay.

I am sorry for what you’ve been through, I cannot begin to understand what it’s like to be in your shoes, but like all recovery, physical or mental, this will take a fair bit of time to get past, you both may never fully return to how things were, but it can get better and you can both return to a full life together with work and dedication.

I’ve certainly seen Pokemon go to extreme lengths after dangerous incidents to protect their loved ones or themselves, in this case it would be wise to assume your pokemons suffering with a hefty bill of PTSD, and needs some actual therapy to handle the feelings and thoughts they’re having. We have facilities to accommodate that if you’re local to Johto, but most Pokemon centres will be able to put you in contact with reliable and certified practices to begin unravelling the issues that now plague Daisy.

That she considers herself to have come away reasonably unscathed is not true, yes your life has physically changed, but she needs to step back and take a look at her life too. Everything’s different now, and more specifically how she’s treating herself and handling her feelings. If that’s not trauma and injury, I don’t know what else it could be. You both came away with damage that day, physical or not. The first step is to help her see that, and to begin to understand that despite this all, you can both continue to move forward together if you can overcome the injury together, it is an event you shared, and you two can aid each others recovery with time and care.

There’s some seriously gifted therapists out there, those who study for years and can help far more than me, they’ll take time to break down the events, and start to really get into the feelings that your partner is going through. The cycle for Daisy right now comes around to self-punishment, and seems to be stuck on a loop. She needs time and space to process her feelings of guilt, grief, fear and loss, facing them instead of burying herself in her rigorous training. While it is difficult to discuss, you two have a strong bond that means you could talk with her. Try to remind her who’s truly responsible, she may be blaming herself, which is pretty common in these situations, but at the root of it, you were doing your routine job, and the bad guys, the Pokemon smugglers and goons are to blame. THEY caused the issue, not her, and while it may not sink in right away it’s worth saying, and sticking to. You said you told her that it wasn’t her fault, which is the gut reaction, perhaps giving her a logical target instead of herself will work better for now. Reiterating the true issue, and taking the heat off of her may help with other tasks such as self care, later down the recovery road.

Her guilt will feel terrible, but it kind of works as a protector, keeping her distanced from the worse, more overwhelming feelings of helplessness and powerlessness. In fact the guilt that masks this all will slowly make things worse over time. That underlying intense emotion below the guilt is what you both need to work through, but more than anything, she needs to face it, in her own time, come to terms with it, and eventually (hopefully) come to an understanding that life is an endless cycle of events, things will happen, but you have to pick yourself up and turn the lemons into lemonade. She could have lost you that day, that you came away with your life is a miracle, and now you two get more time together because of that. Luck isn’t something that runs out, it’s not like there’s only so much of it to go around, it is like wining the lottery. Sometimes 20 people win, other times no one does. It’s hard to accept, but there’s no greater order to stuff that happens, but when we can come to this conclusion, it’s oddly freeing. I’ve seen a fair few Pokemon in a symilar state who can move on when they realise there’s an odd randomness to the world and everything that goes on.

This is a job for someone with far greater skills than I, but you must help her by also looking after yourself, laugh when you can, show her that your life is still very full, and that you have loved ones, and joy to share with others. You mentioned that you’re due a prosthetic, and though the transition will be long and no doubt a little difficult at first, getting yourself back on two feet (kind of) will show her, and your other Pokemon that you’re willing to move forward. I think there’s a lot to be said about talking during this all. She wants to fight, to be strong, if this is how she’s going to cope, fine. If she’s out training, sit with her, spend whatever time you can by her side, as she’s taking this the hardest. You don’t have to say a thing, just try to do your best, without putting yourself in too much discomfort or pain. Reminding her who would be devastated if it had been her who got hurt, if she was not around, may help ground her back in reality a bit. You both got granted a gift that day, you came away alive, if she works so hard she burns out, that gift was wasted. She can use her kindness, and strength to help you, she can pass her knowledge and skill forward, but it’s hard to help others, and do your best if you’re exhausted beyond reason. Kind of like trying to give people bread from a basket but the damn basket is empty yknow? You got to take time to refill so you can help those around you again, so you have some bread to give. I know, probably sounds a little dumb but it’s always been the way I remember it.

Another very useful thing I’ve found with trauma survivors would be meeting others who have been in the same position. There’s plenty of support groups for both people and Pokemon who have been through events that left them in a difficult situation, emotionally and physically. Even here at the lab we have many species who have been left without limbs, with life changing damage, and a lot of them also have the emotional trauma too. She would probably do well to spend time with them, you can send her to a resort to retreat and recoup erase, mix with others who were just as angry as she is now, or you can take time to go with her to groups to interact with others. It’s one thing to have humans help, but it’s a whole other level of connection when Pokemon can help their own. They bond quicker, trust faster, and generally are more open to listening when it’s coming from a place of mutual experience. If she had time to talk to pokemon who actually lost their trainers, or parts of themselves, she may find some peace, even if only temporarily.

Don’t mention the whiskers, and where possible don’t offer her foods she actively likes, but also not ones she actively dislikes. Just for now. Start the ball rolling with just plain simple things that are neither good or bad. Indifferent is better than bad right now, the punishment she’s inflicting on herself will need addressing further, so contact a therapist, they use Rotom or porygon to translate from poke-speech to human language, and the repair can begin with a registered professional. My advice is not sound proof, I certainly feel like I have missed something important, it’s a big response, but it’s a start in the right direction, and should you come up to any further issues, message back and update us with what’s going on. With work you two will be on track to recover. Remember, patience is the biggest thing here, you two have history, and a therapist will no doubt take the sessions as a pair, and work with you to help Daisy feel less guilty over time. I hope you both find peace, and that both of you repair in due time. Good luck with the new leg, a step towards recovery for sure.

#pokemon #prof.peach #peach talks #take this one with a pinch of salt #I’m no therapist #but I certainly hope you both find some peace

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only-lurkin-dont-mind-me · 3 years

Text

The Path of Loyalty is Paved in Blood

While I enjoy reading Mostly fluff pieces, it seems as though whenever I write it always ends up... a little angsty (mostly with a happy end though, I’m not heartless)

@chiliiscereal

TW: Blood. Injury. Character death(s)

The night had been cold when you first met them, you remembered it well. You were still so young, so were they. You had been wandering the empty park in the later hours of the night, wandering aimlessly until you heard other children's laughter. Short stubby legs racing to find where the noises were coming from, the chattering grew louder as you made your way to a single basketball court.

As you looked past the shrubbery dotting the edges of the court, you saw them, four brothers smiling and laughing in delight as they passed the ball around in what seemed to be a game of catch. You were too young to even think of how they looked different from you. Instead, you stood in place, wondering if you could join in their game.

When the smallest of the group lost his aim and ended up throwing the ball into the same bushes that hid you, you took it as your cue.

"Mikey!" one of them laughed gleefully, "I'm over here; you gotta throw it to me!"

"I'm doing my best Leo, catch better!" the other replied in turn as you grabbed the ball. Slowly you walked to the edge of the chalk outlined court, ball in hand, looking around nervously. You could hear them walking towards you. You only looked up when the biggest of the group spoke to you with a cheerful tone as you bounced the ball towards him.

"Nice find, I thought we lost it that time." Despite being the largest out of his brothers, he was smaller than you with a big grin. You couldn't help but smile back; yeah, they seemed like fun.

Taking another step forward, you finally found your voice, "Can I play too?" You asked with a bright smile, one that was matched by the kid that had two red stripes by his eyes.

He was quick to move to your side and grab your arm, pulling you along while exclaiming loudly, "New friend's on my team!"

"What?!"

"No fair!"

"NO TAKE-BACKS!"

The darkened smoke-filled skies hid the sun from sight. You watched your heavy breaths rise into a cold mist, glowering at the looming threat that towered over you. You thought of that moment, of each and every moment you had cherished with this found family of yours.

The common tradition that came with sleeping over in the lair, you and Mikey would go straight to the kitchen, baking tools in your grasp as you both set about designing something that would be amazing. The music had been loud as you both danced around each other, tossing stencils back and forth, drawing out ideas for cake designs. Taking turns kicking the others out each time one of the brothers tried to infiltrate and sneak off with the tasty decorative pieces. "You know-" Mikey had spoken in an easy tone as you both worked on the final touches of the nights' creation. "-it really is fun getting to do this stuff with you, you're my favorite crafting buddy!" He would say while throwing an arm around your shoulders, beaming smile and all.

As the cold air of the storm seeped around you, fighting off the burning heat from the creature, you snarled at the beast above you, fist clenched, widening your stance, placing yourself directly between it and your family that lay in a bloodied and far too silent heap just behind you.

Another late night with Donnie, hiding out in the lab trying to be as quiet as possible while watching old horror movies. You could never be scared of them whenever watching them with the purple-clad turtle. "See? See?! right there, it's a big ass wire holding the doll up can you believe it!" You had jumped on him, covering his mouth to stop the roaring laughter from waking up everyone else in the lair. In the same fashion, he had covered your mouth to help you bite back the same laughter. shoving your hands away to keep his commentary up, "The blood looks like it's just water mixed with ketchup!" He had wheezed out. Throwing popcorn and chips at each other to try and silence each other in the strangest attempted stealthy food fight as the ridiculous horror movie played on.

You could feel the ache in your bones as the rain and ash pelted your skin, your muscles wanting nothing more than to give out. You knew that the only thing keeping you going was adrenalin and a deep-rooted instinct to guard and stand by your family. As the blood dripped from your wounds down your person into a puddle on the ground, you planted yourself in place. Standing firm and unyielding.

Evenings with Raph, sitting with him on the floor of his room, holding his trembling hands together as he held a paper flower in his palms. 'The Beauty of Origami' laid open on the ground next to you both, Raph had asked you to go over the instructions and make the simple lotus flower first so he could see the steps in person. As he stared at it now it seemed so small and fragile in his larger hands. "You can do this, Raph. Paper is easy, it takes a light touch and that's it. Even if you mess up it's alright. It won't hurt anything if you tear a piece or two, we'll just try again." He finally looked to you, absolute trust in his eyes as he nodded. Gingerly placing your flower down in front of him, Raph took the piece of colorful paper from you, and he began to craft.

You felt every emotion at once rising from within you, faithful love for your family, Warmth from all of the small moments you held close to your heart with them. You could physically feel your spirit rise in a violent force to defend them, this wasn't just a group of brothers. This was yours, your family.

"Hurry up, if you don't get in here already the dynamic duo is going to be a dynamic uno. I will leave you behind if Raph finds you in the kitchen this late!" Leo whisper yelled as he stood halfway through the portal that leads to who knows where. You could only throw the bag of chips at him as you rushed his way, food, and drinks in tote. As a heavy set of footsteps slowly sounded through the hallway you saw Leo's eyes widen, He lunged forward, wrapping an arm around your torso, and pulled you through the portal with a laugh. As the world brightened once again to reveal a quiet cliffside, you could hear the water below. "Come on bestie, help me set everything up." So it would go, snacks, drinks, a blanket to lay on, and an endless sky of start to watch, fake constellations to make up and give stories too.

The beast let out a crashing roar as it stomped the ash-covered ground in front of you. You could feel the force of what felt like many in your words as you bellowed a wordless, hateful cry. You could feel tears rushing down your face now. Still, you remained in place. "This is my family! You will not touch them!" Thunder booming as your voice sounded. The storm only growing as though it was lashing out in your own emotional state.

Your ferocity faltered as you felt a hand reach out to rest against your ankle. You risked a glance behind you, looking down to see that it was Leo, you could see his bloodied mouth trying to move, unable to form the words, and tears falling down his bruised face. his hand shook from the effort of trying to grab hold of you. His eyes were desperate, tired, near lifeless. He wasn't going to tell you to fight, or to run. He was just... Scared. Of existing at this moment alone.

You looked to the beast with a burning, hateful, wrath. You growled towards the creature as you turned your back to it. Instead of fighting fruitlessly with your last breath, you allowed your body to fall to the ground. Hitting your knees as everything you had was finally given out.

You leaned against Raph’s side unable to feel for his normally pounding heartbeat. resting an arm on top of him to hold onto Mikey's limp hand, squeezing lightly, waiting for a responding squeeze that you knew would never come. Stretching your other arm over Leo's back to reach for Donnie, resting a hand on his chest, feeling for his slow heartbeat, only to be met with a cold lack of the familiar rhythm. Finally, you let yourself slump forward onto Leo's upper shell. You pressed the side of your head against his, no longer holding back the anguished broken cries. You felt his arm wrapping around your shoulders desperately as he tried to catch any breath he could. You could hear his crackling breathing slow as his body began to relax.

This was your family, you had found them when you were young. You had grown up with them. Celebrated with them at their best and mourned with them at their worst. You would find a permanent rest with them. You would stay until your final breath gave out and beyond.

You called out their names softly in turn, waiting for any response.

Nothing.

You closed your eyes, knowing that this was where you belonged. Besides your family, till the end. As you allowed your body to finally rest, you held tight where you could. Allowing what final strength you possessed to be poured into a final declaration. "... I love you."

You could hear the fading noise of the beast finally getting closer, you had a feeling though that none of you would feel the burning as its molten fire gathered in its gut, its maw unhinged, the fading light of its flames shines and-

...

"HEY!" Your eyes shot open as you sat upright, greeted by the sight of four smiling brothers, no equipment, no blood or bruising, not a single scar from their lifetimes marred their scales. They seemed, healthy, glowing even in a way you had never seen before.

Leo kneeled next to you, Raph was standing tall with Mikey perched on his shoulders. Donnie standing a few steps behind them, looking outward along the treeline of what seemed to be a meadow, staring towards something that had caught his attention.

"C'mon, Donnie says the river down there has got to lead to a lake or something." Raph gestured to where Donnie was looking.

"Yeah, baby! We're gonna go for a swim, see what we can find out here." Mikey chimed in, hopping from Raph’s shoulders to the ground, snatching up Donnie and pulling him along in his excitement.

"Yes, do try to hurry though, Michel here just might leave us all behind if we take too long!" Donnie shouted back to you as he was dragged along.

Raph could only laugh as he raced to catch up with his younger brothers.

Leo grabbed your arm, pulling you up easily with a relaxed grin. As soon as you were up he began walking in the direction his brothers left in. Once he realized you weren't walking with him, however. He stopped, turning to you with a knowing look. "Hey-" Leo reached out a hand to you. "You coming?"

You stared at him, settling into yourself with a wave of newfound peace, you couldn't feel a single ache or pain, just a light airy happiness surrounding you and your family. You slowly reached out and took Leo's hand, smiling back at him with a shine in your eyes you could only remember having when you had first met a lifetime ago. "Of course I'm coming with you guys, I'm always right with you aren't I?"

Leo nodded with an amused snort. "Course you are, you're always with us, oh and by the way-" Leo pulled you along, walking at a leisurely pace, seeming to settle into this new place just as much as you had. "-We love you too."

#doingnickelodeonsjob #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt #tmnt x reader #tmnt #tbh this is like highkey all familial love nothing romantic so yeah #also sorry for the angst I intended to write something sweet but just... *vaguely gesturing* this happened?

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orange-waterfalls · 4 years

Text

Reader w/ wings headcanons(Markiplier Alter Egos)

ty @fancybootm for the request!

A/N: i just did all of them. every-all-everyone. Except Yandereplier, Silver Shepard, Ed Edgar... maybe others I’m not aware of at the moment... I tried to stick with a certain number of egos, but my hands just... they just kept moving. It is 11:00 pm when im writing this ya boy is TIRED. there are 1.6k words. It seems longer than it is bc bullet points. Bear with me. You can find the egos that you want easily. The reader is gender neutral. i am so sorry if this is not what you meant lol. on the bright side this is a good reference for all the egos i am open to writing for(also maybe others idk) so uh im keeping it enjoy. I’ll say... a T rating for cursing and also a bit of violence but literally like 20 words. mentions of injury. that’s it.

Requests are open!

Y/N(reader) with wings hcs

No one knows what the fuck you are, not even you

Ya got wings. That’s it.

Are you an angel? A faery? A phoenix? Who knows

You woke up one day in a forest remembering nothing

But you had wings

And then you got shot with an arrow

You ran away and hid in a cave

Darkiplier spends most of his time around you studying you

To see what you could possibly be

He still doesn’t know

He’s settled for calling you a “cryptid”

He’s slightly annoyed with the feathers you leave around the manor

He won’t tell you bc you can’t control that and it’d be rude

You read together in his study on occasion

You sit on the floor bc your wings get uncomfortable in chairs

In sympathy, he also sits on the floor

You think it’s sweet

You told him so and he sputtered out a “shut up and read your book”

He’s fairly fond of you

You’re good company to keep around

Wilford was the one who found you

He was walking through the forest, as one does, when he saw GIANT feathers

Naturally, he followed them

He found you in a cave with an arrow in your shoulder

He took you back to the manor and patched you up

He begged Dark to keep you there

He promised not to kill anybody for a month

He made it 15 days, which is a record

He’s very protective of you, not letting you out a lot since uh… hunters

You are his Sweet Little Songbird, light of his life, wind in his sails,

if anything happens to you he will kill everyone in the manor and then himself

He helps you preen a lot

His hands are very gentle, surprisingly

He spends the most time with you out of everyone

You play games, talk(well, he talks to you), and just hang out

He loves and adores you with his whole heart

Actor tolerates you, or so he says

He’s jealous of your wings

HE’S supposed to be the mysterious, sexy one!

But ok, yeah, you’re pretty interesting

He uses you in short films sometimes bc… well… wings

There are alot of things you can do with wings, surprisingly

He took you out into town one night

He shoved the wings under a thick jacket

You guys bought some clothes and food

He cut holes in the clothes for your wings, grumbling about a “waste of money” and “you never go out anyway”

but he enjoyed spending a bit of time with you

Wilford nearly killed him(again) when he found out

He likes venting to you bc you just nod without really listening

As I said, you’re good company

Yancy thinks you’re nice

He felt a bit… threatened at first

Ya got WINGS, of course he’s cautious

But they are very pretty

And he likes to use you in choreography

People always comment on how realistic the wings are as Yancy leads you away

You don’t judge him for killing his parents, he likes that about you

You don’t know. You could’ve done something bad. You don’t remember

He likes cuddling bc you wrap your wings around him and he feels safe

He also helps you preen… sometimes…

He’s… really bad at it...

You like listening to him sing

He sings you lullabies at night

You’re very close

Illinois is very fascinated with you

He’s convinced you’re a fairy

He’s seen quite a few of those

You tell him you don’t know, and he goes “a LiKeLy StOrY”

He likes drawing you

You’re very angelic

“Oh, maybe an angel then…” He says, like an idiot

He takes you with him on a few adventures to fly him over pits and stuff

He’d never admit it but he has a… THING about heights

It’s called a phobia, you egotistic maniac

You try to help him with it

You never get that far off the ground before he’s screaming to be put down

He appreciates the effort

He gives you things he finds on adventures that are pretty or remind him of you

He infodumps to you about curses, and archaeology, and adventuring, etc.

Magnum is uh… well, he’s Magnum

He figures you’d be useful out at sea

You can find nearby land, ships, or treasure by flying, of course

He didn’t take into account the fact that you don’t really… fly that often.

So it turned into you just stretching your wings instead of looking for loot

Once you fell overboard

Everyone was like “eh, they can fly, it’s fine”

Then they realized that you probably can’t since your wings might be wet

Magnum LEAPED into the fuckin water and THREW you back on

He doesn’t take you on the sea as much anymore

sometimes you talk about life, treasure, love, y'know the usual

He’s very Father Figure-ly

Bim isn’t sure how to feel about you

You are a person. With wings. What’s he supposed to do about that

He’s friends with Wil, so has to tolerate you at least.

He tries to make conversation, but it doesn’t always go as well as it could

You don’t have much to talk about, and some of his topics worry you

Mostly you two just kinda… exist in the same general area

Sometimes he’ll discuss what he should do on his show

You don’t have many ideas

But you’ve gotten an idea of what it is, and sometimes give a suggestion or two

He appreciates you for that

He tried to get you on the show once but Wilford refused

You kinda wanted to, but whatever

You’ll hang out sometimes too

He’s very entertaining, he has to be

Eric is kind of scared

Not that you’ll hurt him, that he’ll hurt you

That happens a lot to people he likes…

He eventually starts hanging out around you

You don’t ask bad questions, and you distract him from his dad

He talks about animals with you a lot, and how he wanted a farm

You bought a cowboy hat and gave it to him and he cried

You also gave him a stuffed cow one day

He hugged you for a long time

You two cuddle a lot bc the boy needs SAFETY and SECURITY

You wuv each other(platonically or otherwise)

Dr. Iplier doesn’t bother you, mostly

He appreciates that you keep to yourself

He has his work, that’s what he’s focused on

Sometimes he’ll see you when you try to find Wilford or get some food

He tries to get a good look at you without looking suspicious

It doesn’t work, he always falls over

He once gave you a “physical”

It was mostly to just figure out what you were

You seemed mostly human based on the results

But goddammit you had WINGS

They had their own function but were sort of like an add-on to your body

He was slightly disappointed you weren’t gonna… turn into a whole bird

You tolerate each other

Google fuckin’ hates you

He’s completely perplexed by you

Which he is never because he is the most intelligent being on the planet

So he assumed he could figure out what you were

Turns out google fucking sucks at figuring out things people don’t already know

So he hates you. Like a lot

He’s tried to kill you multiple times

But his objective is to destroy MANKIND

You are not included in that

BECAUSE HE DOESN’T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK YOU ARE!!!

Also Wilford almost killed him for it

So yeah he just kinda hates you

You’ve tried to get along with him but he just wouldn’t

He finally talked to you when Bing called him a little bitch

Still hates you, but can tolerate your existence now

Bing fuckin’ adores you

You are just wonderful to him

You can FLY??!! You have WINGS???!!!!!

You don’t really care that he is an artificial BEING????!!!!!!!!

You’re perfect

He does Sick Tricks™ to try to impress you

They never do

You appreciate the effort

You don’t see him a lot, but when you to it’s very entertaining

He taught you how to skateboard

You kinda sucked but he’s very supportive

He likes just hanging around you

It’s the only time he ever chills the fuck out

Everyone’s thankful to you for that

Your entire dynamic is “what if... i put... my minecraft bed... next to yours? haha just kidding... unless?”

The Host doesn’t really care about the wings??

I mean, he can’t see them, so… what’s the big deal

You appreciate that

He still does the uh… narration thing… with real people…

The stories end better now

You convinced him to make the stories end better

You sat with him to make SURE the stories end better

He also started writing novels recently

You help with plot and character development

He appreciates that

The Jims… don’t really care about you

I mean you’re interesting, of course

But they physically Cannot get a clear picture of you

Even if you agree to sit still, it just doesn’t happen

It is always, ALWAYS blurry

They eventually give up and leave you alone

They do spend a bit of time with you

You help them with demon episodes sometimes

You don’t do much, but they like the emotional support

King of the Squirrels is… well, he’s him

He doesn’t… he doesn’t do much

He hangs out with his squirrels. That’s pretty much it.

You just started hanging out with him one day

He didn’t mind

You two feed the squirrels while sitting by a tree

He lets you wear his crown sometimes

He draws his squirrels, and lets you see the pictures

He teaches you how to draw them

You two don’t talk, really

You just sit. And hang out.

He doesn’t really smile, but you can tell when he’s happy with you

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finleyfray · 3 years

Text

Bittersweet Memories part 7

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (part 6)

Taglist: @ashadash0904

TW: language,nightmares, think that’s it

Finley looks at the door, waiting patiently for her girlfriends to come in. Earlier today J’onn came along announcing there was a mission and if they wanted to go. Of course, Alex and Maggie said no instantly, but Fin almost ordered them to go and have a bit of fun. After arguing with them for a solid ten minutes, they finally agreed, claiming they will be back before their scheduled therapy session.

The black-haired woman was nervous for the session. She knows they will talk about a lot of stuff that’s troubling them in their relationship. But on the other hand, some things have to be talked about. Maybe if they sit down and list them, it’s going to help. At least now Fin didn’t have to worry about Kelly stealing her girls.

‘She has a wife and a kid on the way. She wouldn’t leave them. There is no danger from her side.’ Finley thinks as she hears a knock on her door.

“Come in.” She looks at the door as they open and Kelly enters the room. “Hi.” Finley smiles politely as she greets the woman.

“Hi, good morning, Finley. How are you doing today?” The older woman sits on a chair ahead of her.

“I’m better, I think so. Nothing hurts actually, which is a pretty nice feeling.”

“That is very good. You know when they’ll let you home?” Kelly asks, looking at the woman in bed.

“Yeah.” Fin sighs. “They took my blood for testing earlier. Will let me know if I can go home tomorrow. I, uh, I kind of don’t want to go home...” She hung her head and looked at her hands.

“And why is that?”

“Well, I’m scared. It went wrong the first time, what if it goes wrong again? What if the pain comes back? And here I’ve had both of them by my side, what if I’m all alone again? I don’t want to stay home any more. I feel like I’m too clingy, because I’ve been practically attached to them for the last week, but I’ve missed them. By now they’re probably sick of me.”

“We’re not sick of you.” Finley turns and sees her redhead girlfriend by the door. “I promise there’s nothing you could do that would make us sick of you.” Alex rushed to the bed and hugged her. Maggie trails behind her and sits on the other side of the bed.

“I’m sorry.” Fin hugs them both.

“It’s okay. We’re here to remind you of how we love you.” Her raven-haired girlfriend kisses her cheek. “We’ll just go day by day. I promise we’re not going to leave you.”

“I’m just... I’m sorry, it’s egoistic, but when we’ll go home, I’m afraid you’ll just go back to work and I don’t want to stay home alone. I’m worried that something will go wrong again.”

“It’s normal that you feel that way when a certain place brings you trauma.”

“Yeah.” Fin cut Kelly off. “But I can’t expect them to constantly miss work because of me! They have taken so many free days, and Maggie even resigned from NCPD because of me. That’s not okay, I’m dragging them down.”

“I didn’t resign because of you. I did resign because of my workload. Of how my boss was treating me.” Maggie looks at her girlfriend.

“Well, she’s not wrong. You are also forgetting that you are in this state because of me.” Alex sighs, dropping her head.

“What do you mean?” Finley looks at her girlfriend tilting her head.

“Fin, you saved me. If I saw that stupid rock coming, you wouldn’t almost die! You just dropped everything and risked your life to save mine!”

“Of course I did. What, did you expect me to just stand over there and watch you being crushed?” The black-haired woman frowns.

“I said all these hurtful words and yet, even when you should be mad at me, hate me, you just dropped everything and saved me.” Alex looks at Finley as she wipes away her tears. Maggie takes the redhead hand squeezing it gently.

“How do you feel about it?” Kelly asks, looking at them.

“I’m... angry? At myself mostly. Because I acted like a total asshole. But also scared, because I realize such a situation can happen again, and I know she wouldn’t even hesitate to risk her life for me. And I don’t want to lose her.”

“Well, of course I would risk my life for both of you. How could I ever look at your mother’s face and tell that her daughter is dead because I did not save her. How do you expect me to just stay there and look at you being in danger and do nothing? That’s not an option, it never was.” Finley huffs. What did Alex even think? Of course, she’s going to risk her life for both of them.

“See, the thing is, and I can’t get why you keep missing it, my mother cares for you too. For her, it’s like she has 5 daughters. You think I ever want to go to her and tell her one of them didn’t make it!?” Alex’s voice broke, she was trying to maintain her tough face, but there were so many emotions inside her that she felt like she would burst.

“Baby...” Finley sighs and hugs her redhead girlfriend as she feels her shaking from a sob. “I don’t plan on dying anytime soon.” She looks at Maggie who hugged Alex from behind.

“But you almost did! You stopped breathing in my arms!”

“Babe!” Finley retreats and looks her girlfriend in the eyes. “I am here now. I promise you it’s not changing. We have so many plans together, we’re getting a dog, we talked about moving to a larger house, your sister is getting married soon! I don’t plan on missing all these things. I want to spend the rest of my life with both of you, and I’m not dying anytime soon. It’s alright, it’s going to be okay.”

“Promise?” Maggie whispers, her voice trembling from her own tears.

“I promise.”

***

Alex smiles as she enters the room with coffee in her hand. It was a tough week, Finley was ordered to stay for a few days longer in the medical just to make sure there's no change for the worse. That also made them meet up with Kelly daily, and now Alex was feeling a lot better. The redhead was hopeful for their future in a beautiful house with a dog they really want and some kids. Or at least she hopes so, she still didn't talk about the kids part with her girlfriends.

Alex always wanted to be a mother. Even if she had a time in her life where she wasn't sure if she likes men or women, Alex was always sure she wanted to have kids. She doesn't know when to talk about it yet, but she's sure she will.

"Hey. Ready to go home?" She looked at Fin, who's sitting on the bed.

"Yea, but Maggie doesn't let me do anything!" The black-haired woman whines and points at their shorter girlfriend who's packing all their stuff.

"That's because the doctor said you need to take it easy." Maggie rolls her eyes and Alex laughs. Typical Sawyer behaviour. If the kids ever get that trait from her, they're going to be in so much trouble.

"Come on, I'll help." The redhead walks to her and begins helping her girlfriend with packing.

"Alright, I think that's it. We're good to go." Maggie informs, looking at their suitcase. "We'll get you a wheelchair, and we can go to the car."

"No! No, no, I can walk!" Finley huffs. "I don't need a wheelchair, I don't have a cast any more, I'll walk!"

"Babe..." Alex sighs. She gets it, it's so frustrating for Fin that she doesn't have the energy to walk so far as she's used to, she gets tired after a few meters, she won't be able to make it to the car. Yes, the black-haired woman is doing her best at physical therapy, and she makes a lot of progress, but she can't make it that far. "Baby..." Alex begins again, but she doesn't know what words to use to not hurt the younger woman but at the same time convince her to use a wheelchair. She looks at Maggie trying to get some support.

"Finnie… The car is far away. It would really help if we just get you a wheelchair?" The shorter woman says, looking at their girlfriend.

"Oh." Finley hangs her head and looks at the floor. "O...okay."

"Baby…"

"No, just, please go get the wheelchair. Just don't, I get it. I know I'm too slow for you."

"Okay." Maggie exits the room and they stay alone.

"You okay?" Alex asks, looking at her girlfriend.

"Yea. It's just… you know. I want to be able to walk normally. It's so frustrating that I'm getting tired so quickly." Finley sighs looking at the redhead.

"You'll get better soon. Just not so long ago you could only move in a wheelchair, and now you're able to go alone for a bit. You need to give yourself some time, those injuries don't heal overnight." She walks to Fin and envelops her in a hug.

"Here you go." Maggie walks in with the wheelchair and looks at them. "You okay?"

"Yea." Finley stands up, leaning on Alex. She walks 4 steps and embraces Maggie. "Sorry. I overreacted. I just want to finally feel better and get back to our normal life."

"I know baby, I want this too. But, small steps, you know?" Maggie kissed Finley’s forehead and helped her sit on the wheelchair.

***

Maggie smiles as she enters the elevator. After a successful day at the DEO it's finally time to go home. She presses the button and the elevator closes going up. After a few seconds, the door opens again, and she walks out. Putting the key in the door, she opens them.

"I'm home." She announces, but she's met with silence. She furrows her brows and instinctively grabs her gun. While Finley might sleep, Alex never sleeps during the day. She slowly walks to the living room and chokes on air. There, on the couch, lies Alex with a bullet hole in her head. Maggie wants to scream, but she can't get any sound out of her mouth. She wants to go to her girlfriend, check on her, cry, scream, but she can't. Her legs lead her to the bedroom.

There on their bed lies her other girlfriend. She looks at her with dead eyes and a hole in her chest. Next to their bed stands a man. She can't see his face, she can only see the gun in his hands. Once again, Maggie can't move. She looks at the man as he speaks.

"I told you…"

Maggie shoots up with a gasp. She looks around and finds her girlfriend's sleeping in bed next to her. The Latino tries to get her breath together. She grabs the duvet with shaky hands and gets out of the bed. She feels her cheeks getting wet and goes to the kitchen.

"Fucking hell." She closes her eyes, but when she does, she sees her girlfriends dead all over again. She goes to the window and focuses her vision on the sign of the gas station near their home.

Slowly, the raven-haired woman is able to even her breath and stop crying. She goes to the kettle and puts in water to warm it.

For a few days now, Maggie has had this nightmare. She comes home and finds her girlfriends dead. She can't see the face of the man that shot them, it's all blurry. Only words spoken "I told you." but they don't mean anything to her.

She makes herself some coffee. She won't be able to sleep any time soon.

For the past few days, she went to lay with her girlfriends only to get up when they were asleep. She didn't want to alarm them, but she was just so tired. Maggie misses the good sleep.

She tries to occupy her mind at night with everything she can think of. Recently, Maggie discovered podcasts, and she loves the criminal ones. She's always able to identify the murderer before them, and it successfully occupies her mind. She loves coloring adult color books while listening to it. The raven-haired woman would never admit to it, but it really calms her and brings her joy.

Maggie brings her cup of coffee to the table, but before she can power her headphones on, she hears footsteps. She quickly turns and is ready to fight when she sees Finley.

"Hey." She hears her girlfriend's sleepy voice, and it brings a little smile to her face. "It's late, what are you doing here?" The blue-eyed woman hobbles in her direction, and Maggie stands up to pick her. She grabs her and goes to sit on the couch nearby. The Latino snuggles into her girlfriend and sighs. She didn't realize how bad she needed a hug. Fin embraces her and softly scratches the back of her head.

"What's wrong?" She asks, and Maggie can hear a worry in her voice.

"Nothing. I just wanted to snuggle."

"Then why are you here with coffee instead of sleeping?" Her girlfriend asks softly.

"I just can't sleep any more tonight."

"Babe, you look exhausted. What's wrong?"

"I… Nothing is wrong. I just can't sleep." Maggie rolls her eyes. Finley and her stubbornness are going to be the end of her.

"Baby…" Fin stops and yawns. "Talk to me, please."

The raven-haired woman sighs and leans back a bit to look into her girlfriends blue eyes.

"I just keep having this nightmare for a few days." Maggie cups her girlfriend's cheeks to feel her. She needs to know she's really here.

"Can you tell me about it?" Fin's hand softly strokes her hair.

"I don't know…"

"Please?" Her girlfriend made a puppy face, and she was gone. She can never say no to that face, and her girlfriend knows that. Damn her. Maggie sighs.

"It begins normally. I come home from work and open the door. I call out, but it's so quiet, I go to the living room and there on the couch lies Alex with a bullet in her head. And I can't do anything about it." She feels her girlfriend wiping away her tears, she didn't know she was crying. "I can't go to her, I can't scream, I can't cry, nothing! And I'm forced to go away, to go to the bedroom. And you're there, looking at me with dead eyes, hole in your chest. There's this man standing next to the bed. He's holding a gun, but he doesn't have a face, his face is blurred." Maggie sobs. "And he's only words are "I told you…". Like, what does this even mean!" She snuggles into Finley’s chest and sobs even more.

"It's okay, we're okay, you're okay." The black-haired woman embraces her and whispers in her ear. "It's just a nightmare, we're here, and we're safe. Nothing is coming to kill us. We're going to be okay."

Slowly, her sobs become quieter, and she feels herself being maneuvered to lie on Fin. She rests her head on her girlfriend's chest and listens to her heart beat. It's so comfortable, and she feels a duvet on her, giving her more warmth. And right now, as Maggie's fatigue gets the best of her, she really wants to believe that they're going to be okay.

#maggie sawyer x reader #alex danvers x reader #alex danvers x maggie sawyer #Alex Danvers x Original Character #alex danvers x oc #sanvers x reader #sanvers x oc #polamory #maggie sawyer x oc #Maggie Sawyer x Original Character

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ihappentolikefnafsurprise · 3 years

Text

Personalities: FNaF 1

I’ve been meaning to do this for so long, just never decided to sit down and do it. Probably because I keep getting distracted with other stuff. Feast your eyes (is that how it goes, I might be dumb). I spent a couple of hours on this, and let me tell you I never thought it’d be this difficult. But I’m proud of this, even if it may be cringe.

(oops they ended up being really long I think you can tell who’s my favourite character (hint they’re a robot))

Basically everyone in this group are buds. Sometimes they don’t get a long but they know how to not take it too far. I tried not to repeat cliches (Goldie being either really flirty or really shy, Chica being a cook, etc.). I mostly went off of what they do in the game and took the traits I liked.

Note that these are the personalities of the animatronics themselves, not the dead children. The idea is that they started off as just the kids but then they got their own lives and slowly developed their own personality until they were separate. I might give them some personalities later on, but right now I’m focusing on the robots.

Likes to be the boss

Freddy

Seems grumpy and unapproachable but he’s actually pretty nice

Scary when he scolds you though

He doesn’t even realize he seems grouchy

Can be pretty boring to hang out with

Unless you enjoy cleaning, dealing with Chica and Foxy, and reading in silence

Bonnie is the one he’s the closest to

(sort of because of Fredbear and Springbonnie being friends, they’re not copying they just happen to mirror it)

Loves hugs and uses them to comfort others

He’ll also use his music box

He’s good at comforting others with hugs

Hates the “don’t touch Freddy” rule

Has a really nice singing voice

He hums and sings when he’s bored or when he’s doing something

The cook of the group and he can make a good pizza

He makes thin-crusted pizzas because helth

He can’t eat so he’ll leave them in the fridge for the kids

Everyone’s baffled on how it got there but accept it anyway

He remembers all the children who come and loves them all very much

He likes to keep things tidy

When Chica’s made a mess in the kitchen he goes in to clean it

He used to scold her for it, but he’s given up

He picks up random items that the children forget with the intention of returning them

Straight up eats them

(He steps in the backroom or goes behind the curtain to get the toys out, children don’t need to see that)

He still continues to pick up toys even when he can’t go off the stage anymore, just a habit that stayed

Frustrated that the new employees just throw away the toys instead of putting them in the lost and found

Sometimes he plays the arcade machines on his own time

He likes to read

There’s no books though, so he just ends up reading manuals, newspapers that people leave behind, employee files, etc.

Until he secretly ordered a book series for himself

It took some convincing from the others

But he ultimately decided to because he doesn’t like the owner

Also the owner is really bad at actually managing the restaurant so he never noticed

Because of this Freddy often steps in from behind the scenes when things are really going wrong, like employees misbehaving

He sends an email to them and then he gives them a little fright when they come into work and they usually either quit or straighten up

He likes earthy tones like brown and beige because he’s boring

Bonnie

He comes off as nonchalant and uncaring

People think he’s angsty

It’s basically his whole persona when he’s on stage, he’s supposed to be the party pooper that doesn’t like parties but is eventually convinced by his friends to join and has fun

Off stage he doesn’t have that much of a presence

He can approach people just fine and isn’t really that shy

He’s just a quiet guy

Probably the best one to chill with because he’ll talk if you’re talking but he’s cool with silence and just enjoying each other’s presence

The type to laugh at his own expense

Has some dark humour and likes to joke around with Foxy, who also enjoys that humour

Secretly the mother hen of the group (despite being a bunny and a guy, he just fits mother)

Would laugh if you trip but then subtly watch you for injuries

If it’s an animatronic he can do some basic fixing

Doesn’t know anything about human first aid, but he’ll help where he can and call for help if he needs to

The type of guy to seem calm but there’s internal panic

If something seems kind of dangerous he’ll watch from afar

But if it’s too dangerous he’s the first one to shut it all down

Good at comforting others

Worries a lot and is probably the most cautious of the group

Very protective

It’s why he’s the first one to come to your door, he wants to make sure it’s no one dangerous (even though they’re like 400lb robots but sssh)

Hides most of his worrying, thinks he’d come across as annoying

Weak to puppy-dog eyes

Likes happy alternative music, but he’s open to almost anything

Plays the guitar by ear

Is pretty good, not legendary, but he experiments on his own

Can’t read sheet music

His favourite colour is red

Takes random pieces of paper like articles and anything useless and writes on the back of them like a diary, he keeps it hidden inside of the backroom in one of the Bonnie heads

Chica

Chaos incarnate

She’s a hyperactive kid that has trouble considering other’s feelings

Struggles with responsibility

Her favourite colour is green

Not at all good at comforting people

But she can listen while you rant and chime in or give you a distraction if you need it

“you wouldn’t believe the crap I had to deal with today”

“I wanna know everything!”

She’s actually the physically the strongest in the group

They’re all pretty strong, she’s just at the top

Mostly uses her strength to lift tables in order to make forts and playing around in the kitchen

Has broken many pans and lots of cooking utensils

Terrible cook

Can’t be left in the kitchen unsupervised for too long otherwise you run the risk of her starting a fire

Good at singing

Loves happy-go-lucky tunes

Radiates positivity

Doesn’t like the others being sad, but doesn’t know what to do about it

She’d probably get Freddy or Bonnie to help

Baby of the group (she is an adult though)

Has excellent puppy-dog eyes, only Freddy can stand them

Has trouble dealing with her own emotions

Tends to idolize or idealize people too much

Doesn’t understand what the outside world is like, or any of the problems that people deal with

I think that you gathered by now that she is not the mother hen of the group, even though she’s chicken

More like the kid sister that wants you to play dolls with her

Doesn’t like being alone and will find others to keep her company

Her feelings get hurt pretty easily

She can take a joke, just don’t be mean even if it is funny

Easily made happy by food

Tries to convince Freddy to make her pizza

When he doesn’t she’s like “fine then I’ll make it on my own”

Spends like a half hour trying to decide which pan to use and even more time getting the ingredients together

Freddy stops her before she can actually make anything, otherwise the whole place will burn

She’s easily distracted and tends to be absentminded

But if she finds something she likes she can sit there and do it for hours

Doesn’t like sudden noises, even though she makes them

Impulsive

Doesn’t play the arcade games, they make her mad

Foxy

The other chaos incarnate, he’s Chica’s partner in crime

If they were left in a room together all the tables would be smashed the chairs would be arranged to make a fortress

Tends to cause a lot of trouble so he gets put in time out often by the Freddy’s

Claims they’re being bums but they just want to keep the building intact

He sneaks away when they’re not looking sometimes and gets in even more trouble

Has the same dark humour as Bonnie

But he doesn’t laugh at himself

Actually a little self conscious

He’s a psychopath that enjoys exercise

When I say exercise I mean running and that’s it

He likes to pretend he’s either running away from or being chased by a huge monster

It’s one of the few things that can calm him down, just let him burn off some energy

Makes the others time him, but Chica usually gets distracted

Not a bad person, he just has a very hard time sitting still

He likes to draw

Carves little pictures into the floor of the cove when he’s bored

He’s running out of space though

If you give him a colouring book (they have some children’s colouring books and crayons) he’ll be calm up until he’s finished, then he’ll want to do another one

He also likes storytelling

Don’t ask him to write though, he doesn’t have much patience

Struggles with feelings of sadness

Misses performing for the kids

Most negative emotions translate into anger

Which will result in him trying to smash things and they others having to hold him back

Says things he doesn’t mean and does things that he wouldn’t do otherwise

He just can’t handle the emotion

Luckily he doesn’t get angry often

More often than not he’ll just pretend the negative feelings don’t exist, which also isn’t healthy

Out of everyone in the group he wants to go outside the most

He likes movies

There was a cheap VCR and tv in the boss’s office that’s now in the pirate cove

Somehow, none of the employees realized he took it

Either that or they just weren’t paid enough to care

He has like two movies he watches on repeat, it’s another thing you can give him to calm him down.

His favourite colour is blue, like the ocean

The true angsty one

Golden Freddy/Goldie/Fredbear

Spends a lot of time alone

Kind of a grump

Doesn’t like being bothered

He got the nickname Golden Freddy because that’s what the others called him when they first met him

It didn’t stick at all until the night guards that saw him called him that

Now it’s something the others call him to tease him, but they usually shorten it to Gold or Goldie.

He doesn’t really mind Gold or Goldie, but Golden Freddy kind of bothers him because it makes it sound like he came after when he’s actually the original

Doesn’t say anything though

Hangs out in the safe room, so the others can’t really get to him anyway

But they can yell through the door so there’s that

(I know it’s supposed to be invisible to them but they have life and stuff so they can see, they just can’t go inside)

He’s very sleepy

Spends most of his time sleeping or daydreaming

Doesn’t really miss performing

Says it was fun while it lasted but he’s fine with it being over

Though sometimes he eats his words when it’s daytime and the kids come

The cheering gives him the urge to come out and say hi even though he knows he shouldn’t

Misses being able to hang out with Springbonnie all the time

Springbonnie is there in the backroom with him, it’s kind of why he spends so much time in there

He activates sometimes, but he usually stays shut down to conserve battery

It’s pretty random

Springbonnie doesn’t know much about what’s going on, he never stays up long enough to get a full explaination

But he does try his best to keep his friend in high hopes

(I’ll be writing his personality later on, with FNaF 4)

There’s no way to charge him because the chargers are on the stage and the others can’t come in to help move him and Goldie’s not strong enough

And he can’t get up on his own

He likes being able to talk to him sometimes at least

Every now and then the others have to convince him to come out

He comes out on his own occasionally

But sometimes he shuts himself out completely and doesn’t realize how lonely he is, even if it is self-inflicted

The best way to get him to come out is knock-knock jokes, he loves them and the irony of it being through a door is just perfect

Likes even the cheesy ones

You can tell him puns or some well-constructed jokes too, he likes pretty much everything

He’s the grumpiest but he’s also the best at making others laugh

What can I say, he has a lot of time on his hands

When he does come out he hangs out with Freddy or Bonnie, the other two are too high energy for him

He plays the arcade games

He has the highest score, since he literally lives there and can play them whenever he wants

Likes the repetitiveness of some of the games

Even if he’s kind of a grump and a recluse the others respect him and come to him for advice when they need it

It’s sometimes stupid stuff like “where did my guitar go” and “quick help me hide Bonnie’s guitar”

He likes the colour purple

#fnaf #fnaf headcanon #fnaf headcanons #fnaf personalities #fnaf 1 #freddy fazbear #chica the chicken #foxy the pirate #bonnie the bunny #golden freddy

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whumpingcrow · 3 years

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Pt.19 "Out of the Fire"

CW: captivity/pet whump, memory loss, drugs/alcohol (explicit), party theme, noncon/dubcon (explicit), tics/tourettes, blood/gore, injury description, mouth whump, restraints, August being nasty, emotional abuse/gaslighting and the aftermath of that, multiple whumpers, pocket knife used as a weapon (let me know if i missed anything!)

What was his name? Elias couldn't remember it, he could taste it on his tongue and hear it like a distant ringing in his ears, but when he tried to say it he always came up blank. He knew the face, he remembered his voice a little, he knew that when this nameless person popped into his head it was always with pleasant memories. But his name? It was diminished to nothing, not even an echo, just a blank slot where something once was.

His own name he knew, even if no one used it anymore. Elias, or Eli, sometimes. But even if that was his name, it wasn't who he was, not anymore. Now, he was “Bunny”, he was “sweetheart”, he was “pet”. August had turned him into nothing more than those words, and everyone around them followed suit. All of the lavish people who showed up to August’s parties reinforced that these names were all that he was, now. And there was nothing he could do about it except stare down his bloodied and mangled reflection and whisper his name to himself when he was alone. His cracked, bleeding lips moved almost soundlessly as he repeated his name, then he could taste tears when he murmured the name of the city he had to get back to.

"Elias," he whispered (he had to make sure it was never above a whisper because August was drunk all the time lately and had been jumping at the chance to punish him for any little thing, and he couldn’t risk being hurt for being loud), "Elias, you have to remember Los Angeles. You have to get back to Los Angeles to be with...to be...with… Fuck." Yet again, the name slipped his mind right as he tried to speak it. The idea of this person he missed was just a face. No Name.

A knock on the door startled him, and he hastily wiped the tears from his cheeks and the residue from the words off his lips, then opened the door. August stood there, looking him over with his lip caught in his teeth. It was hard to tell if he was sober or not, his eyes were shadowy with something, but sometimes being inebriated and being a shitty person with shitty motives could look about the same. Elias bit his tongue hard so he wouldn’t slip up and yell something like that right in August’s stupid face. This was becoming a habit, his tongue had scarring on it by now. Most of it was from himself, from physically biting back tics so that August wouldn’t use it as an excuse to hurt him. The rest of the scarring was closer to the back of his tongue, and even thinking about where he got it from made him sick to his stomach.

It was the reason why he made such great effort to stay quiet, why he was so afraid of opening his stupid mouth in front of anyone, especially August. Even accidentally brushing the scar against his back molars always made him vividly remember how much blood there was, how loud he had shrieked. The entire scene was soaked through with actual, pure violence, and Elias was horrified of August even more after it.

Elias had been high, like always, and nervous, because August had friends over. They weren't immediately familiar, but August had told him that he'd met them before, and that made Elias wonder if they'd been at one of the parties, if Elias had entertained them. He couldn't remember, though, and he was left jittery and ticcing, the coke August had given him certainly wasn't helping his case. And then August was next to him, with his smug smile and his evil hands, and Elias hardly even processed himself shouting "you cocksucking faggot!" until it was too late. Until August was pushing him to the ground to crawl on top of him, pulling his small pocket knife out at the same time.

"I told you not to speak to me like that, you slut!" August was screaming at him. Elias would've tried to apologize, if August wasn't shoving his fingers into Elias's mouth forcefully. Elias choked on his hand, then the metallic taste of the blade was on his tongue, and then he was screaming, thrashing under August desperately. August had warned him before that he'd cut his tongue out if he misspoke, Elias just never thought he was cruel enough to actually do that. And yet, here he was, trying to cough up the blood trickling down his throat around his mangled screams.

August would've kept going if he'd been allowed to, but at some point one or two of August's guests realized the severity of the situation and bolted up to rip him off of his poor pet. There was blood all over the both of them, on August's hands and arms and face, and Elias's entire front half was soaked. His tongue had a deep, jagged slice across it in the back, if August had kept going there was no doubt in his mind that Elias would've lost the entire thing. That took a week or so to completely heal, and since then Elias had tried everything he could to be quiet and well behaved.

"You feeling ok?" August asked him, even though his tone was exactly the opposite of caring. August had started to resent him, now, he was so far gone that he wasn't fun anymore. He was reduced to pure submission, a shell of a person that couldn’t be filled anymore. He didn’t scream and cry and fight quite like he used to, and August was more or less pissed off he had to deal with the aftermath of the damage he caused. Sometimes, though, he could get a reaction out of Elias, if he was in the mood to really mess him up. But that was typically draining for the both of them, and August didn’t enjoy cleaning up after himself, so mostly it was reserved for special occasions.

Elias prayed that this was not one of those special occasions.

"Yes, sorry," he replied. The words sounded so...dry, even in his own ears. He didn't have any more passion or emotion to put into them. He felt like he needed a nap, a nice long nap with silk sheets and feathery pillows and the whole mattress to himself with absolutely no unwelcome hands grabbing at him. He scolded himself, reminding himself that he wasn't allowed to want things. August was making sure that was one rule Elias really understood. Above everything else he was taught, the idea that desire was above him was the most easy to sink into. His entire life he'd been unlucky and disappointed when he didn't get his way, but really it had just been because he didn't deserve his way. And as for thinking about a nap, luxurious and soft and alone, he wasn’t worth any of that, and he was so lucky that August miraculously thought he was pretty enough to share a bed with, to touch whenever he wanted. He was lucky, he was in this beautiful place, he was sometimes allowed to go stand at the edge of the ocean and let the water come up to his shins, August shared his expensive drugs, and occasionally he held him closely, arms tight around him, and called him very sweet names. Yes, he was very lucky. He just wished he actually felt lucky, it was getting rather hard to keep trying to convince himself that any of this was pleasant when he felt like he had swallowed one of the circles of hell and now was the host of all of that evil and pain.

August let out a heavy sigh, his annoyance tangible. The fear that buried into Elias's chest at just that simple, scornful sigh was slightly muted from how exhausted he was, but still there nonetheless. It always was. "I'm having people over again tonight, I'll have to put you away."

Elias could sob at the words, at the knowledge that he would be back in the cold room downstairs, with the chains. After the first party, when August was angry at him for allowing all those people to use him, things were fine for a bit. They didn't have people over for awhile after that first time, August would instead opt for dragging him along to clubs or bars. When August finally did decide to have people over, it went south yet again. It was alright for a while, Elias sat quietly and looked out the window at the waves lapping at the beach, pretending he was out there instead, as August spoke to his guests about whatever it was they were talking about in words Elias couldn’t understand. And for whatever reason, when Elias felt fingertips brushing against his collar and turned his attention away from his land of make-believe, August wasn’t the one touching him. Elias really didn’t know how to make them stop this time, his begging was more desperate and he cried harder than ever, yet they never let up. August was even more furious that time.

So, he decided that Elias would be banished to the basement anytime he had people over. That horrible basement, with the horrible chains and the horrible dark and the horrible loneliness.

"August please don't put me down there," he whined, dropping his head down in fear that he would be slapped for arguing, "please, I'll be good. I won't even look at anyone-"

"It isn't about you, Bunny," August cut him off, grabbing his shoulder with a shocking tenderness, "you're always good. But other people aren't, and I can't risk that. Don't worry, I'll give you stuff to keep you busy."

Elias cringed hard, squeezing his eyes shut with a tiny huff. He didn’t want to argue, really he knew that this was just a surefire way to get hurt, but he couldn’t stomach thinking about being taken down that dreadful staircase another time. "It's so cold down there...I don't want...please, please August..." Before he could keep begging, he was pulled against August's chest tightly, he could feel August trace his palm over his shoulder blade.

"It'll only be for a little bit, sweetheart. Now quiet down."

And that was that. August gave him a few shots of Grey Goose and some weed and then walked him down the stairs, hooking up one of his wrists to the chain on the wall. "Stay here, nice and quiet," he was told, and he could only watch hopelessly as August made his way back up the stairs.

He was thankful for the muted sound of the music upstairs, it at least gave him something to focus on. He leaned heavily against the wall, trying not to think too much about the soft aching spreading through his legs from standing too long. It was even harder when the fatigue began to mix with the alcohol and he had to put in great effort to stay upright. He was miserable, and he found himself missing being able to interact with people at the party, even though the interaction was always vile and agonizing. At least if he was upstairs someone would touch him, would look at him, would acknowledge him. If he were upstairs, he would exist to someone besides himself. Down here he was nothing, he wasn't real. In the basement he was neither person nor pet, he was just...not there. And it frightened him more than August or the strangers upstairs.

He flinched hard when the music swelled suddenly, pushing himself off of the concrete wall to peer up the stairway, watching the shadow of a pair of shoes hesitating on the top of the steps, light flooding in past them. Was August going to let him come up? Did someone figure out he was down here and came to use him? He felt like maybe he'd be ok with that, it had been hours and the boredom was hurting him more than anything.

"Elias?" A woman's voice called. His chest tightened uncomfortably at the sound of his own name, having been the only one to use it lately, and the chain rattled as he stumbled over a bit. "Elias are you down here?"

"Y...yes." he answered, his voice wavering nervously. As soon as he did, the door closed again and her footsteps were bounding lightly down the steps toward him. When he saw her familiar red hair he sucked in a shaky gasp of relief. "C-Camille?" He whispered.

She looked him over, at the chain his arm was dangling lazily from and his battered and bruised skin, sighing in disdain at his state. She had felt bad before about taking so long to come back to him, and upon seeing how much worse he was since the last time gave the guilt an extra reason to eat away at her. "Jesus christ what are they doing to you?" She muttered, setting down her bag as she approached him.

"I forgot you...I didn't think you'd come back." When she reached out to grab his arm to inspect the lock of the shackle, he flinched back and closed his eyes. "Shit, sorry. I'm sorry."

"It's ok, darling. We have to go, though, there's not much time." As she spoke, she pulled at the metal around his wrist, groaning to herself when it didn't immediately come undone. "One second, wait here." He watched her turn on her heel and sprint back up the stairs.

Elias closed his eyes, swaying where he stood and trying to get his racing thoughts together. They were leaving, she was taking him home to that nameless face that he missed like an organ that he'd had forcibly removed. No more August, or parties, or basements. But it seemed so impossible, he'd been here for so very long that the idea of a world, a life, outside of it was mostly unimaginable. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he felt like he did need August, to some extent. He hated his guts, sometimes so viciously that Elias was shaken to his core by the violent thoughts it caused, but he needed him nonetheless. Elias was broken now, shattered glass, and August had done it so he was the only one who knew how to handle it. If he left, he feared that he would just stay broken and No Name wouldn't be able to even touch him without hurting himself, too.

His thoughts were cut short as the door opened again and Camille came back down, a second pair of steps behind her. An older man was following close, they were talking to each other in French, and Elias was immediately uneasy at not knowing what they were saying about him. They approached him, the man reached into the bag he was carrying as they got closer.

"Who is that? What's going on?" Elias rushed, shuffling away from them as much as he could, but the wall was closer than he thought and his shoulder thudded against it hard.

"It's ok, Elias. This is my older brother, he's going to help us get on a plane. You can trust him." She threw a nervous look over her shoulder to the staircase, grimacing a little. "I know you're scared, but we have to go now. August is distracted now but I don't know for how long."

Elias took a deep breath, using his free hand to rub the stress out of his eyes. "Ok," he groaned, "fuck, ok."

Camille's brother took her place in looking over the restraints, and it only took him a few moments to figure out the thin lock and free his arm. Elias couldn't help but stare up at him with wide eyes, shocked and nervous at the idea of not being chained up.

Camille began to pull out clothes from her bag, looking over Elias's slender frame with a frown. "Can you get this on? I can help if you need."

Elias shook his head, taking the hoodie from her and slipping it over his head, then he put the hat on that she handed him as well. The brim was wide enough to droop over the top half of his face, and he was relieved to be hiding behind it.

"Ok Elias. Ok. Alright." Camille seemed rather frazzled, and it wasn't making Elias's own nerves feel much better. "How are you to walk? Can you make it up with us to the car?"

"I can walk." His voice was just a mumble, he knew if he allowed any of the emotion he felt into his voice he would freak out.

The walk up the stairs felt unsteady, each step seemed uneven and rickety, and he was dizzy by the time they got to the top. "Camille?" He whispered, reaching out to grab the wall to right himself. "If he...if August sees me leaving he'll flip out. He'll kill me."

"We're not going to let him touch you, ok? I promise, we'll get you out of here. But we have to go right now."

Elias whined a little, then nodded his head and followed her. He was thankful when she reached over and took his hand to hold him closer, it made it easier to push through the people without looking up. The party was buzzing still, the light chatter, laughter, and music felt near suffocating. It felt like the time August's friends tied him up and shot at him while he was drowning, each step was a kick towards the surface, a desperate fight for fresh air. This time, though, when he was suddenly walking on the gravel of the driveway he wasn't bombarded with pain and more atrocities, just fresh air and the night sky. The music faded quickly behind them, and he relaxed his hand against Camille's, unaware he was gripping it so tightly. He was...out? Now the collar on his throat seemed constricting, more so than usual, and he felt his hand jerk up to grab at it, to make sure it was still there.

They approached a black sports car, and Camille held the door for Elias as her brother got into the front seat. She crawled in after him, then watched anxiously out the window until her brother had the keys in the ignition and was starting the car. Elias looked out the window as they sped away from the house, watching it get smaller. He looked until he couldn't see it anymore, and then he slowly turned to face forward, staring blankly at his hands. He didn't even feel tears falling from his eyes until Camille reached over and grabbed his hand gently, mumbling "are you ok?" when Elias turned to look at her. The question made him break, collapsing in on himself in a fit of muted sobs. Camille was quick to pull him against her, holding him close and running her fingers through his hair and down his back with such comforting softness that Elias wondered how it could be real.

The car ride to the airport seemed shorter than when August first got him here, because soon the three of them were walking through a near empty building, their shoes scuffing against the linoleum offensively loud. The bright lights bothered Elias, and he pulled his hat lower over his face to ease the discomfort. They walked up to the largest desk Elias had ever seen, a detail that he couldn't find any importance in but that was still intimidating. Then he realized that everything was intimidating; the desk, the floor, the lights, the people. Camille spoke to the woman behind the desk, pulling out a few papers and pointing back to Elias as they talked. He wondered if they would tell him he couldn't fly back home to Los Angeles. Where would he go then? Back to August? Because really, besides No Name, he didn't have anyone else. He watched them talk with his hands twitching nervously at his sides.

When they seemed to reach an end to the conversation, Camille thanked her and began to lead Elias away. Her brother didn't follow. Elias didn't know if he wanted to be alone with her. For probably the first time since she approached him at the party, Elias didn't know if he could trust her. He wanted to, there were some days, when August was particularly rough, that the only thing keeping Elias alive was the hope that Camille would come save him. But now she was saving him, and he realized all at once that he hadn't even thought about the possibility that this might be a trick, that maybe she would send him somewhere that would only ruin him further. It didn't help that the only information he had was that they were in an airport and he was supposed to be getting on a plane home, but everything else had only been said in French and Elias was left relatively oblivious.

"Camille?" He tried, his voice small and shaking. "What's going on?"

She stopped walking for a second to look at him, her face falling from it's tight frown to a saddened smile. "Sorry. Let's take a second to breathe, you and I. This is a lot, isn't it?"

He nodded along with her, forcing himself to take a deep breath. They did this until Camille seemed satisfied, then she cleared her throat. "I'm walking you to a plane right now, there will be flight attendants and security sitting close by to watch you. Once you get home, you'll have an escort to take you from the plane to a hospital, and then you can go home."

Elias blinked at her, at how plainly she put it. "It's that easy?" He whispered.

She laughed a little, a lighthearted sound that made Elias feel much better almost instantly. "It will be, now."

Once they were at the gate to the plane she was sticking him on, Elias was shaking, but this time mostly in excitement. After Camille's reassurance, he realized that this meant safety, freedom, and he couldn't wait to get on the plane. Camille was standing at his side, eyes darting over the few people around them skeptically. At one point she looked over to see Elias bouncing on the balls of his feet, and she felt like an idiot when she saw he was still wearing that damn collar. She figured he would've taken it off himself once they were out of the house, but it was still tight around his throat. She coughed a little to get his attention, then once he was looking at her, she pointed to the collar.

"Do you want help taking that off?" She offered. She watched him reach up to feel what she was talking about, fingers brushing tentatively over the leather like he didn't actually want to touch it. He gave her a reluctant nod, holding his breath when she stepped toward him.

He felt unbearably naked once the collar slipped off, his skin felt over exposed and cold in its absence, and he surprised himself when his vision was clouded with tears. Camille asked if he was ok, which he responded to only by stepping forward and wrapping his frail, banged up arms around her.

"Thank you, Camille," he whimpered, "thank you so much. I can never repay you."

Camille smelled of flowery perfume as she hugged Elias back with more strength than he would expect her to have, slightly crushing him in the friendliest way. "You don't have to thank me, Elias. Just...you just stay safe now. Go home and take care of yourself." She pulled away from him and wiped his tears away, Elias frowned when he saw she also had started to cry.

The plane boarded after that, Camille walked Elias all the way to the door, handing over his ticket for him and then hugging him once again as a goodbye. He thanked her again, a million times, then he allowed one of the stewardesses to lead him down the long hall to the plane, to home, to relief.

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cali-holland · 4 years

Text

Golden Hearts, Ch. 4: Hide Your Hand

Harrison Osterfield X Reader, James Bond AU ~ Sequel to Golden Bullets

Following a messy split, Harrison, Agent 007, resumes his role as an elite womanizer, after his recovery from his previous mission; meanwhile, you’ve stepped back from your 00 status, taking on cases as MI6’s assistant director from your office. When a new threat emerges to MI6 and a dear friend gets kidnapped, can you and Harrison set aside your differences to save special agent Q, better known as Tom? Or will the stakes- and your love, push you two further apart?

Word Count: 3300

Gif is not mine

Golden Hearts Masterlist

Masterlist Harrison Osterfield Masterlist

Let me know if you want to be added to the series tag list

Warnings: violence (physical fighting, guns, some himbo punches a wall smh, bombs/grenades, character death, car accident, broken hearts), swearing, angst :)

Featured Song: “You Know My Name” by Chris Cornell from Casino Royale (2006)

“Try to hide your hand

Forget how to feel

Life is gone with just a spin of the wheel

Arm yourself because no-one else here will save you

The odds will betray you”

~~~

Harrison smiled in relief as he stepped inside his apartment, happy to finally be home after an excruciating week away. Austria wasn’t as easy as he had hoped, but, with the help of his new acquaintance Madeleine, he wasn’t too beaten up from the mission. Well, other than the bruises on his torso and his sprained wrist, but, really, he was fine. He couldn’t care less about his injuries though; his mind was just focused on you.

He hadn’t heard from you in a few days, and he thought that maybe your desk job was more time consuming than he had originally thought. Besides, it’s not like he could call and chat while taking out the enemy. He tried to call you when he landed, just to be sent to voicemail after the first ring.

Your radio silence continued all night, ignoring all of his phone calls. Even when he went to your apartment to check on you, you weren’t there. Harrison started to get worried, and he called Tom, who just told him you were working late.

The next day, Harrison stopped by your apartment again. Finding it empty, he continued his way to MI6’s headquarters. Moneypenny greeted him as he walked into your office. Again, empty. It was like you were a ghost again, even though Moneypenny was insistent that you were somewhere in the building.

Harrison found you in the training rooms, taking out your emotions on a punching bag.

“Y/N, I’ve been looking all over for you. I got in last night.” Harrison said, stepping into the room. You continued your assault on the helpless bag.

“I know.” You muttered under your breath, not sparing him a glance. He looked at you with furrowed eyebrows. Surely, this wasn’t his loving girlfriend that he had left in bed a week ago, promising to run away with her when he returned.

“If you knew, why didn’t you answer my calls?” He asked.

“Busy.” Your shoulders shrugged the slightest bit, but it was enough to thoroughly annoy Harrison. He grabbed your shoulder with one hand, fully intending on just getting you to turn and face him, but you grabbed his wrist, twisting his arm and using all of your strength to flip him over onto the wrestling mat beneath you two. Harrison let out a grunt, feeling the air get completely knocked out of him.

“Yep, missed you, too, love.” He mumbled, grimacing a little.

“This needs to stop.” You said, going back to attacking the punching bag. Harrison, still laying on the ground by your feet, looked at you questioningly, “Us. We need to stop.”

“What happened to running away? To wanting to be free of this life?” Not even waiting for you to respond, Harrison grabbed you the ankles, making you fall on your back with your feet by his head. Before you could move to stop him, he jumped up so he knelt beside you, his hands grabbing yours to pin them above your head.

“Let go of me.” You huffed, but Harrison could tell you were holding back with your struggles; after all, he was very aware of the fact that your feet were free to move. “It’s over.”

Harrison’s blue eyes searched yours for any trace of hesitation or regret or just something he could cling onto that meant you didn’t mean the words coming out of your mouth. But your eyes were cold and he felt his heart break a little at the sight. He couldn’t get out another word before you took advantage of his hesitancy, pushing up from the ground with your feet to knock him over, thus getting out of his restraints. You dusted yourself off as you got up. Making your way out of the room, you heard Harrison call out to you.

“Guess you really are a maneater, 006.”

He wasn’t sure if you even heard his angry words as you walked away, keeping your head held high. But he didn’t see the few tears that slipped past your eyes.

The only sound filling the train compartment was the rattling of the train as it pressed on to Tangier. The tension in the air was thick as the four of you sat quietly in the compartment. Madeleine was catching up on some sleep, and, across from her, Harry was also sleeping rather peacefully. As he snoozed beside you, you tried to do your best to stay focused on making hotel arrangements on your laptop at L’Americain, the hotel Madeleine’s father would visit often. Meanwhile, Harrison sat opposite you, right next to Madeleine, and his focus lied on the world outside of the train and occasionally on you.

While the previous night had been hard for you, it was also hard for him, and it was starting to take a toll on him. All he could hear in his head were the cruel words he should’ve never said to begin with when you two broke up, and all he could see was you seeking comfort in Harry’s arms last night. He wanted to talk to you, to tell you that there was nothing going on between him and Madeleine. He wasn’t stupid; he knew exactly what it looked like, but he also knew that, if he had to choose between you and Madeleine, he wouldn’t think twice before choosing you. Though, he didn’t really know why he let Madeleine kiss him and why he let it go that far… Maybe he was a bit stupid.

Seeing as Madeleine and Harry were both asleep, Harrison decided now would have to do. He couldn’t even get a word out before Harry stirred awake, and you turned to him, quietly telling him that the train would be arriving soon. He mumbled something in reply, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, but Harrison didn’t care enough to listen, not when all he wanted was a moment alone with you.

The rest of the journey to L’Americain in Tangier, Morocco, was, unsurprisingly, quiet. Madeleine was, reasonably, shaken up about returning to the hotel, and the three of you MI6 agents suddenly had absolutely nothing to say to each other.

“This was the room my father always got for us.” Madeleine stated when the four of you stepped into the hotel’s suite. Aside from the main room that was a kitchen, dining room, and living room all in one, there were two bedrooms and a bathroom. As you set your stuff down by one of the bedroom doors, you immediately realized that the room had only three beds. A small sigh escaped your lips and you had hoped it went unnoticed by the group, but Harrison managed to hear it.

“Just like Venice all over again.” He said. There was a hint of playfulness in his tone, and yet his words still ricocheted uneasily in your ears with a stinging pain in your heart. Harry shot you a quick, questioning look, but you just brushed it off, acting as if Harrison hadn’t said anything at all.

“Why would Tom tell us to find this hotel?” Harry asked Madeleine.

“I don’t know. My father would come here long after my mother left. He never told me why, but this room was special to him.” She explained.

“There must be something here.” You stated, assuming whatever it was Tom wanted you to find, whatever could lead you to him and Oberhauser, was hidden in this room. The four of you busied yourselves with searching the rooms for any trace of a clue. You and Harry looked in the smaller bedroom while Harrison and Madeleine checked out the master bedroom.

“So Venice, huh?” Harry asked you when you two were alone.

“What about it?” You replied. Feeling Harry’s burning stare on you, you glanced at the door to see that it was mostly closed, but you could spot through the crack that the master bedroom door was shut. You mentally rolled your eyes at the thought.

With a small sigh, Harry sat down on the twin size bed, still studying you while you rummaged through the empty wardrobe for anything out of the ordinary. “You know, when Tom told me you’d train me, he also told me to be cautious of getting too close to you. He said you’d been scorned by another agent recently and were still on edge about it. I never knew what he meant because who could hurt MI6’s best agent so much that she couldn’t recover?”

“Harry,” You sighed softly, knowing right where this conversation was headed. Your movements halted and you chewed on your bottom lip nervously, still not turning to look at him.

“No, I get it now. I understand why you’d always tell me ‘no’. I should’ve known I had no chance with you. Getting rejected by your trainer hurts, but still being in love with your ex must be the worst kind of pain.” His voice was quiet as he concluded. You let out an unsteady breath, feeling your walls slowly coming down. Silently, you turned and made your way across the room to sit next to him, both of you with your backs to the cracked door.

“Tom was the only one that knew.” You admitted, your eyes trained on your hands in your lap. “At some point in time, Harrison and I were a good team.”

“From what I’ve heard, you two made the best team.”

“Well, even the best teams have their faults.” You mumbled as you finally lifted your head to look at him beside you.

“What happened between you two?” He asked softly. His eyes welled with concern when another small sigh slipped past your lips.

“Everything.” You shook your head slightly, trying to rid your mind of the awful thoughts.

Understanding your pain, Harry’s hand trailed into your lap, and he ever so gently took your hand in his, squeezing it reassuringly. You scooted closer to him, leaning your head onto his shoulder and easing into his embrace. As much as it hurt Harry, he knew you needed far more comfort than he did right now, and he knew that your heart would never be his, not when it was so clearly still Harrison’s.

The intimate moment was cut short as a loud crash was heard from the other room, followed by Harrison screaming a curt, “Fuck!”

You and Harry shot up instantly. He reached for his gun as you looked at the door, noticing it was now no longer cracked and was, instead, wide open. You stepped out the room first, not hesitating to go into the master bedroom with Harry following right behind you.

“I said I’m fine.” Harrison insisted. When you opened the door, he quickly turned away from you and Harry. You looked between him and Madeleine, silently questioning what had happened.

“He fell.” Madeleine lied quickly. For being the daughter of a criminal mastermind, she was an awful liar. You went to step forward towards Harrison, and he turned around again, acting as if he was fine, but you could tell there was anger swimming in his blue eyes.

“What did you do?” You asked, catching sight of his knuckles that were already turning blue with bruises. Harrison didn’t grant you with an answer though.

“Some fall.” Harry scoffed a little, and Harrison narrowed his eyes at him. You looked at the hole in the wall curiously. It was no doubt from Harrison’s fist, but it almost seemed like there was no true wall there, just thin and hollow drywall. Wordlessly, you grabbed the standing lamp from the corner of the room and used the end of it to bash the wall.

“What the hell are you doing?” Harrison questioned in concern, moving to stop you, but you kept repeating your actions until the drywall fell through and you could all see a hidden room on the other side.

“I certainly never knew about this room.” Madeleine breathed out in disbelief. With the hole now big enough for each of you to fit through, you tossed the lamp aside and stepped into the dark room. The others trailed in behind you, and Harry found the light first, flicking it on and illuminating the dusty space.

“L’Americain.” You mumbled to yourself, relieved that finally something went right. Harry immediately sat down at the old computer to begin going through files. You, Madeleine, and Harrison rummaged through the old file drawers in an attempt to find anything useful.

While none of you quite knew what you were searching for, you still managed to find everything. Everything was here in L’Americain. When MI6 took down S.P.E.C.T.R.E., Oberhauser faked his death, taking on the name Blofeld. His new identity allowed him to maneuver through organized crime without being caught. From tapes to cold hard documents, White had evidence of Blofeld taking his captives to his house on the Morroccan coast, keeping them on his yacht of all places. With blueprints of Blofeld’s home, you all decided right then and there that his yacht was your best hope of finding Tom. And yet, despite all the new information you all acquired, perhaps the most surprising was what Harrison found in his stack of files.

“Isn’t this C?” He asked, handing over the file to you. As you looked at the picture, it was, without a doubt, the man who was about to control MI6 and all of British intelligence.

“C’s the mole.” You said, “He has to be. Tom got kidnapped and suddenly the Nine Eyes merge is pushed forward and then agent names are getting leaked.”

“Everything did kind of go to hell once he came into the picture.” Harrison admitted. You nodded, an awful pit beginning to grow in your stomach at the thought of C being the cause of everything.

“Wait a moment,” Madeleine spoke up, unsurely. “If C is going to control MI6 with the merge and Blofeld is funding him, why would they need to draw me out? Why would they bring me to Spain and use a mask of my father as bait?”

“Because they didn’t know where your father kept his secrets.” Harry stated, his eyes barely leaving the computer in front of him. “Every single move Oberhauser or Blofeld, whatever you want to call him, has made, White has tracked. This safe house would reveal absolutely everything about him and Nine Eyes. Its existence compromises everything.”

“And we’ve just led them there.” Harrison stated, making all of you turn to face him. “Think about it, MI6 knows our whereabouts. Y/N may have tipped Moneypenny off to keep quiet and M would never track us, but C has access to all of it now.”

“We have what we need. We need to go.” You urged.

The moment the four of you stepped out of the dimly lit side room, there was a loud crash as something came hurtling through the window. Everything was still for a second as you all tried to process what happened. Harrison spotted it first, the golden object with an octopus emblem separating you and him from Harry and Madeleine.

“Grenade!” Before you could react, Harrison grabbed your hand and you two jumped into the hallway as Harry and Madeleine ducked for cover in the bedroom. With his back against the wall, Harrison pulled you into his chest, doing his best to protect you. The bomb exploded just seconds afterwards, and you clung to Harrison, subconsciously searching for security. When the ringing stopped, you stepped back, looking at the abyss of the destroyed master bedroom.

“Harry!” You called out to him, trying to find any source that he was okay. You hoped Madeleine was safe, too, but she wasn’t really a priority for you.

“We’re okay!” He shouted back, somewhere under the rubble. You started to go towards the source of his voice, but Harrison’s hand found yours again, pulling you backwards. As you collided into his chest from the force of his pull, a piece of the ceiling crumbled and fell right where you had been standing. Hearing shouting from outside the hotel room, Harrison sent you an apologetic look.

“We need to go.” Harrison insisted.

“We can’t leave them.” You reasoned, but you couldn’t fight him as, with your hand still in his, he pulled you out of the hotel room. You ran down the hall behind him, his hand never dropping yours as you two went down the stairs. It wasn’t until the very first story that you two had been caught. Six armed men were about to make their way into the elevator when they spotted the two of you.

The two of you ducked at the base of the staircase, dodging their open fire from the hallway. Harrison got his gun out and did his best to shoot them down, but his handgun compared to their machine guns did little to nothing, and you had no gun in hand to help him out, not like you could do much damage either way.

“I’m running out of bullets.” Harrison warned. You stayed silent, looking around for any solution. Through the window, the movement of something shiny outside under the sun caught your eye. You recognized it immediately- a silver Aston Martin DB5 just parked right outside, as if it was waiting for the two of you.

“Shoot the window.” You stated, knowing his bullets would be better served shooting through the glass than you breaking it with your bare hands. Harrison barely looked as he fired a quick shot at the glass, and it shattered into a million pieces. He seemed to know exactly what you were going for as he ran with you out of the hotel window and straight to the Aston.

“I don’t have any more bullets.” He said, and you nodded, quickly hotwiring the car to start it.

“We’ll just have to make do.” You replied when the engine fired up. Before you could hit the gas pedal, another explosion went off, but this time, it wasn’t a hand grenade. No, it was a much larger, much deadlier bomb. Your heart dropped as you looked up at the windows of the hotel room you had all just been in, flames shooting through the broken windows while more of the ceiling and walls collapsed in on itself.

“Harry,” You let out a small whimper. There was no way he and Madeleine would’ve gotten out of the grenade debris in time.

“Y/N, you need to drive.” Harrison pulled you back to reality. You held in your cries, clenching your jaw in anger as you spotted the other men running out of the hotel��s lobby. They found you two immediately, and you drove off in the newly acquired Aston. You weren’t quite sure where you were driving to, just anywhere to get away from the men chasing the two of you.

It wasn’t long before they caught up to you two. You did your best to dodge their bullets on the busy Morrocan street, but the Aston wasn’t bulletproof and their machine guns were relentless. It seemed like no matter what you did, you couldn’t lose them, and, this time, Harrison was the one who was helpless.

One of their bullets caught your back tire just right and the car spun out of control, a thin cloud of smoke forming around the circle. The car slowed to a stop, just to be hit by one of their cars. The Aston somehow managed to flip, and both you and Harrison jerked in pain from the motion. Your head hit your window sharply, and, as your vision went blurry, you felt Harrison’s hand find yours one last time.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Harrison mumbled in pain, and that was the last thing you heard before it all went black.

~~~

pls dont hate me for harry...

~~~

General Tag List: @viagracex @theamazingtomholland @Hellomoveonby @heyitsshrez @harrisonosterfieldhazmyheart @joyleenl @t-o-m-hollands @lonikje @sleepybesson @sunkisseddreamer @hollandsamor @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh @gorillaglue23 @petersoftboyparker @musicalkeys @duskholland @biebsmylife95 @dummiesshort @perspectiveparker

Harrison Tag List: @Calhtlland @tomkindholland @where-art-thau-romeo

Original Series Tag List: @quinjetboi @baby-haz @kickingn-ames @rougese7en @hollandsosterfield @nj01 @it-is-rebel-owl-ma-dudes @spencerreidxoxo

Sequel Tag List: @sara-1705 @bothlovinglyandhatingly

#harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield imagine #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield x you #harrison osterfield series #harrison osterfield x y/n

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popatochisssp · 4 years

Text

Undergloom: AU Concept

What if...

Premise

This is a ‘verse where monsters aren’t made of hope--it’s something that they have to get the same way humans do, through positive circumstances and sturdy social support networks.

So...being trapped Underground with no real chance of escape was, in a hilarious bit of understatement, kind of a huge bummer.

In Undergloom, the loss of the Royal Family’s children was pretty much it for monsterkind’s hope.

The Dreemurrs never split—lacking innate internal hope, Asgore was never overcome by anger and never declared war on all of humanity, simply succumbing to his grief. Toriel did the same and so they never argued over war, collecting souls, and falling humans.

Meanwhile, without a goal and the promise of impending freedom to inspire them, monsters have largely given up. Physically, most are very weak and lethargic, on the verge of Falling Down—and Falling Down is a depressingly common occurrence. Monsters are all relatively uninterested in any humans that fall or pass through, making no attempt to capture them. Any Encounters are half-hearted at best.

Not being hunted and killed for their souls, all the humans who have fallen (the six souls Asgore would’ve otherwise collected) are still alive and have made a small community for themselves in the abandoned Ruins. They gradually congregated there upon realizing that there was no way to escape the Underground without killing one of two very sad and polite (if distant) Boss Monsters. Their eventual plan is to wait for seven humans, the amount needed to break the Barrier, clumsily learning what magic they can from disinterested monsters in the meantime. They’re all an assortment of ages now, and mages of varying skill-level, just biding their time until the Seventh Human falls and they can all be free.

Major Characters

Asgore and Toriel: They never officially separated after the death of their children, but the loss caused an emotional rift between them. While they remain married, the passion has gone entirely from their relationship and they stay together mostly as a formality, to best co-rule their kingdom. They perform their duties separately, coming together only for public appearances--or when Asgore is tending to the Golden Flowers and Toriel ghosts in to pick one, leaving just as silently as she came.

Flowey: Doesn’t exist. Asriel’s dust was spread on the Golden Flowers in the palace, but no DT experiments were ever done, so his later incarnation never came to be. He and his adopted sibling Chara are both resting in peace.

Alphys: Without the guilt caused by the DT experiments, the Royal Scientist is actually one of the most hopeful monsters in the Underground. She’s been very inspired by the (ultra-shoujo/shounen) anime she’s found in The Dump and keeps trying to create things that improve the quality of life for monsterkind—if they’re all trapped and can’t get out, they should at least all try to be happy and not give up, shouldn’t they? It’s…it’s hard to believe that sometimes, her hope isn’t unfaltering, but she wants to keep trying anyway. It’s what Mew-Mew would do! She…thinks…?

Undyne: The Captain of the Royal Guard is bitter and frustrated with the whole situation. She thinks that they should be (should’ve been) collecting human souls from the beginning, to break the Barrier—or at least they should’ve harvested one for somebody to absorb and go through to get more! But everybody’s such a bunch of weak sad-sacks that they won’t act, doing nothing at all about the tiny tribe of humans just about everybody knows is living it up in the Ruins. …but she doubts herself too, because it seems like she’s the only one who thinks that way. That’s what bums her out the most, wondering if maybe she’s a bad person for feeling the way she does, but at least… At least all the passion pouring out of a certain (very cute) Royal Scientist makes her feel better, on her worst days.

Mettaton: A discouraged celebrity, once very excited when Alphys built him a new body, thinking that he was finally going to be able to achieve his dreams of stardom, but..well. An Underground of very depressed monsters makes for a pretty cold fish of an audience. He still has a viewership because there’s nothing else on... but his performances just aren’t very passionate these days, getting more and more lackluster by the episode. He wants to inspire monsters to rise up and reach their dreams, but he just doesn’t know how to do that when he’s not even sure he believes in his own dreams anymore...

Papyrus: Another monster who has a little more hope left than most, doing his best to stay optimistic in the face of a really bad situation. He...may be in a little bit of denial, actually? He maintains that somehow, monsterkind is going to be free again! He just! Doesn’t know how! But it’ll definitely happen, just you wait, they’re totally not all going to die down here without ever getting to experience all the neat stuff on the Surface!!! He pretty much has selective hearing about anything related to that kind of hopelessness, tuning it out and not responding to it, mostly because he knows if he dwells on it too long, he’s going to have an existential crisis/breakdown of uncomfortable proportions and noooobody wants to see that mess, hahaha… In the meantime, he’s thrown himself into human studies and analysis, full-on Little Mermaid style because it gives him something good to focus on, and hope that life on the Surface will be good, once they get up there! He’s actually very close friends with Alphys because of their shared interest (though he’s not sure how sold he is on those cartoons…). He’s also trying to befriend Undyne, because she’s Captain of the Guard and seems really cool! And maybe if he could be friends with her, and cheer her up, maybe she could help him spread that cheer a little bit…? Or! Maybe he just makes a cool new friend and at least one person around here a tiny bit happier, which is also good!

Sans: A guy under no illusions that their situation is anything but terrible. He’s very weak and very tired, even for the Supremely Bummed Out monsters he lives amongst. His nihilist sense of humor and his brother are pretty much the only things keeping him from Falling Down at this point—that, and the humans in the Ruins. He’s met a few of them, indirectly, through his knock-knock routine, and he knows that there’s six of them in there now; knows that with just one more, maybe…maybe…? …He tries not to hope too hard, there’s a lot of random chance and timing involved, and humans just aren’t as sturdy as, say, a Boss Monster. Something—illness, injury, old age—could happen to any one of the humans at any time before a Seventh Human can fall… but he still checks on the door every couple of days, thinking that impossible, “maybe…”

Frisk: The long-awaited Seventh Human! They’re greeted after their fall by the six humans who preceded them, and are summarily tutored about Encounters and souls and The General Situation. After that, their quest is to go through the Underground, learning and mastering their magic so that they’ll be able to help break the Barrier. They’re escorted by the other mages, but are mostly on their own, as they want Frisk to learn and strengthen their abilities by themselves. Frisk is pretty safe in Encounters, since monsters aren’t really enthusiastic enough to hurt them, even on accident—but maybe, depending on what they say and do, they could reignite the hopes and dreams of monsterkind…?

Potential Outcomes

No Mercy - Frisk kills all the monsters they can on the way to the Barrier. Once it’s broken, one of the mages (randomly decided each run) will turn on them. They may only be a child, but based on what they’ve just done, they’re dangerous and only bound to get more dangerous as they get older—it had to end here. The last thing Frisk hears is the mages arguing over the morality of it before everything ends… and they have the chance to RESET.

Neutral - Frisk only kills a few monsters, or doesn’t kill anyone but does not restore everyone’s hope (major characters). When they get to the Barrier, they find that their magic alone isn’t strong enough to help break it…but the other six mages and any befriended monsters will comfort them and assure them that they can just…live down here a little bit longer. They can try again in a couple years, when their magic is stronger, it’s okay, Frisk! That’s fine, they guess, but maybe…maybe they can do better if they RESET?

True Pacifist - Frisk kills no one and befriends/inspires all main characters. All the monsters show up to cheer them on while they and the mages attempt to break the Barrier. When Frisk’s magic alone isn’t strong enough, the monsters lend their magic too, and all together it’s enough to shatter the Barrier and let monsters and mages finally go free!

Getting the Good Ending

Asgore and Toriel have to be convinced to split--they realize that they don’t fit together anymore, at least not romantically, and after everything that’s happened, it’s time for them to move on from one another and let go of the past.

Alphys and Undyne have to be brought together-- Alphys’ resolve to reach for better things is validated by Undyne’s admiration of her, and Alphys’ belief that she’s not a bad person restores Undyne’s confidence.

Mettaton needs an enthusiastic audience for once. A cheering crowd (even just of one) is enough to make him perform better, which improves his ratings and viewership, which makes him perform better, and so on in a feedback loop of glitz and glamour until he can believe in his dreams and the Underground’s again!

Papyrus is easy-- he just needs to be told of the humans’ quest to break the Barrier. He knew it! He knew monsters were going to be free one day, somehow! And here’s the proof, a band of mages on their way to make it happen as they spoke! Take that, existential nihilist dread, optimism was right!!!

Sans is both the hardest and the easiest-- he needs you to inspire everybody else first, but then it’ll just happen on its own. When he sees all of monsterkind rallying together, having hope for once...it really makes him believe in that ‘maybe,’ more than he ever could before. Ah, hell...he’ll be rootin’ for you, too, kid!

Aesthetic Notes

Mostly muted, washed out colors and plenty of monochrome, big The Neopets Gray Paint Brush vibes.

Monster magic is mostly shades of gray: the default is white but pretty much only children too young to understand everyone’s predicament remain white. The more hopeless a monster has gotten at their worst, the darker and grayer their magic gets. It’s easier for magic to darken than to lighten, so it will take many years of living on the Surface for monster to see their magic work its way back to white, and some may never recover completely--but they can always get just a little bit better! Even if it takes time!

Asgore and Toriel: Very neat and well put together, but overwhelmingly dour--the vibe you’d expect off a very proper and serious Victorian couple. Perfectly respectable black clothing (for mourning), with little to no ostentation. Crowns are pewter instead of gold. Asgore’s hair has faded from gold to more of a dishwater blond, and his beard shows several streaks of gray. Toriel wears Chara’s locket and plucks a fresh Golden Flower every day to place behind her ear, in remembrance of her children.

Alphys: Some of the brightest colors in the Underground--but in comparison to monochrome, even the soft pink and blue pastels she favors look bright. She wears a lot of cute dresses under her lab-coat (sometimes Lolita style), and always has some kind of ribbon tied in her crest or onto her tail-- it makes her feel cute and pretty and she likes the ego boost it gives her.

Undyne: Droopy fins, scales lacking in luster. She wears her hair down, long and loose about her face, but generally has the same fashion and body type as her canon self. Her appearance is one of those things she hasn’t given up on just yet!

Mettaton: A very Apple tech-esque look, clean white and sleek minimalist lines, basically an iPad on wheels. It’s pretty, but...also kinda boring. His Ex form is a lot more fun, still a little bit of a JJ Abrams look, but with a splash of Daft Punk--the Ex form can do rainbow lights and in comparison, it’s mind-blowingly, eye-searingly flashy...and suits him so much more.

Papyrus: No battle body, and not so much of a Strapping Young Lad--he’s a little slimmer in the chest and shoulders, and dresses like the sweet Boy Next Door he is. His magic is a pearly color, almost white but with a faint tinge of gray.

Sans: Not overly different-looking, favors soft and comfy clothes, anything that’s easy to pull on and cozy enough to sleep in. Extra Rounde™, precisely one notch up from however chubby-looking you normally imagine your Sanses to be. Deep shadows beneath his eye-sockets, and eye-lights that match the color of his magic--ash gray.

Not a major character but I had a cool idea for him so

Grillby: Mostly the same, but his flame burns low and rounded, more like a match or a candle wick than a freely flickering fire.

If you made it this far through all of that, thank you for listening to my idea! That’s all I got. :3

ETA some other stuff, since I’ve been asked some other stuff! XD

More about Grillby

Muffet and Napstablook

The mages’ powers

Burgerpants and Nice Cream Bunny

More about Frisk and Toriel

Various Skelebros Stuff: I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII

Monsters’ reception on the Surface

#undergloom #meta #Aus #undertale #concept #no projects planned #just a sandbox #hope it's a fun one!#uwu

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write-something-new-again · 4 years

Text

Second-Degree Burns (Dream Team one-shot)

~DreamNapFound (Established Polyamorous Relationship) ~ Warnings: Burns, Major Character Injury, Crying Nick wakes up to sobbing. It’s a rough morning.

Nick woke up to sobbing. There was a long moment of him laying half awake while his brain revved back to life. While he blinked away the tiredness, he started to notice that the bed seemed short the weight of one person- someone had left. Suddenly he understood what had woke him up.

He shot straight up in bed. Something was very wrong. George softly snored beside him, oblivious. As much as he absolutely hated waking up his boyfriends, this was important. He hesitantly jostled the other boy’s shoulder. “George, wake up, something’s-” A metallic crash and another strangled cry from somewhere downstairs jolted both of them wide awake.

After flinching at the sound, George quickly propped himself up on his elbow. Still wiping the sleep off his face, he mumbled. “Where’s Clay?” The two shared a worried, blurry look. The crying continued. It clicked.

They were out of bed in an instant. With both of them in a frenzy, the doorway and stairs proved difficult to bypass without injury. Minor mishaps and panic aside, they had to find Clay. Now.

It was when the two skidded around the corner into the kitchen that they saw it. Their boyfriend, sitting on the floor and bawling his eyes out. His face was stained red, tears were just streaming right down his cheeks. For a brief second, all they could do was watch him shake with every sob. The sight was just... heartbreaking.

Nick cringed. The boy’s hands trembled in front of him, his fingertips were painted crimson while his palms were singed white. The room was warm with steam, sparkling hot water coated the floor. Not good, not good, not good at all.

In a second flat, George was on his knees and gently holding his trembling wrists. So audibly anxious, he pleaded “Sweetheart, what happened?” It was obvious what had happened, he still felt the need to ask. Clay tried to pull away, tried to curl in on himself and shut all sensory input out. His hands, his head, his chest, everything hurt. Despite the crying and tugging, George held firm.

He had woken everyone up. His hands stung, and so did his eyes, but he had woken everyone up, and that was so much worse.

George didn’t know what to do. His boyfriend was sobbing on the kitchen floor, what was he supposed to do? A hand came down on his shoulder. “Here,” Now Nick was leaning close beside him, a tense smile on his face. His voice was quiet. “Go clean up, I’ve got him.” George cast one more sorrow glance back before letting Nick take his place.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Nick was patient, and he didn’t get frustrated when Clay started shaking his head. He tried again, this time with his hands resting in the wounded boy’s lap. “Yes, it is okay. Let us help, alright?” He tried to ignore it- the sound of his boyfriend choking on his worn down throat. He tried to ignore it and focus on helping instead.

Eventually he was able to wrap his hands around the boy’s wrists without protest. Slowly but surely, the two got back on their feet. As soon as they did, Nick abruptly found himself caught in an awkward sort of hug.

Clay had draped his arms around the boy’s shoulders as best he could while keeping his far away from any kind of touch. He was still whimpering, still wheezing, and still way too overwhelmed. Nick could feel Clay’s chest shuddering. This was torture. He hugged back, trying not to squeeze too hard.

They were both standing up, so at least some progress had been made. While that thought was somewhat comforting, the boy’s hands were still scorched. Nick couldn’t help but grimace, he didn’t know how to treat a burn...why didn’t he pay more attention in health class? He hesitated pulling away, but ultimately decided that the physical safety of his boyfriend was a bit more important than emotional support. Even if Clay was now staring down at him, looking just about ready to fall apart all over again.

“Uhm, let’s go sit down, alright?” A solemn sniff was all he got. Nick squirmed underneath his misery flavored gaze. He bit his cheek and muttered a quick “Good enough,” mostly for his own peace of mind. Immediately, he ushered towards the kitchen table. Wood screamed against the tile as he dragged out a chair.

A few timid steps later, Clay flopped down in his seat. Although he had quieted down, he was obviously no less upset. Nick shifted on his feet. Okay, Clay liked seeing people happy, he knew this much. If Clay saw someone worrying, he’d worry too. It was one of his most endearing qualities, he just hoped it still worked under the current circumstances.

Lowering himself to his knees left him level with his boyfriend’s tear-stained face. Somehow, he managed to suppress his concern in favor of flashing a reassuring grin. “Hey!” It felt wrong to be smiling. Clay’s breaths were heavy and uneven, his face was all shades of red, his hands were singed, and Nick was smiling. Keep it together. “We’re gonna get your hands fixed up. Sounds good, right?”

A moment passed, filled with nothing but the sound of towels sweeping the floor. Then Clay started nodding. Nick almost deflated in relief, they were getting somewhere. He set his hands on the injured boy’s knees and started pushing himself back to his feet. "Alright, I'm gonna go get some stuff to-" Mid-way through standing back up, elbows came down on his hands. His heart skipped a beat as he somewhat stumbled back down to his knees. Nick huffed. "Yes?"

The low-pitched whimper that Clay gave, it only made him feel worse. He didn’t need to hear the words, Nick got the message just fine. Disappointed, pleading, upset eyes begging him please don’t go.

Internal conflict made his head spin. He wanted to do something more than sit pretty. At the same time, Clay’s elbows pressed on his knuckles. How could he leave? Except, duh, he didn’t have to. There were three of them.

Knowing what he was about to ask made his cheeks flush. He brushed his thumb over the hem of Clay’s jeans. “George?” A squeak of acknowledgement, a short hum of curiosity. The british boy’s stare was blank. Nick sighed, this was just pathetic. “Can you...look up how to treat a uh, hot water burn?”

To be completely honest, George didn’t look any more well prepared than he was. “Yeah, just let me get my phone, it’s upstairs.” The boy threw one last towel onto the tile and pulled it flat with a foot before speeding around the corner and out of the kitchen.

For the first time, Nick took a moment to assess the damage. The air was still fogged up with steam, every breath made his nose and lungs warm. A limited array of pots and pans sat in a heap on the counter. As he slowly shifted his gaze down, he couldn’t help but hold a little tighter- Because it almost hurt just looking at Clay’s fingers. It was all just ugly shades of pink, and splotches of red that looked like blood rushing underneath his skin. Hysteria was still on his face with the way his bottom lip trembled. Pale palms, puffed up eyes, not a pretty sight.

Nick took his time adjusting positions until he had his hands gently cupped around Clay’s face. “Love, what happened?” Green eyes stared back at him, dim and gloomy.

The next breath that Clay took shook like an earthquake would LA. “I just…” His voice was undeniably raspy, all sorts of unsteady. “I wanted to make you guys breakfast.”

Ouch. He should have figured that was the case, but still. Ouch. It felt like Nick swallowed a pity-guilt-cocktail, and now his stomach felt sour. Clay wanted to make them breakfast, the sweetheart. Sitting impatiently on his tongue were apologies, kisses, and all the soothing words in the world. The urge to collapse in a puddle of comfort was overwhelming. Unbearably enticing. His brain wanted nothing more than to break down in sympathy and smother everything with unhelpful affection.

He shouldn't. In situations like this, Clay was an emotional mirror. Suck it up, dude. Don't make him upset. Alright, new goal: Keep it calm.

Nick swiped away another one of his boyfriend’s tears before peering back at the kitchen casualties. He couldn’t help but wonder. “Hey,” The pained expression on Clay’s face quickly turned expectant. In the most casual tone that he could muster, Nick cocked his head and asked, “What were you gonna make us?”

The air hissed around them. Clay looked down at his hands. After that, the stove. Then he locked eyes with Nick’s again. His face became unreadable somewhere along the way. “Pancakes...and bacon.” If Nick were to guess, it was grease that did his boyfriend in. Tragic.

But he couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. The smell of food was faint, and there was almost no trace of ingredients in sight. Unshelved plates and utensils, they were suspiciously absent. Nick shook his head with a snicker. “Doesn’t look like you got very far,” He teased.

What started out as a wheeze swiftly degraded into a coughing fit. In hindsight, humor might not have been the best route to cheer up someone who had just previously cried away the lining of their throat- but it worked nonetheless! Clay’s feet drummed the floor in delight as he pulled his elbows close to his side. He always did that when he laughed, an adorable idiosyncrasy.

Just as Nick began running a hand through damp and dirty blonde hair, another pair of feet came bounding down the stairs. With it came a subtly panicked voice, “Okay so it says we should run his hands under cool water, not cold, for about 20 minutes.” Eyes still on his phone, George carelessly caught his shoulder on the doorway with a thud. “Ow- uh, it also says we should go to the hospital. Just in case.” Nick twisted around, a frown quickly forming. That’s definitely not what he wanted to hear.

He only noticed that he’d been grinding his teeth when it started giving him a headache. While he himself felt sick with concern, George looked completely lost. With a sharp inhale, Nick did his best to mouth out “Will the water hurt?” It was hard to tell if the message got across or not, because all he got was an overly-bewildered shrug.

“Alright…” His voice held an undertone of dejection, almost defeated. Nick finally rose to his feet, making sure to keep a hand on Clay for solace’s sake. “That’s what we’ll do. We’ll go to the sink, yeah?” Green eyes stared up at him, afraid, vaguely betrayed. He tried to ignore it. A lack of protest would have to suffice.

It hurt walking away, it really did. But readying the sink seemed a little more appealing, even if it granted him only a moment of peace. Behind him: hushed words of encouragement, the sound of wood against ceramics, and slightly staggered footsteps. Cool, but not cold. He shook the water off his hand.

Three pairs of arms soon rested on the rim of the sink. A severely restless vibe buzzed between them. Seeing how Clay had himself hunched over with his hands hovering, wobbling above the water, something in Nick’s head told him yes. This would in fact hurt. The morning was really off to a wonderful start.

Both Nick and George leaned so that they could share a look behind their boyfriend’s back. A look that said a lot. One that said ‘Do we really have to do this?’, and ‘I don’t want to hurt him on purpose...’ alongside a million ‘What if?” questions. Nick swallowed hard. Excuses sat in his mouth like lead. Set the timer, see if they had any gauze, go find his keys first. In the end, all they would do was postpone the pain- which was arguably worse.

With a deep exhale, Nick forced the words out of his mouth. He went ahead and took a hold of the injured boy’s forearm. “It’ll be alright, we just need to get you all cleaned up.” Except this is when Clay decided that he was no longer on board with this whole ‘having his burns be treated’ thing. He definitely made a valiant effort to tear himself away, but weakened and outnumbered, his boyfriends swiftly overwhelmed him.

“Sweetheart, let’s just get this over with.” Nick so badly wanted to cover his ears. The running water couldn’t quite drown out the sound of Clay hissing in pain. In an instant, the boy jerked his hands out of the water and was trying to wriggle his way back to the kitchen floor. Teeth grit, hearts already broken, Nick and George reluctantly pulled his hands back under the water. Twenty minutes of this? He didn’t even know what to think.

Five minutes in, and Clay was crying again. Crying, stuttering, muttering, tearfully giggling his way through the pain. Both other boys took their turns pointlessly gushing apologies and anything heartening that came to their heads. Everything went understandably unanswered. At some point, Clay had downgraded to shaking his head and shuddering, caught in an endless loop of flinching and twitching. While George’s chin lay resting on a harshly shaking shoulder, Nick decided it was time to pull something he for sure would consider a pro gamer move.

Things almost fell apart the second he stepped away. Taking his hands off Clay’s back alone earned him a metric ton of disapproval. Clay’s face whipped around to face him, blotchy, confused, every shade of frustrated. George on the other hand looked helpless beyond recognition. Looked dizzy with uncertainty. They didn’t want him to go but…

Nick held up a finger, silently saying ‘One sec’, before stalking away towards the living room. Despite every event that had occurred in this train wreck of a morning, they still had a failsafe. Something he knew would help (it always did).

Luckily it was right there on the couch. Sitting innocently with her limbs neatly folded under her, Patches. Wide green eyes stared up at him, blissfully unaware of all his human struggles. Her tail swished and curled behind her. Clay loved Patches. A lot. Every piece of bad news, every distressing thought, every failed recording ended with her in Clay’s arms. She didn’t seem to mind.

After scooping her up to his chest, Nick couldn’t help but plant a quick kiss on her forehead before carrying her back to the sink. It was impossible not to, she was invitingly soft. Adorable. Admittedly very huggable. And smart, too, considering that at the sight of her favorite person crying, Patches immediately began to wiggle out of Nick’s hold. He let her hop onto the countertop and watched her trot up to Clay’s face. She leaned far over the water, just to be closer.

Green eyes- they matched. They matched, both pairs of green lit up like sunshine would the day. Even when Clay went briefly silent, the water kept on running. “P-Patches!” Cool, just not cold.

Patches licked her nose, the white on her chest bristling. Both Nick and George carefully wrapped a hand around their boyfriend’s waist. One last sniff of precaution, and Patches rammed her forehead right into Clay’s face. She twisted and rubbed her ears against his cheeks before settling down on the edge of the sink.

For once, the sound of water was drowned out, and elated giggling took its place. “Thank you for the bonk, Patches.”

Second-Degree Burns

#dreamwastaken #georgenotfound #sapnap #Dream Team #dreamnotfound #dreamnap #georgenap #oneshot #dreamnapfound #write something new again

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theres-a-goldensky · 4 years

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32 Reddie Fic Recs

In honor of the joy I feel in finally getting out of this miserably terrible fucking year of my life, I thought I’d do something fun and make up a list of Reddie fic recs, since this has fandom has taken over my life recently. Strap in, friends. This is gonna be a long one.

These recs are in the order in which I read them.

As ever, feel free to reblog and check out my other rec lists for the following fandoms:

IT chapter 2 list part two - Reddie

Good Omens fic

The Untamed list one and two - various pairings, mostly Wangxian

Various BL Series fic (fandoms: Love By Chance, TharnType, 2Moons series, My Engineer, Until We Meet Again, 2gether, History3: Trapped)

Or just head over to my bookmarks on AO3.

All fics are Reddie, all are complete.

** - denotes personal favorite

1. first love / late spring by vowelinthug - ~36,000 words, explicit - They both survive It, but not without some injuries, both physical and psychological. Richie takes Eddie to a secluded cabin to help him recover. And then they accidentally make a podcast. Nice slowburn, a good Richie characterization. I liked the conversations between the two of them, in particular one about Richie’s disdain for shoes that was pitch perfect.

The doctor’s evil eye is on both of them now. “Your friend is gonna be fine. Broken collarbone and a lot of blood loss, but the arm stays on, for now anyway.” Probably at the way Richie sags in relief so hard he groans in pain, the doctor stops looking so severe. “He’s a tough guy. I’ve never seen anyone regain consciousness from that much blood loss just to give me a full medical history.”

“Oh my god,” says Richie, covering his mouth. “I like him so much.”

Bill pats his shoulder in sympathy.

2. the fireworks that go off when you smile by zach_stone - ~10,000 words, teen - Post-movie the adult Losers, including Stan, go on a vacation together. There’s just lots of Richie staring at a wet, shirtless Eddie and pining.

Richie blinks at him, his stomach doing a fucking somersault, pinned under Eddie’s weirdly passionate stare. He swallows another mouthful of beer to stall for time, shifting his gaze away. Spread out before him, the lake looks like flat, black glass. “Jeez, is the risk analyst really telling me to ignore the risks? What’s the world coming to?” he manages to joke.

He expects Eddie to roll his eyes, to huff and lean away again, but he doesn’t. He says, still earnest, “I just think some things are worth the risk.”

And Richie doesn’t know what the fuck to do with that. He resolutely tells himself not to puke on Ben and Beverly’s porch, because he thinks if he did it would just be the words I love Eddie Kaspbrak a hundred times over, all puddled on the slats of wood. He stands up rather abruptly. “I should go to bed,” he says, aware that he’s talking too loud, being too fucking obvious. “I’m jetlagged as fuck. Also maybe a little drunk.”

3. oh, i want the truth to be known by ShowMeAHero - ~7000 words, explicit - Richie sees Eddie die in the deadlights and then manages to save him at the last second, but It skewers him instead. I’m honestly not sure why there isn’t more fic with this premise, because Richie sacrificing his own safety for Eddie and then Eddie losing his shit is absolutely, 100% my jam.

The claw isn’t in Eddie’s chest. Instead, it’s in Richie’s, caught in his side, pinning him to the ground. He chokes on a scream, caught in his throat, and pushes at Eddie, just trying to get them away. He rolls into him, ripping Pennywise’s claw through his side to get away, but once he’s free, he’s scrambling into a half-stumble and dragging Eddie with him until they’re hidden under an outcropping of rock. His side is bleeding, he can feel it, and his entire fucking abdomen hurts, and, for a moment, it’s all he can process.

“Holy shit, Richie,” Eddie exclaims. The pain shuffles to the back of Richie’s mind so he can focus on Eddie instead. He sounds winded, but he’s fucking alive, unhurt and breathing and okay, and Richie huffs a laugh. He’s in so much fucking pain, but he can’t even figure out where it’s all originating from, and the only thought cycling through his brain is it’s okay, he’s okay, Eddie’s okay, it wasn’t real, it wasn’t real, it wasn’t real, over and over.

4. we'll be a fine line (we'll be alright) by buckyjerkbarnes - ~9,000 words, teen - Richie and the other Losers in the hospital after killing It, waiting for news on Eddie. Richie has a bit of a breakdown.

The ambulance ride had been the longest twenty minutes of Richie’s life. He'd tried not to get in the way of the EMTs who worked frantically to keep Eddie alive; who were far more patient with him than Richie likely deserved. By the time they'd rolled up to the emergency entrance at the hospital, Ben stamping his breaks as the rest of the Losers came to a grinding halt not fifteen yards away, Richie was still a sobbing mess. He couldn't see through the cracked lens of his glasses, and when Eddie, who had not opened his eyes or said a word since they were still in the sewers, was about to be wheeled out of sight, Richie made like a battering ram and lunged towards the pair of swinging doors.

“Sir!" An orderly yelped. "You can’t—!"

And Stan, who had materialized at Richie's elbow, told the orderly: "He's the husband."

5. ** It’s Hard to Tell Sometimes by gallopingmelancholia - ~21,000 words, explicit - Eddie divorces his wife and moves to LA to live with Richie. Richie promptly has like five emotional meltdowns over it. So much pining. So much. This is one of very few that has Eddie in the hospital for a realistic amount of time, which I appreciate. When writers have been hoping out of bed after a day or whatever, it really throws me out of the story.

“When can we see him?” Mike asks.

“He’s asleep, but we’ll send in a nurse when he wakes up. I wouldn’t expect it until tomorrow morning at the earliest. He’s been through quite a lot, eleven hours of surgery, and is on a lot of pain medication.”

“Will he survive? What’s the percentage? He’ll want to know the probability, he’s a risk analyst,” Richie says.

The doctor hesitates. “The chances he makes it through the night are 65%.”

“That’s not bad!” Richie says even as his heart drops to somewhere in the region of his feet. The others look at him pitifully. “Tell him we’re here and we love him. Tell him the Losers are here and we’ll see him soon.”

6. ** it’s a nice day to start again by eddiespaghetti (foxwatson) - ~6000 words, teen - Post-movie, Eddie wakes up one morning to discover that Richie and a woman had a shotgun wedding in Vegas the night before. Great, sad-but-trying-not-to-show-it Eddie here. (And yes, Richie is a total disaster gay who marries a woman on a whim.)

“Are you sitting down?”

“I didn’t even get out of bed yet! Bev please just tell me what the fuck is happening.”

“Sorry, I’m sorry. Just- Richie got married.”

“What? No he didn’t,” Eddie scoffs, throwing the covers off. “I’m not - he’s not even dating anybody, I see him all the time. It’s probably just a big joke or something, that’s-”

“He got married, in Vegas. It’s all over Twitter, and he- he sent pictures to the group chat last night. She’s some other comedian. None of us have ever met her, he didn’t invite any of us.”

7. Oh, But He Makes You Laugh by MellytheHun - ~9,000 words, mature - Teenage Eddie has to deal with some serious jealousy when a new friend enters their group. This one has a good, slow realization on Eddie’s part.

The boy is in their grade, though not part of their social sphere; he’s nearly as tall as Richie, with light eyes, and walnut colored hair. Eddie recognizes him from his AP bio class, but can’t inwardly recall his name.

The boy nods toward Stanley while keeping eye-contact with Richie, and informs him, “alligators - they can grow up to twenty feet.”

Richie opens his mouth to argue with the new kid, but he’s cut off.

“Which is weird, cause they usually only grow four.”

Eddie watches in abject bewilderment as a hearty, genuine laugh is startled out of Richie.

8. Richie Tozier: Pray Away the Gay by QueerOnTilMorning - ~4,500 words, teen - The official transcript of Richie Tozier’s comeback Netflix special. A lot of writers try to do Richie’s stand-up routine, but not many can nail it. This one feels realistic and contains actual, like, jokes and stuff.

Because I grew up in this little town called Derry, Maine--nope, absolutely not, do not cheer for that. Fuck Derry! I had this friend, for years he thought I was lactose intolerant, because he'd mention dairy and I'd be like "fuck Derry! Derry tried to fucking kill me!" No, I can eat cheese, I just hate my hometown. They did not fuck with the gays, in Derry. That's probably why I dress so shitty. It's a survival thing. I was already super into dudes. If I had developed fashion sense on top of that? No. Oh my God. It was so--I was so fucking scared all the time.

And like, to put this in perspective, has anyone ever heard of Henry Bowers? Any true crime fans in the house? Henry Bowers, the baby serial killer? Yeah, you listened to that podcast! My friend Bill was on that podcast, doesn't he have a sexy voice? Anyway, Henry Bowers, also known very creatively as The Derry Killer, murdered a bunch of kids the summer we were thirteen. I say we, because that dude was in my fucking class. There was an active serial killer in Derry during my childhood and still, still my greatest fear was that someone would find out I was gay.

9. RICHIE TOZIER IS...THE COMEBACK CLOWN by owlinaminor & tinypersonhotel - ~11,500, teen - An excellent multimedia fic about Richie’s life with Eddie post-movie.

While Richie Tozier never stops talking, Eddie Kaspbrak never stops moving. Listening to a conversation between the two men is akin to watching a pinball machine with two balls going at once, slamming into each other and the walls and the levers and each other, lighting up their surroundings in a trance as mesmerizing as it is chaotic. (Kaspbrack laughed when I told him this metaphor—apparently Tozier spent many an afternoon at the town arcade when they were kids.)

Over the course of one twenty-minute walk with their dog, a beagle named Stanley, through their L.A. neighborhood, they manage to call off their engagement, call it back on, invite me, uninvite me, call the engagement off again, debate eloping, call the whole thing back on but disinvite everyone except me, and finally agree on what color napkins to have at the reception.

10. ** The Jenga Dream Date by stitchy - ~15,000 words, explicit - Richie and Eddie domestic fluff that starts at Ben and Bev’s wedding. It feels so sweet, and you can just see the happiness radiating off the screen. This is truly the ending they deserve.

Then a seriously, unbearably cute thought occurs to Richie. A thought he can’t immediately share with Eddie, because Bill and Mike each independently cornered him and made him swear not to steal Bev and Ben’s thunder.

Ah, fuck it.

“I can’t think why we would possibly be in another situation in the near future where there’s dancing but also my mother is there for some reason, but holy shit, Eds! I have got to see you dance with Mom. During this very special situation. For which I will make hand calligraphed invitations and hire a photographer and-”

Eddie’s eyes dart in either direction before he lets out a short, slightly hysterical laugh. “Uhhh, I also have no idea when or why that would happen, or what sort of event that would be appropriate for.”

11. Bad Parts In by 50artists - ~9,000 words, not rated - It’s Richie that ends up in the hospital after it all goes down, and Eddie who has the crisis. And also some serious misapprehensions.

"I feel like Richie might be slightly weirded out," Eddie says dryly. "Like oh, hey, we've not spoken for decades and you're the straightest man I know, but it turns out I have been subconsciously in love with you since we were teenagers. I dunno, might make things a bit awkward."

"I'm sorry," says Beverly, "just to clarify, Richie Tozier is the straightest man you know?"

"Dude, have you seen his comedy? It's all, 'I love fucking chicks while drinking beer and watching football'."

"You mean the material that Richie doesn't write himself?'

12. ** We Found Love in a Chili’s ToGo by Amuly - ~14,000, explicit - Richie confesses his feelings to Eddie in the airport before they both headed back to their own lives. This is such a lovely story about friendship and love and putting yourself back together. And there’s some A+++ phone sex.

“Nah, Eds. It’s because I had a big gay crush and needed Stan to bitch at about it.”

Eddie frowned, then shook his head. “That doesn’t explain why you couldn’t bitch at me about it.”

“Well bitching about your secret crush to your secret crush is generally frowned upon, Eds. Kinda fucks up the ‘secret’ part.”

Eddie, bless his tiny heart, didn’t get it for a second. His expression scrunched up, about to say something stupid back to Richie, when his brain processed Richie’s words. In a second his expression fell open, jaw actually agape.

“Oh look: drinks!” Richie grabbed his marg, licking and drinking without even letting the waitress set it down onto the tabletop. Eddie barely had the courtesy left to let her set his down before he was grabbing at it.

13. ** Ask Me About My New Material by twoseas - ~7,000 words, explicit - I could read 10,000 stories about a confused and horny Eddie jerking it to Richie’s stand up without understanding why before they meet again in Derry. This one has a great Richie, who reacts like he got hit in the face with a bat when the truth comes out.

In the restaurant, as the gong resounded around them, Eddie looked up at a four-eyed, messy, middle aged Trashmouth and suddenly it all clicked.

He had two thoughts.

Oh, he realized, it’s because I’m in love with the dumbass.

And, Aw fuck.

14. No Parenthesis by pineapplecrushface - 13,000 words, explicit - In the deadlights, Stan gives Richie some instructions on how to bring him back. Spoilers: it involves an orgy. And Richie and Eddie dealing with their feelings.

“Okay,” Mike said, holding his hands out to placate him, and honestly Richie was really fucking sick of Mike saying crazy shit and then somehow—somehow!—convincing them to do it anyway. “I’m not saying we have to do it. I’m just saying, the ritual exists and we could do it, and now that it’s out there, I feel like you should all have the choice.”

“Great. I choose no. I’m fucking leaving before I get ritualed into giving all my money to a cult leader and I end up spending the rest of my sad short life on an alpaca farm,” Richie said, standing up too fast and stalking across the room.

“Richie,” Bev said, and she sounded, unbelievably, like she was not thinking this was completely insane.

“Are you fucking serious?” He whirled around to look at them. They were all giving him varying levels of Richie, be reasonable, which was a look he was familiar with, but not when it came to sex rituals, for some fucking reason.

15. ** Stupid Deep series by anonymous - ~50,000 words, explicit - Richie has a huge dick, and Eddie is obsessed with it. Come for the super, super hot sex, stay for the sweet romance, twist of angst and happy ending.

It’s been five months since then, and Eddie has spent at least 40% of that time thinking about Richie’s big fucking dick. He spends about 20% working from home, 20% arguing with Richie about dumb shit, and the remaining 30% sleeping—this adds up to 110%, but that’s because there’s overlap between the sleeping and the thinking about Richie’s huge dick in the form of extremely graphic dreams.

He thinks about Richie’s dick in the shower. He thinks about Richie’s dick when they’re watching TV together. He thinks about Richie’s dick when he’s trying to eat breakfast. He hasn’t even seen it hard. But god, he thinks about it. Thinks about it hot and thick in his hand, thinks about it twitching as Eddie strokes it, thinks about it stretching his lips, thinks about it leaking precum all over Eddie’s fingers and tongue and stomach. And, most importantly—most vividly—he thinks about Richie’s dick inside of him, filling him up, fucking him.

At the same time, Eddie also spent a good amount of time, woven through the rest of his daily activities, falling so deeply in love with his best-friend-cum-roommate that it was disturbing at best. There was pining. There were lingering glances. There was lying on Richie’s bed while he was out just to ease the ache in his chest with Richie’s warm, familiar scent, which is disgusting and Eddie hates to think about it. There were, in Eddie’s darkest moments, daydreams about Richie holding his hand and kissing him and telling Eddie he’s in love with him. Like a fucking sap.

16. I’m quite alright hiding today by remusjohn - ~7,000 words, explicit - Eddie kisses Richie out of the deadlights, but Richie doesn’t know if that means anything.

On the first night they don’t do much of anything. They unpack (well, Eddie unpacks his massive bags while Richie tries to figure out how to sign in to his Netflix account on the tiny TV in the living room), and they order in, and they argue over what to watch while they’re eating, and Eddie falls asleep some hours later with his head tucked into Richie’s shoulder, and Richie tries not to think too much of it.

There’s been a lot of that, the last couple of days. Richie doesn’t know how to say, You kissed me to wake me up from the deadlights and I don’t know if you did it to save my life or if there’s something else too, but it’s kind of killing me, man.

So Richie doesn’t say anything at all.

17. Haunt Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me by Vulcanodon - ~20,000 words, explicit - AU where Eddie and Richie are ghost hunters who get stuck in a very trippy haunted house. This concept really shouldn’t work, and I’m not big on AUs in the fandom, but the relationship between the two of them really sells it. And, obviously, the pining. There’s so much.

The only time Eddie has ever witnessed Richie freaking out was when they had been fucking about in the woods near Montana for their werewolf episode. Eddie had been walking backwards, trying to get Richie and a creepy footprint in frame when he had suddenly felt nothing but air behind him. He had fallen for an impressively long time down the hill, blacking out briefly when a branch caught his head and when he came to Richie had been leaning over him, white and frantic, hands all fisted up in Eddie’s shirt.

Eddie, Eddie, Eds, Richie had said, nearly crying. Are you alright, can you talk?

Is my camera broken? Eddie had managed woozily to say, and for a moment Eddie had thought Richie might do something crazy like slap him or even kiss him.

He hadn’t done either in the end and Eddie remembers the disappointment, even with the haze of a mild concussion.

18. Five Times The Losers Gave Richie Permission by toomuchrootbeer - ~11,000 words, mature - Each loser tries to let Richie know that they know in their own special way.

“No I don’t mind,” Stan says evenly, shrugging his shoulders like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “I don’t mind any of it.”

“Cool,” Richie chirps, grabbing his backpack off of the grass and pushing himself to his feet. “Pip pip Edward,” he calls. “Shall we endeavor to find you a cleaner wardrobe?”

“Fuck you,” Eddie says back, but there is no venom behind his words.

But then Stan is reaching out, gripping Richie’s arm, “Dude what are you-”

“I don’t mind any of it, Tozier,” he repeats, voice lower and his words somehow more weighty, fixing Richie with an indecipherable look. “And I don’t think any of the other Losers would mind it either. If you wanted to,” he jerks his head in the direction of Eddie, “you know.”

19. String Theory by neverfaraway - ~17,000 words, mature - Richie starts slowly regaining his memories and has a disturbing experience in the deadlights.

The thing is, Richie knows this is a version of himself and Eddie that never existed. He can taste the pretence on the tip of his tongue, but the sticky air seems to sharpen and solidify around him. He can’t remember where he was before this moment, watching his fingers alight on the buckle of Eddie’s hundred-dollar belt.

The Voice wavers and Richie comes pouring through the cracks. It's painful to watch the careful way he places his hands on Eddie’s skin. "Fuck, I missed you," he says. "Even when I couldn't remember, I had a hole right through me, straight through the middle. You left a fucking entry and exit wound."

"Damnit, Richie," Eddie mutters, blinking rapidly. "Beep, beep."

20. hoping to be found by eddiespaghetti (foxwatson) - ~25,000 words, mature - Things don’t magically work out after Derry for Eddie. He doesn’t know what else to do, so he goes back to Myra and his depressig life. But at least now he has his friends. He has Richie.

With his memories back now, with all the knowledge of his mother and his placebos and his fake inhaler and his friends, it feels like Eddie has been living the last 27 years in sickly, yellow sepia tones. His memories and even the brief time he spent with everyone at the Chinese restaurant shine in his mind in vivid technicolor, and everything else pales in comparison.

He thought he would die, and now he doesn’t have a plan. His life in New York is miserable and cramped and leaves him feeling small, so he puts it off as long as he can.

The drive isn’t long, even with Eddie taking his time. He takes a detour just to drive along the coast and see the ocean, and stops at any given exit or National Forest along the way that strikes his fancy. He’s still home before nightfall.

21. After Derry series by pineapplecrushface - ~47,000 words, explicit - Richie and Eddie are both pining and miserable disasters post-movie. Until they finally get their shit together and figure some things out.

He woke when Eddie sat on the edge of the bed and touched his back, under his disgusting shirt. “Hey,” he said. “Your turn. I mean, your turn after I wash my hand again. What did you lie down in?”

“Your mom,” he said, sitting up and glaring at Eddie, who was half-naked, a towel wrapped around his waist. “How do you all look so good and I ended up looking like fucking Christopher Lloyd? Like, not young Christopher Lloyd. Present day.”

Eddie’s hand was still tucked under his shirt, rubbing a path across his lower back. “I guess you did grow into your looks.”

“Oh, fuck you, you weirdly muscular little shitweasel,” Richie said, escaping to the shower so he didn’t have to look at the slope of Eddie’s arms. He was weak for that, the line of a man’s shoulders and back. He was weak for all of Eddie, really. After everything he had seen, he guessed it was something he could admit to himself. There was no panic left in it.

22. for better, for worse by kaspbrak_kid - ~26,000 words, not rated - Eddie has just gotten through a messy divorce and is trying to deal with the fact that he’s been in love with Richie for 30 years, and then he has to go to Ben and Bev’s wedding. Not a great combination of things.

Eddie blows out a shaky breath and puts down his phone, then picks it back up again, restless. He scrolls up through his and Richie’s texts.

They’re not that frequent. They talk in the group chat, mostly. Eddie thinks about texting him all the time, several times a day, and then never does. It’s all just stupid shit, anyway. A dream he had or a movie he saw on TV that he remembers Richie used to like, and does he still like it? Some things his therapist tells him he should say, like that he’s been in love with Richie for somewhere between six months and thirty-odd years.

Instead, most of their private texts are just inane bickering, or Richie trying out jokes on him, or Eddie telling Richie how to clean the cut he just accidentally gave himself opening a can. He could have just googled it. But he asked Eddie.

23. feet on the ground, head in the sky by peggyolson - ~21,000 words, teen - I’m kind of a sucker for the slowburn, falling in love over distance trope. This one does it well, with bonus Richie dealing with his issues and figuring shit out.

Mostly, though, it’s just a slight tug at the back of his mind, another part of his day. A mumbled let me call Eddie, like an afterthought, while he’s tapping his foot in line at Whole Foods.

Eddie always, always answers.

“Edward Kaspbrak,” he chirps during business hours, dry and glib, and Richie will respond in a deep, exaggerated baritone with something awful like Mr. Kaspbrak, your test results are in and unfortunately you will keep shrinking at an alarming rate for the rest of your life, something barely funny that he says just to get a reaction.

(It had been such a mistake to give Richie his work number.)

24. it’s about time that you just unwind by fuckener - ~9,500 words, explicit - Eddie finds out that Richie is gay via his stand-up and promptly loses his mind.

“Yeah? Mine was weird, guys, I’m not going to lie. I came up with this really good idea on how to cause total chaos at a family event, you wanna hear it?” There it was - glasses adjustment, not even past the one minute mark. “If you really want to shake up another dull as fuck Thanksgiving with your parents, just wait ‘til you’re in your forties and your elderly father is spooning out his first helping of mashed potatoes for the night and then drop the bomb that you’ve been gay the whole time. Boom, happy Thanksgiving. Pass the sweet corn, I want to fuck the huge green dude on the can.” People laughed. Richie did that thing with his face between a smile and a scowl. “It’s the long game, yeah, but -”

Eddie slammed his laptop shut.

25. feel this burning, love of mine by floatingonthelehigh - 17,000 words, mature - The clown is a bastard. Richie gets a second chance.

“Don’t leave,” Eddie says quietly, and god fucking damn it, it breaks him that Eddie thinks he ever would.

“No, fuck no, Eddie. I’m not going to.” He adjusts his grip on the jacket against Eddie’s stomach, winces when Eddie gasps in pain. Richie’s lip shakes again as he just keeps talking. “Frankly I’m insulted that you’d think I’d leave you, after just remembering you're my best fucking friend in the world, after twenty seven fucking years. My clown-murdering partner in crime! How could I ever leave you? Fuck no, I’m not leaving you, Eds. Idiot,” He laughs emptily, rubbing Eddie’s cheek, and pauses, beginning to nod to himself as a goal flits into his mind. “I’m going to pick you up, I’m going to get you out of here, to a hospital. Right now. And—” Eddie’s grip on his arm tightens, and he stops.

26. hey there demons (it's me, ya boi) by dharmainitiative - 12,000 words, teen - Is this another ghosthunters AU? Why, yes it is. I don’t know why there are two of these, but I enjoyed them both. This one is much lighter, and I really liked the way that the writer creates a very lived-in feeling as soon as you jump into this universe.

As it was, BuzzFeed wasn’t a bad place to work, despite all the shit Richie gave it. He was paid well, there were always a bunch of cushy chairs everywhere, and the food that got brought in for lunch everyday was way better than the shitty grilled cheeses he ate at home for dinner. And despite what Richie expected, his coworkers were actually pretty cool, all things considered. Sure, they were all millenials who thought landing an internship at BuzzFeed was the height of success, but most of them were friendly, and occasionally funny, and like Richie, just excited to get paid to do something that required little to no effort.

Most of them, at least. There was also Eddie Kaspbrak.

Richie met Eddie his first day at BuzzFeed, when he was shown his desk and the incessantly chatty intern that sat at the desk right next to him. Working side by side — literally — let Richie learn a lot of things about Eddie Kaspbrak: he was a neurotic hypochondriac, exclusively owned Polo shirts, and talked faster than Richie could even blink.

27. New Page, Same Old Book by Rend_Herring - 17,000 words, explicit - Post-movie, Eddie divorces his wife, moves across the country and makes himself comfortable in Richie’s home. Richie is totally fine and not freaking out at all.

He clips the wall coming into the foyer, practically crashes over the little table he uses to stack mail—fumbles around with the chain, the deadbolt, before finally wrenching open the door. It doesn’t occur to him until he’s sending it bouncing back against the doorstop, that it might have been a good idea to check the peephole and make sure it actually wasn’t some asshole out for a smash and grab in the middle of the night, or worse — a fan.

Richie would be less dumbfounded by either option.

He squints at the person standing in front of him, blinks.

“I’ve had this dream before,” Richie says, voice still croaky from sleep, “usually you’re wearing less clothes.”

“Jesus christ,” Eddie sighs, and rolls his eyes when Richie jumps back a bit, genuinely startled that it’s not some manufacturing of his sordid imagination. “I knew I shouldn’t have come here.”

28. Drives Me Wild by rustywrites - ~4,000 words, explicit - Eddie and Richie have hotel sex after RIchie wins himself an Emmy.

"I thought I told you no more jokes about how much you love my dick," Eddie says, shifting to straddle Richie's waist in earnest, rolling his hips downward just to emphasize his point, no doubt. His hands are braced on both of Richie's shoulders, pinning him back with his bodyweight, while Richie's hands are on his waist, holding him in place. It's not the most comfortable position, all things considered--Richie's knees are bent over the end of the mattress, his feet still on the floor, and they're both still in their fucking monkey suits.

Richie had tried to make the case with his agent and his manager that he should be allowed to attend the Emmys in the same clothes he always wore (jeans, a shitty t-shirt, a semi-fashionable jacket, you know, the works.) They were good enough for his specials, one of which had earned him the nomination to begin with, but both Anna and Johnathan had pushed back hard, and when Eddie had not-so-subtly sided with them, well. Suit and tie it was.

29. Rewrite by sachi_sama - ~13,000 words, mature - Stan is dead, but somehow only Eddie can see him as they race to beat It. That’s...probably not a good sign. (note: Stan stays dead in this fic.)

“Whoa. Hey, Eds, you being a weepy drunk over there?” Richie asks, and he scoots over into Stan's seemingly empty chair, and Stan vanishes as Richie's hand is suddenly on Eddie's shoulder.

“I just—I saw...” Eddie pauses, and he wipes his hands over his eyes, sniffling. When's the last time he cried? It makes his head hurt every time. “Fuck. I'm sorry, guys.” He stands abruptly. “I'm gonna go splash some water on my face.” He hurriedly exits the room and he hears Mike asking what he saw, but Eddie is already power-walking across the restaurant to the bathroom, aware Dead Stan is hot on his heels.

“Lucky. The bathroom is empty,” Stan says as he leans against the wall. Eddie looks at him, really looks, and he sees the blood on Stan's wrists.

30. ** we are all going forward, none of us are going back series by theappliepielifestyle - ~21,000 words, teen - Richie gets stuck in a time loop and forced to repeat their last stand at Neibolt over and over until he gets it right.

Richie hears himself finish saying Let’s kill this clown and it’s only when he finishes forming the n that reality sets in. What the fuck -

He whirls around. Everyone’s standing around him, just like they were last night - they’re in front of the fucking house, it’s standing again.

“What the fuck,” Richie croaks. “No, come on - what’s going on? Ohhhh fuck.”

He only lets himself stare at it for a few seconds of unbridled hate before he keeps looking at the others, who are now staring at him, pausing from where they’d all taken a step towards the house before looking back and stopping to watch Richie’s nervous breakdown.

31. ** keep talking. i’ll keep walking toward the sound of your voice. by theapplepielifestyle - 16,000 words, teen - Eddie dies, sort of, and meets Stan in the afterlife. The two of them realize that they can communicate with their friends in their dreams. Eddie has to watch Richie slowly breakdown in his absence.

32. ** happily ever afters all the way around series by theapplepielifestyle - ~35,000 words, teen - I have so much appreciation for this author’s desire to fix the ending by any means necessary. In this one, that good old turtle lends a hand and sends Richie back in time to fix everything. It’s...a lot.

Then it smooths out into an actual scene, if jumpy: a sigil on wooden boards that look a lot like the floor of Richie’s apartment. The sigil is probably drawn in blood, but it could also be red paint. Although Richie’s being very optimistic about that. Anyway, the dream is mostly that: the sigil being drawn, slow and precise, by Richie. It’s dark in the dream, and the sigil being drawn is overcut with more fleeting images, chased with sounds: Stan’s bloody hand dangling out of a bath. Stan as a kid, on the tail end of saying something as he walks home in the evening. Eddie with blank eyed, slumped in IT’s lair. Eddie as a kid, in mid-argument in the clubhouse. A voice so deep and impossible that it hurts, a voice that reminds him of the turtle’s gaze: come back come back you can change the -

At the end of the dream, the scene will stabilize. Dream-Richie will say some shit he can't make out. Then he'll say the one thing he can make out, which is: I’m coming.

And then he’ll wake up.

LINK TO REDDIE FIC REC LIST PART TWO

#it #reddie #reddie fic #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #fic recs #ao3 #rec list #damn this took so long #i hope someone gets some use out of it

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