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firewhiskeyficTitle: No Ordinary Love
Author:lq_traintracks
I am of legal drinking age in my region: I’m not going to make my usual dad joke here; I’ll just say yes I’m old, thank you for the reminder.
Pairing(s)/Characters/Fandom: HP fandom; Bill/Charlie; background Bill/Fleur
Challenge/Prompts used: FUCk yeah all of them! For posterity: Madam Rosmerta; Hog's Head; Marathon; Insomnia; Forced Proximity; One Too Many
Summary: Bill and Charlie just can’t stay away from one another over the years.
Rating/Warnings: NC-17/E; consensual sibling incest; drinking/drunkenness, includingn being drunk during sex; open marriage; fisting; fluctuating POVs and tenses, not necesarrily intentionally lol; some angst (maybe mild but I truly don’t remember); not underage in England, but in this first section Charlie is 16 so, you know…
Word count: ~2,300
Author's Notes:: Man, the Sade came on and that was it! Yeah, baby. Thank you to the marvelous mods for running this one-of-a-kind fest! Much love to you! <3
New Year’s Eve 1988
It started that night they were snowed in at the Hog’s Head.
Bill had thought to give Charlie an evening out drinking, a belated birthday outing, since all he got at the Burrow that hols were a tame couple of pints and a pat on the back, and Bill had missed even that, having been struck down with fucking spattergroit from having shower sex with that bloke he met at a conference on cursebreaking.
It was New Year’s Eve night and he was getting Charlie drunk at the bar, flirting a bit with a moonlighting Rosmerta to get stiffer drinks. But the drunker Charlie became, the more tense he got as well, until finally Bill put a hand on his little brother’s shoulder. “I brought you out for a good time. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” He shot a glance at Rosmerta, her cleavage falling out of her blouse as she cleaned off the bartop. “Another?”
He drank enough for two people, but Bill was buying and he didn’t mind so much when Charlie would lean too close and his whispers would land against the side of Bill’s neck, whiskey sour and slurring. They’d missed each other since Bill moved out, since he left Hogwarts the year before.
It snowed so steadily while they sat there drinking that rather than wander out into it to Apparate, when midnight came and left and it was suddenly 1989, Charlie fell against him and sighed, “Let’s get a bottle. Come on. I wanna go upstairs.”
His cheeks were flushed pink, and his lips were wet where he’d licked them, and it wasn’t that Bill had planned to seduce his own brother. It just happened. And it was so fucking easy.
Upstairs, the snow coming down like some kind of \\\\\\\\\\\\ whoa wtf. Jesus okay. The snow coming down like hell, silent and deadly cold, they undressed, laughing under their breath, like what they were doing wasn’t what they were doing.
When Charlie’s hand insinuated itself between Bill’s legs, squeezing the black denim of his jeans and his cock underneath, it shone a light on what had happened downstairs. It threw into stark relief Charlie’s curt responses to his questions, as Rosmerta winked at Bill and slid him an extra finger of Fire.
“Jesus, Charlie,” Bill sighed when his brother dropped to his knees and deep-throated his cock, tears in his intense blue eyes.
What he wanted to say was ‘you never need to be jealous’. What he yearned to confess was, ‘no-one compares to you’. What he did was come down his brother’s throat.
#
Charlie was late going back to school. The snow lasted days and days, and they made an excuse of it. They drank too much and fucked all over the hotel room, on the bed, the floor, against the cold window, in the shower, back in the bed again. Bill had him every way he could. And then Charlie had him too.
“You know I don’t let anybody do this,” he said even as Charlie lined up behind him, feverish for it, his sixteen year-old cock so ready all the time, so needy and hot.
“I know, I know…” Charlie had breathed desperately and then fucked Bill from behind like it was a religious experience for him.
Days of this. Excuses sent back to the school. A fake case of Dragon Pox. All so that they could keep having each other.
Charlie took Bill’s whole hand. It was the last night they spent there, and Charlie had Bill’s cock inside him, was transported in a way Bill had never seen from anyone, not ever. After Bill came, Charlie guided Bill’s hand between his legs, said, “All of you,” and Bill had spent an hour going from two fingers in his sloppy hole, to three, to four, and finally, once Charlie was crying for it, begging him, folding his thumb into it and pushing.
“Beautiful,” Bill mused, watching his entire hand disappear, his wrist going in and out. His cock had spasmed again dry, seeing it, his hand wrapped selfishly around himself as he made his little brother wait.
When Bill made a fist in him, Charlie came so hard he could have shattered the windows. He came crying, “Billy, Billy, Billy, you’re fucking me,” like they hadn’t been fucking for days on end.
It ended like such things did, as if it had never happened. Days upon days of marathon sex and still their gazes flitted furtively away from one another as Bill settled the bill and then, outside in the cold bright day, Charlie left for school again.
What Bill would remember, for years to come, was that for all the times that they were inside each other, they never once kissed.
July 31st, 1997
If you’d told him a few years ago that he would end up marrying a French girl he would have hurt himself laughing. But Fleur was perfect. She was beautiful and cultured and sweet. She was smart as a whip and braver than him. Bill needed that. He needed someone who would face a dragon to win a prize. Who would risk her life for someone she loved, would drown for them.
Charlie watched him closely the night before. He drank too much, and from the dark circles under his eyes, Bill could see he wasn’t sleeping. Again. None of them were, really, but… it hurt Bill to see how deeply Charlie was affected.
They never should have had the wedding when they did. Poor Harry was overshadowed as well, his birthday an afterthought.
Bill spent the evening holding Fleur’s hand, battling his mother when Molly got too sassy and overstepped.
“I’m going to bed,” Charlie finally said and trudged up the stairs, a bottle of Ogden’s clutched in his hand.
I didn’t mean to follow. I didn’t mean to.
I made my excuses to Fleur. We may have had an open arrange,ment but that didn’t mean she’d understand this. Still, she was superstitious and said she didn’t want to spend the night in bed together, said we should sleep apart and see each other at the wedding itself. The guilt soared through me, heady and awful, as I agreed.
When I walked into the room Charlie and I shared as children, it felt llike fate. Charlie’s soft smile as I closed the door quietly, the bottle to his mouth, liquor spilling down his chin. I wouldn’t make the same mistake I did last time. I knelt in front of where he sat slouched on the bed, and I licked the whiskey from his throat, his jaw, his chin; I licked into his mouth and kissed him. I kissed him hard. It had been eight years after all.
“You’re getting married tomorrow, Bill,” he said, even as he opened my belt, my fly.
“That’s tomorrow,” I told him, and then slid between his legs, laying him out under me on the bed.
After
OMG I SWITCHED TO FIRST PERSON AND I CAN’T CHANGE IT OH GOD. That’s fine. That’sokay. Dear lord.
Continuing…
After I’d kissed him and rutted between his legs until I was nearly ready to come, I pulled his trousers and pants down roughly; I conjured an obscene amount of lube. I slid inside him, his legs over my shoulders. I rode him like I would die if I didn’t have him. I whipped my hips until he was moaning continuously from the pleasure. I wrapped my hand around his cock and made him come, just moments before I lost myself in his body. And while I came, his hands came up softly and cradled my scarred face, his fingers falling into the gouges, the marred flesh, so tenderly, like the fuck had opened something up in him, had illuminated me, had torn us both open in a way that only the other’s hands could heal.
#
I married Fleur the next day, the love of my life.
One of them.
Late Autumn, 2002
I’m not looking foward to turning thirty. Bill assures me it’s a piece of cake. What does he know? His life’s perfect. Perfect wife, perfect marriage, perfect job, perfect… everything.
I have my dragons. I have my work. I get enough tail that I can’t complain, men and women both falling on their knees for me. Because why? They think I’ve got something special between my legs, underneath the dragonhide. There are myths and then there are men, and I’m definitely the latter.
I’ve had a few people linger, their scents in my bed, their idiosyncrasies in my life like maybe they might stay. But I’m the one who stays. Everyone drifts away at some point. Only I remain. I’m okay with that. I have to be.
And then there’s Bill. Constant. Never ebbing. My Billy. My big brother. The man who never walks out, who never leaves, not ever, not with every time he’s broken my heart and then repaired it only to break it again.
Maybe it’s me. Maybe all I do is leave. I leave and I leave and I leave. And still he finds me.
“Oi,” comes his voice late on a Friday afternoon when I’m just getting the yearlings settled and I smell like charred magic and healing spells and all I want to do is to fall into bed.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, leveraging myself up off the ground where I’ve been tending to a needy Chinese Fireball. “I thought we’d decided on Christmas hols.”
He shrugs. He doesn’t say he couldn’t wait, didn’t want to, but it’s written all over him, his immense desire for me, even if it’s just to spend time in my presence.
“Are you busy?” he asks.
“Just finishing up.”
“I’ll let myself into your place then.”
I nod. “I won’t be long.”
God help me, the thrill of seeing him shoots through me like adrenaline. I feel it in my chest, my lungs.
When I’ve got everything finished for the evening, I Alohamora my cabin and find him there, a smoking Firewhiskey already in his hand. I don’t think we can do what we do without it, frankly.
“How have you been?” I start awkwardly. I can’t just start in on him. I can’t touch without some sort of invisible persmisson, some barrier dropped.
“Fleur sent me,” he says, and I’m taken aback to the extent I can’t even answer. He goes on before I can. “Merlin, Charlie, you’re fit as fuck.”
He sets his glass aside and waits. I don’t go to him, even though I’m dying to.
“What do you mean, Fleur sent you?”
He clears his throat. “I mean she knows. She knows about us and she sent me here.”
I frown in his direction, my heart misfiring, like a dragon whose chest-flame is fluctuating. Though my own heart has never changed where he’s concerned. “I don’t understand.”
He stands up, dwarfing me with his stupid height, so tall and lanky and strong and unutterably beautiful. The fang earring hangs from his left lobe, and I want to attach my lips to it. I want to have him and have him and have him.
“Don’t you?” he asks.
“What are you saying?” I’m in flames for the answer, in pain for it.
He walks in close, palms my cheek. “I’m saying I can’t possibly not love you, Charlie. I’m saying she knows that. I’m saying… I hope you still want me too.”
“You hope,” I say incredulously. I draw his hand down so that he’s cupping my erection. “I’m gone for you, Bill. Don’t tell me your wife understands that better than you do.”
“I think maybe she does,” he says, already massaging my dick though the dragonhide. Then, “Show me how gone you are, little brother.”
I kiss him with every little fire I have left flaring hopefully inside me.
#
Bill lays his brother down in bedding that smells like dragon-sweat, like fierce coals burning brightly, like a ready conflagration. He pushes inside Charlie’s willing body. He repents that his love leans this way, while at the same time… he’s rejoicing.
They come together and sleep in the aftermath. They bathe, touch each other under the hot water like sharing a secret. Then they fuck in front of a roaring fire in the hearth, naked and free.
In the middle of the night, Charlie wakes Bill kissing his chest. He slips Bill’s cock into his mouth, makes him come, and Bill laments, “I wanted to fuck you with that.”
But Charlie just turns over, onto his sturdy knees, with his sturdy heart, and he says, “Fist me, Bill,” his cheeks burning pink, his gorgeous blue eyes alight with it. And Bill realises he can. He realises it’s okay. It’s more than okay. It’s imperative. It’s the joy his life is built on.
He oils his fingers, slips each one inside, one at a time. He takes his time with it. He can. They have their lives. They have it all.
Their love has survived indescribable pain. Years of longing. Decades of denial. It can survive the doubts that lie in the shadows of this. Their hearts can outshine each and every one.
Bill tucks his thumb into his palm, slides his whole hand inside his brother. And it’s easy. It’s profoundly easy. It’s them, how they’ve always been.
Charlie has always given him everything.
Bill can give everything back.
This, right here, is always, always how they will be.
Author:
lq_traintracksI am of legal drinking age in my region: I’m not going to make my usual dad joke here; I’ll just say yes I’m old, thank you for the reminder.
Pairing(s)/Characters/Fandom: HP fandom; Bill/Charlie; background Bill/Fleur
Challenge/Prompts used: FUCk yeah all of them! For posterity: Madam Rosmerta; Hog's Head; Marathon; Insomnia; Forced Proximity; One Too Many
Summary: Bill and Charlie just can’t stay away from one another over the years.
Rating/Warnings: NC-17/E; consensual sibling incest; drinking/drunkenness, includingn being drunk during sex; open marriage; fisting; fluctuating POVs and tenses, not necesarrily intentionally lol; some angst (maybe mild but I truly don’t remember); not underage in England, but in this first section Charlie is 16 so, you know…
Word count: ~2,300
Author's Notes:: Man, the Sade came on and that was it! Yeah, baby. Thank you to the marvelous mods for running this one-of-a-kind fest! Much love to you! <3
New Year’s Eve 1988
It started that night they were snowed in at the Hog’s Head.
Bill had thought to give Charlie an evening out drinking, a belated birthday outing, since all he got at the Burrow that hols were a tame couple of pints and a pat on the back, and Bill had missed even that, having been struck down with fucking spattergroit from having shower sex with that bloke he met at a conference on cursebreaking.
It was New Year’s Eve night and he was getting Charlie drunk at the bar, flirting a bit with a moonlighting Rosmerta to get stiffer drinks. But the drunker Charlie became, the more tense he got as well, until finally Bill put a hand on his little brother’s shoulder. “I brought you out for a good time. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” He shot a glance at Rosmerta, her cleavage falling out of her blouse as she cleaned off the bartop. “Another?”
He drank enough for two people, but Bill was buying and he didn’t mind so much when Charlie would lean too close and his whispers would land against the side of Bill’s neck, whiskey sour and slurring. They’d missed each other since Bill moved out, since he left Hogwarts the year before.
It snowed so steadily while they sat there drinking that rather than wander out into it to Apparate, when midnight came and left and it was suddenly 1989, Charlie fell against him and sighed, “Let’s get a bottle. Come on. I wanna go upstairs.”
His cheeks were flushed pink, and his lips were wet where he’d licked them, and it wasn’t that Bill had planned to seduce his own brother. It just happened. And it was so fucking easy.
Upstairs, the snow coming down like some kind of \\\\\\\\\\\\ whoa wtf. Jesus okay. The snow coming down like hell, silent and deadly cold, they undressed, laughing under their breath, like what they were doing wasn’t what they were doing.
When Charlie’s hand insinuated itself between Bill’s legs, squeezing the black denim of his jeans and his cock underneath, it shone a light on what had happened downstairs. It threw into stark relief Charlie’s curt responses to his questions, as Rosmerta winked at Bill and slid him an extra finger of Fire.
“Jesus, Charlie,” Bill sighed when his brother dropped to his knees and deep-throated his cock, tears in his intense blue eyes.
What he wanted to say was ‘you never need to be jealous’. What he yearned to confess was, ‘no-one compares to you’. What he did was come down his brother’s throat.
#
Charlie was late going back to school. The snow lasted days and days, and they made an excuse of it. They drank too much and fucked all over the hotel room, on the bed, the floor, against the cold window, in the shower, back in the bed again. Bill had him every way he could. And then Charlie had him too.
“You know I don’t let anybody do this,” he said even as Charlie lined up behind him, feverish for it, his sixteen year-old cock so ready all the time, so needy and hot.
“I know, I know…” Charlie had breathed desperately and then fucked Bill from behind like it was a religious experience for him.
Days of this. Excuses sent back to the school. A fake case of Dragon Pox. All so that they could keep having each other.
Charlie took Bill’s whole hand. It was the last night they spent there, and Charlie had Bill’s cock inside him, was transported in a way Bill had never seen from anyone, not ever. After Bill came, Charlie guided Bill’s hand between his legs, said, “All of you,” and Bill had spent an hour going from two fingers in his sloppy hole, to three, to four, and finally, once Charlie was crying for it, begging him, folding his thumb into it and pushing.
“Beautiful,” Bill mused, watching his entire hand disappear, his wrist going in and out. His cock had spasmed again dry, seeing it, his hand wrapped selfishly around himself as he made his little brother wait.
When Bill made a fist in him, Charlie came so hard he could have shattered the windows. He came crying, “Billy, Billy, Billy, you’re fucking me,” like they hadn’t been fucking for days on end.
It ended like such things did, as if it had never happened. Days upon days of marathon sex and still their gazes flitted furtively away from one another as Bill settled the bill and then, outside in the cold bright day, Charlie left for school again.
What Bill would remember, for years to come, was that for all the times that they were inside each other, they never once kissed.
July 31st, 1997
If you’d told him a few years ago that he would end up marrying a French girl he would have hurt himself laughing. But Fleur was perfect. She was beautiful and cultured and sweet. She was smart as a whip and braver than him. Bill needed that. He needed someone who would face a dragon to win a prize. Who would risk her life for someone she loved, would drown for them.
Charlie watched him closely the night before. He drank too much, and from the dark circles under his eyes, Bill could see he wasn’t sleeping. Again. None of them were, really, but… it hurt Bill to see how deeply Charlie was affected.
They never should have had the wedding when they did. Poor Harry was overshadowed as well, his birthday an afterthought.
Bill spent the evening holding Fleur’s hand, battling his mother when Molly got too sassy and overstepped.
“I’m going to bed,” Charlie finally said and trudged up the stairs, a bottle of Ogden’s clutched in his hand.
I didn’t mean to follow. I didn’t mean to.
I made my excuses to Fleur. We may have had an open arrange,ment but that didn’t mean she’d understand this. Still, she was superstitious and said she didn’t want to spend the night in bed together, said we should sleep apart and see each other at the wedding itself. The guilt soared through me, heady and awful, as I agreed.
When I walked into the room Charlie and I shared as children, it felt llike fate. Charlie’s soft smile as I closed the door quietly, the bottle to his mouth, liquor spilling down his chin. I wouldn’t make the same mistake I did last time. I knelt in front of where he sat slouched on the bed, and I licked the whiskey from his throat, his jaw, his chin; I licked into his mouth and kissed him. I kissed him hard. It had been eight years after all.
“You’re getting married tomorrow, Bill,” he said, even as he opened my belt, my fly.
“That’s tomorrow,” I told him, and then slid between his legs, laying him out under me on the bed.
After
OMG I SWITCHED TO FIRST PERSON AND I CAN’T CHANGE IT OH GOD. That’s fine. That’sokay. Dear lord.
Continuing…
After I’d kissed him and rutted between his legs until I was nearly ready to come, I pulled his trousers and pants down roughly; I conjured an obscene amount of lube. I slid inside him, his legs over my shoulders. I rode him like I would die if I didn’t have him. I whipped my hips until he was moaning continuously from the pleasure. I wrapped my hand around his cock and made him come, just moments before I lost myself in his body. And while I came, his hands came up softly and cradled my scarred face, his fingers falling into the gouges, the marred flesh, so tenderly, like the fuck had opened something up in him, had illuminated me, had torn us both open in a way that only the other’s hands could heal.
#
I married Fleur the next day, the love of my life.
One of them.
Late Autumn, 2002
I’m not looking foward to turning thirty. Bill assures me it’s a piece of cake. What does he know? His life’s perfect. Perfect wife, perfect marriage, perfect job, perfect… everything.
I have my dragons. I have my work. I get enough tail that I can’t complain, men and women both falling on their knees for me. Because why? They think I’ve got something special between my legs, underneath the dragonhide. There are myths and then there are men, and I’m definitely the latter.
I’ve had a few people linger, their scents in my bed, their idiosyncrasies in my life like maybe they might stay. But I’m the one who stays. Everyone drifts away at some point. Only I remain. I’m okay with that. I have to be.
And then there’s Bill. Constant. Never ebbing. My Billy. My big brother. The man who never walks out, who never leaves, not ever, not with every time he’s broken my heart and then repaired it only to break it again.
Maybe it’s me. Maybe all I do is leave. I leave and I leave and I leave. And still he finds me.
“Oi,” comes his voice late on a Friday afternoon when I’m just getting the yearlings settled and I smell like charred magic and healing spells and all I want to do is to fall into bed.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, leveraging myself up off the ground where I’ve been tending to a needy Chinese Fireball. “I thought we’d decided on Christmas hols.”
He shrugs. He doesn’t say he couldn’t wait, didn’t want to, but it’s written all over him, his immense desire for me, even if it’s just to spend time in my presence.
“Are you busy?” he asks.
“Just finishing up.”
“I’ll let myself into your place then.”
I nod. “I won’t be long.”
God help me, the thrill of seeing him shoots through me like adrenaline. I feel it in my chest, my lungs.
When I’ve got everything finished for the evening, I Alohamora my cabin and find him there, a smoking Firewhiskey already in his hand. I don’t think we can do what we do without it, frankly.
“How have you been?” I start awkwardly. I can’t just start in on him. I can’t touch without some sort of invisible persmisson, some barrier dropped.
“Fleur sent me,” he says, and I’m taken aback to the extent I can’t even answer. He goes on before I can. “Merlin, Charlie, you’re fit as fuck.”
He sets his glass aside and waits. I don’t go to him, even though I’m dying to.
“What do you mean, Fleur sent you?”
He clears his throat. “I mean she knows. She knows about us and she sent me here.”
I frown in his direction, my heart misfiring, like a dragon whose chest-flame is fluctuating. Though my own heart has never changed where he’s concerned. “I don’t understand.”
He stands up, dwarfing me with his stupid height, so tall and lanky and strong and unutterably beautiful. The fang earring hangs from his left lobe, and I want to attach my lips to it. I want to have him and have him and have him.
“Don’t you?” he asks.
“What are you saying?” I’m in flames for the answer, in pain for it.
He walks in close, palms my cheek. “I’m saying I can’t possibly not love you, Charlie. I’m saying she knows that. I’m saying… I hope you still want me too.”
“You hope,” I say incredulously. I draw his hand down so that he’s cupping my erection. “I’m gone for you, Bill. Don’t tell me your wife understands that better than you do.”
“I think maybe she does,” he says, already massaging my dick though the dragonhide. Then, “Show me how gone you are, little brother.”
I kiss him with every little fire I have left flaring hopefully inside me.
#
Bill lays his brother down in bedding that smells like dragon-sweat, like fierce coals burning brightly, like a ready conflagration. He pushes inside Charlie’s willing body. He repents that his love leans this way, while at the same time… he’s rejoicing.
They come together and sleep in the aftermath. They bathe, touch each other under the hot water like sharing a secret. Then they fuck in front of a roaring fire in the hearth, naked and free.
In the middle of the night, Charlie wakes Bill kissing his chest. He slips Bill’s cock into his mouth, makes him come, and Bill laments, “I wanted to fuck you with that.”
But Charlie just turns over, onto his sturdy knees, with his sturdy heart, and he says, “Fist me, Bill,” his cheeks burning pink, his gorgeous blue eyes alight with it. And Bill realises he can. He realises it’s okay. It’s more than okay. It’s imperative. It’s the joy his life is built on.
He oils his fingers, slips each one inside, one at a time. He takes his time with it. He can. They have their lives. They have it all.
Their love has survived indescribable pain. Years of longing. Decades of denial. It can survive the doubts that lie in the shadows of this. Their hearts can outshine each and every one.
Bill tucks his thumb into his palm, slides his whole hand inside his brother. And it’s easy. It’s profoundly easy. It’s them, how they’ve always been.
Charlie has always given him everything.
Bill can give everything back.
This, right here, is always, always how they will be.
no subject
Date: 2022-07-05 10:45 pm (UTC)Loved seeing the arc of years in this fic. And omg When you wrote
I thought the \\\\\\\ was the most brilliant visual of how the snow was falling! lol
no subject
Date: 2022-07-10 02:09 am (UTC)YES! I can't believe I forgot that when I commented!
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Date: 2022-07-13 10:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-07-11 09:02 pm (UTC)It had not occurred to me that the \\\\\\\\\\\ could have been a snow visual! Like a form of onomatopoeia or like hieroglyphics?? :D I love that you saw it that way!
And I'm glad you thought it was hot! Thank you so much, Plume!
no subject
Date: 2022-07-07 05:42 am (UTC)What he wanted to say was ‘you never need to be jealous’. What he yearned to confess was, ‘no-one compares to you’. What he did was come down his brother’s throat.
What Bill would remember, for years to come, was that for all the times that they were inside each other, they never once kissed.
OMG I SWITCHED TO FIRST PERSON AND I CAN’T CHANGE IT OH GOD. That’s fine. That’sokay. Dear lord. - ha! It didn't interrupt the story for me at all!
There are so many beautiful lines in this, and I am always here for some weasleycest :D
I frown in his direction, my heart misfiring, like a dragon whose chest-flame is fluctuating.
so good!!!
I married Fleur the next day, the love of my life.
One of them.
no subject
Date: 2022-07-11 09:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-07-08 04:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-07-13 07:26 pm (UTC)I'm so glad you liked the story! I know the prompts had nothing to do with Bill and Charlie but it was the first thing I thought of and then I couldn't shake it! :D
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Date: 2022-07-08 06:09 am (UTC)Also LOL that you "accidentally" switched POVs -- a classic drunken FWF move -- and then inserted some AN about it -- another FWF classic
no subject
Date: 2022-07-13 07:27 pm (UTC)♥
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Date: 2022-07-08 07:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-07-13 08:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-07-09 08:57 pm (UTC)OMG I SWITCHED TO FIRST PERSON AND I CAN’T CHANGE IT OH GOD. LOLOLOLOL
But it's rather romantic in the end, innit? Of course Fleur understands these things, she's French. LOL Great job!
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Date: 2022-07-13 08:45 pm (UTC)Thank you so much, bb! I'm thrilled you liked it! <3
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Date: 2022-07-10 02:06 am (UTC)I think this can easily clean up for non-FWF posting.
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Date: 2022-07-13 10:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-07-13 06:52 pm (UTC)And the change to first-person narration fits so well just where it happens – at the point of confessing the acts based on deepest emotions – and your reaction (naturally also in first person :D) is fabulous. And how you make the most of it – achieving symmetry, varying character voices, and more than you can possibly have planned.
The sex is as excellent as the pining, I'm sure, and I particularly love this simple line, too:
Bill settled the bill and then, outside in the cold bright day, Charlie left for school again.
no subject
Date: 2022-07-13 10:31 pm (UTC)