satellitespidey:

ickle-ronniekins:

forgiveness

request from @evadne-poventis: I was thinking my character Eva has known the Weasleys for years and she eventually got engaged to Fred, then the war happened, he passed and she moves in with George for support and they fall in love

pairing: fred x reader, george x reader

word count: 3.9k (YIKES)

warning(s): mentions of death, anxiety, mental illness, nightmares, implied sexual content so ~proceed with caution~ i s’pose

A/N: i am just.. so sorry

tag list: @mintlibri @georgeweasleyx @seppys-return-to-madness @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @perksofbeingawf @darling-details @laneygthememequeen @how-do-life-does @semmelsemi @cottageoflove @snakesonaplane-7 | message me if you’d like to be added!

“We’ll get through this,” Fred said. He was standing across from you, outside of the Burrow, in the chilly, windy atmosphere, the sky turning a darker grey above you both. “We’ll get through this, and then we’ll get married and live happily ever after.”

You snorted at his silliness. Happily ever after. Who says things like that?

“Freddie,” you said, sniffling a little bit, trying your best to not think of the unknown.. the impending war just moments away, “What if—”

“No,” Fred silenced you by pressing his lips to yours, his hands cupping your face, your tears surely falling onto his fingers, “Don’t. Everything will be alright. You’re strong. We’ll be alright.”

You believed him. You believed him with every ounce of your entire being.

“Okay,” you replied. You peered at him with solemn eyes.

“Besides,” he started, losing the very serious tone to his voice, “if something happens, who’s going to dance with you at our wedding?” He began to dance very obnoxiously, making you laugh through your crying. You couldn’t help it. Fred was always making you laugh. He spun you around, lifted you off of the ground, and then placed you gently on your feet. But he was nervous, too. Very scared. You could see it in his eyes and in the way his voice was caught in his throat when he said, “When this is all over, you’ll be my mine forever—and the rest will be history.”

“Y/N?”

A soft voice wafted into your bedroom, taking you by surprise, and bringing you back to reality. It was George. His eyes looked red and tired. Like he’d been crying.

The apartment you shared was grey and colorless. It desperately needed to be dusted, but you both couldn’t bring yourselves to do so.

It had been six months since the war.

Fred hadn’t survived. One of many.

Your ‘happily ever after’, was it shattered? Were you to be considered a widow? You didn’t know—you weren’t technically married to him when he died. You adjusted yourself on the bench near your window and George came over to you and sat himself down next to you.

“You okay?”

“Just thinking.”

George nodded and offered a small smile. He didn’t need to say anything else. You both just knew. “Hungry?” He stood up and stuck out his hand and helped you gently to your feet.

You let out a soft hum and the two of you made your way into the kitchen.

After the war, after Fred had been killed, you asked George to move into the apartment that you and Fred had lived in together right after your engagement. When he saw how distraught you were, the emptiness and loneliness in your eyes, he immediately packed up his things and took to the empty room across from yours.

You’d fallen into a comfortable living arrangement. You’d spent your days at work, and George did his best to make his way back into the shop with Ron by his side. But it wasn’t the same. It was drastically different than how you imagined life after the war.

George found himself growing very comfortable beside you. It was nice to have someone else in the house—another body, another presence. It helped to not feel so desperately alone in what seemed like the worst few months of your entire life.

But you still desperately missed Fred. It seemed as though he came to visit nearly every night. You felt him beside you—when you slept, you could almost feel his arms around you, his smirk against your neck, hands tightening around your waist.

But each and every time you woke up, the space in the bed next to you was empty. You re-lived it every single day. You constantly grabbed at the sheets, desperate to feel his body. George re-lived it everyday, too..

You both missed Fred more than you could express with any amount of words or tears.

“C’mon then—we’re going to be late for class,”

“I don’t really care about class, to be honest with you,” he pulled on your hand and gently pressed you against the wall in the emptying corridor.

“McGonagall’s going to have your head.”

“Then let her,” Fred said breathlessly, brushing his thumb swiftly against your cheek, “I just need a bloody moment alone with you.”

He gently pressed his lips to yours, and you thought that maybe you could skip Transfiguration, just this one time— “It’s a shame we never get to be alone.”

“Mm,” he replied, barely breaking from you, “tell m’ about it,”

He moved down to your neck. Breathlessly, you told him, “Reckon you’ll just have to find a way to sneak into the girls dormitory tonight, then.”

He pulled back, eyeing you curiously. “You? Breaking the rules?” Such a tease.

“Oh shut up,” you replied, slapping him playfully. “You going to do it, or not?”

He laughed before kissing you again, “Love it when you talk sweetly to me, my love.”

One day George took you into the shop. It was only his second time back since his twin’s untimely demise.

“Does it look absolutely dreadful in here?” he asked you, laughing softly as he turned on the light.

“Not at all,” you replied and squeezed his hand. “Still just as bright and inviting as the day you opened.”

He offered you a small smile, grateful for your kind words. “D’you ever think I’ll be able to do it again? You know…run this place? Without him?”

His voice caught in his throat. It seemed as though tears were welling up in his eyes. “Yes,” you told him, confident as you’d ever been. “I do. And I think Fred would want you too, don’t you reckon?”

George laughed again, leaning against the counter. The shop, so very large and inviting, seemed so small now in its emptiness. “Can’t you hear him? Scolding me.”

“Yeah, I can,” you agreed. Was it okay to smile yet? Seemed as though George felt the same way, because he let himself grin from ear to ear, and immediately stopped when he felt a guilty pang in his heart. You felt a tug on your heartstrings. He looked so broken.

George was your best friend in the world. That’s how it had always been. He’d always been your closest confidant, the person you went to for everything. He was the first person you spilled your guts to when your feelings for Fred had changed, the first person you ran to when Fred told you he felt the same way. You didn’t tell anyone else about your engagement until you told George first—that’s how Fred wanted it. And now that Freddie was gone, it seemed to have only brought you and George closer. Was that a bad thing?

You both felt guilty about it, but, at least you had one another.

One night, you dreamt of Fred. It was one of many dreams you’d had since he died, but the most vivid. He was sitting across the Divination classroom from you, gazing at you as if he were in some sort of trance, sending winks across when Professor Trelawney wasn’t looking. Then it flashed to a scene outside in the corridors, when he’d kissed you on the cheek before heading in the opposite direction. Freddie, come back! Where was he going?

A crack of thunder woke you with a start. You felt your fingertips brushing your cheek, where Fred had just kissed you. For a moment you thought it was very real, only to stare down at the space next to you in bed.

It wasn’t the first moment of panic you’d had since the war.

You began to cry uncontrollably, gasping desperately for air, your face blotchy and red and swollen from the tears. The rain was coming down harder, now. George nearly scared the living daylights out of you when he opened your door, looking panicked as well.

“What’s wrong—are you alright?”

But you didn’t need to tell him. He knew you’d dreamt of Fred. “Lumos.” He placed his wand on your bedside table and pulled you into his arms as he sat down next to you, your head resting delicately against his chest as you continued to cry. Your body shook in his arms. His presence was comforting, though. He kept gently sweeping his hands through your hair, telling you softly every few moments that everything would be alright, squeezing his arms tighter around you. He wanted you to feel safe. That’s all he’d ever wanted. He wanted to take the pain away, and it broke his heart every single day that he couldn’t. He just wanted Fred to be here.

He pulled you to your feet and cupped your face in his hands before pulling you into him and pressing a featherlight kiss to your forehead. As your crying slowed, your hands tightened around his waist. At least he was here. At least you hadn’t lost him too. You choked back a sob and he asked you delicately, “D’you think you’ll be able to sleep?”

You shook your head.

“D’you want a bit of tea?”

You shook your head again. And then, to his surprise, “Just…stay?”

He felt nerves like he’d never felt in his life, but he didn’t let on. He didn’t want you to see, because you didn’t know. Nobody did.

Nobody knew that George had been madly in love with you since before you and Fred had gotten together.

Not even Fred knew. And being the gentleman that he is, George never said a word to his twin, or to anyone, when you two began dating. And when you’d decided to move in together, he helped you unpack things in your new home with his brother. And when you and Fred ran to him to tell him you were engaged, he swallowed his pride and held you both in his arms, ready to celebrate.

And when Fred died, George promised himself he’d do everything in his power to keep his brother’s fiancé happy and safe.

So, if you wanted him to stay now, he shouldn’t feel guilty about that, right?

He swallowed over a lump in his throat when you peered up at him, eyes solemn and bloodshot and needy. Why were things so much easier to spill in the middle of the night? There was something about the darkness, about the stars twinkling in the sky, that made him feel so vulnerable.

He ran his hands from your neck, across your shoulder blades, down your arms and around your hips, squeezing tightly. Was this a mistake? You were closer to one another than you’d ever been.

You had this overwhelming urge to just.. inch forward.

He pressed a soft, chaste kiss to your lips and when you pulled away, you kept your eyes closed for a brief moment before opening them again. He waited with baited breath for your next move, the very quick rise and fall of his chest visible to you.

It was easy to become vulnerable in the middle of the night.

You grabbed the collar of his pyjamas, pulled him closer to you and kissed him sweetly. It started relatively slow, easy.. innocent. But it quickly turned hungry and dizzy and dangerous. He was on top of you, his lips on your neck and his hands underneath your shirt. He was desperate to feel your soft skin beneath his fingertips. The rain continued on, drowning out the rest of the world around you, but you could still hear soft moans escape his lips. It was comforting, in a strange way, to be in a world of your own..

Because while the rest of the world was rejoicing at the ending of the war, you and George were just doing your best to find something that felt normal. Okay. Real. So was it so terrible that in the midst of all of this, you’d found one another? Feeling his body pressed hard against you, in this way.. it felt strangely familiar. Like home.

Your eyes fluttered open to the light sound of the rain pattering on the rooftop a little while later. Inches from you, George’s eyes were opening too and he reached out to run his fingers through your hair. He leaned forward and kissed you gently.

You were both quiet, drifting in and out of sleep, lazily pulling your sheets across your bare bodies. You were busy running your fingers gently over his muscles when he awoke and smiled softly at you.

He took your hand in his and brought it to his lips, and then you noticed it.

Your engagement ring. You hadn’t had the courage to take it off since..

You stopped short, and George noticed. Panicking, you backed away from him, tightening the covers around your chest and slamming your hand across your mouth to keep from screaming. Tears escaped your eyes with no effort.

He shot up immediately, pulling himself closer to you on the bed. “It’s—it’s alright—”

You bit back a sob, shaking your head violently, pulling your robe around you as quickly as you possibly could. George did the same. He stood up, feeling incredibly guilty, and walked around the bed and stood in front of you, looking as sad as he did on the day his twin was taken from him.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

You shook your head at him and finally found your voice—though, admittedly, rather shaky due to the tears. “No, no it’s—this—” you pointed back and forth at one another, “We—we can’t, George.”

“I know. We can just.. we can pretend like it never happened. I’ll just—I’ll go back to the Burrow.”

It felt as though your heart was breaking all over again. You couldn’t lose George, too. Panic was rising in your chest. “No, no! Please don’t go. We—we can work through this, okay? We’re just—sad. That’s all it was.”

You immediately regretted these words. George felt as though he was reliving every painful moment when he was reminded that you were not his. When after a Quidditch cup victory, Fred scooped you up into his arms and kissed you fiercely and George just had to pretend it didn’t hurt. When he’d painfully join you in the common room and you two snuggled close together on the couch. When you said to George, over and over and over again, how much you loved Fred when he’d finally asked you to marry him.

“Right,” he begrudgingly agreed, “we’re just.. sad.”

There was a heavy, painful silence between you both before George squeezed your hand and headed back to his room, alone, feeling more empty than he ever had been. He fell backwards onto his bed, and then pulled out family photographs from his bedside table. He cried nearly the entire night looking through them—guilt and sadness and pain taking him over. He was sure his twin would hate him now. He didn’t sleep. Your bed was cold without him. You didn’t sleep, either.

Things seemed to fall back to normal after that. Well—as normal as things could be, you supposed. The two of you did not discuss that night. It truly was like it never happened. But every so often, you found yourself bringing your fingers to your lips, remembering how it felt to be close to George in that way.

And George always remembered the feeling of your body pressed to his.

He was very apprehensive, but he stayed in the apartment. He didn’t move back home. He didn’t want to leave you. He needed to keep the promise he made—to make you feel safe and happy. So he stayed, and went back to pretending, went back to silently hurting. He went back to making his number one priority, you. Giving you a normal life, no matter what.

He watched you one evening, hovering over the soup on the stove, breathing in the steam—surely thinking about things, and he wanted nothing more than to pull you into his arms and kiss you sweetly in the sunlight flooding the kitchen. But he couldn’t, and he didn’t.

Another three months had passed. You hadn’t once spoken about that evening, but you thought about it every single day. So did George. He tried very hard to suppress his feelings, he’d been approached by many at the shop, but he’d turned down each and every single one of them. He just couldn’t let you go. And your growing feelings for him were scaring you. You couldn’t stop them, no matter what you did. Was it wrong? What would people think—what would his family think? You had many restless nights, arguing with yourself to stay in bed, to not go into George’s room and slide in next to him—and just a few feet away, in a bed meant for two, George was arguing with himself about the exact same things.

You felt guilty, yes, you but even more so, you felt so incredibly alone—because now it didn’t seem like just Fred was gone.

It felt like George was gone, too.

He was busy closing up the shop one evening when you approached him, careful not to scare him in the quiet. You tapped him on the shoulder and he turned around slowly, eyes tired and.. broken. “Hey,” he said, offering a small smile, “ready for dinner?”

“Not very hungry,” you admitted sheepishly, grinning a bit. “I—I just—”

George’s eyes grew with concern, and his heartbeat increased a considerable amount. Not a word, not a glance, nothing was exchanged about those moments since they happened—were you really about to bring them up?

“You and your brother are very different, you know.”

Surprised, he took this in. He smiled. “Yeah? Tell me.”

“Fred was.. boisterous,” you both grinned, thinking on this. “Not that you aren’t too, he just.. was a bit more outgoing. Loud. Exuberant. You’re.. more sensitive, and delicate,”

“That doesn’t make me sound too good, does it?” he asked teasingly.

“You know what I mean,” you continued, looking down at your feet. “Fred always wore his heart on his sleeve. Everybody always knew what he was thinking. He always made it rather obvious. But you—” you reached out slowly and placed a hand to his cheek, choking back tears that were rising to the surface, “you keep it all in, George. Nobody ever knows what you’re thinking.”

He blinked and waited.

“And it drives me bloody crazy, you know?”

You both laughed at this, and you bit your lip to keep from smiling too much. “I’m.. so sorry about that night.”

“Y/N, don’t—”

“No, please,” you said, taking his hands in yours. “That night, I—I think I asked for a little more than I could bargain for. You just.. looked like home to me. Felt like it. You are home. But sometimes it still feels like yesterday that he died, and I felt so bloody guilty, and I didn’t want you to think that I was with you because—”

Because he was the closest thing to Fred you could have. Because he looked exactly like him. Because it was like having Fred back in your arms.

The guilt that overtook you was almost crushing.

“I hope I’m not overstepping.”

George cleared his throat and squeezed your hand. “You’re not. I appreciate your honesty.”

You nodded slowly and opted to continue, “You’re my best friend, George. You always have been, ever since we were little. But I want you to know that—I see you for you. I’ve always looked at you and Fred as different people. You’ve never just been ‘Fred and George’ to me. He’s always been his own person, and you’ve always been yours. Just because you look alike doesn’t mean you’re exactly the same. I’ve always loved how different you are. So please know, that night, it—I wanted it. To be with you, I mean. I wanted it.. not because of all the reasons one may think, I wanted it because I’d.. fallen in love with you.” George’s insides suddenly felt warm and gooey, and his nerves were going mad. Embarrassingly, you asked, “I’m—I.. I love you. Does this make any sense at all?”

“Yes,” he replied with a catch in his throat, “It does. In our own, strange way.”

He squeezed both of your hands and pulled you closer to him, when he noticed something.

Your finger. It was bare. He glanced down at it, and then at you.

You pulled out your engagement ring from Fred, twirled it slowly in your hands, both of you peering at it with tears in your eyes before placing it gently back into your pocket.

“I miss him.” George admitted. He furrowed his brows and a few tears escaped his eyes.

You sniffled a bit and bit your lip. “Me, too,” you replied breathlessly. And then, moving closer, “D’you think he’ll ever forgive us?” Guilt was still eating you alive, but why were you depriving yourself of some type of happiness, when it was standing right in front of you?

George thought on this for a moment, clearly feeling the guilt in waves, too. But he wanted you. He had for years, and he was so close to having you in his arms—but with what price to pay?

The loss of a brother, of a friend, of his own flesh and blood.

“I think,” George began quietly, blinking to push away any tears rising to the surface, “that he’d say there’s nothing for him to forgive.” And you knew it was true. Fred was just as selfless as George was. One of the few similarities between them both that you didn’t mind noting.

You looked up at him, finally feeling somewhat of a weight lifted off of your shoulders.

“Maybe this is his way of.. helping us. Bringing us together in a way we didn’t expect.”

You swallowed, “Do you still want to? Be with me, I mean.”

Laughing at his own overwhelming feelings, George resisted the urge to spill everything to you right then and there at that moment—how he’d been head over heels for you for years and never, ever once felt those feelings fluctuate. But he waited—he’d tell you one day. “Of course I do. Do you?”

“Yeah,” you told him, nodding your head in agreement, “I do.. I really do.”

He pulled you in, finally, for a searing kiss, the first time since that night all those months ago, and that feeling of familiarity and home flooded throughout his body. He gently brushed away the tears that fell from your eyes, and kissed you softly a few more times before pulling away completely. “I love you, you know.”

Forgiveness. A new beginning. It was a normal you never expected to have. Fred was still there. He always would be, in a different way. It was comforting in a way that nothing else ever would be, and you and George both knew that. He asked, watching you think, “Want to have a bit of tea?”

“Yes,” you replied breathlessly, as if you’d just had a million pound weight lifted off of you. And then, softer now, as he intertwined his fingers with yours and let a small laugh escape his lips, you said, “Tea sounds lovely.”

Somewhere in the beyond, in a space filled with white, Fred Weasley was watching down on his brother and on the one who was supposed to be his.

But things changed, he supposed. He shrugged at the thought, and laughed.

He felt an arm wrap around his shoulder. “They’ve found happiness, haven’t they?”

He turned towards Sirius, who grinned at him.

Fred smiled softly. “There’s nothing more I wanted for them.” He felt an overwhelming, overbearing, astounding amount of happiness, warmth, and peace overtake him. There was nothing more he needed or wanted. Thinking on her and his brother, he replied, “Our story was meant to only last a short while.. theirs is meant to last a lifetime.”

reblogs & feedback are always appreciated 🥰

THIS BROKE ME, HEALED ME, AND THEN BROKE ME AGAIN WITH THAT ENDING

hahahah omg I’M SO SORRY @satellitespidey​ i hope you don’t feel that broken