#then wakes up to a warm homecooked meal by his bedside

[jrueships]

Alpey, in the hospital: my ankle hurts, it's like there's acid accumulated underneath my skin, in my bones, circulating through my body. Pain pain pain. Now I'm stuck in this scary hospital and it's night time and it's so dark, i can hear the generator buzzing in my ear, this pillow is so flat, this blanket is paper, this bed is too small and thin. I can hear my own heart beat. I was supposed to have fun in LA after this, gup could show me all the cool Cali places. I could throw rocks at Mark wahlberg if i ever had the displeasure of a chance encounter, i had all my rocks ready with his name on them, i-

.. why do i feel like someone's wa-

Jabari:

[plant-flwrs]

Hi, so i was about to send a request, but my phone went all crazy and i don't know if it got send or not ): so here it goes again I was wondering if i could get a George x slytherin reader after the war, where they're dating but all his family disapproves because she had like this "bad reputation", so he gets sad and angry because this boy is super in love with her, and she is like super reserved so his family don't trust her, but she is actually such a sweetheart with him.

family is complicated // george weasley

masterlist!

a/n: this was so hard writing the weasleys as mean people omg. i love reading fics where everyone is happy at the burrow and molly is an angel so this was like tearing me apart lol. hope you like it!!

summary: The Weasley’s have never liked George’s girlfriend, and one snide remark makes George finally lose it.

also a disclaimer! family turmoil and drama ahead, so if that’s triggering to anyone, don’t read this one! <3

(3.5k)

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The sun was hidden away, tucked behind the dark clouds that littered the sky in London. It wouldn’t have mattered anyways, as the heavy curtains to your flat were drawn closed.

The sheets were in a pool around your ankles and your body shivered tirelessly. George always got warm at night and had a habit of kicking off the blankets in his sleep. You clung onto him, trying to collect some of his warmth that oozed from his shirtless chest.

Your eyes opened, feeling awfully heavy in their sockets. You didn’t want to wake up, you didn’t want to get out of bed, you didn’t want to get ready, and you didn’t want to go to the Burrow.

The Weasleys were nice to everyone but you, it felt like. They welcomed Harry, Hermione, and Angelina with open arms, but you and Fleur were the spousal outcasts. The two of you bonded over it quite often, trying to make jokes of it, but really it bothered you both quite deeply. The only difference between you and the other spouses was the green tie you wore around your neck for seven years. You hardly found that to be reason enough for the whole family to dislike you, but they didn’t.

You turned away from your boyfriend, bringing the blankets up from your ankles and wrapping them tightly around yourself. You pushed your face deeper into the pillow, hoping that if you slept all day you wouldn’t have to do the adult thing of going to your boyfriend’s family house. 

George lifted the blankets from his side, moving under them with you. He glanced at the clock on your bedside table, and saw no harm in sleeping a little longer. His warm arms found their place around you, and the two of you fell back asleep with the intentions of avoiding the Weasleys.

“They’re going to be late! I bet she’ll get him into some kind of trouble!” Ginny and the rest of her siblings could hear their mother’s shrieking voice from upstairs.

“They’re still not here?” Ginny turned to face Harry, rolling over in the small bed they shared the previous night.

“ ‘Spose not,” he mumbled bringing two heavy hands to his face and blocking out the sunlight creeping into the room.

“No wonder,” Ginny said, sitting up slowly in bed, “I wouldn’t feel inclined to come if I were her.”

“Well, George loves her,” Harry defended, finding the conversation to be one they had often.

Harry was never one to befriend Slytherins in school, but his maturing age made him able to see past the house’s reputation. He knew you couldn’t be evil if George liked you so much.

“I know he does,” Ginny snapped, “but that doesn’t make her any less,” Ginny trailed off, unable to find the right words for a moment, “weird.”

Harry sighed, feeling awake after the conversation. He brought his feet to the cold wooden floor of Ginny’s childhood room, and placed his glasses on his face. The two went down for breakfast.

“When do you think they’ll grace us with their presence?” Fred teased from his spot next to Angelina at the table.

“Whenever she feels like it,” Mr. Weasley grumbled from the head of the table, his eyes locked on the newspaper in front of him.

Fred groaned, rolling his eyes. He quite liked you. He thought that if his brother liked you, then he should too, and he had no reason to dislike you. Your ‘bad reputation’ that his mother likes to bring up so often, was for the same reason he and George had a ‘bad reputation’. You and George shared a love for mischief, and the Weasleys disapproved.

“When did you tell them to come, mum?” Bill asked from his spot next to Fleur.

Fleur was the one who wanted to know, but she had learned it was better to let Bill do the talking for her with Mrs. Weasley.

“Around supper,” she replied, moving to stand behind Bill and fidget with his long hair. He jerked from his mother’s prying hands.

“Then why are you expecting them to be here now?” Fred asked, ignoring Angelina’s warning graze on his knee.

“Everyone else is!” Mrs. Weasley defended.

“Yeah, but you didn’t tell them to get here when everyone else was,” Fred continued, giving his mother a confused look.

“You eat your breakfast, young man, and stop worrying about what I said or didn’t say,” she yelled, darting back into the kitchen to get another pan full of eggs.

Fred caught Bill’s and Fleur’s eyes from across the table and they all looked annoyed. 

You and George finally managed to roll out of bed a little after noon. The two of you stumbled down the cold streets hand in hand, still in your pajamas. You were in search of something to eat for lunch, even though you were both due at the Burrow in a couple of hours. You hated going with an empty stomach, because when you would load your plate up with Molly’s wonderful cooking, she would send you glares. You also hated going on a full stomach, because when you didn’t fill your plate with Molly’s wonderful cooking, she would send you glares. You rather her think you didn’t like her cooking than give her the opportunity to comment on your eating habits. You would watch Ginny shovel serving after serving into her mouth, and all Molly would do is pinch her cheeks and call her adorable. 

You had gotten used to the criticisms pretty early on. You and George were an odd pairing, so you didn’t expect an immediate connection to the family. However, you had figured that after five years they may have warmed up to you, but sadly they hadn’t.

George pulled you into a small café by your hand, leading you to a secluded table by the window. The two of you put in your orders, and enjoyed the serenity before having to go to what was now both your least favorite place.

You wore a flattering sweater tucked into some smart pants. Clasping a delicate gold necklace George had given you for your anniversary last year, you called out to him to see if he was ready.

He came out of the bathroom, hands busy with buttoning his shirt. He was nervous, he usually was when he saw his family these days, and his hands had a shake in them.

“Here,” you said soothingly, running your hands over the wrinkles in the shirt and moving his hands away.

You finished buttoning the shirt, and George admired you.

Here you were, comforting him, when it was you his family didn’t like. You were willing to make more of an effort than his family ever did, and he loved you so much for that.

You stepped away from him, and his fingers moved up to brush a stray piece of hair out of your eyes. His rough fingertips grazed the top of your ear as he tucked away the hair. His hand fell down to the necklace you wore, and he twisted it in his fingers,

“I love you,” he whispered, blinking slowly, as if he were trying to remember this moment forever.

George always had the fear that any trip home could be the end for the two of you. He loved you, and he knew you loved him, but he couldn’t blame you if the hatred got too much for you. 

“I love you too, Georgie,” you smiled up at him, forcing away the nausea pooling in your gut.

You went to your fireplace, checking the clock on the wall to make sure you weren’t too early and not too late. The both of you erupted in green flames, and soon the delightful smells of a homecooked meal flooded your nose.

“George!” Ron called from his spot on the couch, spotting you two first.

“Hey,” George responded in a voice you knew was trying to sound happy but came out shaky.

You stepped from the fireplace, and Molly rushed from the kitchen with her apron still on.

“My baby!” she wrapped her arms around George, pulling away and cupping his face with her hand.

He smiled down at her, and you recognized the nerves in the smile.

“Hi, Mrs. Weasley,” you said from beside George, waving and smiling shyly at her.

“Hello,” she started, already looking for something about you to be displeased with.

“Y/n! George!” Bill called, entering the house with Fleur trailing behind him.

You knew they liked to escape to the garden when they had to spend any amount of prolonged time at the Burrow, you and George joined them some times.

“Hi!” you said excitedly, not missing Molly’s scowl in the corner of your eyes.

Bill wrapped his long arms around you, hugging you like a brother. You released him and hugged Fleur next. Those would probably be the only Weasley’s that offered you a hug, as per usual.

“Where’s Fred?” George asked once he was released by his father’s arms.

“He and Angelina went upstairs for a nap a few hours ago,” Molly said, rushing back into the kitchen.

“Did you want any help, Mrs. Weasley?”  she turned on her heal, gave you a fake smile, and shook her head.

If anyone else had called her Mrs. Weasley, she would have insisted they call her Molly, but not you.

“A nap? Blimey, how old are they?” George joked.

Laughs echoed around the room, and George wrapped an arm around your waist.

The two of you stood in the living room next to Bill and Fleur, talking with Ron, Harry, and Hermione on the couch.

“Fred tells us the shops going well?” Harry said, looking to George.

“Yeah, we’re doing alright,” George replied modestly. You flickered your eyes up at him, admiring him from where you stood tucked into his side. The shop was doing amazing, it was more successful than it had ever been.

“How’s your work, Y/n?” Hermione asked politely, and an awkward haze fell across the room as they all looked at you.

No one usually addressed you at Weasley family gatherings, so you were caught off guard.

“Good,” you choked out, clearing your throat and furrowing your brow, “it’s good.”

“She was just promoted,” George said proudly from beside you, nudging a finger into your side, “that Slytherin ambition of hers.”

“Really? Congratulations,” Harry said, the first and only person to say anything.

Bill and Fleur didn’t say anything because they already knew. The four of you had taken up having dinners at your flat sometimes, finding it better for all of you than the large gatherings at the Burrow.

“George!” Fred bellowed from the staircase.

He hugged his brother, hitting him on the back as they embraced. You smiled politely at Angelina, who nodded her head curtly at you.

“Y/n!” Fred said once he released George, hugging you.

Angelina’s eyes bore into Fred’s back as he did, but he didn’t care.

You smiled brightly at Fred, feeling relieved to have his happiness there. He and George were always the first to stick up for you when it came to Molly.

“Dinner!”

You all gathered around three tables put together in the garden, watching as dishes of food were levitated across the table. You served yourself food, catching Mrs. Weasley watching you with a critical eye from her spot at the head of the table.

Conversation flowed, though you, George, Fleur, and Bill generally kept to yourselves.

Bill sat at the other head of the table, with Fleur to his right and you to his left. George sat next to you, and the four of you talked like it was one of your usual dinners at your flat. It was better this way, less room for conflict.

All you had to do was make it through desert, which was moved into the house. That was it, one last meal and then you and George could say goodnight and be in the safety of your own home.

“Oh, I don’t think you want any of this dear,” Molly said to you, pulling away with a plate of cake in her hands,

“Mum,” George warned, holding his hand out for the plate while the other wrapped around your shoulders protectively.

You were never one to stop George from sticking up for you, which made Mrs. Weasley angrier. She looked to you, expecting you to give up the fight and not want any cake, but you looked right back at her with a blank look.

“She had an awful lot at dinner, George, she must be full.”

“Mum,” George said, louder and more angry.

“Don’t take that tone with your mother,” Mr. Weasley came from behind his wife, placing two comforting hands on her shoulders.

“Don’t speak to my girlfriend like that, and I won’t,” he responded, managing to sound somewhat calm, though a sharpness was in his tone.

“Excuse you?” Mr. Weasley questioned, his face becoming stern.

“George, let it go-” Ginny started from where she sat with Harry, the first one to take notice of the argument developing.

“No!” George said harshly to Ginny, whipping his head to look at her.

“What’s wrong?” Fred asked from behind you, shoveling cake into his mouth.

“Mum and dad are being rude to Y/n,” George started, looking accusingly at his parents, “for what? The millionth time?”

Mrs. Weasley gasped, putting down the cake on the counter next to her.

“George!” she exclaimed, prepared to make excusing defenses in her honor.

“It’s true mum,” Fred said from behind his brother, voice muffled by the cake in his mouth, “you’ve been, and usually are, quite rude to Y/n. And Fleur.”

You and Fleur made eye contact, both of your eyes widening as you realized tonight was the night where everything went to shit. No more passive aggressive comments, no more pretending everything was fine. After this, your invitation to the Burrow might be permanently revoked.

“He’s right, mum,” Bill’s cool voice said from beside Fleur, and everyone’s gaze shot to him, “you have it out for Y/n and Fleur.”

You stepped back, and George followed you, his arm still around you. It was like a triangle in the room, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley at the edge of the kitchen, Bill and Fleur by the fireplace, and you, George, and Fred edging nearer the staircase.

“I don’t know what you talking about,” Molly defended, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Yes you do,” George said, narrowing his eyes at his parents.

“It’s late,” Mr. Weasley said, “maybe you lot should go home now.”

George scoffed from beside you, unwrapping his arm from your shoulder and stepping forward.

“Okay, Fleur, Y/n, why don’t you two go back to our flat,” George said in a soothing voice, “and we’ll talk this out, like a family.”

You fought the proud smile that wanted to spread across your face, and nodded your head. Fred guided you to the fireplace with a hand on your back, and winked at you as you and Fleur erupted in green flames once again.

“Well, this is not going to end well,” you mumbled to Fleur once you got home, putting a kettle on the stove, preparing enough water for George and Bill if they eventually came back too.

The yelling coming from the Burrow was unlike anything the small village had ever heard. Shouts of anger drifted from the windows, and the intensity of the argument could be felt for miles.

“You have no right to treat them the way you do!” Bill shouted at his parents, and also casted an accusing glance at Ginny, Ron, Hermione, and Angelina. Harry had sunk into the couch, the only person still sitting as everyone else sprang to their feet. 

“She’s not right for him, and Fleur’s not right for you!” Molly screamed back.

“You don’t get to decide that! I love her, Bill loves Fleur. What’s different about them? You love Hermione, you love Angelina, you love Harry. Why should Y/n and Fleur have to get the shit end of your behavior!” George yelled, waving his hands frantically.

“Y/n doesn’t even try with us!” Ginny interrupted, stepping closer to George, “She just talks to you and Fleur!”

“Because none of you ever gave her a chance! She tried so hard the first time I brought her here, and you all made her leave crying!”

Ron and Harry felt a pang of guilt at the thought of the remarks they had made about Slytherins the first time George took you to the Burrow.

“I don’t trust her,” Molly said, her voice stern but quiet.

“I frankly don’t care, mum. I love her. If you’re going to make me choose, I’ll choose her. Every time. I love her,” George said, his voice lowered and shaky.

“Me too, I’ll choose Fleur,” Bill spoke up, moving his wand from his pocket to prepare to apparate. 

“Boys,” Arthur warned, stepping forwards and trying to soothe the situation, “don’t upset your mother.”

“Let them go! They’ve made their choices!” Molly pouted, moving to sit, defeated, at the table.

“Fine. Send me an owl if you ever come to your senses,” George said, moving towards the fireplace and picking up a handful of floo powder.

“Fleur and I have given you enough chances, don’t send us an owl. Goodbye,” Bill said finitely, apparating before anyone could say anything. 

George hesitated in the fireplace, meeting everyone’s guilty looking expression. No one spoke up, and he nodded towards Fred, saying goodbye. He was back home in seconds.

You and Fleur turned to the men who had both just appeared in your living room. Bill had tears running down his face, and Fleur went to him immediately. Fleur looked to you and you pointed down the hall towards you and George’s bedroom, allowing them a place to have some privacy. George fell onto the couch next to you, and you went to the kitchen to bring him a cup of tea.

“What happened?” you spoke in a soft tone,

George retold everything, and you felt your throat closing as tears threatened your eyes. 

“Oh, George,” you mumbled, taking his tea from his hands and placing it on the coffee table You held him, the both of you feeling exhausted. His upper body leaned into your lap, and you held his shoulders, soothing bits of his hair off his face.

You could hear the muffled voices of Bill and Fleur from your bedroom.

Suddenly, five people apparated into your living room. George sat up, and you grasped his hand as you looked at Harry, Ginny, Hermione, Ron, and Fred all standing awkwardly in your living room.

“Nice place,” Ron said suddenly, craning his neck to look around the room.

Neither you or George responded and Hermione nudged Ron with her elbow.

“Right, sorry,” he mumbled, his lips going into a thin line.

“We wanted to say something,” Fred said, breaking apart from the group and coming to sit with you and George on the couch.

He turned around, looking at the group.

“We’re sorry,” Harry said first, looking at you, “I should have never said those things about Slytherins, it was stupid and so was I.”

You swallowed hard, eyes downcast at the floor.

“So am I. I actually think you’re quite cool,” Ron said, sounding just as awkward as you remembered him to be in school.

“I never meant to make you feel uncomfortable. I’m sorry I stood back and let you get treated that way,” Hermione said next, and you met her sorrowful gaze. You nodded at her, returning your eyes to the floor.

Harry nudged Ginny, who reluctantly spoke, “I’m sorry too. If George loves you, then so do I.”

You smiled at the floor, nerves twisting in your stomach like they did when you first went to the Burrow.

“You guys were idiots,” George said sternly from besides you. 

Your shoulders shook, and George lifted your chin with his fingers. He met your eyes, afraid you were crying, but was happy to see you laughing.

You looked at the group, chuckling senselessly.

“Thank you,” you said, “it’s a shame you’ll have to do that whole bit again for Bill and Fleur, though.”

Everyone laughed, and the group hadn’t realized Bill and Fleur weren’t there anymore.

“Did they leave already?” Fred asked from beside you.

“No, there in our room for some privacy,” you answered, pointing a finger down the hall.

“Ah,” Fred said, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Not like that,” George reached behind you and hit the back of Fred’s head.

You stood, going to the kitchen and retrieving all the mugs you had in your cabinets.

“Need some help?” Ginny asked from behind you, Hermione by her side.

“Sure,” you smiled at them, and Ginny and Hermione moved into the kitchen.

They helped you carry out the hot cups of tea, placing them on the table. Bill and Fleur had emerged from the room, and were sat on the couch. You sat on the other side of Fleur, catching George’s eyes from where he sat on an armchair across from you.

He looked happy, finally being able to sit with his family and you in the same room without nerves plaguing his every thought.

[nomorelonelydays]

i keep writing geno as the one who’s desperate for sidney’s attention, but what if sidney’s the desperate one, and Geno’s a little oblivious? Touch-starved, love-starved, shy Sidney always sitting close and pressing his face in Geno’s shoulder and breathing in his cologne and shirt smell because his thought process is: “wow wowowowow!!! i have a boyfriend!!! a real boyfriend!!! this person loves and cares for me!!! he wants to sleep in the same bed as me and take showers with me and wake up and see my face!! I’m worth loving!” Of course, that quickly delves into, “oh no what if he gets tired of me i am kind of boring these routines are kind of boring and geno’s such a spontaneous, extroverted person.......” 

He starts to research on how to make dates more interesting, surprising Geno with a homecooked meal that never got eaten, because Geno had come home later than expected; looking up Russian bakeries and buying pastries he knows Geno misses (Geno eats them and is appreciative, but he doesn’t seem any more excited than usual); he dresses a little nicer, which Geno doesn’t comment on--Sidney’s not sure if Geno noticed at all; and he starts to go out a lot more if Geno’s going out, even if all he wants to do is to sleep in--and even with all that effort, he still sees Geno posting on IG only on days Sidney isn’t present, on a boat with his friends, posing with women from back home that he knows, swimming with whales or penguins or whatever new exotic wildlife catches his eye, and Sidney doesn’t know what to think besides feeling worse and worse.

just,,,lots of sidney worrying because dating Geno has been so amazing and wonderful for Sidney, and Sidney has never loved anyone this much, but he’s scared that what if Geno doesn’t think dating Sidney is very amazing at all, and that he’s regretting everything.

‘He doesn’t love me as much as I love him,’ Sidney thinks, and that knowing that imbalance terrifies him. Too scared to ask and confirm, Sidney wonders when Geno’s going to come up to him and tell him, as gently as he can, that he’s had enough. (If that happens, Sidney doesn’t want to be let down gently. He’d rather prefer Geno dump him in the most careless fashion, so he can be angry instead of hurt. He wants to yell and scream and be mad for a few weeks so he doesn’t cry himself to sleep for being abandoned.)

So he gets a text from Geno one day, saying “we talk? have time later?” and he thinks, ‘This is it. This is really it.’ 

(more ramblings under cut)

So Sidney gives in to a good cry. Gives himself thirty minutes to wallow. Then he washes his face, gets ready, and responds to Geno.

Sure, he responds. I’m at home.

He’s determined to do what’s best. He hasn’t been very happy the past few months, and Geno should know that much.

Geno comes over. Sidney offers him something to drink. Geno asks for water. Then he says, “Just want to talk to you, you seem detach from team lately. See if anything’s wrong.”

Geno looks like he cares here. Like he cares so much. It’s that exact part of Geno that Sidney fell in love with. He’s having second thoughts. But he has to do it. 

“I’m not happy,” Sidney manages. He thinks he stutters a little. “I haven’t been. For the past few months.” 

Geno looks alarmed. “What? Why?” He takes Sidney’s hand, and oh, his hand is so warm. Sidney is going to cry again. “You hurt? Is your head again? Sid, so stupid! Have to tell someone--tell me--”

“It’s not my head,” Sidney says, barely audible. 

“Then is what?”

He hopes Geno doesn’t hear. He pulls his hand away. “It’s...it’s.” He stares that the one stain on his table. He never could clean up that stain. “I want to break up.”

“Sid, what?” Geno sounds so hurt. And Sidney gets mad. Geno has no right to be hurt. “What you talking about? Why--”

“I’m tired, Geno,” Sidney says. And oh no, he’s crying. Tears are falling on the table. And Geno sees them. He’s getting up now. He’s trying to hold Sidney, rub his back. Sidney can’t push him away. “I’m sick of going to bed feeling like I’m not good enough. I’m sick of feeling more for you than you do for me.”

Geno doesn’t say anything. Sidney continues, softly, “I know I have routines. I know they’re not the most fun things in the world. But it’s just part of me. I liked you a lot, Geno. I--I loved you a lot. But I can’t keep waiting for you to see that...” He shrugs, helpless. “...that I’m here.” He can barely see anything ahead of him, his vision is so blurry. “I can’t keep waiting for that one day out of twenty when you show that you care so I can pretend you still like me for the other days when you pretend I’m not there.”

“Sidney.” Geno sounds so mournful. “I’m sorry, I’m not know. I thinking--think it can be like before. Be teammates, but just little bit more. Still same” 

“You are my teammate, Geno. You’ll always be my teammate,” Sidney says brokenly. “But I also wanted you to be my boyfriend.” 

“You think I’m not love you?” Geno asks, pained. He holds Sidney closer, pressing him against his chest and rubs circles into Sidney’s back. “You keep to yourself, all this?”

Sidney nods. His throats closed up by now.

“Sid,” Geno says lowly, like it’s a secret. “Sid, I love you so much sometimes is hard even think.”

Sidney hiccups out another silent, desperate noise in his throat. It’s really all he’s ever wanted to hear from Geno. 

“I’m sorry I’m make you feel like you not enough. I’m sorry I’m not show enough. I didn’t know. You not tell me, ever.” Geno’s stroking Sidney’s hair now, carefully, and his voice gets thicker. “You are best thing that’s ever happen to me. I’m try be better, we talk more. Be good teammate. Good boyfriend, most important.” Geno presses a kiss against Sidney’s forehead. “Please don’t go, Sidney.”

When Sidney’s tears have dried, he says, into Geno’s now ruined shirt, “I’ll tell you when I’m upset. I’ll try not to...to keep bottling it up like this again.”

Geno hums in agreement. “No more waiting. Ever.”

They talk well into the night, their faces illuminated by the bedside lamp. Sidney in Geno’s arms, body curved towards him and fingers intertwined with Geno’s like a promise.