because oh my god its her wedding too and she swears to god its going to be perfect

Moving Out/In - George Weasley Imagine (requested)

Request: Could you do a George imagine where he and the reader have just moved in together and its super fluffy? Thanks xxx

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Diagon Alley was highly praised around the Wizarding world for the convenience purpose it served. Need a wand? Go to Ollivanders in Diagon Alley of course! Need a pet to take with you on your first year adventure to Hogwarts? There’s this perfect place in Diagon Alley called Magical Menagerie or even Eeylops Owl Emporium that will make the best fit between you and the animal of your choice. Diagon Alley was a complete hit for all school related necessities and far more.  Despite all the magnificent things Diagon Alley was amped for, housing was not one.  Yes, decent apartments were located above shops, but they were mainly for the owners of those shops. The silver lining of the housing units in Diagon Alley were the very few limited 3 almost 4 story homes that looked narrow on the outside, but widely spacious on the inside.  This being where y/n and George’s task for the day begins. Moving in.

In a one and a millionth chance, George Weasley had managed to score a huge deal with the wizard relater for the housing in Diagon Alley and snagged a 3 story townhouse looking home a mere street down from Weasley Wizard Wheezes.  The building looked welcoming with flower beds surrounding the entrance, window panes drawn open, plum purple bricks, sky blue door, and a budging front view window which George knew his fiancé y/n would die for. One thing he’d always here her go on and on about, was her little dream of having a window sill that they could upgrade with cushions, pillows, and blankets so she could read and sip mint tea on it and watch the world pass by outside. George was far from understanding her obsession with a seat back window sill, but it was what would make her happy and in the end result him as well.

So after days and days of slowing moving the couple out and packing everything ready to leave the small shared apartment above the joke shop Fred, George and y/n shared; they were ready to be gone for good. Truthfully, Fred was a bit sad to see them go. The three were inseparable throughout their Hogwarts years. Oddly seen, nothing changed between the three when George and y/n started dating their 3rd year. Their last year together at Hogwarts, George proposed to y/n in front of the whole school during dinner time before he left days later to pursue Fred and his lifelong dream of opening the joke shop, which they did. Y/n, without a single doubt in her mind agreed and now two years later, they were still engaged not sure when to tie the knot for good. It wasn’t that they were unsure if marriage was what they still longed for. Of course it was! The real problem being business booming and rocketing through the roof with Weasley Wizard Wheezes! Any date that they’d begin to plan would be altered by some close family member not being available that day or time. To be honestly, it bugged George that he and Y/n had to work around other people’s schedule for their own wedding. Once or twice he thought about whisking her away to the courthouse and just getting the deed done there with Fred as witness to help pass on the story for everyone who missed it.

Y/n on the other hand dreaded the thought of one person not being able to make it to her special day. No, it wasn’t for all the attention. She could care less about that, but it was more so for the fact she didn’t want to leave anyone out and miss her being married to the love of her life. Though George and Y/n had sat down with Molly and Arthur last Thanksgiving to disuse what the year ahead would hold event wise. They wanted a winter wedding more than anything and with Molly’s help found the perfect date. Their wedding would be on the 22nd of December the next year which was only six months away and everything seemed to be slowly falling in order. Fleur had booked out Kensington Palace Orangery with the help of her persuasive parents who pulled a few strings. Frankly, George had a gut feeling his and Y/n marriage would be the first not help in his childhood home backyard.

“Georgie… yohoo… come back to reality there astronaut! I need help with these boxes, if you don’t mind!” George Weasley snapped his head up abandoning his sweet reverie, day dreaming about y/n flawlessly walking down the aisle. Smiling up, he rose from the couch which was honestly the only item they’d had the strength to haul in, with the help of the lazy Fred of course who suggested magic instead. Y/n highly frowned upon this “brilliant” idea stating how she wanted her and George to act like a normal couple for once and move out/in the old fashion way. George silently prayed she’d agree with Fred but nevertheless fought it none.

“Oh darling, why don’t you come lie with me for a bit. You’ve been packing and hauling in boxes all day. Rest for a minute or two… then we can get back to it.” George offered with a smug grin. The thought pondered in Y/n’s mind. George was right after all. The couch was the first furniture but that didn’t mean titled cardboard boxes didn’t line the floors, because they did. And she was getting tired and her arms felt like floppy jello.

“Fine, but for five or six minutes… then we have to get back to moving everything in. I think we only have the truck for a few more hours.” Y/n reminded him plopping down on the couch laying her head on his stern chest as his arms locked around her waist.

“God can you believe we’re actually doing this? Like…. we’re legit moving in together. How crazy is that!” George chuckled snuggling closer to his fiancé as she rambled on. It was adorable how passionate Y/n got about things. This big light would shine through her e/c eyes and catch all attention with her sweet little voice. Also, her h/l h/c hair and how it would dance effortlessly in the wind with a mind of its own. Don’t even get him started on her smile. God was it beautiful! A small little grin from Y/n could cause George’s heart to pick up its speed, multiplied by twenty. She was his life, as simple as that.

“I know. To be honest I never really thought we’d get out of that damn cramped apartment. I’m sure Fred will love living there all by himself.” George pointed out and Y/n couldn’t agree more. Fred loved Y/n like a sister and of course George as a twin, but living with your brother and his recently engaged fiancé, wasn’t exactly fun and enjoyable for Fred. He’d constantly be getting on their case for making out on the sofa, or making too much noise the night before if you catch the drift.

“Oh my god. I swear he would’ve moved us all by himself if he could’ve. This is so surreal… we did it for real. It feels like just yesterday we were in our first year at Hogwarts and I was chewing you out for that hair dye prank you pulled. Y’know it took me five weeks to get the pink out… loser.” It was true, that was how they had originally met. Fred and George were planning the perfect prank on Filch but accidently dropped the ‘no-wash’ neon pink paint on the wrong person. Y/n screamed as loud as humanly possible while the pink sticky liquid dripped down her house robes. While Fred took off in a dead sprint back to their common room, George stayed behind to help the poor victim. That’s when everything changed. Not long later, whispers were spreading through the halls of Hogwarts that the two students were an item. It was true. George had asked her out on a date to Hogsmeade as an apology and she accepted. To wrap it short, many many more dates came after and now here they are.

“I’m sorry, love. It was an accident but truthfully I’m glad it happen. If I didn’t I wouldn’t be here with you… and marrying you in a few months.” George mumbled absentmindedly playing with the ends of Y/n’s hair, wrapping the strands around his finger, then letting it go loosely. Y/n sighed tracing small patterns on his firm chest.
It was a surprisingly calm Thursday in the streets of Diagon Alley. Their townhouse door was left wide open allowing a cooling breeze to sweep in and lace around the couple. Enough voices to count on a single hand sounded in the deserted roadway. Their bright new home was directly across from Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour, which Y/n was certain would become very tempting each morning she rose awake, and with George now having to walk to and from work, she knew it would to him as well.

“I couldn’t agree more. I think once we get everything situated, possibly Sunday, I’ll get around to planting some new flowers in those beds out front. Those other ones look to be dying, and I don’t like the color it’s too plain to have all white flowers. We need a little more color. And that room with all the windows behind your office I’m making into a greenhouse room. It would be nice to keep pretty little plants in there with all the open spaced windows and sunlight. What do you think?” y/n loved greenery and plants more than anything. George knew this being the reason behind little pots of Amaryllis Plants, Angel Wing Begonia, Kalanchoe Plant, and Miniature Rose Plants invading every corner of their old shared apartment that Fred just about tripped over every other day. Realizing George was silent, Y/n gazed up at him so see he was lost in thoughts and deep in la la land.  Waving her turquoise painted nails in front of his face, George spoke up out of the blue,

“And that extra room across from ours could be for our kids. It’s got a perfect view of the joke shop a ways off. I’m sure they’d love it.” Y/n sat up right on the couch looking as confused as ever. Yes, she did want kids sometime in the near future but she didn’t exactly expect George to be the one to bring it up first. Sure the subject had surfaced a time or two but he was never so straight forwards and nonchalant towards it. George swiftly turned his head up and her, himself beginning to reposition back to sitting up. Y/n wasn’t really sure how to respond without leading him down the wrong path.

“I mean… yeah I suppose it would be. But you said ‘kids’ as in plural.” George chuckled shrugging it off,

“Well we can’t just have one, now can we? Don’t want our poor kid to be an only child!” He smirked pecking Y/n lips quickly before interlocking their hands as one and leading her out the door to the moving truck. Y/n still a tad stunned, watched as George hauled boxes in and out of the home.

“You just going to stand there, beautiful. Or are you going to help me out?” Y/n’s eyes still bugging, she picked a box labeled ‘bathroom’ and carried it in with ease setting it on the floor and snatching onto George’s hand keeping him from walking back to the truck.

“Did you really mean that? About having kids and everything?” George nodded with a warm smile. Taking Y/n’s shaky hand and bringing it up to his lips, he placed a light cool kiss on her knuckles.

“I meant every word. Someday I want us to have a family of our own. One we can take to the zoo, or hell, out for ice cream every Friday right across the street. I want to have kids that we can share our story with and ones that will go to Hogwarts and experience the magic we went did. Well, without You-Know-Who and all that shit. I want us to create something… together. I love you more than anything Y/n and I know there is no one else in this world that I would even consider putting a ring on besides you. You’re my life, and I want to make something that will prove and show to other people just how much I really do. I already feel married to you; I have since the day we met. I’ve never thought of another girl in the same way I cherish you.” George finished dipping his head down to Y/n’s face and grasping her cheeks in his hands then kissing her solemnly. It was a sweet little kiss, not too mushy, and not too distant, but just the right amount of affection. Y/n smiled widely as the separated feeling like a fool, but that didn’t mean she wished to change it. George was Y/n’s just as she was his.

I liked this one! I feel like it’s sort of a prequel to “Couldn’t have asked for anything better”.

-Daizy

Wēijī [Kai]

{{ noun // lit. “crisis” or “critical moment”; from risk and opportunity, the idea that there can be a positive result in a wisely handled risk }}

Hi, your dog keeps using my doormat as a fire hydrant.

Fluff. Neighbors!AU. 1,000 words.

✕O✕O✕O✕O✕O✕O

Mornings may quite possibly be your favorite time of the day.

There’s the sunlight filtering in through your lacy curtains, and the sweet sounds of chirping birds gently floating through your room. The bed seems the coziest and warmest at this time of day, and you’re refreshed and ready for a new day. And even better, today’s a Sunday. This means you can snuggle in your bed and sleep for a couple more hours, or you can get up, pick up the morning newspaper, and read it while eating blueberry waffles with whipped cream and maple syrup.

You choose the latter.

Wrapping the comforter around your body and sliding on your slippers, you trod down the stairs of your simple, two-story home and go into the kitchen to start breakfast. Removing the blanket and draping it on a kitchen chair, you start a pot of coffee after mixing a bowl of batter for waffles and setting it aside.  Then, you take out the bottle of maple syrup, can of whipped cream, and box of blueberries, setting the toppings on the table.

But your waffle iron is missing.

You check your cupboards and under the sink, but it’s not there. Huffing in slight annoyance, you realize you must’ve stuck it in the joint laundry and pantry room. Walking over to retrieve it, you pass the front door and stop– might as well get the morning newspaper first.

You unlock and twist the doorknob, opening the door and taking a step into the glorious sunshine.

Splat.

Of course, you then remember why mornings aren’t your favorite anymore.

Because your neighbor’s dog enjoys using your doormat as a fire hydrant.

And sometimes, you forget.

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Seven times in Baker Street

Original prompt submitted to sherlolly-ship by anon (x)

“Sherlock and Molly tried to be quiet while shagging in Molly’s childhood room, but they failed spectacularly. All of Molly’s female relatives look at her with envy now. "Seven Times in Baker Street” was true, after all.“

So I’m giving it a try. (I’m not experienced in the smut dept. So forgive me and love me please.)

It’s not done but I started it.

NOW COMPLETED FOLKS!!!! Click here (x)

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"Oohooo! Young love, such a wonderful thing it is!” cooed the elderly woman. “You know, when your gramps and I were your age - God rest his soul - we were the same way. Couldn’t keep our hands off each other. Just one look and oh la la, we were at it again! - ”

Gran!!” exclaimed Molly, her cheeks flushing a bright pink.

“’Seven times in Baker Street’ is what I’ve heard.” piped in the bride-to-be. A chorus of giggles followed the comment.

The cozy room was buzzing with ladies sipping tea on the sofas and gossiping about various raunchy matters. It was Molly’s cousin’s wedding and her mum had opened up her home to the bride and her party the night before the big day. Their husbands and boyfriends had ventured out to get a head start on the bachelor party; all that is, except Sherlock. Though he dreaded staying another minute in the estrogen filled den, he feared the social interaction he’d have to partake in with the drunken, lusty men even more.

Two months ago Sherlock and Molly had decided to advance the status of their relationship to “committed and public”, although they had actually been “together” for around eight.

“Awww deary, no need to deny it! You’re clearly in love with the man and it’s plain to see that he adores you too.” smiled Gran, trying to sooth her granddaughter’s embarrassment.

Molly turned to look at Sherlock on the couch beside her. His eyes were warm as he grinned clumsily in agreement.

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 The door creaked open as Molly twisted its delicate brass knob. She took in a deep breath of air filled with her childhood memories.

“So… This is… Uh…” stammered Sherlock, a look of bewilderment frozen upon his face.

“My childhood bedroom, yes. Why? What’s wrong with it?!!” she said defensively.

“No-nothing, it’s just…” Sherlock motioned to the surroundings with his eyes. The walls were covered in a horribly ugly floral pattern, there were posters with 80’s bands and one from the movie “Braveheart”. Her duvet was kitten patterned and there were an abundance of plush cats sitting on it staring at them lingering in the doorway.

“Oh shut up.” Molly huffed, trying not to admit aloud that Sherlock was once again correct. She ushered him in through the door. “Come on now, we’ve got to get some sleep. There’s still lots of preparation to do in the morning.”

Sherlock sat warily on her bed as he stared down the stuffed animals. “Your father had allergies, thus preventing you from owning a cat. Your parents, being the loving type, tried a form of replacement by increasing your collection of plush cats to a point where they hoped you wouldn’t still desire that one pet that you so desperately craved. Funny thing how guilt works. But then, when you moved out on your own, you had no need for the toys. No need for the lifeless animals that you imagined were real. Toby came into your life at the perfect moment helping you cope with the loneliness of living independently and also filling that empty place in your heart reserved for a feline.”

“Basically.” She nodded, climbing under the covers on the other side. His deductions were lengthy at times, but Molly understood that it was just Sherlock’s way of expressing what he knew. His way of showing he cared. Besides, his intelligence was, after all, what made her fall head over heels for him in the first place. That and those dashing good looks of course.

Sherlock looked at Molly snuggling in amongst the mass of teddy bears. Then he glared back at them. “Can I move them? Please?”

“Are they scaring you, hon?” she mocked in a mothering tone.

“NO! I just… there’s not much room with them here too!”

“Okay, but not Tabatha, she was one of my first cats or Oliver or Blackie. Oh, oh and not Puff or Spot either. I used to snuggle them all so much!” she squeaked, the nostalgia taking her back.

Sherlock grumbled, flicked off the nightstand lamp and settled in beside Molly. The two stared into the ceiling of darkness.

“I can’t sleep. This is not my bed.” Sherlock’s low voice flowed out into the silence.

“Go to sleep Sherlock, it’s already past 11.” She wriggled farther under the covers.

A minute passed. “Molly, why do you have a poster of Braveheart on your wall?”

Sighing she replied, “Because I liked the movie.”

“Is that why it’s an extreme close-up of Mel Gibson?”

“Sure. Now go to sleep.”

“Your response was much too hasty. I think there’s another reason. Did you drool over him as a teenager?”

“Sherlock please, -“

“Did you?”

“Well, maybe a bit. I was a teenage girl after all and he has nice eyes.”

Has? Who has better eyes, him or me?”

“Why does it matter?!!”

“Because.”

“You. Goodnight.”

Another pause of silence.

“Molly, I can’t sleep. This is not my bed.”

“For the love of god Sherlock, GO TO SLEEP!” Molly flopped over, facing herself away from him.

More silence.

Suddenly Molly felt fingers walk up and over the side of her stomach. They stopped as if they had been detected. The hand went flat grasping her around the waist, pulling her slightly closer to him. After a moment the hand began to shimmy upwards arriving to caress a breast. “Molly,” he whispered, “are you sleeping?”

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