#but there are occasionally more intense things i fantasize about like being restrained and hit with an implement and at first im like

[nudibutch]

okay real talk. for those into any form of pain play and/or impact play? how do you distinguish between like. wanting it because you Want it vs. wanting it because you feel like either 1. you genuinely deserve it (punishment or the best youll get) or 2. its the best you have to offer your partner?

[ardentmuse]

Perchance a Parchment (George Weasley x Reader) - Part 4

Harry Potter - George Weasley x fem!Reader

Wordcount: 3.7k

Summary: George agrees to meet his dream girl... but she may not be dreaming of him, at least not anymore.  

Series Masterlist // Masterlist

A/N: Sorry for the delay. Life happens sometimes. :) Love you all! 

“So let me get this straight,” Fred said, tossing back the rest of his beer and slamming the bottle down on the table. He rested his elbows on his knees and eyed his brother with intensity. “You’ve been sending love letters--”

“I wouldn’t call them love letters.”

“Love letters,” Fred emphasized. “Love letters multiple times a day for weeks to a woman you’ve never met but who sounds perfect for you, after years of never being interested in a single woman who’s come your way, and now she wants to meet you and you are just now thinking it is a good time to tell me?”

George was looking at the palm of his hands, still holding your latest letter, Want to meet?, the simplest note in that adorable pen that had his heart completely constricted.The hand that moved so fluidly to create those letters was attached to the body of a woman whose mind had already captured his imagination. A dreamer, a lover, a thinker, a hopeful soul, a soul so much fit for his own. Each word you had shared was easy and each idea novel and intriguing. He spent his nights this past week fantasizing about the face smiling upon reading his words; a bright smile that pulled at one side, soft, warm skin, and eyes that twinkled in mischief much like his own. When he’d try to place details within, he’d occasionally recall the specifics of that cute shopkeeper down the road, but honestly that was all he had to work with as far as pretty young woman who’d captured his eye in recent years.

But thinking of the book store owner was of no use. She hated him now. And if she didn’t yet, she sure was about to.

Bill chimed up, interrupting George from his all-consuming thoughts.

“Of course he didn’t tell you. He needs someone to be thoughtful about this.”

Bill offered George a smile before taking a seat.

“You have to go, George. You have to see what this is, even if just to remind yourself that it is worth putting yourself out there. Even if there isn’t a single spark in person, you’ll have tried.”

George crumpled the note a little in his hands, “But what if she’s nothing like I imagine her? What if this is all just some big joke and I’m going to find Lee sitting at some nice steakhouse laughing his ass off about me bearing my heart to some stranger via owlpost.”

Bill sighed and locked eyes with Fred. Fred only shrugged, confirming that indeed George had been like this since the letter arrived.

Bill rotated his chair to face George fully.

“Can I confess something to you?”

George looked up from his hands to meet his older brother’s gaze. He was earnest, almost apologetic in his expression.

“Sure, shoot.”

“When I first met Fleur,” Bill began, “I felt that connection, the kind you’ve been describing, immediately. But she was so young still and culturally we were from completely different worlds. It just seemed so unbelievable that whatever was between us could become something real. But one day she simply walked into my office and said,” he coughed as he prepared to mimic his wife’s accent, “‘William Weasley, ‘ou are taking me on a date zis Saturday and I won’t hear another word against it.’ And she didn’t even wait for me to respond. She just turned on her heels and left. Once that door shut behind her, I knew that moment I had found the woman I’d marry someday.”

Bill paused, swirling his beer a little before taking another swig. He smiled at his brother as he played with his wedding band and finished, “She put herself out there. She was braver than I was ever willing to be about us. I know you, George. You are brave and bold and brash, just like me. And you need a woman who will be, too. She’s putting herself out there. She’s being brave. All you have to do is say yes.”

George looked down at the crinkled note in his palm, those three words that had caused him so much anxiety since your bird had landed on his window sill late in the night. What he had seen before as a ton of pressure he now saw for what it was, an act of pure courage. And his response to your boldness, to you risking your pride and self-esteem to see what might be, was cowardice.

George unfolded the paper, smoothing out the corners as he stood.

“I think I need to go pen a letter now,” he said with a swallow. “And Bill, thanks.”

And he immediately fled for his study.

“Hey,” Fred called, standing from the couch, “Do you not want to hear my advice.”

George chuckled, “Think I’m good, mate,” as he doubled his stride.

Fred slumped back down against the couch before looking at Bill with real fire.

“Think he’s going to make a fool of himself?”

Bill took a moment to think as he finished his beer.

“Big time.” And then he paused and added, “She’s gonna love it.”

You name the time and place. I’ll be there.

Rhubarb

You had just finished up afternoon story time when the latest letter arrived. It was simple and to the point, something new from your mystery man. But you did respect that he was giving you control, allowing you to find an option that made you feel safe and comfortable.

The smile was still plastered on your face when you heard the door chime and in walk a greasy looking man in a well-cut suit accompanied by two men in overalls carrying clipboards. You only heard the tale end of what he was saying.

“... And Mr. Weasley was very specific. These shelves need to be divided with thick wood and glass. Ingredients cannot contaminate each other. In the front, he’s requested…”

You were seeing red as the man moved through your shop like he owned the place, pointing at your fixtures and shaking his head. You marched over before you could even process.

“May I help you?” you said, your voice turning sickly sweet, all venom to anyone who took the time to read your expression. He was not one of those men.

“Ah, Ms. L/N, I was told you would not be on the premises today.”

“As this is my store, and we are open today, I am uncertain as to where else you expected me to be,” you spat as you crossed your arms.

He at least had the good sense to see a little embarrassed.

“Well, um, then let me introduce myself, I’m Thaddeus Hayes. I work real estate for these parts. I was told today would be a good day to bring my contractors around to plan the renovations for the space once you have vacated but I see now I was misinformed.”

You were fuming now, rage tightening all the muscles of your neck.

You began, trying to keep your voice cool but failing miserably, “It seems, sir, that you have been misinformed about a number of things, the first of which is the certainty that I am vacating this space at all.”

He laughed, “Given the empty state of this place at the moment, I think your landlord was right in informing myself and my clients that you would be gone by the end of the month.”

You bit your lip, not wanting to confirm or deny anything. But you didn’t need to. He knew he was right.

You felt a calming hand on your shoulder. Patty, who had been working in the back office, must have heard the commotion and come to investigate.

“Do you intend to make a purchase, sir?” she said, her hand tightening on your shoulder to avoid raising her tone as well.

“No, no,” Thaddeus said with a mock smile, “I see I’ve come at a bad time.” He turned with a swish of his coat tails and made for the door. As he reached for the handle, he said to you with a smile, “If you need to find a new place, a smaller, more price-appropriate place, I do have a few connections with storefronts in Knockturn, my dear. Don’t hesitate to give me a call.”

You scoffed and were about to shout out an explicative when Patty stops you. Her grip was white-knuckled upon your arm.

As the door was closing, you heard Hayes say to his companions, “At least that little preview should give you enough to talk to the Weasley’s and begin....”

Patty’s voice was like air, “Did he just say Weasleys?”

You slammed for fist into the counter, turning out of your friend’s hold. Your knuckles throbbed with the impact, but it didn’t stop you from doing it again.

“I knew it! Those-- I knew.”

You lifted your arm to hit the counter one more time but Patty restrained you. She cooed softly in your ear, pulling you down into the comfy chair in which you took your morning coffee. Patty kneeled at your feet and led you to breath more steadily.

“This doesn’t change anything,” she finally said after a moment.

And she was right. What did it matter if it was George Weasley or George Harrison who was buying your store out from under you. You still didn’t have the money to keep it open either way.

And then your heart filled the void. You were attracted to the man, hoped maybe a spark might be… you shut the thoughts down before they could continue. You were already angry with yourself. No need for more punishment.

“Rhubarb wants to meet,” you said, trying to redirect yourself to something more pleasant. Patty lit up with a smile.

“See? Silver linings.”

You laughed. A simple dinner was not a silver lining to losing your livelihood. But it did give you a lift of your spirits.

“Yeah,” you said, “Yeah.”

You had picked the place. Ophelia’s, the cute little Greek cafe on the other side of London, among the muggles where anonymity was guaranteed. The last thing you needed was one of Tom’s co-workers at Gringott’s seeing you on a date with another man… Not that this was a date. It was just a casual meeting. A nice evening with a potential friend.

That’s the lie you told yourself over and over on the journey down here.

You held a book in your hands, your favorite collection of King Arthur’s tales. The same one George Weasley had purchased, though you tried to keep that thought away, and you wore a white blouse, each to help Rhubarb find you at your table among the rest of the patrons. You watched the clock, just five more minutes until he would arrive.

Five more minutes until you would see the face behind those beautiful words. Five more minutes until you could tell someone about what was going on in your life and hear a supportive, “Oh, darling, I’m so sorry.” Five minutes until you’d laugh for the first time today. Just five minutes.

George stood outside pacing. He didn’t want to be early but he was just so nervous. He had called in reinforcements in the form of Bill and Fred.

“Calm down, you’re even making me nervous!” Fred said, grabbing his brother by the arms.

George was wearing his favorite jacket, a woolen knit with elbow patches that pulled out the caramel of his eyes. Some may find it stuffy but to George, it was classic and cozy and very him.

He took a steadying breath and met his twin’s gaze.

“You’re on the pitch. You’re pumped. You’re club arm is strong. You are ready for anything to be thrown at you. You are a fighter, a champion, and you have nothing to fear from anyone ever, got it?”

George laughed, “That’s the same speech I gave you before that match against that Ravenclaw girl you’d been snogging sixth year, right?”

“Pretty much.”

George laughed again but it quickly morphed into a shaky breath. This time Bill piped up in support.

“How about I pop a head in and take a look? At least let you know what you’re getting into?”

George only nodded, but when Bill was almost at the entrance he said, “Large book, white blouse.” Bill nodded in confirmation before entering.

George leaned himself back against the brick facade, so confused as to why he was feeling this tightness. He wasn’t a man who lacked confidence. He was the life of the party, a laugh and a half in his hay-day. But the war and the realities of life had made him a bit more reserved, especially with matters of the heart. Was he really ready for this, to open himself up to another person the way Ginny, Ron, and Bill had? Was he cut out for that kind of love?

After a moment, the door opened and George turned to see a giant smile on Bill’s face.

“That bad?” George asked. Bill just laughed.

“She’s gorgeous, George. Exactly your type. Definitely has that sexy librarian thing going on that you love and she smiled at me and I got to say, you won’t be disappointed.”

“Let me see,” Fred said, making for the window of the door himself.

“Though I feel like I’ve seen her before…” Bill mumbled before shaking his head. He picked up his tone, “Seriously, go get your girl, brother.”

“Um, guys,” Fred said from the door with a grimace on his face.

“You can’t tell me you think she’s ugly,” Bill teased before seeing how serious Fred’s face was.

“Oh, Merlin no. She’s stunning. But I also thought she was stunning when we saw her last week. I distinctly remember Georgie here swooning.”

Last week? Swooning? George’s brain was racing and then all at once his heart sank.

“Oh no,” he whispered.

“Yeah,” was all Fred could say in return.

As George ran to press his face to the window, Bill called out to his brothers, “Care to fill me in?”

But George saw here, the rich inviting eyes and pleasantly happy cheeks, that nose that he just wanted to pinch and those damned kissable lips being pulled between those two front teeth. You were his Cherry. The woman who captured his heart on paper and captured his eyes in person were one in the same. His dream woman before him, waiting for him, but hating him all the same.

He was muttering “no” to himself over and over, pulling his hair through his hands like a crazed man. He couldn’t stop pacing. How could so much go right and wrong all at once? Everything he ever wanted, right there and his if he weren’t such a fool.

“She’s that shopkeeper, the one whose lease we’re taking over,” Fred informed Bill.

George took a breath. Maybe she didn’t hate him as much as he thought. Maybe she understood that business was business. Maybe she wouldn’t be so shocked to see his face. Maybe, just maybe, she had felt what he had when their hands touched over the book the other day.

George took two great big strides before pushing past Fred and into the restaurant. He saw you more clearly now, your nose a little too close to the pages as you read, the fingers of one hand drumming slowly against the wood of the table as you reached forward to take a sip of your water. Your legs were buried under the table cloth and he couldn’t stop his mind from wondering if they were crossed or uncrossed, how they were clothed, and if your shoe was hanging lazily off the tips of your toes.

As if you felt his staring, your eyes snapped from your book to meet his. He thought he saw a softness in your eyes, something akin to affection, but when he smiled at you, you lips turned into a scowl quick like lightning. He felt a vice grip in his stomach.

Still he took his steps forward as you closed the book in front of you and crossed your arms in a full-on defensive.

“Great book you’ve got there.”

You didn’t take the bait. Instead you just tapped the cover and waiting for him to continue.

“Thanks again for my copy. I finished it yesterday and I feel like I have a whole new appreciation for British history and culture now.”

“Good for you,” you said, your voice ice. You took a big gulp of your wine, never breaking eye contact.

George grabbed the back of the chair across from you, hoping you might let him sit, might let him explain, but you raised an eyebrow in challenge and so he thought better of it.

Godric, did you have to be so sexy when you were mad at him? He gripped the chair back hard in an effort to prevent himself from kissing that scowl right off your face, from sliding his tongue across your lips until he turned that huff of yours into a glorious moan.

“Waiting for a date?” he asked, though he knew it was a stupid question.

“As a matter of fact, yes. Or is it that hard to believe I might have one, Weasley? Or are you just that determined to destroy all the good things in my life?”

“Who’s the lucky man?” he asked, unable to stop himself.

He watched the smile pull at your lips as you tried to maintain your anger, “Just a guy I’ve been talking to. But he’s kind and funny and incredibly engaging. And he has a soul, a real deep compassionate heart, unlike you.”

That cut deeper than he expected, hearing you love on him and hate on him simultaneously. He wasn’t sure he would be able to recover.

“Listen, Y/N, we never meant to…”

“Save the speech, Weasley,” you said, dropping your wine glass back down unceremoniously before meeting his eyes again. “I know your type, the kind of guy who gets a little bit of success and lets it all go to his head. The kind of guy who completely forgets what it is like to have something small but meaningful because you’ve been swimming in money for years and years, who values efficiency and production over human interaction. I know you. He’ll, I’m practically married to one of you,” that last sentence had you laughing with glee, though George couldn’t understand why.

“You’re all the same. So don’t try to tell me that if you’d have known it was my shop or if you had seen x, y, or z beforehand, things would be different, because let’s be honest, they wouldn’t. Your business comes first and if us little people drown, so be it. Don’t pretend you have a conscious just because you can now put a face to your destruction, okay? Just let me read in peace.”

George didn’t know what to say. There really was nothing to say. You had him pegged.

The last five years of his life had been just what you said, about expanding his business and counting his money and building an empire that might sustain him in his old age. When they initially started looking into storefronts, offering up absurd sums of money to kick out other tenants, he hadn’t thought about the human effect of all of it. He should have, but he didn’t.

But wasn’t that all the more proof that he needed you? An equalizing factor in his life to help him focus on what really matters? Someone with whom to enjoy the small stuff so the big stuff wouldn’t consume him? He needed love. He needed you. Feisty, honest, thoughtful you to put him in his place. 

And in an effort to try and fix things, he decided to walk away.

With a simple nod to you, he turned and walked out the door, past his brothers and into the alley before aparating to the only place he could think to go, to the Burrow and the mother who raised him to be a better man, the kind who you might look upon with fondness.

Three hours you sat there waiting for Rhubarb but no one ever came, no one but that god-awful Weasley with his deliciously masculine scent and beautiful freckles that cover an insanely punchable nose.

Your face was a mess of tears now. You felt completely stupid. You couldn’t manage a business. You couldn’t manage your love life. And now here you were stood up for a date with a complete stranger, one you had your heart fully invested in like a fool.

You hit the buzzer one more time, hoping that maybe your persistence would be enough to get a response.

Just as you were turning to leave, the apartment door opened. Patricia stood before you in her bathrobe and her curls secured in a silk head wrap.

When she saw your face, she opened her arms for a hug.

Once enveloped in your best friend’s hold, you felt a wave of confidence pour through you, the hopeless feeling morphing into a newfound determination.

You were going to see that smirk smacked right off Weasley’s face if it was the last thing you ever did.

“We’re raising that money, Patty. We aren’t going down without a fight.”

All tags: @fangirlandnerd, @aerdnandreaa, @thisisbullshytt,  @cancerousjojian, @whovianayesha, @themarauderstheoutsidersandpeggy, @luna-xxxxx, @sleepylunarwolf, @starryrevelations, @potter-thinking, @all-by-myself98, @bananafosters-and-books, @cutie-bug

Harry Potter tags: @tessimagines, @0-lost-in-stereo-0, @whysoseriouspadfoot

Perchance a Parchment tags: @cucumberinmyass, @justducky0423, @thequeen-ofnerds, @yuaasa, @comic-creature, @hermionebennet, @semicharmedkindofali, @sugerquill, @can-i-fangirl-yet, @doct0rstrange, @igotmadskills, @otherthingsinhead, @olixerwxxd, @caramiriel, @gryffinclxw, @lizmar20, @indicisive-af, @confettidreameryouwhoreo-blog, @hellizhelusive2, @kaitsubaki, @dooriha, @justfollowtheroad, @memogorgon, @xxsophie-raabxx, @madamcadaver