#hi my name is vi and i insisted i wasn't going to ship it and here i am. drawing them | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rogue-durin-16 · 4 years ago

Text

THINGS NEVER GO AS PLANNED (Part III/VII)

"shock therapy"

Summary: After Fred's death, George and Y/n lean on each other to carry on. This wasn't the most brilliant idea, though; George was pretty much in love with the girl, and Y/n— well, she had been dating Fred prior to the Battle of Hogwarts.

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Genre: angst mostly

Tags:

Suggested by: @crispykittywitch

Things never go as planned: @sarcasticallywitty15 @beautyschoo1dropout @s1ut4georgeweasley @leovaldez37 @missmulti @weasleywh0r3s

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

Warnings: language, grief, allusions to suicide, mentions of death, let me know if I missed something

A/N: okay this is... Kinda dark, but I mean, expected given the prompt I'm working with lmao, I'd say enjoy but... Well, enjoy <3

Prologue: the aftermath

Part I: sleepless nights

Part II: candy floss

Part IV: wrong name

Part V: the perfect excuse

Part VI: the downfall

Part VII: apart

Epilogue: I still love you

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

It began with small actions, like waking up earlier than me, or taking on making breakfast himself.

I thought he was feeling better.

Then came the big actions, like deciding to switch places with me an working with the clients while I made the shippings.

I started to feel something was off the third day since the exchange; I escaped the office to visit him and he could have easily passed as the giant mannequin in our façade.

"Are you alright?" I questioned in a worried whisper near his ear.

"Of course." I knitted my brows, puzzled at his response. He noticed how odd it had been due to my face, and that forced smile fell for a second as he leaned on me to place a kiss on my crown. "Don't worry about me, darling."

Before I could insist, his attention was stolen by a couple of very confused clients.

The following night in the flat, while we were making dinner, it seemed he had gone back to his usual demeanor, so I figured he was making extra effort to look happy in front of the customers.

I couldn't shake off the feeling that something was wrong, though, something between us; I couldn't pinpoint it, yet knew it existed.

It was that same night that I got a grip of what was going on, when the bed's weight shifted, shaking me out of my sleep just in time to hear a muffled sob followed by a shaky breath.

"George?" His eyes met my own as I propped myself on my forearms.

"Did I wake you?" He questioned, his voice as quiet as mine. "Sorry, love."

Sometimes —more often than not— when he called me that name, I would feel butterflies in my stomach, and the fact that it was normally accompanied by some kind of physical contact didn't help at all.

He extended his arm to reach my hand, his thumb caressing the back of my palm. "Go back to sleep." He commanded in a soft whisper, getting up and walking towards the door.

As the door closed, my chest ached at the mere possibility of us going back to the first week we spend together in the flat after the war.

GEORGE'S P. O. V.

I went straight to the kitchen and splashed my face with water before pouring myself a glass of milk.

Y/n had the brilliant idea of throw away all the alcohol in our apartment to avoid falling into bad habits as a copying mechanism, and, in all honesty, it was one of her best ones.

Grabbing the glass, I made my way to the living room, plopping down on the couch; I wouldn't even try to fall asleep there— it was proven impossible during the first week.

I had to snap out of it and start to sleep in my own room; the war left us all scarred in s million ways, and one of them included that even the slightest, quietest movement would wake you up, and I knew for a fact that Y/n wasn't getting one single night of sound sleep, and I was the one to blame.

"Oi," Speaking of which.

"What are you doing up?"

"Checking on you." She responded, leaning against the doorframe "You alright?" I nodded, but she walked to the couch either way, sitting down and letting herself fall over my chest. "You've been acting weird." She mumbled, snugging her face on my chest and consequently making my heart swell. "You can tell me anything, you know that, right?"

I hummed, my chin resting over her crown as my arm wrapped around her. "I know." I murmured, knowing very well it was lie.

There was several things I couldn't and wouldn't tell her ever, but I wouldn't let her know that. "C'mon, go back to bed."

"Not without you." It wasn't more than a mumble, since she was beginning to fall asleep on my chest, but it was loud enough to trigger me.

How many times I had dreamed of having her just like this, how many times had I yearned to wrap my arms around her and never let go, to kiss her, to sleep with her before the war; I still did.

I still wanted to kiss all her sadness away, to be able to call her mine; I still loved her in a way I shouldn't, and somehow it felt even more wrong now that Fred was gone.

It took me a moment to realise she had, in fact, fallen asleep. I carried her back to her bed and lay her down, carefully pulling the sheets to cover her.

I lay down too, promising myself I would face my fears the next day— I owe her that, at the very least.

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

Y/n had left the apartment to go down the Diagon Alley to buy groceries and a new blouse.

It's now or never, I thought to myself, standing at the start of the hallway. I took a deep breath and made my way to my room with my bags hanging on my shoulders.

You can do this.

I reached for the knob with shaky hands and turned it.

You can do this.

My arms pushed the door open in a swift movement, my eyes anxiously scanning the room as if I was expecting to find a monster inside.

But there was no monster, it was just my room; a bit dusty and with a musty smell, but still my room.

I left my bags on the floor and sat on the edge of my bed. It wasn't scary, nor haunted, as I thought it would be, and I felt a weight off my shoulders; Y/n would be able to sleep the nights through, instead of waking up every now and then to my gasps and sobs.

Since it had been way easier than I thought it would be, I decided to take it a step further; I would have to enter there sooner rather than later to clean, so why not now?

Oh, what a big mistake I had made.

READER'S P. O. V.

"I'm back!" Somehow, I had managed to climb upstairs whilst carrying all the bags without tripping. "Did you know that Florean Fortescue's has three new ice cream flavours?" I threw the Twilfitt and Tatting’s bag on the sofa and made my way to the kitchen. "Don't be mad but I got you something at Twilfitt and Tatting’s!" Laying the groceries over the counter, I frowned at George's lack of responses. "George?" I left the kitchen and took a look around the flat; maybe he was down in the shop?

I was about to go downstairs when I saw a crack of light down the hall, one coming from a partially open door —from Fred's door.

My heart pounded hard against my chest as I made my way to the part of the house we rarely got to.

I knew George had to be inside, but the fact that no sound was coming out of the room —no sobs, no weeping, no ragged breathing— was about to put me under cardiac arrest.

What if during the last week he had gotten worse —rock bottom kind of worse— and that was why he had been acting so distant? What if those 'don't worry about me's had been foreshadowing something terrible?

I shut my eyes, my pulse hammering as I pushed the door open, dreading to find a horrifying scenario.

Open your fucking eyes, Y/n.

I couldn't help the sigh of relief when I saw George kneeled in the middle of the room, alive and breathing.

Then, I doubled checked and realized that maybe he wasn't that much alive. I circled the ginger so we could be face to face, and my heart shattered at the sight in front of me; his eyes were puffy, his cheeks pale, his nose red and streaks of freshly shed tears wetting his face. His hands clutched onto something that I quickly recognised as Fred's blazer, and my breath caught up in my throat.

"George..." I called his name in a quiet whisper; somehow it felt like we were trespassing.

He then looked up at me, eyes hollow, and spoke words so harsh that they burned, even if they weren't meant to hurt me. "It should have been me."

"George—"

"It should've been me there, I should've gone with Percy."

"Please—"

"It should've been me, not him." I felt my eyes watering, slightly blurring my vision as the man before me kept talking. "He had a life— he had you, I didn't have anything but him." His gaze was now casted down, and I no longer knew if he was speaking to me or to himself. "What am I compared to him? It should be me six feet under, not him."

That last sentence was what snapped me out of the state I was in. "Look at me." I commanded, kneeling in front of him and cupping his cheeks. "Do you think Fred would've wanted you to think that?" His lower lip quivered; we rarely said his name out loud anymore. "He would have beaten your ass. Don't you dare think like that ever again, you hear me?"

"But it's true—"

"No it's not!" I yelled, making him flinch. "It's not, George." I repeated, this time softer, my thumbs caressing his cheeks soothingly. "You're sweet, creative, caring and smart, and I'm so happy to have you here with me." His eyes closed, eyebrows knitted and lips pursed. "You're your own person, and that person is amazing." He leaned on, letting his forehead fall on my shoulder, my hands travelling to his back and hair as his arms wrapped around my waist.

"I miss him, Y/n." He confessed. "I miss him so much— it hurts."

“I miss him too, but I can’t let you lose yourself because of him.” I explained, planting a chaste kiss on his temple. “I cannot lose you too, okay?” I whispered, loud enough for him to hear.

"I'm sorry." His breath fanned on my neck, sending shivers down my spine. "I wanted to get better, so you didn't have to take care of me."

"Oi," I squeezed him tighter, if possible. "We're taking care of each other." His face buried deeper in the crook of my neck and I had to hold back a content sigh. "We can do this— together." I stated. "You can't go on your own for shock therapy— it doesn't work like that." He nodded. "You gave me a big scare."

"I'm really sorry." His hand, which, until then had been holding onto the blazer, let go of it in order to rub my back.

We stayed like that in silence for Merlin knows how long before I spoke against his shoulder, "I bought chocolate strawberries ice cream."

"Is that a thing?" I hummed affirmatively. He slowly pulled away, his hands leaving my back to rest on my waist before they held mines, pulling me up with him. We gazed into each other's eyes for an instant that felt like an eternity. "I didn't mean to scare you, love." He assured me, pulling me into another hug, this one only long enough for him to kiss my crown.

"I know." I pulled away, giving him a small smile that he managed to return, most likely involuntarily. "Wanna try that ice cream?" He nodded and I led him out of the room. "I also bought you a tie at Twilfitt and Tatting’s."

"Why would you buy anything from there?" His voice was starting to recover some strength as we walked to the kitchen with our hands interlaced.

"'Cause it was a very pretty tie." I defended myself, going to the sofa to grab the fancy bag while George went to grab a couple of spoons and the ice cream. "Look."

He walked to me and examined the tie. "Okay, it's quite pretty." He agreed, offering me one of the spoons.

"Told you." I handed him the tie and he gave it another look before leaning down to kiss my cheek.

"You didn't have to buy me anything." That small smile appeared again, making my heart swell.

"Well, I wanted to." I went to sit on the couch and he followed my lead, carefully leaving the tie over the backrest so he could open the tub.

"Sweet." He commented, dipping his spoon into the ice cream and handing me the container. We ate it in silence and, once we finished, his voice filled the room. "I think I might go for a nightwalk."

"It'll do you good." I nodded, bringing my knees to my chest and curling up in the couch after he took the spoon away from me and got up to leave it in the sink.

"Do you wanna come?" His quiet, almost sheepish question made my head turn to the kitchen door. "I mean— you've just come back but—" He left the kitchen, staring at me expectingly, scratching the back of his neck. "uh... if you wanna come, I could use some company."

"I'd love to." I didn't even notice the way my gaze lighted up until I saw it reflected on his own features, that shone with the slightest tinge of joy.

The fact that I was able to do that only by smiling at him made my tummy flutter.

121 notes · View notes