#and i'm so amused at how terrible they look in the beginning (though rogue is cuter - but she's supposed to be 18 there!!

[spaceorphan18]

Mr. and Mrs. X

how it started:

vs. how it's going

I love comics so much

[rogue-durin-16]

THINGS NEVER GO AS PLANNED (Part IV/VII)

"wrong name"

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-fluff

Tags:

Suggested by: @crispykittywitch

Things never go as planned: @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @beautyschoo1dropout @s1ut4georgeweasley @sunshineandshadowss @missmulti @accioweaslcy

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

Warnings: language, mentions of Fred x Reader, brief mention of death ig (?) Feels

A/N: here's a Christmas fic that has no right to be this angsty lmao, enjoy nonetheless <3

Prologue: the aftermath

Part I: sleepless nights

Part II: candy floss

Part III: shock therapy

Part V: the perfect excuse

Part VI: the downfall

Part VII: apart

Epilogue: I still love you

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

We apparated in the Weasley front yard together at dusk at the same time as Percy did; we greeted him with a hug and entered their old home, only to be met with more hugs.

I had only stayed at the Burrow once, arriving the night we escorted Harry, and leaving shortly after the tragic and abrupt ending of Bill and Fleur's wedding.

I had attended to the wedding as Fred's date. Even if we agreed that there was nothing serious between us, we cared deeply for one another, and I was important enough for him that he asked me to present ourselves together in front of his family.

How odd it was that the second time I was staying at the Burrow, it was because I had been asked to attend this Christmas gathering by none other than George —as friends, of course—; so odd that it made me anxious, but Arthur and Molly were way too welcoming for that anxiety to carry on longer than a minute after I stepped into their home.

"Y/n, dear!" Molly held me back while George went to greet his siblings, who had arrived earlier than us. "I'm so glad you could make it!"

"She didn't want to come." George snitched, coming back to us after hugging his father. "Said she felt like she was trespassing."

"George!" My cheeks burned when he exposed me.

"Oh, darling," Molly pulled me into the house to join the rest. "You're always welcomed here, don't be silly!"

Molly had liked me since day one, even before Fred and I became a thing. I was the one to receive her when the Weasley matriarch first visited the shop, and we immediately got along. Fred had explained to me that it was because I reminded his mother of her younger self.

"You're a snitch." I whispered into George's ear as we both walked behind Molly in the kitchen direction, his only response was to stick out his tongue, which made us both chuckle.

Molly looked over her shoulder and I caught in her eyes the same emotion I saw in Ginny's the first time she came to visit the shop after the reopening.

A profound emotion rooted in hope; a bittersweet feeling coming from the thought that, even though Fred was gone, George seemed to be coming back to us.

I felt it too, whenever he smiled. It was lovely to see him actually happy; I wished I could keep him like that forever, even in the nights, when everything would come down on his shoulders, tearing apart every spark of joy might have had in the day.

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

We weren't finished with food yet when Arthur wiped his mouth with the napkin and, clapping his hands once, exclaimed, "Alright, time for presents!" Teddy, who rested on Bill's lap, squealed, his hair turning pink; that baby was smart. "I'll get them, dear." He stopped his wife from standing up and went to get them himself.

He distributed the gifts, and I was surprised when he handed me one. "Oh! You didn't have to—"

"Nonsense!" Arthur stopped me, resuming his task with a warm smile. Everyone was happy in that moment, and I knew George's mood had a big part on that.

He unwrapped his, which turned out to be a purple and orange scarf and matching mittens. He was putting on the mittens when I tossed the wrap of my present, uncovering a cardigan formed by several tones of my favorite color.

"Put it on!" George requested excited. unbeknownst to me, it had been him who told Molly my favorite color. "Aw you look fantastic." He observed, poorly wrapping his scarf around his neck.

"Of course I do." I agreed, shifting on my chair to face him, my hands traveling to his scarf to relocate it properly.

Though we didn't notice, it wasn't the first time that more than one pair of eyes observed us that night, and it wouldn't be the last.

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

Bill and Fleur had offered to take care of Teddy since they were leaving to Shell Cottage, so Harry and Ginny could spend the night at the Burrow without the worry of the baby.

Percy was terribly tired, so he withdrew from the living room to go to sleep.

Thank goodness he did; Percy was probably the second most affected by Fred death, and after that nice evening, he wouldn't have wanted to witness what was about to happen.

Ron, Hermione and I had colonized the settee, while Ginny and George were on their feet near the table, chatting about some nonsense; Molly was cleaning the dishes. Harry had offered to help her, but she refused, so the boy decided to talk with Arthur instead.

Molly pointed with her index finger at the remaining glasses laid on the table and called for George.

The thing is, she didn't really call for George.

"Fred, darling, hand me those."

The room fell silent.

It took a moment for her to realise, but an instant later, Molly was covering her mouth with her hand, her glassy stare fixed on the wrong named twin.

My eyes frantically travelled to every single person in the room, who had gone livid. We all seemed to be holding our breaths, waiting for some kind of explosive reaction.

Then my attention was drawn to George, whose, until that instant amused gaze, had turned blank and expressionless.

"Darling—" Molly's voice shattered with a single word. As Arthur went to console his wife, Ginny led her older brother aside and whispered things only he could hear, attempting to sooth him. "It slipped..." Molly cried.

I stayed sat on the couch with Hermione and Ron, the three of us frozen; I felt like I was an intruder witnessing a very intimate family moment.

"George don't—" we heard Ginny raising her voice before her brother disapparated. "Bloody hell!" She spun around and walked to me. "Y/n, speak to him, he'll listen to you." She practically begged, nodding her head at the window, prompting me to look at George standing alone at the edge of the cornfield, already making his way in.

"I-I..." I didn't need to look around in order to acknowledge all the eyes laid on me. "O-okay." I blinked away my own tears and rushed to the door, only to be stopped by Molly's shaky hand.

"Please- tell him I'm sorry."

"I don't think he'll blame you." I reassured the wrecked mother, offering her a comforting smile before making my way out and jogging into the cornfield myself.

"George?" When I didn't obtain an answer, it dawned on me how dumb it had been to dive into that area without knowing where to go. "George?"

I yelped when something tugged on my sleeve, making my body pivot on my heel. "You know how easy is to get lost in here?" The ginger questioned in a raspy tone, the hand that had been on my sleeve going down to mine, which invited him into my hold.

"She didn't mean— I reckon she just... Saw him in you for a second."

"I know." Though his eyes did look a bit red, he was calm.

"You alright?" I inquired, taking my hand to his cheek, on which he leaned.

"I just..." Sigh. His right hand travelled up to his face to hold mine in it before pulling away. "I need a moment alone."

I nodded. "Don't take too long or you'll catch a cold." He hummed affirmatively, and I half-heartedly left the cornfield and headed to the Burrow.

I excused George, assuring them he would be okay and, though the previous light-hearted environment didn't return, the tension in the air dissipated a bit.

A few minutes later, George came in; his mother welcomed with open arms and he returned the hug, having a small conversation against Molly's shoulder before making a beeline to me, sitting by my side.

I felt my cheeks flushing as he leaned on me, putting his head on my shoulder; suddenly self-conscious at the closeness between us. Somehow it was different being that close the privacy of our flat, than outside of it. Though it felt somehow inappropriate, when his long fingers intertwined with mines, I indulged him, trying hard not to meet neither Hermione's nor Ginny's eyes —they had been staring so much that I had noticed them an hour ago.

I was completely unaware of Molly's gaze laid on us too.

George, whose eyes had been closed, sit up straighter to whisper in my ear, "Can we go back to the flat?" My eyes met his and I realised we were even closer than I had thought in first place.

"I thought we were staying the night?" I murmured, trying in vain to keep his family out of the conversation they were pretending not to hear.

He leaned a bit closer only for me to hear his words. "I don't think I can sleep in my room."

"Do it for your mum." I squeezed his hand and he sighed. "I'm gonna stay in that room with you." Another sigh, but this one was of defeat, letting me know that I had talked some sense into him.

HERMIONE'S P. O. V.

At the beginning of the evening, when George and Y/n had first stepped into the Burrow, Ginny had come to me, urging me to observe them closely.

At first I didn't know why she would say that, but after the wrong name slipped out of Molly's lips, I started to get a hold of the matter, but it seemed so surreal— it just couldn't be.

Though the way Y/n's cheeks lighted up when George took a seat between us did remind me of the way I used to react when Ron got a tad too close to me in our sixth year.

After a while Y/n seemed to forget about our presence and eased besides George, making their bodies get closer.

When we decided to call it a day and the ones left in the living room started to retreat to their rooms for the night, Y/n got up without letting go of George's hold at any moment and, thanking Molly for her hospitality, they made their way upstairs.

Had my eyes not been trained on them, I would have missed the way George's hands went to Y/n's waist as his chin fell on her shoulder.

I left the sofa and walked to Ginny before she and Harry could slither to their dorm. "Are they...?"

"Not sure." Ginny replied with knitted brows. "What'd you think?"

"I... Don't know." I confessed.

GEORGE'S P. O. V.

We entered the dark room, illuminated only by the light provided by the night sky and started to discard our clothes in silence without looking at each other.

I was the first one to finish, making my way to my old bed and catching a glimpse of Y/n's silouhette while she threw a tee on.

I was utterly, hopelessly in love with her.

I had known I loved her for quite a while, but the feeling that had made my heart swell and my stomach flutter when she got into the cornfield without giving it a second thought in order to find me, that was something else.

I had also felt it when she had found me lifeless in Fred's room a couple of months ago; that feeling had been the reason why I found the strength in me to come back to life.

I was young, but I just knew what I felt went further from only love.

"What's on your mind?" She was already slipping under the covers by my side, her arms wrapping around me and bringing my back closer to her chest.

You, I wanted to say. "Not much."

"Liar." She tugged on my shirt and I turned on my other side so we would be facing each other. "C'mon, it's just me."

Words blurted out of my mouth, escaping my control. "Do you see him when you look at me?"

And I wasn't making anything up; It was, in fact, on my mind. It had appeared during the walk through the cornfield and it hadn't left, but Y/n's scent, touch and words had backed that thought to a corner of my mind.

She wondered, tucking one of my locks away from my forehead. "Sometimes, but not like you think." She must have sensed my inquiry because she explained further. "There are small gestures, jokes— things like that in you, that remind me of him." Her eyes were roaming all over my face, her hands bringing mines to her heart. "When you're happy, like tonight— I can't quite explain it but... it sorta seems like he's still here. So yeah, you could say I see a little bit of Fred when I look at you." Her eyes finally met mines. "It's not a bad thing— you love him so much that we can still see him through you."

"Loved." I corrected her, my thumb drawing circles on the back of her palm. "He's dead." A tear rolled down my cheek, but Y/n caught it with her fingertips before it could reach the pillow.

"Love never dies, Georgie." Her replied seem to carry more significance that someone would see at first sight, but I was too tired to discern it.

I couldn't tell if she had scooted closer, or if I had unconsciously leaned on, but the tips of our noses were nearly touching.

Initially, she didn't attempt to put more distance between us, and I couldn't help but let my hopes get high. I waited for a sign, something that would let me know I could close the gap between our lips —oh, how I craved to feel her lips—, but the sign didn't come and we stayed like that for what seemed like an eternity before she casted down her eyes, immediately breaking the spell.

"Goodnight, Y/n." I whispered, turning my back to her.

"Goodnight, George." She mumbled back, coming closer to cuddle me.

[padawanlost]

A serious question at last, not at all related to Vader's... biology or his hair color - in AOTC Obi-Wan is very reserved but in ROTS he is actually kind of supportive and more open with Anakin, telling him how he is proud of him, etc. Do you think there was a point at which he realized "shit, he doesn't think I'm proud of him, I gotta step up my game" or is it just Obi Wan unconsciously slipping and showing affection even though he isn't supposed to?

From theTPM to AOTC, Anakin and Obi-wan’s relationship was marked by disappointed and resentment.They cared deeply about each other but they were incaple of properly expressingit (due their own issues and the Jedi Council breathing down their necks).

The relationshipstarted well, all things considered. Obi-wan was eager to fulfill his promiseto Qui-Gon and Anakin was eager to learn.

Obi-Wan reached out, then hesitated. He felt astrong urge not to wake the boy, to let him sleep like this forever, to foreveranticipate a great adventure, forever dream of personal triumph and joy. Thisfeeling held too much sentiment and weakness to be allowed, but he allowed itnevertheless. This must be how a father feels, looking down onhis son, worried about an uncertain future, Obi-Wan thought. I would hate to see him fail. But I would hate far more to lose thisboy. I would almost rather freeze time here, and freeze myself with it, thanface that. [GregBear’s Rogue Planet}

As theyears went by the Jedi life began affecting Anakin. He was bullied andemotionally abused (by having his emotions, thoughts, hopes, fears and dreamsconstantly downplayed or dismissed). Obi-wan noticed Anakin was changing butfailed to anything to help the boy.

Anakinhad looked at him uncertainly, but Obi-Wan shooed him off. It puzzledand worried Obi-Wan how much time his Padawan spent alone. Anakin had toldhim that he’d had good friends on Tatooine, especially a human boy namedKitster. He’d been at the Temple for three years now, but he hadn’t made oneclose friend, although he was well liked and certainly got along with theother kids. [Jude Watson’s Deceptions]

When they’d met, Anakin had been a warmhearted nine-year-old boy with an open nature. He was twelve and a halfnow, and the years had changed him. He had grown to be a boy who hidhis heart. [Jude Watson’s Deceptions]

They went on many missions, they had fun and good moments but Obi-wan wasweighted down by his worries. The Jedi Council, especially Yoda, was constantlytelling him to beware of Anakin which made Obi-wan less willing to bond withAnakin. the Council constant criticism and his own fear of inadequacy madeObi-wan become too strict which, in turn, made Anakin more withdrawn, insecureand resentful.

‘Was it allright?’ Anakin asked hesitantly of the man seated next to him. To his surprise,he saw that his Master was eyeing him with uncommonapproval. [Alan Dean Foster’s The Approaching Storm]

By the timeAOTC began, Anakin resented Obi-wan’s controlling behavior and Obi-wan resentedAnakin’s inability to behave like proper Jedi™. their relationship was at astalemate. It’s after Shmi’s death and Anakin’s injuries that things begin tochange. When Yoda tells Obi-wan Anakin must be made a knight he realized it’stime to change tatics.

For ten years I have been a Master to Anakin, and all that got me was defiance. The more I criticize him, the more he turns away.The more I withdraw, the angrier hebecomes. More criticism, more emotionaldistance, isn’t the answer. He’s not a typical Jedi. He never has been. Yet I have tried to turn him into one. I’vetried to contain him. Control him. For his own good, it’s true … buteven so. If he’s to be a Jedi Knight soon, that has to end. Karen Miller’s CloneWars: Wild Space

Right after AOTC, Obi-wan helps Anakin through his grief and theyfinally bond as friends and not as master and padawan.

 A comfortable silence fell between them. Anakin welcomed it—theamusement, the banter, the easy camaraderie. In the immediate aftermath ofGeonosis, when he was still recovering from his catastrophic injury, it hadseemed their relationship was on thebrink of unraveling. Only Obi-Wan’s steadfast refusal to be pushed away hadsaved it. Only his willingness to accepthis Padawan’s rage, his grief, his blame, and not take any of it personally. Andthere’d been so much rage. So much grief. Even now the echoes lingered. Theyalways would. […] But Obi-Wan had helped him, too. With his blood-and-bone armlost, his balance in the Force now irrevocably altered, he knew that without Obi-Wan he’d never have come to trust his skills,himself, again. Never would have found a way past the nightmares of Dooku,the harrowing, nightly reliving of their brief and shocking duel. His failure.His maiming. Never found his way back to laughter, and the joy that came withbeing a Jedi. Karen Miller’s CloneWars: Wild Space

In a way, Shmi’s death was the turning point for their relationship. AfterGeonosis, they finally talk about what happenedwith Anakin apologizing for his impatience facing Dooku and Obi-wan apologizingfor Shmi.

“I’ll gladly forgive you that, Anakin, if you’ll forgive me the dreamsof your mother,” he replied, his voice not quite steady. “I would have saved her for you if I could.”They didn’t speak of either incident again. And what had often been a tense relationship between Master and pupilgently transformed into a simple, unpressured, and unexpected friendship,which deepened during the countless hours they spent on lightsaber practice,preparing for war. Karen Miller’s CloneWars: Wild Space

When TCW begins, Anakin and Obi-wan are, for the first time, close friends.  as the clone wars progressed so did theirfriendship, evolving into the relationship we see in ROTS.

Anakin and Obi-wan had a complex relationship. They had their good andbad moments. There was distrust, lies, disappoint and miscommunication butthrough it all they always cared foreach other. The problem was that they were terrible at demonstrating because oftheir way of life. they loved each other but they couldn’t express it too muchbecause they were taught it could be a pathway to evil. So they buried to thepoint Obi-wan could only say “I love you” to anakin in the past tense and whenhe thought Anakin was dying.

They were both “guilty” of attachment. Their tragedy is that they weren’tallowed to express it in a healthy way. They bottled it up and it broke themboth.