#Bill and Charlie are like WHAT are you doing at school!!???

[347-emeraldbitch]

Bill & Charlie: Percy is our little brother. We’ve know him since he was born. He, Charlie, and I fit together perfectly.

Fred, George, Ron, & Ginny: EXCUSE YOU!!! THATS MY BROTHER!!!!

[awriterinthenight]

"And How Would You Like to Kiss a Smart Guy?"-Fred Weasley

requested: no

words: 1840

warnings: Molly complaining about the twins, reader is a Gryffindor and Sirius' daughter, also implied that reader is shorter to Fred

summary: When Molly complains about the twins, you defend then, especially Fred, leading to Sirius having old memories of Lily and James.

You could hear Molly Weasley yelling about something in the kitchen as you approached the door. Recently you, Harry, Hermione, and all the Weasley kids had been living in 12 Grimmauld Place, which is technically your family's house. Your dad had been hiding out there, and you had started living with him to make up for all the time lost while he was in Azkaban.

Grimmauld Place was starting to become your home and even feel like it. Ever since your Hogwarts letter came, the school has only ever felt like your real home. Many of your friendships were made there, your relationships all started there, and almost every happy memory was made at Hogwarts.

It was the place where you met Ron and Hermione on the train to Hogwarts. Then when you got sorted into Gryffindor you met Oliver Wood who was the Quidditch captain, and you became quick friends with him, due to you and Harry being on the team so young. It was also the place where you met the Weasley twins.

Ron had told you all about his oldest brother Bill, who now worked all the way in Egypt, and his other older brother Charlie who was a dragon tamer in Romania. Then he complained about how uptight Percy was. When he got to the twins it was a mix of funny stories and some humiliating ones for Ron.

"Oy, you're going to talk her ear off if you keep telling her about us," a voice yelled out. It was Fred Weasley. He was making his way over to where you and Ron were talking in the common room.

"Yeah, you're also not even telling her the truth," the other twin said, following behind Fred.

Fred came up behind you in the chair you were sitting in, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, bending down a bit so that he could whisper something to you, "We're a lot funnier than that, and way better at pranks than he's making it out to be."

"Uh huh," you said, acting skeptical, "If you say so."

Him and George looked hurt at your words.

"If you say so," George yelled loudly, clutching his chest, "Do you hear this blasphemy?" he said to Fred.

Fred removed his arm from around your shoulders, "Oh, I do, and believe me I cannot stand for this. We didn't get detention for a month to be insulted like this. Now did we?"

You rolled your eyes, as Ron looked bored from having seen this act before, "Don't you two have anything better to do than bother some first years?"

"Well when you insult a man's pranks, one feels rather hurt," Fred said, continuing his dramatic act.

You looked him up and down before you said, "What man? All I see are two cocky gits."

They looked even more insulted, but once again Fred spoke first, "And she's got a sharp tongue. It seems we have our work cut out for us."

"That we do, dear brother," George said to his twin.

"You know what I think we need to do?"

"Of course I do, now off we go," George said before walking away with his twin in tow. That moment was the reason for the twins' further actions towards you. Wherever you went the twins would always do some prank near you to make you laugh. Fred started to take pride in knowing one of his jokes made you laugh, even if it was barely a chuckle or a smile.

The boys did everything they could to get you to crack. Slowly it became their favorite past time, especially for one twin. During 4th year something started to shift in how Fred saw you. You were no longer just his little brother's friend, but you were his too. Except he started to wish you were more.

He watched you get prettier over the years, to the point he caught himself staring a couple of times. Fred loved the banter between the two of you, you always had some sort of retort to everything. You still called his pranks "silly" or sometimes "immature" but that was only when it went wrong. He still did his dramatic act everything you said that, but now it was because he just liked having your attention all on him.

Fred's crush on you wasn't entirely unrequited though. You started to fall for him too. You didn't know if it was because of his charm, or the banter that was the closest you would get to flirting, or even just the way he looked. He was always looking down at you, having to lean in a little closer to hear you since he was so tall.

Being at Grimmauld Place was no different to being at Hogwarts with the way the twins, especially Fred, acted. They still pulled pranks and Fred still had his banter with you. Which was exactly what Mrs. Weasley was yelling and complaining about.

You'd walk in to make tea and grab a biscuit when you heard, "And they're always up to something. I can't with those two, one of these days they are going to have to grow out of these pranks and jokes," Molly complained, while cleaning the table.

"Hey, me and James were the same way, and look how we turned out," Sirius said, but Molly just gave him a look, "Alright, maybe not the best example, but look at Remus. He was part of our pranks, and he ended up teaching at Hogwarts."

Remus had now butted into the conversation, "I did end up having to leave due to my furry little problem, though I did enjoy some of their mischief, Molly," he defended, taking a sip of his tea.

"They don't even study. How will they get anywhere if they don't focus on school. For once I wish they would focus on their classes instead of some dumb prank or useless product," Molly continued on.

You'd been at the counter, letting your tea bag sit in your tea, as you listened to Molly rant. At some point you let out an eye roll and huff that did not go unnoticed. Your dad and uncle seemed to pick up on your small gestures.

"You seem to have some thoughts on this matter, why don't you share them with us," Sirius teased, sitting at the dinner table, leaning back in his chair.

You shrugged, annoyed you were being put on the spot, "I have nothing to say really."

"Oh come on, you go to school with them, you must have something to say," Remus interjected, picking up on what Sirius was doing.

Before you could respond, Molly spoke up before you, "It's alright dear, I know everyone is probably annoyed by their childish pranks."

You rolled your eyes again, this time deciding to defend the twins, "They're actually not that childish. They're pretty impressive if anything."

"Oh really? And what makes you say that?" Remus questioned, leaning against the counter.

"They've pulled off really complicated charms before actually," you started, "And they're both really smart, especially Fred. I once watched him pull off a charm during my first year, that not even seventh years could pull off. Whenever they come up with some new product Fred always shows it to me and explains it, and its always bloody genius. I don't think I've seen him come up with an idea that hasn't worked. I think if he did try to study he could be top of his class, especially in charms. He could probably give Hermione a run for her money if he cared enough. I don't see why everyone demeans his pranks so often. He's a bit of a genius when it comes to them," you explained, not realizing when your defense for the twins turned into you rambling on about how smart Fred was.

You turned around to face the three adults who all had a smile on their face, yet also seemed a bit shocked. Sirius started to massage his temples, quietly repeating "not again, not again," which you didn't understand why. While Mrs. Weasley had a knowing smile as she continued cleaning, not saying a word. Finally you turned to Remus, who was shaking his head at Sirius.

"What?" you exclaimed, confused as to why they were acting like this, "What's wrong with him? Why does he keep repeating that?" you asked Remus.

Remus took in a long deep breath before saying, "Because, about 17, maybe 18 years ago, Lily Potter said the same words, unknowingly might I add, about Harry's father all those years ago," he explained.

It took you a moment to connect the dots, but once you did you were quick to react, "Shut it."

"She said the same thing too," Remus teased, as you walked out of the kitchen.

***

Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, Fred had heard everything you said. He thought they were talking about something for The Order, but he ended up catching your conversation. He was over the moon to find out you thought of him like that, and he knew the next time he talked to you he would tease you about it for forever.

***

The next time Fred saw you, you were walking back to your room upstairs when he stopped you.

"What do you want, Weasley?" you asked, knowing he probably had some prank to show you, or a new product.

"I think you mean genius actually," he teased.

It took you a moment to understand what he meant, but once you did you felt a bit embarrassed, "So you heard all of that?"

He nodded his head, "Oh, I heard all of it. How I'm a genius, and my "silly" pranks are actually really impressive, and how you think I'm super smart," he teased, while having the biggest smile on his face.

You shrugged, "And so what if I do?"

Your confidence threw him off a bit, but he went with it. He was silent for a moment before he spoke, "Well, do you like smart guys," he asked, trying to shoot his shot.

"Maybe," you replied, inching closer to him without realizing it.

"That's not an answer, love," he said, the name rolling off his tongue as if it was completely normal.

"Yes, I do," you admitted.

Fred's smile got even wider at your confession, "Good" he said, "And how would you like to kiss a smart guy?"

You shrugged, "I don't know, who is this supposed smart guy?"

"I heard he's quite the genius," Fred said, closer to you now than he was before.

You considered it for a moment, "Then yes, yes I do."

"Even better," Fred said, before connecting his lips with yours. Your hands went around his neck, one of them tangling in his hair. Fred's hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you close. You both had waited so long for this moment, that it was unbelievable that it finally happened. You didn't know what was next, but you enjoyed the moment between you.

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[infictionalwonderland]

. . . fred weasley with it girl veela girlfriend (you, bitch!)

babe.

he is your biggest fucking fan

drooling and wide eyes when he even HEARS the click of ur cunty shoes xxx

genuinely stand by the fact he has shirts with ur face on

to him, you’re everything & more

no1 advocate for anything you do

‘yeah, love, you should do that. definitely’

‘mhmm, anything you want darling’

GRRRRRRRR 🐱🐱🐱🐱

eats up every single one of ur cunty fits

you look so damn good babe and he makes sure you know it

‘you’re the most beautiful girl i have ever seen, love. seriously’

‘if you don’t stop smiling like that, im gonna be forced to take you against this fucking wall love’

OOPSIES

HOW DID THAT GET THEERRREEEE

knows the whole school and literally the whole world is obsessed with you and is here for it

(but is also not)

he loves that people know how special you are bc you fckn are

but like

when he sees whores staring at you with gaping mouths and starry eyes he’s like

she’s MINE.

doesn’t enjoy people staring at his girl

10000% the type to wrap his arms around you and pull you back into him, genuinely acting as a shield for the stares

pd(bloody)a!!!

he’s a big big fan

obvs if it makes you uncomfy, he’ll understand and back off! your comfort is his main concern

HOWEVER

if you like it just like he does…

arm wrapped around you waist while you’re walking around

HANDDD HOLDING

he loves cuddling you

ur like his squishmallow 😘😘😘

he really enjoys showing you, all the time, how much you mean to him. how obsessed he is with you. bc he wants you to know

will readily admit to the fact he is very much on ur pink bedazzled leash xxxxx

he’s ur mf bitch ❤️❤️❤️

if ppl try and take the mick out of him for it he literally could not care less

and what???? it’s true

he would kiss the ground you walked on if you asked

if he notices you getting uncomfortable w ppl staring at you, he’s not afraid to confront them (if you want that)

‘yeah, mind looking anywhere bloody else mate?’

‘if you done leering at my girl you wanker, feel free to piss off’

if people happen to not heed his warning, he’s not afraid to fight someone for you

(one time he did and arthur got called in to ‘deal’ with his son—he gave him an approving hug and a chocolate frog)

you & the weasels are like this 🤞

ginny does not resent you bc ur a veela, IN FACCTTTT she actually really looks up to you and admires you, knowing you’re so much more than ur beauty

she’s wants to BE you

(apart from the dating her brother part, gag)

george calls you ‘little legend’ he thinks you’re great for making his brother so starstruck and mushy-goey all the soft things.

genuinely cannot wait for the day you become his sister in law 🤧

after ron got over his creepy little crush, he’s grown to see you as someone he adores (even if he would never admit it) and someone he really feels safe with

you make him feel wanted in his family and actually loved—for that, he loves you more

charlie thinks ur an absolute riot 😭😭

the first time you met you had pulled a prank on the twins, turning their skin lilac and giving them unicorn horns with fuzzy purple fur everywhere (human unicorns)

he’s adored you ever since

bill loves you like a little sister and fleur and you are legit best mates!!!

arthur holds you very dear to him as he sees how good you are for his son and how much of a good individual you are in general

molly was slightly hesitant initially

BUTTT then you knitted her and arthur winter hats for christmas, sent them with a cutesy note and some sweets and she knew she’d love you

(she really, truly does)

#fredweasleyisurseximinion

he wrote that himself xxxx

[letstrythisout4]

I love the idea that Ginny is Percy’s favorite sibling. Like he loves all of his brothers but Bill and Charlie are untouchable older brothers, Fred and George had each other, Ron always thought Percy was too much of a stick in the mud but Ginny?? 

That’s his baby. That his baby sister, loves her to bits. Half of his childhood photos are him carrying baby Ginny, holding her hand, comforting her when she’s crying. Like Ginny is the sibling he was able to BE a big brother to. And you can even see that in Chamber of Secrets like he’s the one keeping an eye on her in her first year, he notices that something is wrong, which isn’t to say that the other brothers didn’t but they thought he was doing too much. But no, he was right, his brother instincts were going off and sure enough Ginny almost died. 

I can only imagine how guilty all the brothers felt hearing that their fucking sister was possessed and they didn’t notice; but imagine noticing and backing down.

THAT IS HEART FUCKING WRENCHING

Especially because Molly feels like the kind of mom to hear that her daughter was possessed and A) be pissed because what kind of fucking school is this, but B) how did you not notice your sister was possessed.

Like that just feels like something Molly would do. (Molly is either completely demonized in this fandom or treated like a saint but I’d like to raise a third option: she is………..human. I feel like she’d look at the boys, with tears in her eyes after yelling at Dumbledore and be like “None of you noticed?” and she’d feel guilty and apologize later (which doesn’t fix it but ykwim) but she still says it)

And it fucking kills Percy because YES, I DID NOTICE, but he didn’t do anything, so he just hangs his head and doesn’t even bring it up and he just feels fucking terrible .

ANYWAY- 

Ginny is beloved by all of her brothers but Percy IS her big brother, thank you for coming to my tedtalk.

[marauder-misprint]

Hi! I have no idea how to request correctly butI really liked how you write fred and I was wondering if I can maybe request you doing qn insecure!fred x reader where they are dating and molly wants reader to come over but fred knowing they are poor doesnt want the reader to see. When he tells her and she agrees to come over and meets his familyi(the ones she hasnt met yet) she slips up on something stupid like saying a twosided comment about their house and molly takes it the bad way, disliking reader and pressuring fred into breaking up with her but reader gets defensive and they fight, the weasley siblings on readers side and in the end molly starts to tolerate you. You absolutely don't have to but thx anyways!!

Thank you for the request! Although, I think you are referring to a Fred fic I reblogged so I can’t take credit for that 😅 ANYWAYS, I hope you like this - my first Hogwarts Era (Trio Era? Golden Era? Lightning Era?) 

Peculiar

insecure!Fred x reader

3.4k words

cw: angst, fluff, y/n

One thing Fred liked about Hogwarts was his family’s financial situation didn’t matter. Everyone wore the same uniform, even if his were hand-me-downs from Percy, and his family always managed to pull through to get the supplies they needed, which meant his broom wasn’t the newest but it did the job. He knew he couldn’t pretend his family had galleons upon galleons in their vault like other families. He knew he couldn’t spoil his new girlfriend in all the ways he wanted to, and by goodness, did he wish he could spoil you.

Still, things were going good. You didn’t discuss your family’s financial situation much, just enough for him to know you were from a more well-off family. You were only teenagers after all. You enjoyed spending time with each other and all of the other things that came with teenage romances, including the moments where you both that maybe it could be more than just a teenage romance. 

Things were good. Until a letter from Molly arrived. 

Errol near crashed into the Gryffindor table at breakfast in his typical fashion.

“INCOMING!” Lee hollered as the aging bird landed among the plate and globals, sending food and drink everywhere. 

“Oh, Errol,” George groaned as he untied the letter at his foot. “Oi, Freddie, it’s for you.”

Fred took the letter and quickly read it, a frown appearing on his face the further down he got in the letter. George picked it up right away, despite barely being able to see it in his peripheral vision as he tended to the owl. 

“What’s it?” he asked. 

“Mum wants me to invite Y/N to the Burrow over the summer.” His frown was paired with bunched brows and a pale face. 

Katie clapped Fred on his back enthusiastically. 

“That’s good, yeah? She’ll get to experience that Weasley hospitality Molly’s known for!”

Fred just shook his head, rereading the letter. It was bad enough that he couldn’t spoil you at school, but what would you think if you saw his home, how they lived. It wasn’t as bad as some people teased, but it certainly was no Malfoy Manor or Diggory Estate. 

“Mate, am I getting the invite this year?” Lee asked George, throwing an arm around his shoulder and shaking him. 

“Can’t. Mum’s already planning for Harry and Hermione. Plus Bill, Charlie and Percy will be home too. I think Perce is having Penelope over too? It’s going to be a full house.”

Lee swore. “Losing to your girlfriend, Fred. It hurts,” he said teasingly. 

Fred crumpled the letter and shoved it into his pocket. He didn’t say anything for the rest of breakfast. 

“Okay, why the long face? Don’t you want Y/N to come?” George asked Fred as they made their way to their first lesson of the day. 

“I… It’s the Burrow. What if she expects more? Better?”

George just shrugged and then gave his twin a knowing look. “So we don’t wipe our arses with galleons. It don’t matter that much. You know Mum just wants to meet her.”

“Mum really wants to meet her.” Fred stopped walking. “Do you know who told ‘er? I hadn’t mentioned Y/N in any of my letters yet.”

“Probably Ginny,” George laughed. 

“What’d my favorite Weasley do?” you asked as you caught up with the boys, a grin on your face. 

“Aw, I thought I was your favorite,” George whined with a faux-pout. 

“Ginerva is telling Mum all my secrets,” Fred said before planting a kiss on the side of your forehead. You didn’t need to know that you were one of those secrets. 

The boys stopped discussing the letter for the time being. George at least had the tact to talk to Fred about his worries about you at a later time. 

You weren’t oblivious to Fred’s palpable worry during the day. He wasn’t normally this quiet or fidgety. Maybe there were days when he was more restless than usual, but today, he kept checking the clock, nervously cracking his knuckles and crumpling something in his pocket. 

One glance at George told him that you were picking up that something was off.

“Don’t worry ‘bout, love. I’ll get ‘im sorted out for you,” George whispered to you after classes before hurrying to catch up with his brother who had already started making his way to Gryffindor Tower.

You watched them both with a concerned frown, but eventually decided not to think about it too much. Did you wish Fred would talk to you about whatever was eating his mind? Yes. But if George was convinced he could get his brother out of the funk, it couldn’t be too bad. 

“Do you think she’ll dump your sorry arse when she sees home?” George asked once they were far enough away. 

Fred didn’t answer. His brain said ��maybe’ but he couldn’t bring himself to voice it.

George laughed in disbelief. “She wouldn’t! Bloody hell, why’d you think that?”

“You know she comes from… more,” Fred said quietly, the words feeling uncomfortable in his mouth. You weren’t rich rich, but still, it was more than the Weasleys. 

“Hate to break it to you, but I don’t think she’s a gold digger.” George clamped a hand on Fred’s shoulder as they stood outside the Fat Lady’s portrait. “If she was, don’t you think she’d be with Flint or Pinch-Smedley, or Oggspire? Don’t be dense.” His voice had taken a firmer tone.

Don’t be dense, Fred repeated in his mind as he sat in the common room waiting for dinner. Don’t be dense. It’d be fine. It had to be. Was it a tad embarrassing? Sometimes, but at least they didn’t all sleep in one room like Malfoy had once said. 

Fred called you over to sit with him at dinner and by the way he smiled at you as you sat down next to him, you knew George had worked some magic. Fred was back to being Fred. He leaned in as you filled up your plate.

“So, I was wondering if you’d like to visit the Burrow this summer. Mum’s given permission. She’d love to meet you,” he said in a hushed voice. 

You had heard stories about summers at the Burrow. You knew it was home to more than the Weasleys when school was out; Harry, Hermione, Lee, Angelina, Katie, among others, had all been. There were legends of 3-on-3 quidditch matches and Molly’s delectable meals. And you had just been invited. Your face lit up with the brightest smile Fred had seen since the day he asked you out. 

“Yeah, Fred, I’d love to!” You leaned forward so you could see George on Fred’s other side. “Hear that, George? I’m going to see the Burrow!” 

---

Your mother dropped you off at the nearest muggle village to the Burrow. She waited with you until Fred came to meet you. 

“Your parents will be there the whole time?” she asked him when he arrived.

“Yes, ma’am. Mum is dying to meet her,” he said politely.

You, however, rolled your eyes. You bid your mother goodbye and went with Fred.

“I assured her that your parents would be around. Told her you guys have friends over every summer,” you ranted to him as you walked. “That your mum loves to host and meet all your friends. I mean, how else would she get to meet everyone that Ginny talks about in her letters home?”

Fred laughed. Of course you knew it was Ginny who wrote home the most.

He cautiously watched your expression as the Burrow came into view. They had passed the barn and chicken coop, along with several animals. You were speechless as you looked the house up and down. His worry about what you would think melted away when he saw the pure awe on your face. 

“What a peculiar home!” you exclaimed as you reached the sign that said ‘The Burrow’. “The magic-”

“Peculiar?” Molly gasped from the kitchen. 

You hadn’t noticed her yet, still taking in everything that was the Burrow. It’s many stories with rooms jutting out every which way that gave it a very crooked and semi-lopsided appearance. Just from the outside, it was very different from any house you had ever seen, wizarding or muggle. 

You gave Fred a concerned sideways glance. His mother did not sound happy with your comment. He gave you a soft yet reassuring smile. This was his home after all and you had agreed to come stay and meet his family, and so far, you were taking it well.

“You’re here!” Ginny squealed as she burst out the front door and pulled you into a hug. “I can’t wait to show you around!” 

“I can show Y/N around just fine, Ginny,” Fred said, an easier smile coming to his face. 

You just laughed, taking Ginny’s hand once she released you. The three of you entered into the house and walked right into the surprisingly harsh gaze of Molly. 

“Mum,” Fred said warily. “This is Y/N.” 

“Pleasure to meet you,” you said kindly. “You have a-”

“Peculiar home, as you said outside,” Molly cut you off. 

You took a step backwards, stepping on Fred’s foot. He sucked a breath in, loud enough for you to hear. 

“Dinner’s at seven. Keep doors open,” she added shortly before turning back into the kitchen. 

You tried to give Fred a questioning look but he was staring after his mother.

“Come with me. I’ll show you my room! It’s where you, me and ‘Mione will be sleeping. Like one big slumber party!” Ginny said, grabbing your arm again and pulling you toward the twisting stairs. 

Once you and Ginny were gone, Fred followed his mother into the kitchen.

“Mum?” he asked cautiously. 

In his mind, he wanted to ask ‘what the bloody hell was that? You gave me, George and Ron an easier time when we stole Dad’s car to rescue Harry.’ He didn’t, but he wanted to. And he was glad he didn’t when Molly spun around, glaring and pointing a wooden spoon at him.

“Do. Not.” Her voice was sharp. “That girl… The gall… Insulting us before she even…” She turned back to the pot she was stirring and was more muttering to herself than talking to Fred. “Expects us to feed and care for her… Peculiar… I’ll show her peculiar…” 

The rest of the day and the next two were filled with never-ending fun, except for meals when Molly sat down and glared at you from across the table. You spent most of your time with Fred and George, as you had expected to, but you helped with chores around the house and chatted with just about everyone. Percy and Penelope were more quiet than the rest, often opting to read or discuss their jobs quietly when they returned from them. You tried not to take it personally that Molly seemed to like her much more than you. 

Then you got the delight to meet Bill and be properly introduced to Charlie. The latter had been at Hogwarts when you started but it wasn’t like you ever really interacted. The eldest of the Weasley children were incredible story-tellers and just as hilarious as the rest of them. The way Charlie talked about his work with dragons almost made you wish you had taken Care of Magical Creatures and Bill’s stories about Egypt and Gringotts were overall impressive. 

The fourth day of your stay is when you heard how unwelcome you apparently were at the Burrow. Or, at least, according to Molly. 

The living room was alive with various games being played by the siblings and guests. Exploding snap, wizards’ chess, gobstones, you name it. It was loud and warm and fun. Fred noticed your glass was empty and went to the kitchen to refill it for you. 

“Ever the gentleman,” you laughed as he disappeared through the door.

“Fred, how dare you bring a girl like that into this house!” Molly’s voice could be heard through the walls, sending a sudden hush through the room. 

You blinked, looking from George to Ron to Hermione. 

“I thought your family didn’t care about status?” you asked, confusion obvious on your face. 

The Weasley were purebloods. You were a halfblood but Hermione was fully muggleborn and Molly didn’t seem to have a problem with her. Maybe her issue was with wizards and muggles mating? Certainly a new take on blood status… 

You could hear Fred and Molly arguing although significantly quieter than her first outburst. When he returned, his face was beet red and he had forgotten the glasses of water. 

“So, what was that?” Ron asked, breaking the tension.

Fred shook his head before forcing a smile. “Nothing. Just a miscommunication.” 

You knew it wasn’t nothing. For a prankster, Fred could be terrible at lying if something wasn’t sitting right with him. You and George tried to get more out of him to no avail. He wouldn’t discuss what he and their mum had argued about. You two knew it was about you, but Fred gave no details.

When Fred worried about bringing you to his home, he didn’t know that he was worrying about the wrong person. You loved the Burrow and he felt that that much was plain as day to see. But it wasn’t to Molly and Fred ended up telling George as much when he asked him again when they were alone in their room. 

“She wants me to break up with Y/N,” Fred whispered, his voice shaking from anger. “Said she’s too proud for the family. Too stuck up. That she’s rude.”

“But she’s not!”

“I know she’s not. I tried to tell her that. Explain what Y/N meant by ‘peculiar’ and that it’s a good thing. Mum wasn’t having it.”

And the next day, things got worse. Molly stopped trying to hide her distaste for you. She didn’t mutter her comments anymore, rather saying them with full conviction. You tried to stay out of her way and genuinely tried to keep your expression pleasant, but the constant bombardment of hurtful words was getting too much. You hit your breaking point at dinner.

“Can you pass the salt?” you asked no one in particular. It didn’t matter who passed it to you as long as someone did. 

“In this peculiar home, we use manners,” Molly snapped. “Fred, I told you, you need a girl with manners. She certainly doesn’t have any.”

Your expression twisted. 

“Would you rather I just reach over the entire table? Sorry I forgot ‘please,’” you replied, sounding harsher than you would normally speak to any adult, let alone your boyfriend’s mother. 

Molly scoffed. “You are no good for my Fred. You are lucky I don’t toss you out now. He can do so much better.” 

You stood up with so much force your chair scraped the floor, hitting the wall. 

“If that’s how you feel about me…” Your voice cracked. You could feel the heat rising to your face and your hands beginning to shake. Tears began to well behind your eyes, but you weren’t going to let Molly see you cry. “No need to toss me out. I’ll just leave now.” 

You turned and left the room before chaos broke out. You could hear Fred and George yelling. You could hear Arthur and Molly yelling. Ron, Hermione and Ginny joined in before you made it to the front door. 

When Fred had invited you to spend time with his family over the summer, you didn’t expect to be in their garden sobbing as you launched garden gnomes over the hedge. You could still hear the yelling inside the Burrow. You weren’t exactly sure what you did wrong, what you did to make Molly dislike you so much so quickly. Your wand laid on the ground off the side with a soft glow from the Lumos you had cast so you could sort of see what you were doing.

“Are you… de-gnoming our garden?” George asked, trying to hide the amusement in his voice as you launched another gnome. The yelling had quieted now, but you could still hear that heated words were being exchanged.

“One bit me…” you mumbled before sniffling again. 

One had bit you, but that wasn’t why you were crying and you knew that George knew that. Being bit, however, made you feel slightly better about the tears streaming down your face. 

“You know he’s not going to break up with you.”

You nodded. “What did I do?” You launched another gnome.

“You, erm, called the Burrow peculiar? I guess Mum didn’t like that…” He chuckled awkwardly.

When you gave a loud sniffle instead of laughing with him, he pulled you into a hug. You dropped the gnome you had in your hand.

“She’ll come ‘round. Fred’s in there. Ron’s there. Harry, Hermione, Ginny, Percy even. They are all trying to explain to Mum that you didn’t mean it like that. I mean, come on, you got golden boy Percy defending you.”

You gave him a weak smile as you pulled out of his hug. You picked up your wand and pointed it at the Burrow, although it didn’t do much to illuminate the building. 

“It is peculiar though! It’s amazing! Ne’er seen anything like it before. It’s so… distinctly Weasley in the best way possible!” 

George let out a loud laugh and soon enough you were giggling with him. He kept you company outside and kept you laughing until there were no more sniffles coming from you. Eventually, Fred came to collect you both. He led you upstairs to his and George’s room, but George stayed in the living room with the rest of the family. You could hear Molly grumbling to herself in the kitchen as you passed the door, but everyone else seemed to be far more cheerful gathered by the fire. 

You felt your heart jump to your throat when Fred closed the door behind him. You stood in the middle of room, trying to not feel awkward.

“Is this where you break up with me for accidentally insulting your mum?” you asked softly, looking at the ground. You knew George said he wouldn’t but the idea lingered in your mind.

“What are you talking about?” Fred breathed as he quickly moved to you and wrapped his arms around you tighter than George had. 

You couldn’t help it. You started crying again.

“Y/N, no. Not unless…” He pulled back to look you in the eyes. “Unless you want to?” There was so much hesitation and uncertainty in his voice. It broke your heart to hear him like that.

“No, I don’t want to. But your mum-”

“My mum still doesn’t know you meant it as a compliment.”

You rested your forehead on his shoulder. You took a deep breath to breathe in his scent. 

“She just needs to be ‘round you more, get to know you. Then she’ll love you like I do.”

Your eyes went wide against his shoulder. ‘Love you like I do.’ Had Fred just indirectly said he loved you? 

The way Fred stopped talking and stood more frigidly told you that he realized what he said after the words left his mouth. He was waiting for you to give him some kind of reaction. Was it too soon? 

After a moment, you lifted your head and you kissed him. You felt him relax underneath you. Of all your kisses, this was one of the most mild ones yet it was charged with so much emotion.

“I love you too,” you whispered as you broke the kiss.

He smiled at you before kissing you again. 

“You know, I was actually so nervous to bring you here.”

“Yeah? Why?”

“Well, because it is a bit peculiar,” he teased. “No, really, I don’t talk about it much but we’re not… rolling in galleons per se. We make do. We get by. It’s just-”

“I don’t care about that, Fred,” you said, cutting him off before gently kissing his cheek. “It’s your home and your family and it’s all amazing. I’d rather be in a home filled with love and laughter than anything else.” 

“Once Mum comes to her senses, you won’t know what to do with all the love she can give,” Fred warned. 

“I can’t wait for that.”

Because I'm a petty bitch who hold grudges, I really see Molly not coming around until like Bill & Fleur's wedding or beyond, and Reader knows this so she just doesn't really visit the Burrow as much and Ginny is v upset that Reader isn't staying at the Burrow for the wedding and Reader is just like 'I'm not going to impose where I know I'm not wanted.'

[iamthesilentwriter]

In Shadows We Meet

Draco Malfoy x Weasley!Fem!Reader

Summary: You know you’re not meant to, but you do. You and Draco have been secretly dating since the summer. What happens when your secret relationship is almost exposed? Or, the one where Ginny finds out.

Warnings: slight angst, some kissing

Authors Note: Hello! Sorry, I've ghosted you all. I have started/been writing a Marauders Era High School Foster Care AU, centered around Regulus and Sirius Black, over on AO3, under 'iamthesilentwriter'. It has literally become my newest hyperfixation and I've been really enjoying writing it. That doesn't mean I've completely stopped writing over here on tumblr, it's just posts will occur (hopefully) once every month, maybe more if I have multiple ideas. Thank you all for all your patience, and please enjoy my first Draco x reader oneshot!!

Word Count: 6,878

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Being Ginny’s twin is like living in the world’s worst nightmare. 

Your mother only wanted one daughter, so when she found out she was having twins, she wasn’t particularly thrilled. And if she had to have two, why couldn’t they at least be the same? 

You and Ginny are complete opposites. She is funny, outgoing, charismatic, while you are the polar opposite. You’re quiet, anxious, and observant. She thrives in the spotlight, while you prefer the shadows. Where Ginny rushes into adventure with reckless excitement, you hesitate, overthink, and hold yourself back. It has always been that way.

So, it was a surprise—even to yourself—when you started developing feelings for a certain boy your family despises. 

Draco Malfoy.

He gets you in all the ways your family cannot. He understands things about you that even you don’t understand. The way silence isn’t always loneliness, how words aren’t always necessary, how there is strength in restraint. 

You weren’t sure when it started—maybe it was the stolen glances across the Great Hall or the times you found yourself unconsciously searching for him in a crowd. But if you had to pinpoint the moment you truly met, it would be in Potions.

He’s fairly good at Potions, you are absolutely not. You were barely scraping by and the end of last year, and Professor Snape—never one to waste his time on hopeless cases—paired you with Draco for tutoring. 

A Malfoy and a Weasley. The irony of it wasn’t lost on you.

"You’re quiet today."

Ginny’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts as she flops down beside you in the Gryffindor common room, her gaze sharp and searching.

"I’m always quiet," you mutter, staring into the flickering fire.

Ginny snorts. "Yeah, but this is different. You’re brooding. You only do that when something’s on your mind." She nudges your arm. "Spill."

You hesitate, your fingers tightening around the hem of your sleeve. Ginny knows you too well. But telling her? That’s a dangerous game.

Because if she ever found out the truth—about Draco, about everything—you’re not sure she’d ever forgive you.

You’re not sure if anyone in your family would ever forgive you. 

Sure, your eldest brothers—Bill, Charlie, and maybe even Percy—might forgive you. Considering the fact that they’ve always been more accepting, more willing to see beyond the surface. But Ron? The twins? Even your mum and dad?

You can almost picture their faces, a mix of disbelief and betrayal. Loving a Malfoy, of all people. It would be like tearing apart the very fabric of what it means to be a Weasley.

Ginny nudges you again, harder this time. “Hey, don’t go drifting off on me. What’s going on?”

You force a smile, but it feels more like a grimace. “It’s nothing, Ginny.”

Her eyes narrow, and you know she doesn’t believe you for a second. “It’s not nothing. You’ve been weird for weeks now. Even Mum noticed.”

Your heart sinks. Of course your mum noticed. Molly Weasley has a sixth sense for when something is off with her children. It’s only a matter of time before she corners you, demanding answers you can’t give.

“I’ve just got a lot on my mind,” you finally say, the words tasting half-true. “Schoolwork, you know?”

Ginny raises an eyebrow, her skepticism palpable. “You’ve never worried about schoolwork before. Even when you were failing Potions, you didn’t look this stressed.”

You wince at the mention of Potions, the memory of Draco’s steady gaze and patient explanations flooding your mind. How his fingers brushed yours when passing a vial, how his rare, soft smiles were like secrets shared only with you.

“Come on,” Ginny presses, her tone softer now, almost pleading. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. I’m your sister.”

The words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of expectation and trust. She’s your sister—your other half, your constant. But this? This is something you’re not sure you can ever share with her.

“I know, Gin,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the crackling fire. “But some things are just… hard to explain.”

Ginny watches you for a moment, her expression a mix of frustration and concern. Finally, she sighs, leaning back against the couch. “Fine. Keep your secrets. But just—don’t shut me out, okay?”

You nod, the guilt pressing down on your chest. “I won’t.”

But as you glance back into the fire, the flickering flames seem to mock you with their restless dance. Because deep down, you know that as long as Draco Malfoy remains your secret, there will always be a part of you that Ginny—and the rest of your family—will never truly know.

It’s not like you want to keep your relationship with Draco a secret. It’s the fact that you have to. If his father ever found out about the two of you, he most likely would be disowned… or worse.

Draco started sending you cryptic letters the second summer started. It was your way of communication. Every letter was written in a carefully crafted code, disguised as harmless, impersonal conversation. 

To anyone else, they would seem like the ramblings of two bored students discussing Potions and Quidditch. But hidden between the words were secret messages, phrases only the two of you understood.

You remember the moment you realized what he was really saying. 

The first letter had been vague, almost like a test. “The potion ingredients you mentioned… I think they have more meaning than you realize.” You had been confused at first, rereading the words over and over until something clicked. He wasn’t talking about Potions at all.

And then the flowers started arriving.

At first, you thought they were a mistake, but no one in your family ever mentioned them. They would appear outside your window at The Burrow, tied with silver ribbon. A single stem at a time—deliberate, chosen with care.

You had to buy a book on flowers just to understand what they meant.

A blue cornflower—hope and anticipation. A white camellia—you’re adorable. A red tulip—declaration of love.

That was the one that made your heart stop.

That was the one that changed everything.

You kept every single one, hidden away in an old box under your bed. Pressed between pages of books, tucked into letters you never sent back. Proof that, for the first time, someone saw you. Not just as Ginny’s twin. Not just as another Weasley. But as you.

The fire crackles beside you, but your mind is elsewhere. With him.

“I’m going for a walk,” you say suddenly, standing from the couch.

Ginny frowns, tilting her head. “Now?”

You nod, grabbing your cloak. “Yeah. I just need some air.”

She watches you for a moment, as if trying to decipher something unspoken, but eventually sighs. “Alright. Don’t stay out too late.”

You murmur a quiet “I won’t” before slipping out of the common room, your heartbeat steady but quickening.

The castle is quiet at this hour, most students tucked away in their dormitories. You keep your footsteps light, making your way through familiar corridors, down winding staircases, until you reach the spot.

A small, tucked-away alcove near the entrance to the dungeons. A place no one ever pays attention to.

And he’s already there.

Draco leans against the stone wall, arms crossed, his pale hair illuminated by the dim torchlight. The moment he sees you, his expression softens.

“You’re late,” he murmurs, but there’s no bite in his tone.

You step closer, barely suppressing a smile. “I had to be careful.”

He studies you for a moment before reaching into his pocket, pulling out something small. When he extends his hand, your breath catches.

A flower.

A pink carnation.

I’ll never forget you.

You take it carefully, fingers brushing against his. Neither of you speaks for a moment, the silence filled with everything unsaid.

And then, softly, he says, “I missed you.”

Your fingers tighten around the delicate stem of the flower, your heart beating a little too fast. It’s ridiculous, really. You’ve met Draco here more times than you can count, exchanged letters all summer, deciphered secret messages meant only for you. And yet, every time, the sight of him makes you feel like you’re standing on the edge of something vast and terrifying.

His stormy grey eyes hold yours, searching, like he’s trying to commit every detail of your face to memory. Then, before you can process what’s happening, he leans in—just slightly, just enough that you can feel the warmth of him, the scent of expensive cologne and parchment and something unmistakably Draco.

And then, softly, he presses a kiss to your cheek.

It’s brief—chaste, even—but it leaves your skin burning.

You’re sure he can hear your heartbeat. It’s embarrassingly loud in your ears.

You swallow hard, staring down at the pink carnation still nestled between your fingers. Your voice is barely above a whisper when you finally say it.

“I’ve missed you too.”

Draco exhales, like he’s been holding his breath, and when you dare to glance up at him, there’s something unbearably tender in his expression. Like you’re something precious. Like you matter.

For a long moment, neither of you speaks. The castle is silent around you, the dim torchlight flickering against the cold stone walls. The world beyond these walls doesn’t exist. Not your family, not his, not the expectations, not the war that lingers in hushed whispers in the halls.

Just this. Just him.

Draco reaches out, his fingers brushing against yours, hesitant but certain.

“You know,” he murmurs, a ghost of a smirk on his lips, “one day, I’d like to do that properly.”

Your breath hitches, heat rushing to your face as you look away. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, you’re still here.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real annoyance behind it. Just fondness. Just the quiet kind of happiness you’re not sure you’ve ever had before.

You don’t say it, but you think it. I hope I’ll always be here.

It’s not some act of defiance you are trying to display. And, yes, you are aware of the fact that Draco has been nothing but horrible towards your family.

But he’s changed.

He’s stepped back. He’s stopped saying nasty things, he’s stopped bullying others, he’s stopped being… that person.

And, maybe, you had something to do with it. You don’t think Draco would ever admit it, though—however true it is.

You lean against the cold stone wall of your usual meeting spot, a quiet alcove near the entrance to the dungeons, just out of sight. It’s late, and the castle is hushed with the weight of the sleeping students inside it. You’ve just finished your prefect rounds, and exhaustion lingers in your limbs, but the anticipation of seeing him keeps you awake.

You think back to the first time you truly met him—not in passing in the halls, not in the context of family rivalry, but really met him.

Fourth year. Potions tutoring.

He had been annoyed at first, at Snape for forcing him to help a Weasley, at you for being so hopeless with brewing. You remember the sharp remarks, the condescending sighs. But you also remember the moment something shifted—that first time you understood something because of the way he explained it, the way his expression changed when he realized you weren’t as dull as he thought.

And now, here you are.

The sound of approaching footsteps pulls you from your thoughts. You barely have time to react before Draco steps into the alcove, his familiar scent washing over you—cologne, parchment, something distinctly him.

He doesn’t hesitate.

His hand finds your waist, drawing you close, and before you can say a word, his lips are on yours.

It’s still new, this thing between you—the kisses, the way he touches you with something close to reverence—but it’s welcome.

Your breath stutters, but you melt into him easily, your arms winding around his neck. You tangle your fingers in his hair, soft and fair between your fingers, and he hums—a sound of quiet contentment that makes your heart swell.

When you finally pull back, your face warm, you barely manage a shy, “Hi.”

Draco doesn’t let go. He keeps you close, his thumb brushing slow circles against your waist. “Hello,” he murmurs, his voice lower than usual, like he doesn’t want to disturb the fragile moment between you.

You stay there, pressed against him, basking in the rare peace of just being. No expectations, no secrets to keep, no families to disappoint—just the two of you.

Then, after a long silence, he speaks.

“I think my mother knows.”

You freeze. Your entire body tenses in his hold, but Draco doesn’t let go.

You pull back just enough to look at him, your hands still resting against his shoulders. Your voice is barely above a whisper when you ask, “Not about us?”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “But… I think she knows I’ve been seeing someone.”

You swallow, trying to push past the lump forming in your throat. Of course she knows. Narcissa Malfoy is no fool. If anyone would notice the changes in Draco—the way he sneaks away, the way he seems lighter somehow—it would be her.

“How?” you whisper.

Draco sighs, running a hand through his hair. “She asked me the other day if there was ‘a girl’ I was spending time with. She was… careful with her words, but she knows me too well.” He pauses, his gaze searching yours. “I didn’t confirm anything, obviously, but she knows.”

You nod slowly, your heart hammering against your ribs.

“What do you think she’ll do?”

Draco is quiet for a moment, his grip on you tightening slightly. Then, with surprising certainty, he says, “Nothing.”

Your brows furrow. “Nothing?”

“She’s not like my father,” he murmurs, his voice softer now. “She’s never cared about blood status the way he does. She wouldn’t approve, not openly, but… she wouldn’t stop me either.”

You exhale, a slow, measured breath. It’s not reassurance, not entirely, but it’s enough.

Draco watches you carefully, then leans in again, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. “I won’t let anyone take this from me,” he whispers against your skin.

And for now, that promise is enough.

But that promise doesn’t last long.

You’ve been agitated. Studying for the O.W.L.s is no joke.

Draco has been understanding in every way that matters.

He doesn’t complain when you’re too exhausted to sneak away as often as you used to. He doesn’t sulk when your letters become shorter, your handwriting rushed. Instead, he presses a kiss to your forehead when you do meet, tells you to take care of yourself, and reminds you—without words—that he’s still here.

But you haven’t been as careful.

You tell yourself it’s because you’re tired, distracted, too busy to think about every step you take. But deep down, you know it’s more than that. You’ve let your guard slip, just a little.

You’re just finishing up your meeting with Draco now, his hands warm on your waist as he lingers, reluctant to let go. He presses one last kiss to your lips, slow and lingering, before murmuring, “Go. Before someone catches us.”

You nod, exhaling softly, before slipping away from him.

The castle is quiet as you make your way back, the corridors dimly lit with flickering torches. You let yourself relax, just slightly, as you turn a corner—

And walk straight into someone.

You stumble back, heart leaping to your throat, and when you look up, panic surges through your veins like ice.

Ginny.

She crosses her arms, her brows furrowed. “There you are. I’ve been looking for you all over.”

Your mind races. Does she know?

You force yourself to stay calm, to school your features into something neutral. “Oh. Sorry, I was just—”

Ginny’s eyes narrow, scanning you, and you realize with horror that your lips are probably still a little swollen, your hair a bit mussed.

Think. Say something.

“You were just what?” she presses.

You swallow hard. “I—uh—prefect rounds. I lost track of time.”

Ginny doesn’t look convinced. “Really?”

Your stomach churns. You’ve been slipping up, you know you have. And now, with your sister standing in front of you, suspicion written all over her face, you’re not sure if you can lie your way out of this one.

“Uh-huh. Yep,” you say, nodding a little too quickly.

Ginny raises an eyebrow. She doesn’t have to say anything—the look on her face is enough.

“Sure you were,” she says, and then, with a tilt of her head, she adds, “but you’ve still got an hour.”

Your stomach drops. She caught me in my lie.

“Uhhh,” you stammer, scrambling for something—anything—to say. But your mind is completely blank.

Ginny watches you, her expression unreadable. Then, just as your panic reaches its peak, she does something unexpected.

She loops her arm through yours and starts walking, dragging you along toward the Gryffindor common room.

You blink, caught off guard, but let her lead you without resistance. The silence between you is thick, almost suffocating. Your heart pounds in your chest, and you’re not sure if it’s from the near-disaster you just avoided or the fear that Ginny isn’t done questioning you yet.

Then, after a beat, she finally speaks.

“You have a boyfriend?”

You sigh, shoulders sagging. There’s no use denying it.

“…Kind of.”

Ginny hums. “How long?”

You hesitate. Then, quietly, you admit, “Since summer.”

She nods, as if that makes sense, then glances at you again. “Is it… Michael Corner?”

You shake your head. “No.”

Ginny nods again, almost thoughtfully. “Huh. He’s been acting weird lately too.”

You don’t know what to say to that, so you keep your mouth shut, hoping she’ll drop the subject.

No such luck.

“What year is he in?”

You hesitate for half a second before answering. “…Sixth.”

Ginny hums. “Is he in Gryffindor?”

You shake your head.

She exhales, looking at you out of the corner of her eye. “Are you gonna tell me who he is?”

You swallow. “I’m… not ready for anyone to know.”

Ginny studies you for a long moment, then nods, squeezing your arm gently. “I understand.”

You reach the Fat Lady’s portrait, and Ginny mutters the password. As the portrait swings open and you step inside, you can’t shake the unease curling in your stomach.

I’ve got to be more careful.

It wasn’t supposed to go like this.

You didn’t mean to get upset with Draco.

But you did.

It had been a stupid argument, one that shouldn’t have escalated the way it did. You can still hear the sharp edge in your own voice, the way Draco’s expression had hardened, his frustration evident as he raked a hand through his hair.

“Why are you acting like this?” he had asked, voice laced with exasperation.

You had crossed your arms, your own irritation bubbling over. “I don’t know, Draco. Maybe because I’m exhausted? Because I have a thousand things to do and I can’t afford to get caught sneaking off every night?”

His jaw had clenched. “I never asked you to.”

And that—that—had been what set you off.

“Right. Of course you didn’t. But it’s still me risking everything, isn’t it?” you had snapped.

Draco’s expression had flickered—hurt flashing across his features so quickly you almost doubted it was ever there. But then his face had gone cold, distant.

“I didn’t realize I was such a burden.”

You had opened your mouth to say something—anything—but he had already taken a step back.

“I’ll give you space,” he had said, voice quieter now. “Since I’m clearly just making things harder for you.”

And then he had left.

That was nearly two weeks ago.

You haven’t spoken since.

It’s now the Christmas holidays, and you haven’t received a single letter from him. Not even the smallest, coded note. You’ve debated whether or not to send him something, but every time you pick up a quill, doubt creeps in.

What if he doesn’t want to hear from you?

So, you don’t write. And you’re miserable.

You’re snappish with everyone, your temper shorter than usual, your patience wearing thin over the smallest things. It’s only a matter of time before someone calls you out on it.

That someone, unsurprisingly, is Ginny.

She storms into your room one evening, arms crossed, her expression set.

“Alright, enough,” she says, planting herself in front of you. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

You glare at her from where you sit on your bed, arms wrapped around your knees. “Nothing.”

Ginny scoffs. “Oh, please. You’ve been in a mood since we got home. Snapping at everyone, storming around like you’re about to hex the next person who breathes wrong—”

“I have not—”

“Yes, you have,” she interrupts, eyes flashing. “And I’m sick of it. You’re not telling me something, and I want to know what.”

You open your mouth to argue again, but the lump in your throat is too thick. Instead, to your absolute horror, your vision starts to blur.

Ginny’s eyes widen slightly at the sight of your tears, but she doesn’t back down. If anything, she crosses her arms tighter, her stance firm.

“Oh,” she says, her voice quieter now. But there’s still frustration beneath it, an unwillingness to let this go. “So there is something wrong.”

You shake your head quickly, blinking hard, trying to push back the sting in your eyes. “It’s— it’s nothing, Ginny.”

She scoffs. “Bullshit.”

You flinch, and Ginny exhales sharply, running a hand through her hair.

“You know, I’ve been patient with you,” she says, voice clipped, pacing at the foot of your bed. “We all have. We all thought, maybe, you just needed some space. But you’ve been awful to everyone lately. You barely talk to me, you snap at Mum every time she asks you something, you completely shut down whenever someone even tries to—”

“I said I’m fine,” you snap, but it comes out shakier than you intended.

Ginny whirls around, her brown eyes narrowing. “No, you’re not. And I don’t get why you won’t just tell me what’s going on! I’m your twin, remember? The person who’s supposed to know when something’s wrong? But you won’t even let me in.”

Her words hit like a punch to the chest, and the weight of everything crashes over you all at once.

You suck in a sharp breath, but it’s like you can’t breathe. Your hands grip at your knees, your entire body going rigid as the pressure in your chest tightens, and suddenly—

The tears spill over.

You don’t mean to. You don’t want to. But once it starts, you can’t stop.

Ginny freezes. “Oh.”

Your shoulders shake, and you press the heels of your palms against your eyes, trying to will the sobs back down.

Ginny hesitates for half a second before sitting down beside you, her voice softer now. “Hey…”

You shake your head, still unable to speak.

The bed shifts slightly as Ginny shifts closer. “Look, I didn’t mean to— I wasn’t trying to make you cry, I just—” She sighs. “Talk to me. Please.”

“It’s stupid.”

Ginny sits on the bed beside you. “It’s clearly not.”

You exhale shakily, willing yourself to get a grip. But your voice is small when you finally admit, “I messed things up.”

Ginny stays quiet, waiting for you to continue.

You pick at a loose thread on your sleeve, carefully keeping details vague. “I got into an argument with… someone. And now, I think I’ve lost him.”

There’s a pause. Then, something shifts in Ginny’s expression. It’s like something clicks.

“…You’re in love with him.”

You freeze.

The words send a jolt through you, your breath catching in your throat.

Love.

You hadn’t— You weren’t—

Except… you are, aren’t you?

Your heart pounds, your entire body going still. You think of Draco—his sharp wit, his rare smiles, the way he looks at you like you’re something worth holding onto. You think of his hands at your waist, the warmth of his touch, the quiet, careful way he had let you set the pace.

You think of how much it hurts to be apart from him.

“…Oh,” you whisper.

Ginny’s expression softens. “Yeah,” she says. “Oh.”

You swallow past the sudden lump in your throat.

Ginny nudges your shoulder gently. “You should write to him.”

You hesitate.

“Apologize,” she says. “Talk to him.”

You nod slowly. “Yeah… yeah, I think I will.”

Ginny smiles, standing up and stretching. “Good.” Then, with a teasing glint in her eyes, she adds, “And whoever this boy is, if he starts treating you badly, let me know, and I’ll handle it.”

A surprised laugh bursts out of you. “I’m sure you will.”

Ginny smirks. “Damn right.”

And then, with one last knowing look, she leaves you alone with your thoughts.

You take a deep breath, then pull out parchment and ink.

You hesitate only for a moment before pressing the quill to the page.

My Knight,

I’m sorry.

I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. I was stressed, and I took it out on you, and that wasn’t fair.

You are not a burden. Not even close. If anything, you’re the only thing keeping me sane. I’ve missed you, more than I can put into words. I don’t expect you to forgive me right away, but I needed to say this.

Please write back.

Love,

Your Supernova 

You stare at the letter for a long moment before folding it carefully.

Then, heart pounding, you seal it and set it aside to send in the morning.

You wake up with the same knot of anxiety in your stomach, the one that’s been twisting ever since you sent Draco the letter yesterday. Your thoughts race, each one a worst-case scenario. What if he doesn’t reply? What if he’s angry with you? What if he never wants to speak to you again? The questions swirl like a storm in your head, and despite the bright December morning outside, the world feels impossibly heavy. You try to push them away, but they cling to you, relentless.

It’s already noon when you hear the soft knock on your door. You’re not expecting anyone, but you know immediately what it is. Your heart leaps in your chest. Ginny’s standing there, holding a letter, and the panic hits you again like a wave.

"Here you go," she says, her tone light, but the knowing look in her eyes makes it clear that she senses your unease. She offers you the letter with a small smile, not hiding the fact that she knows how much this means to you.

Your hand shakes as you reach for the letter. "Ginny," you murmur, voice barely a whisper, "I can’t."

She watches you with a raised eyebrow, crossing her arms. "You’re freaking out over a letter? Relax, sis."

"I—" You try to steady your breath, but your hands are trembling too much to be still. You want to tell her that it’s more than just a letter—that this could change everything. But the words don’t come. "What if—"

She cuts you off, her hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently. "Look, if it’ll help, I can read it for you."

Your eyes widen at the idea. "No!" You grab the letter from her hand, clutching it to your chest. "I want to read it myself."

Ginny laughs softly, shaking her head. “Alright, alright. Take your time.” She watches you with a mix of amusement and something more—concern, maybe. Her gaze lingers, but she doesn’t push, letting you have your moment.

With a deep breath, you rip open the envelope. The sound of it seems too loud in the quiet room. Your heart beats in your throat as you pull the letter out. The parchment is thick, the edges slightly curled from the fold. The familiar scent of ink and parchment fills your senses, but it's the feeling in your chest that’s the hardest to bear. The anxiety. The dread. The hope.

You unfold the letter, feeling the smooth paper against your fingertips, and begin to read:

Dear Supernova,

I’m sorry for not replying sooner. I’ve been thinking about everything you said, and I’ve realized that I shouldn’t have been so distant. You didn’t deserve that.

I don’t know where things are headed between us, but I want to see where it goes. I’ll do better, I promise. You’re worth more than the way I acted.

I’ve missed you.

Love,

Your Knight.

Your heart softens as you read his words, the relief flooding in with each line. It’s not as bad as you feared. In fact, it’s better than you’d hoped. The knot in your stomach begins to loosen, and you let out a shaky breath. For a brief moment, everything feels right again. He’s trying.

But then, something else catches your eye. A small, dried flower slips from the letter. You pick it up carefully, fingers brushing the lavender petals. It’s vibrant even in its pressed state, a perfect wild lavender, curled and fragrant, its purple hue still bright. The meaning of lavender strikes you instantly—devotion.

You smile softly at the gesture. It’s personal, thoughtful. Something Draco would do, if he was truly trying.

Your attention shifts again as something else falls from the letter—a piece of jewelry. You gasp softly, and Ginny leans forward as she notices it too.

You pick up the necklace gently, your fingers skimming the cool silver chain. It’s delicate yet sturdy, not too heavy but unmistakably expensive. The pendant is a small, intricate locket, polished to perfection, gleaming in the soft light of your room. You turn it over in your hands, admiring the fine craftsmanship.

It’s engraved with delicate swirls, floral patterns wrapping around the edges. When you open it, you find two tiny spaces, perfect for small photos. Your heart tightens as you wonder—did Draco have this made just for you? Or had he kept it all this time, waiting for the right moment to give it away?

A folded note slips from the locket, and you unfold it with trembling fingers.

Merry Christmas.

It’s Draco’s handwriting, neat and precise, though a little more formal than you’d expect for a casual holiday message. You smile at the simplicity of it, the warmth of the words, and yet, something unsettles you. Was he truly thinking of you when he wrote it, or was he just trying to smooth things over?

Ginny doesn’t give you much time to ponder. She snatches the necklace from your hand and inspects it, eyes wide in awe. “Ooooh, wow. This is gorgeous.” Her fingers glide over the pendant. “And… really expensive.”

You laugh nervously, your voice barely a whisper. “I—he didn’t have to—”

She holds it up to the light, her eyes glittering. "I don’t care what he had to do. This is way beyond what I’d expect from a… guy like him." She glances at you, raising an eyebrow, clearly surprised by the expensive gift.

You smile softly but it’s bittersweet. You’re not used to receiving gifts like this—not from anyone, especially not from someone like Draco. You glance back down at the letter, reading his words again, feeling the weight of them. I’ll do better, I promise. You trace the edges of the necklace absently, your chest tightening again.

Ginny stands there for a moment, watching you quietly. The room falls silent as you let the words sink in. But Ginny isn’t done yet.

She sets the necklace down carefully and gives you a sharp, knowing look. “So, is everything okay between you two?”

You freeze, unsure how to respond. The truth feels complicated, tangled in knots you don’t know how to untangle. “Yes... and no. For now, everything’s fine. But I still need to talk to him. I just need some time to figure it out.”

Ginny nods slowly, studying your face. “Alright. Just don’t let it go too long, okay? You deserve someone who makes you happy.”

You nod in return, grateful for her support. “I know.”

She stands, moving toward the door, then turns with a half-smile on her face. “Well, let me know if you need anything. And…” She glances back at you, a playful glint in her eye. “If he starts treating you badly, I swear I’ll take matters into my own hands.”

You chuckle softly. “I’m sure you will.”

Ginny smirks, then exits the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You sit there, the letter in your hands, the necklace resting beside you. You should feel lighter now, but something doesn’t sit right. You can’t place it, but there’s a tension in the air you can’t shake.

You try to dismiss it as nerves. Maybe it’s just the weight of everything that’s happened, or the confusion you still feel. But it lingers, like a shadow in the back of your mind.

Things slowly start to unravel the second you step foot onto Hogwarts grounds.

Christmas break had been a nightmare. All you wanted to do was apologize to Draco properly, not some half-hearted apologies in letters.

And now, as you sit in your secret meeting place, tucked away behind the old tapestry on the seventh floor, you can’t stop fidgeting. The silver locket rests in your palm, cool against your skin, the chain sliding between your fingers as you move it back and forth. It’s become a nervous habit over the last few days—something to ground you as you run through every possible way to say I’m sorry without completely breaking down.

What if he doesn’t forgive you? What if you’ve messed things up beyond repair?

The thought makes your stomach churn. You clench your jaw, trying to steady yourself. You just need to see him, to explain everything, to tell him—

The sound of footsteps approaching makes you freeze. Your heart leaps to your throat, and you barely have time to compose yourself before the curtain of the tapestry shifts and Draco steps through.

The second you see him, you don’t think. You just move.

You surge forward, throwing your arms around him, clutching him tightly like he might slip through your fingers if you don’t hold on. He stiffens for a moment, surprised, but then his arms come around you, strong and sure, pulling you against him. The familiar scent of him—clean parchment, expensive cologne, and something unmistakably him—fills your senses, and you let out a shaky breath.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, voice breaking. “I’m so sorry, Draco.”

You feel him shift slightly, and before you can say anything else, his hands cup your face, tilting it up toward him. You barely have time to register the soft look in his silver eyes before he’s kissing you.

It’s not rushed, not desperate—just firm and reassuring, as if he’s telling you it’s okay without needing words. The tension inside you unravels, and you melt into him, hands clutching the fabric of his robes as you kiss him back.

When he finally pulls away, his forehead rests against yours, his breath warm against your skin.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he murmurs. “Not anymore.”

Your throat tightens, and you shake your head slightly. “I do,” you insist. “I should’ve never made you feel like—like you weren’t important. You are. So much.”

Draco exhales slowly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “You drive me insane sometimes, you know that?” His voice is soft, teasing, but there’s no real bite to it.

You huff out a weak laugh, sniffling. “Yeah, I know.”

His arms wrap around you again, holding you close, and you let yourself sink into the warmth of him. For a while, neither of you speak. You just exist in this moment, the weight of the last few weeks fading as you press your face into his shoulder.

He’s here. He’s yours. And this time, you won’t let your fear push him away.

The next couple of days have really taken a toll on you. You’ve barely had time to see Draco due to all the late-night studying you’ve been doing.

Today had been a particularly tough day. And in a desperate need to see Draco, you completely forgot to keep an eye out for anyone who might follow you.

You weren’t thinking straight. How could you? All you needed was to see him, and maybe, because of that need, you let your guard down.

And now, you are suffering the consequences.

You’re pressed against Draco’s chest, his arms wrapped securely around you as you shake in his hold. His hand moves in soothing circles along your back, and you clutch onto his robes like a lifeline, your body wracked with silent sobs.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs into your hair, his voice warm and steady. “Everything is going to be okay.”

You don’t know how long you stand there, buried in his arms, listening to his heartbeat as he whispers quiet reassurances against your skin.

“It’s alright, love,” he says, voice softer now, full of something you can’t quite name. “I promise, it’s alright.”

Eventually, your tears slow, your breathing evens out, and the weight pressing against your chest lightens just enough for you to finally lift your head. Draco tilts your chin up gently, his silver eyes scanning your face as if making sure you’re truly alright.

And then, he kisses you.

It starts slow—his lips brushing against yours like a question, as if making sure you want this. And Merlin, do you want this.

You kiss him back instantly, pushing yourself closer to him, your fingers threading into his hair. The tension of the past few days melts away as he deepens the kiss, one hand sliding to your waist, the other resting against the back of your neck. It’s intoxicating—the way he kisses you like you’re something precious, something to be cherished.

You’re so lost in the warmth of him, in the way he holds you, that you don’t hear the footsteps approaching.

You don’t even register the presence behind you until—

Someone coughs.

You and Draco break apart so fast it’s almost comical, your head snapping toward the sound.

And there, standing just a few feet away, is Ginny.

All the blood drains from your face.

She doesn’t say anything at first. She just looks at you, her expression unreadable, which somehow makes it worse.

Your heart pounds against your ribs. Ginny isn’t stupid. She’s piecing everything together in real time—the secret meetings, the necklace, your constant evasion when she asked who you were seeing. And now, catching you like this, wrapped up in Draco Malfoy like he’s the air you breathe—

You try to swallow the panic creeping up your throat.

“Ginny—”

But she’s already turning on her heel.

Your heart lurches. No, no, no.

“Ginny, wait!” You break away from Draco and hurry after her.

She stops, but only just, turning around sharply. “What?” she snaps, her voice cutting.

You flinch, but you force yourself to meet her eyes. Draco is right behind you, tense but silent.

“I—I’m sorry,” you start, voice uneven. “I should’ve told you sooner. There was a reason I didn’t—”

Something shifts in Ginny’s face, like a realization hitting her all at once.

“I’m not mad at you,” she says suddenly, though her voice is still tight. “Well, I am, but I’m more mad that you didn’t think you could trust me with this.” She exhales sharply, running a hand through her hair. “I get why you didn’t say anything, because, yeah, it’s Malfoy—” her gaze flickers to Draco before settling back on you “—but you’re happy. I’ve never seen you this happy before.”

Your breath catches.

Ginny sighs, her voice softer now. “I see the way you act, like you’re my shadow. And, frankly, you’re treated like one. It’s not fair.” Her eyes search yours. “You deserve to have something that’s just yours. And if that’s him—” she jerks her chin toward Draco, “—then fine. But you should’ve told me.”

You blink at her, unable to speak. She’s not furious about who you’re dating—just that you hadn’t told her. The relief that floods you is almost overwhelming.

“I know,” you whisper. “I’m sorry.”

Ginny studies you for a moment longer before she finally sighs. “Yeah, yeah,” she mutters, shaking her head. Then, she turns to Draco, her gaze sharp as a dagger.

“If you hurt her, I’ll kill you.”

Draco actually chuckles—until he sees the look on Ginny’s face. He swallows, nodding. “Understood.”

Ginny hums, clearly satisfied. “I’ll see you back in the common room,” she says, glancing at you one last time before walking away.

Silence lingers in the air for a beat. Then, warm hands wrap around your waist, pulling you back into a familiar embrace.

You turn in Draco’s arms, looping your own around his neck.

“Well,” he murmurs, a small smirk playing on his lips. “That wasn’t so bad.”

You huff out a laugh. “I guess not.”

His smirk deepens, mischief dancing in his eyes. “Now we should tell Weasley about us.”

Your stomach drops. You swat his shoulder instantly. “Absolutely not.”

Draco chuckles, leaning in. “Fine, fine,” he teases, pressing a kiss to your lips. “We’ll save that heart attack for another day.”

[hollowed-theory-hall]

The Weasleys Aren't Great Parents...

I know a lot here love to talk about how the Weasleys were so good to take Harry in and all that... But the truth is, the parenting skills of Molly and Arthur Weasley are questionable at best.

I'm not saying they don't love their kids and Harry — they do, and they do so honestly. I'm just here to say they aren't actually a good example of parenting.

Like, when fans talk about the Weasleys what I usually see is either treating them like they are a perfect example of a family or unfair bashing. So, while I definitely believe that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley love their kids, this post showcases where their parenting skills are lacking...

So, the Weasleys, to Harry, seem like the perfect example of a happy, loving family. Now, I'm not saying there isn't love there, but the family dynamics we see aren't great, to put it lightly. Harry just has no reference for anything better.

Children Running Away

The first thing I want to mention here is that all Weasley children leave the Burrow and their parents the first chance they get.

Bill goes to work for Gringotts in Egypt.

Charlie goes to tame dragons in Romania.

Percy, well, Percy is a whole can of worms right there. But once his parents shun him for being more successful than his father in the ministry, he doesn't look back.

Fred and George leave Hogwarts in the middle of their seventh year and move out of home then, before their even done with school.

I don't think that's normal. This is what we see in houses where there is mistreatment of children, so they don't want to stay any moment longer than necessary. Because all of this, what all of them did, was running away from home.

Each of these Weasleys was seventeen — maybe eighteen when he chose to leave (sometimes the country). This is running away, even if they still talk to their parents, they did rub away from living under the same roof.

This already suggests to me something unhealthy is going on there.

favoritism

Any child psychologist would tell you one of the worst things a parent could do is pick favorites amongst their children. All children, favored or not, suffer from it.

And Mr. And Mrs. Weasley.... well, they showcase favoritism constantly, here is an example from Order of the Phoenix:

“Get him red and gold to match his badge,” said George, smirking. “Match his what?” said Mrs. Weasley absently, rolling up a pair of maroon socks and placing them on Ron’s pile. “His badge,” said Fred, with the air of getting the worst over quickly. “His lovely shiny new prefect’s badge.” Fred’s words took a moment to penetrate Mrs. Weasley’s preoccupation about pajamas. “His . . . but . . . Ron, you’re not. . . ?” Ron held up his badge. Mrs. Weasley let out a shriek just like Hermione’s. “I don’t believe it! I don’t believe it! Oh, Ron, how wonderful! A prefect! That’s everyone in the family!” “What are Fred and I, next-door neighbors?” said George indignantly, as his mother pushed him aside and flung her arms around her youngest son.

(Order of the Pheonix, page 163)

Molly is so glad to have prefects in the family, that she actually ignores the fact Fred and George aren't prefects and are her kids. George actually calls her out on it, except she isn't actually listening to him l. No, she pushes him aside. This treatment is insane, and I don't blame them for up and leaving the moment they turned seventeen.

This favoritism is seen more, this is from Chamber of Secrets:

“Sorry, Mum, but see, we had to —” All three of Mrs. Weasley’s sons were taller than she was, but they cowered as her rage broke over them. “Beds empty! No note! Car gone — could have crashed — out of my mind with worry — did you care? — never, as long as I’ve lived — you wait until your father gets home, we never had trouble like this from Bill or Charlie or Percy —” “Perfect Percy,” muttered Fred. “YOU COULD DO WITH TAKING A LEAF OUT OF PERCY’S BOOK!” yelled Mrs. Weasley, prodding a finger in Fred’s chest. “You could have died, you could have been seen, you could have lost your father his job —” It seemed to go on for hours. Mrs. Weasley had shouted herself hoarse before she turned on Harry, who backed away. “I’m very pleased to see you, Harry, dear,” she said. “Come in and have some breakfast.”

(Chamber of Secrets, page 38)

Prefect Percy is better than Fred and George and they should learn from him and be more like him, according to Mrs. Weasley. This sort of comparison between children is really harmful to their development and is frowned upon by most. Definitely by me.

Not to mention how Harry is definitely a favorite of hers, so much so he does not get shouted at for the same crime, but get's food. That is honestly the bare minimum she can do for him considering...

Harry's Abuse

The Weasleys are aware of Harry's abuse. They are made aware of it time and time again, and with all their love for Harry — they do nothing more than give him food when he asks. I don't think I need to explain why this is terrible.

“I don’t blame you, dear,” she assured Harry, tipping eight or nine sausages onto his plate. “Arthur and I have been worried about you, too. Just last night we were saying we’d come and get you ourselves if you hadn’t written back to Ron by Friday. But really” (she was now adding three fried eggs to his plate), “flying an illegal car halfway across the country — anyone could have seen you —” She flicked her wand casually at the dishes in the sink, which began to clean themselves, clinking gently in the background. “It was cloudy, Mum!” said Fred. “You keep your mouth closed while you’re eating!” Mrs. Weasley snapped.“They were starving him, Mum!” said George. “And you!” said Mrs. Weasley, but it was with a slightly softened expression that she started cutting Harry bread and buttering it for him.

(Chamber of Secrets, page 39)

George here outright tells her Harry was being starved — this goes ignored. When Harry writes to her to send him food, she sends it, but doesn't ask him why he isn't being fed:

She had no idea that Harry was not following the diet at all. The moment he had got wind of the fact that he was expected to survive the summer on carrot sticks, Harry had sent Hedwig to his friends with pleas for help … Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper, had obliged with a sack full of his own homemade rock cakes. (Harry hadn’t touched these; he had had too much experience of Hagrid’s cooking.) Mrs. Weasley, however, had sent the family owl, Errol, with an enormous fruitcake and assorted meat pies.

(Goblet of Fire, page 28)

No, she sent him food but didn't bother doing anything to help a child out of a clearly abusive situation. Not even asking why he isn't getting enough food.

Arthur Weasley isn't any better. He knows just as much as Molly and even met Harry's pleasant relatives:

“Harry said good-bye to you,” he said. “Didn’t you hear him?” “It doesn’t matter,” Harry muttered to Mr. Weasley. “Honestly, I don’t care.” Mr. Weasley did not remove his hand from Harry’s shoulder. “You aren’t going to see your nephew till next summer,” he said to Uncle Vernon in mild indignation. “Surely you’re going to say good-bye?”

(Goblet of Fire, page 48)

He acts as if the Dursleys are normal. As if a child saying their caretakers wouldn't care he wasn't there isn't cause for alarm. No, Arthur Weasley just thought it impolite and odd, but not enough to actually do something to help Harry. Just annoy Uncle Vernon.

Blaming Kids For Things Not Their Fault

“You?” she said, catching her teacup as it scampered happily away across the desk on four sturdy little willow-patterned legs and replacing it in front of her. “Why should I be worried about you?” “When Mum’s next letter finally gets through Umbridge’s screening process,” said Ron bitterly, now holding his cup up while its frail legs tried feebly to support its weight, “I’m going to be in deep trouble. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s sent a Howler again.” “But —” “It’ll be my fault Fred and George left, you wait,” said Ron darkly. “She’ll say I should’ve stopped them leaving, I should’ve grabbed the ends of their brooms and hung on or something. . . . Yeah, it’ll be all my fault. . . .”

(Order of the Pheonix, page 679)

After Fred and George leave Hogwarts, Ron tells Hermione she should worry about him because he would suffer their mother's ire. He speaks about it as if it's a regular occurrence. Like he regularly gets blamed for Feed and George's mishaps when the twins aren't there.

This is incredibly unfair to Ron, Fred, and George. There is no reason Ron should fear his parent's response for something he had no control over.

Conclusions

As I stated above, I don't think Arthur and Molly Weasley are abusive or neglectful or that they don't love their kids. They are far from perfect, loving, and dotting parents I see them sometimes portrayed as. Neither are they as awful as I sometimes see them. Like many characters in this series, they are more complex than that.

[agaypanic]

Hey! Could you do Charlie Swan x wife fem!reader where she own a bakery and they first met there (sort of flashback) and their journey through their relationship. And please add Bella (as someone nice & she accept her). Tag me later! Thank :)

Black Coffee and a Bagel (Charlie Swan X Baker!Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: Chief Swan coming into your bakery for breakfast one day turns into a life full of love, baking, and coffee.

A/N: this took forever to write holy shit. i usually dont add the word count to the actual fic, but i feel like i should tell yall this is over 5k words… when i read the twilight books (its been so hard getting through them bc they’re lowkey boring guys…) i envision charlie as billy burke but with kinda curly hair bc that’s what he has in the books, so that’s how he looks in this lol reader’s age isn’t specified so she can be read as charlie’s age or younger (legal obvi). maybe a bit ooc charlie but idc

***

It was a usual cloudy day in Forks, Washington. Like most other town residents, you didn’t really mind the gloomy weather. As long as your heaters worked and you had a decent jacket, you didn’t really care.

You were always the busiest in the morning. You owned a bakery in the middle of town, the only one open at six in the morning. Almost everyone came through your shop for breakfast or a drink before heading to work or school. 

But every now and then, you had a first-time customer.

The bell above your front door jingled, and you heard footsteps enter with a bit of hesitancy. You looked up from the espresso machine you were cleaning to see a man with curly dark hair, a mustache, and a badge.

“Chief Swan,” you smiled, moving to the counter. He was looking around the bakery with mild curiosity. “Haven’t seen you here before.”

“Yeah, I uh… I forgot to grab a coffee before I left the house.” He sounded like he was a bit embarrassed by his mistake. Then he finally looked up, chocolate brown eyes locking with yours. “And a lot of people talk about this place, so I figured it’d be a good opportunity to check it out.”

“Well, I’m glad to have you here. Welcome to Bear Claw Bakery.” You smile at him, maybe a bit too cheerfully for how early in the morning it was, but it was all part of your brand. Seeing such a handsome face also helped. “I can make any coffee you’d like.”

“I can see that.” Chief Swan said, gesturing to the convoluted drink menu on the wall behind you. He seemed a bit intimidated by all the choices.

“How about a black coffee?” He lit up, seemingly relieved by your suggestion.

“Yes, please. Large.”

As you made his coffee, you fell into a comfortable silence. You became focused on his drink, and he decided to peruse your display cases of baked goods. After all, this was a bakery.

“See anything you like?” You ask as you put the lid on his cup, remembering to add a sleeve so he wouldn’t burn his hand.

He hummed, staring at a tray of bagels for a few seconds before looking at you. He straightened up, pointing to the baked goods.

“Could I get a bagel? Plain.” 

“Of course!” You slid the glass door open and grabbed a bagel with your tongs, putting it in a goody bag and folding the top a few times. Chief Swan watched you for a small moment before fumbling for his wallet, keeping his eyes on the counter in front of him. You watched him pull out a bill and waved your hand. “Oh, no. On the house.”

“What?” He looked up at you in surprise, and you just smiled at him.

“Think of it as a first-time discount.” You shrug as you push his coffee and bagel towards him. 

He folded the bill but didn’t put it back in his wallet. Instead, while maintaining eye contact, he dropped it into the tip jar beside him.

“Thanks, uh…” He said as he pocketed the wallet and grabbed his coffee. It was then that you realized that he didn’t know your name.

“Oh! Y/n.” You stuck your hand out without thinking. But before you could pull it back, he shook your hand with a polite smile. “And you’re obviously Chief Swan.” You said with an airy laugh.

“Please, call me Charlie.” He punctuated his name by squeezing your hand before letting go. There was a softness to his tone that you didn’t suspect, but you enjoyed it.

“Charlie,” you repeated, liking the sound of it. “I hope you like the coffee and the bagel.”

He nodded once, grabbed the goody bag still on the counter, and left with a small wave. You didn’t have much time to think about the interaction because a group of high schoolers soon came in, chattering loudly about different things. One thing you knew for sure, though, was that you hoped he’d be back sometime soon.

***

You were surprised to see Charlie back at the bakery the next day. You were unlocking the front door when he pulled up next to your car in his police cruiser.

“Right on time.” You laughed as he exited the car. “I’m just starting to open.”

“Sorry, I didn’t know your hours,” he said, checking his watch. The sun was barely starting to peek out from the clouds. “I have to go to the station early today, was hoping I could get coffee and a bagel.”

“Of course! Come on in,” you say, holding the door open just long enough for him to catch as you rush to behind the counter.

You started on Charlie’s coffee before going to the back to get a bag of fresh bagels. At the front, he was leaning against the counter, waiting for you.

“So I’m guessing you liked it?” You asked with a smile as you bagged up a bagel for him, putting the rest in the display case. “The coffee and bagel? Since you came back.” You added after a moment of silence.

“Oh, yeah!” He said, sounding as if he was a bit distracted by something. “Both were delicious.”

“I’m glad.” You placed his bagel and coffee on the counter.

“Now I’m hoping to actually pay this time,” Charlie said, raising his brows, and you couldn’t help but giggle. You told him the total, and when you gave him his change, he dropped it into the tip jar. “Thanks again. And sorry for coming so early.”

“It’s no problem, Chief-” You cut yourself off, receiving a knowing look from him. “Charlie. It’s really no problem. Hope you have a good day.” 

“Same to you, Y/n.” 

Charlie grabbed his things, waved at you, and walked out. After watching him drive away, you continued to open the bakery for the day. As you served the people coming in, you wondered if Charlie’s coming in would become a regular occurrence. Deep down, you hoped so.

***

Charlie Swan coming to the bakery became a daily habit. It pleased you not only because you were proud to have such a loyal customer, but also because the man was handsome and very nice, despite his usual awkward demeanor. He’d be one of the first people to come in, or the first if he had to go to the station early. You always savored the small talk you shared with him, silently begging for no one to come in when he talked because then he’d stay a little longer, no matter how many times he said that he should really be going.

You were really starting to like Charlie Swan, both as a friend and something more. Of course, you kept that part to yourself.

“Black coffee and a bagel.” It was more of a statement than a question as Charlie opened the door. He ordered the same thing every day; honestly, you admired his consistency.

“Yup.” He responded, pulling out his wallet before he even reached the counter. “Oh, by the way, I was wondering if you did like, deliveries? Or something like that?”

“Depends.” You answer. “I do catering and delivery for parties and stuff.”

“Ah,” Charlie clicked his tongue, seeming a little disappointed. “Was just wondering because I’ve been having to work a lot of late nights with all those bear attacks.”

“Oh yeah, I’ve heard a bit about those,” you sighed. “Poor people.”

“Yeah, I know. And anyways, if I’m being honest, your coffee’s better than the stuff we have at the station. But I get it if you don’t do that sort of thing.”

“I can do it!” You decide before even thinking about it. But when you gave it some thought, you remembered that you were the boss. If you went while one of your employees was working, they could surely hold down the fort for the ten minutes you’d be gone. “I, um, I can do that for you.”

“Really?” Although his expression didn’t change much, you could tell that Charlie’s eyes were lighting up. He must’ve really loved your coffee.

“Yeah! Perks of being your own boss.” You laugh, grabbing a piece of paper and writing down your number. “We don’t have a phone for the bakery yet; I just keep forgetting to do that. So this is my number.” You slid the paper over to Charlie, who grabbed it without letting his eyes leave you. “Just call me, and it’ll probably take me five to ten minutes to get to the station. We close at nine, but I stay way later than that most nights, so feel free to call whenever.”

Charlie pocketed the piece of paper like it was a precious item he didn’t want to get wrinkled or crumpled. 

“I’ll do that,” he said, reaching for his breakfast. “I’ll see you later, Y/n.”

“See you later, Charlie.” You watched him leave, and once he was out the door, you finally realized that you had just unabashedly given the cute Chief of Police your phone number. Telling him to call you anytime. 

And he did. At around eight that night, you got a call from an unknown number, and a somewhat groggy Charlie was speaking on the other end.

“Y/n?” He asked, as if he was unsure whether or not you had actually given him your number.

“Hey, Charlie!” you responded, clearly more awake than him. “Need a coffee?”

“Please.” He sounded desperate, and you were a bit embarrassed by the fact that his tone needed you to take a moment to recompose yourself. The way he said it was a bit whiny, but his voice was husky, probably from his tiredness. A long sigh came from the phone. “I feel like I’m going crazy over here.”

“Then I’ll be over soon.” 

You and Charlie said quick goodbyes to each other, and you went to the counter to make his coffee. You told Maddie, who was working the closing shift with you, that you’d be back soon, but she could lock up without you if needed. Then you were on your way to the police station.

The parking lot was empty except for one cruiser, which you guessed was Charlie’s. Walking into the building to find it empty and dark, aside from an office at the far end, confirmed your suspicions.

“Delivery for Chief Swan.” You say, knocking on his office door, which was cracked open the slightest bit. Charlie looked up at you from his desk, and you wouldn’t be surprised if your presence had awakened him from an unplanned nap. His dark curly locks were a tousled mess, probably the result of his hands constantly running through them, and his eyelids seemed heavy.

“My savior,” Charlie grumbled, sitting up the slightest bit and reaching for the large cup. You stood in silence as you watched him gulp down the hot liquid, wondering how he didn’t immediately stop in pain. You guessed that his fatigue made him immune somehow, or less caring about burning his throat. “Good stuff.”

“Maybe instead of drinking it and scalding yourself, you should head home?” You suggested with a small laugh.

“Too much to do,” Charlie said with a sigh, leaning back in his chair. “Too much going on for me to stop.”

“Well, it’s better to stop before you reach your limit, or you might be stopping for good.”

Charlie thought about what you said with a slight hum. His half-lidded eyes scanned his messy desk, cluttered with reports and other papers. To be completely honest, he was starting to doze off a little by the time you came, and words were starting to jumble together when he tried to read. 

“M’kay.” He sighed, taking another sip of coffee, this time wincing a bit at the heat. “You got a point there.” 

You watched as Charlie somewhat sluggishly got ready to leave. He threw on his jacket and turned off the lights, gesturing for you to leave the office first. When you got to the station’s front entrance, he held the door open for you.

“Thanks for the coffee.” He said after walking you to your car. “And drive safe.”

“Anytime,” you respond, opening the door and getting in the driver’s seat. “And the same goes for you.”

Charlie smiled, patting the top of your car as a farewell before walking over to his cruiser. Although he had turned on his car before you, he didn’t start driving until you left the parking lot.

***

A few months later, you were at your absolute busiest. Graduation was just around the corner, and almost every senior’s parent in Forks called asking if you could cater or do pick up orders for graduation parties. Although it meant your business would be booming for a while, you were slowly losing your sanity.

“Just a second!” You yelled from the back room after hearing the bell above the door ring. Carefully, you slid a large tray filled with cupcakes into one of your fridges and closed the door.

“Take your time!” Charlie yelled back, making you want to be as quick as possible. You wiped your hands on your apron and ran to the front, where Charlie greeted you with a smile. “Hey, Y/n. You busy?”

“Always am,” you laughed, leaning against the counter. “But I always have time for you, Charlie. Black coffee and a bagel?”

“You know me so well.” Charlie watched as you moved around, making his hot drink and picking out a bagel from the stack you had made this morning. “How are things?”

“Hectic.” You answer, rising from your crouched position to bag up the bagel. “But it’s nothing I can’t handle. Almost every parent has been ordering at least seventy-five cupcakes for their kids’ graduation parties, and there’s at least three parties happening every week.” You grabbed Charlie’s coffee, putting a lid on the cup before handing it to him. Despite it being scalding hot, he took a sip while he listened. “I’m grateful, obviously, but if I have to frost another cupcake, I think I’m gonna get carpal tunnel.”

“I forgot graduation parties were a thing,” Charlie said with a slightly embarrassed laugh. “I don’t know if Bella would want one, though; she kind of hates being the center of attention.”

“Well, if she decides to have one, you know who to call for the baked goods.” You say with a smile, taking Charlie’s cash and watching him put the change in the tip jar. You loved the familiarity and routine that you had with Charlie. Every day, he ordered the same thing without fail, asked how you were doing, used a bill that was anywhere between a few dollars more to over twice the amount needed, and put the change he got into your decorated tip jar. 

“I’ll ask her about it.” To most, it looked like Charlie was wearing a straight face. But you could tell that there was a slight upward curve to his lip. “Kinda hoping she says yes. I think it’d be fun.”

“Have a good day, Charlie.”

“Have a good day, Y/n.”

Later in the day, the bakery was crowded. School had just gotten out, and most of the kids came for a little pick-me-up, whether it was some kind of caffeinated drink or a sweet treat. Plus, some parents came by to pick up their party orders.

You didn’t expect to see Charlie in the crowd today, accompanied by a girl who seemed around high school age. You assumed that this was Bella, his daughter.

“Hey, Y/n.” Charlie greeted you once they reached the counter. “Place is packed.”

“Yup! I think finals are just around the corner, so these kids need all the help they can get.” You looked over at the young girl who stood next to Charlie. “Is this your daughter?”

“Yeah. Y/n, this is Bella. Bella, this is Y/n.” You greeted each other before Charlie spoke again. “I asked Bella about the whole graduation party thing, and she said it sounded like fun. So I decided to meet her here on my break so we could set up an order.”

“Awesome!” You grinned, grabbing an order form. Usually, you would be slightly dying on the inside if someone was making an order like this. But there seemed to be something about Charlie that diffused any annoyance or dread you would normally feel. “So, what were you thinking? Cupcakes?”

“Actually, we were thinking of a cake.” This answer made you perk up. Bella nodded, confirming the decision, which you quickly jotted down. While the three of you talked, Charlie’s radio on his shoulder sounded. “I gotta take this, I’ll be right back. Bells, just tell Y/n what you want, and I’ll pay for it. And if you want a drink or something, go ahead and order. Oh! Could I get a-”

“Black coffee?” You finished, giving Charlie a knowing smile. His usually pale cheeks seemed to turn pink, but you just chalked it up to the slightly warm and crowded room. “Of course, now go take your call.”

You waved Charlie away, who fought against the small crowd of students to get out of the building. You asked two of your employees to get on the register and start taking orders before turning back to Bella. As you wrote down what she wanted, she spoke somewhat timidly, as if she was saying something that was supposed to be a secret.

“He talks about you sometimes.” You looked at her with slight confusion. “My dad.”

“Oh?” Your heartbeat quickened at the information. It surprised you that Charlie thought of you outside of the bakery, let alone talked about you. “Really?”

“Yeah.” She bit her lip, trying to keep more from spilling. But it didn’t work. “Half of the time, he’s raving about your coffee.”

“It’s just black coffee,” you said with a shrug, flipping the pen around with your fingers to release your giddy energy.

“Yeah, but you’re the one who makes it. And the other half of the time, he’s talking about how nice you are.”

“He thinks I’m nice?” You were glad your employees were taking care of the other customers because you were now completely distracted from the task at hand. Bella nodded, and you couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “Well, I think he’s nice, too.”

“Who’s nice?” You and Bella jumped at Charlie’s surprise return.

“Uhh, no one.” You brushed off, quickly filling out the rest of the paper before turning it around and handing Charlie your pen. “Sign here, and we can get started on the order. Oh, did you want to do pick up or delivery?”

“Delivery,” Bella answered before Charlie could, eyes darting from you to her father. Neither of you opposed, so when you got the paper back, you marked the delivery option.

“Delivery it is.” You said, putting your pen in one of your apron pockets. “Charlie, I’ll get you your coffee. Bella, did you want anything?”

“No, I’m fine, thanks.” You nodded and quickly made a large black coffee. After checking them out and Charlie putting his change in the jar, you waved goodbye to the two Swans. “See you next week, Bella. And I’ll see you tomorrow, Charlie?”

“Of course.” He said with a smile before guiding Bella out of the shop.

You couldn’t wait to see Charlie Swan again.

***

A week later, you loaded Bella’s finished graduation cake into your car. After telling Maddie you’d be back soon, you got in the driver’s seat and drove to the Swan house. Everyone knew where everyone was in this town, but you still had your eyes glued to your map when they weren’t on the road, too scared to miss a turn. 

Soon, you pulled up to a white two-story house. You were confident that it was Charlie’s place when you saw his police cruiser and a red truck, which must have been Bella’s. There were a few cars scattered up and down the street, but you found a free spot right in front of the cop car. When you got out and grabbed the two-tiered cake, Charlie emerged from the front door.

“Y/n! You made it!” He jogged over to you as you closed the car door with a swing of your hip. “Here, lemme get that for ya.”

“You’re sweet, Charlie.” You carefully handed the cake to him and followed him inside. The place seemed to be packed with teens and their parents. Some stood out, and you knew exactly who they were from their pale complexions and beautiful features.

“Did you wanna stay for a bit?” Charlie asked as he set the cake down on a table. He scratched the back of his head, growing a bit shy. “You, uhh, you could taste your masterpiece. Mingle and stuff.”

“I should probably be getting back to the bakery…” You looked down at your watch. You supposed you could spare a few minutes. After all, you were the boss. Maddie was responsible; she would call you if she had any problems. “Well, I think I could stay a few minutes.”

“Great.” Charlie put on a large grin, one that you had probably never seen before. But it suited him nicely. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”

Charlie laid a hand on the small of your back to guide you through the small crowd. You already knew most of the people here, either regulars of yours or having recently become well acquainted with them because of delivery or pick-up orders. But then Charlie took you to a small group of people that you don’t remember every meeting, but you knew of them well.

“Y/n, these are the Cullens.” Charlie introduced. “Doctor Carlisle, his wife Esme, Bella’s boyfriend Edward, and his sister Alice.”

“It’s nice to meet you all.” You said kindly, shaking each hand that reached out to you. Their hands were cold, but that didn’t bother you. It was actually a bit refreshing after having your hands in and out of ovens for the past few weeks.

“Y/n made Bella’s cake,” Charlie said, proudly pointing to your creation on the table. “She owns Bear Claw Bakery. She’s… pretty amazing, at what she does.”

“I see that,” Carlisle said, looking at the cake. “Amazing detail, I bet it looks even better up close. You’re quite talented.”

“All you need is a steady hand.” You said, not used to compliments or attention like this. 

“Well, I know a thing or two about that,” Carlisle said with a laugh. You laughed along, and you couldn’t help but notice Charlie’s hand move to wrap more around your waist.

“Thank you for making Bella’s cake,” Edward said, his voice cool and even. “I’m sure she’ll love it.”

“She will,” Alice said with finality, as if she had already seen Bella’s reaction to the cake.

“Thank you.” You couldn’t help but lean slightly into Charlie; he was just so warm and comfortable. He seemed a bit surprised but didn’t reject your actions. Instead, he welcomed them with a squeeze on your waist. “I was happy to do it, really.”

“Do you want a drink?” Charlie asked, leaning close to you to ask.

“Sure.” As Charlie guided you to the kitchen, you looked over your shoulder at the Cullens. “It was nice to meet you!” They all gave similar and polite responses. And then they were out of view, and you and Charlie were alone in the kitchen.

For a while, you and Charlie stayed in the kitchen, watching people pass by to talk to others or get a refreshment. This was the first time you were around Charlie in a non-professional environment. You were both nervous and ecstatic.

“So, how’d you get into, uh, baking and stuff?” Charlie asked, taking a swig of his beer. You took a sip of your Coke before responding.

“My mom, I think. Every birthday or special occasion, she always insisted on making a giant cake or cupcakes or whatever, instead of buying it from the store. I liked to help her, mainly because she’d let me eat the leftover frosting and pour the batter in the pan.” You leaned on the counter, smiling fondly at the memories that ran through your head. “Even when you’re by yourself, I think it’s really special. I dunno, that’s kind of a sappy answer, but-”

“No, no.” Charlie shook his head before smiling at you. “I think that’s really sweet.”

After a brief moment of eye contact, you both took a sip of your drinks, lifting them to your lips and setting them down simultaneously.

“Are you doing anything this Saturday?” The question surprised you and Charlie, even though Charlie had asked it. But he didn’t take it back. Instead, he waited for a response while anxiously tapping his fingers against his beer bottle.

“Maybe.” You said with a shrug. “Why do you ask?”

“Well…” Charlie’s fingers smoothed over his mustache, which you had noticed to be a habit of his when he was thinking. “I’ve never really baked before, I think. And you make it sound like a lot of fun. So… I dunno, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to come over or something, and we could make something?”

“I’d love to.” You said, butterflies filling your stomach. 

“Really?” Charlie seemed relieved by your answer, and you nodded swiftly to solidify it. “Great! Maybe this time, I can make you a coffee.”

“I’d like that a lot.” You took a sip of your Coke to contain your growing smile, but it didn’t help much. Your giddiness was infectious, Charlie feeling the exact excitement you were.

***

When Saturday came, you had an extra pep in your step. You made sure to put a slight bit more effort into your appearance before you left. You knew you didn’t have to impress Charlie in any way, but this felt like a sort of milestone. You were going to spend time with him outside of work, doing one of your favorite activities together.

“Bella’s out with Edward,” Charlie said as he let you into the house. “So we’ll have the house to ourselves.”

“Sounds good to me.” You responded, setting your bag on the kitchen counter and pulling out a recipe card.

“So, what are we making?” He asked, clapping his hands and rubbing them together as he looked over your shoulder.

“Black Forest gâteau.” You answered, looking down at the card and then up at Charlie. He seemed slightly confused, but looked like he didn’t want you to know he was confused. You laughed lightly. “Basically, a chocolate cake with cherry filling.”

“Ah.” Charlie nodded in understanding. “Sounds delicious.”

While you started taking ingredients out of your bag, Charlie made a pot of coffee for the both of you. After pouring himself a plain black coffee, he asked you what you wanted in yours. When he was finished, he handed you the warm mug, and you both simultaneously took a sip. You sighed in delight.

“Delicious.” You said, giving him a wink before turning back to your ingredients. Charlie took another gulp of coffee to hide his flusteredness before moving to stand next to you.

You guided Charlie through the recipe, working together to measure ingredients and mix them. While pouring the batter into a few cake pans, you made light conversation about your days since Bella’s party. After the pans were put in the oven to bake, you made the cherry filling to put between the layers. 

“This is really nice.” You said, slowly dropping down to sit in front of the oven to watch the cake layers bake for the next few minutes. Charlie dried his hands and walked over to you, looking down at you curiously. “Thanks for having me over.”

Charlie crouched next to you and sighed, probably because he wasn’t used to sitting on the floor. He mirrored your position, legs crisscrossed and elbows resting on his knees.

“No problem.” 

The two of you watched the cakes slowly rise through the small oven window. Basking in the quiet and comfortable moment, you couldn’t help but lean over and rest your head on Charlie’s shoulder. 

“This is really nice.” You repeated, albeit quieter, even though there was no need to whisper. Charlie’s head tilted to rest on yours, lifting his bent right leg and planting his foot on the floor to be more comfortable.

“Yeah…” Charlie’s hand drifted towards yours, and in a moment of bravery, you grabbed it and intertwined his fingers with yours. “It is.”

***

Over the next two months, you and Charlie grew closer than you ever thought possible. He still came to the bakery every day for his coffee and bagel. But almost every weekend, you’d go to each other’s house to make some kind of treat, and Charlie always insisted on making coffee for both of you. 

Getting closer to Charlie meant you also got closer to Bella. She was a bit reserved, spending most of her time with her boyfriend and his family. But you were able to make conversation with her whenever you were both at the Swan house. It was usually only a few minutes, the sweet spot where you had arrived and Bella was about to leave. But it was special to you.

You were a bit shocked when you found out that Bella and Edward were getting married in August, just under two months after they had graduated high school. Bella hadn’t even turned nineteen yet. But you knew love when you saw it, and it wasn’t like you had a say on the matter. Bella was grateful, however, for you being able to calm Charlie down when he found out about it.

When she told you she was getting married, Bella asked if you could make the wedding cake. You didn’t even think before saying yes, feeling honored that she wanted you to do it. After some talking, you both decided on a green triple-tiered cake covered in fondant flowers to resemble a meadow.

“You did amazing.” Charlie had snuck up behind you during the reception, the two of you looking at the cake you had worked so hard on.

“Thank you, bear.” You don’t really remember how Charlie’s nickname came about, but it fit him so well that you started to refer to him with the nickname more than his real name. Although you weren’t together, it was said with all the affection and love you held for him.

Music echoed throughout the Cullens’s backyard, where the wedding and reception were held. It was a beautiful forest, lit by fairy lights strung around tall trees. 

“Do you wanna dance?” Charlie asked timidly, looking at the dancefloor littered with people for a moment before returning to you. “I mean, I’m not much of a dancer. But if you want to, I-”

“I’d love to.” You cut him off with a bright smile, grabbing his hand and dragging him towards the crowd.

Despite saying he wasn’t a dancer, Charlie moved well. He kept one of your hands in a gentle grip while his other was planted firmly on your waist, radiating warmth. As you listened to the music, you rested your head on his chest, sighing contently. 

“I love you, Charlie Swan,” you said softly, too relaxed and in the moment to keep your filter. You felt Charlie stiffen under you briefly before he, too, relaxed. He held your hand tighter, keeping it to his chest.

“I love you too, Y/n L/n.” You lifted your head just enough to look at him. The soft look he gave you made you weak at the knees, but you found the strength to reach up to kiss him. 

“Alice,” Bella said softly to her new sister-in-law, the two girls watching you and Charlie closely, unbeknownst to you. “Do you think this’ll last? Them, I mean.”

Alice turned to Bella and smiled before looking back at the two of you. You broke apart from the kiss and continued to dance.

“I’ve had the same vision of them since I met Y/n. They get to grow old together.”

“So Charlie will be happy? And Y/n?” Alice placed a comforting hand on Bella’s shoulder, knowing why she was asking these questions. The Cullens knew what Bella wanted, and Bella knew it would probably kill Charlie when she got what she had been chasing after for so long.

“The happiest. Whatever it is they have, it’s special. You won’t have to worry about either of them.”

Bella sighed in relief, patting Alice’s hand.

“Thanks.”

[desideriumwriter]

Anyone But You | Chapter 13

Summary: You arrive at the Burrow, surprise everyone with your gifts to the twins, get caught greiving again, and end up in a bed you've been in before. Only this time, you were sharing it with someone you never thought you would.

CW: crying, tension tension tension, just awkwardness

WC: 3.6k

A/N: these next few chapters are gonna get real interesting, just bare w/ me yall

Series Masterlist | F.W Masterlist | Previous| Next | Navi

You were staying in Percy’s old room for the days you were staying, Angelina sharing it with you.

It was terrifyingly clean compared to the twins' room, you honestly wondered how Percy managed to live on the same floor for them for so long.

As you waited for everyone else to show up, you wandered around the living room, taking a look around at the family portraits and pictures on the wall.

Your eyes stopped on a familiar one, the picture from when the family took a trip to Egypt, their picture that landed in the newspaper. You really only remembered it because Ron was basically showing it to everyone that passed by him.

“Ah, I’m sure you remember Ron showing you this one.” Fred appeared from behind you, you jumped a bit in surprise. Goddamn ghost.

“Who are those two? Never seen them before.” You pointed to the two unfamiliar boys.

“Oh, those are my older brothers.” He leaned over to point. Your breath hitched at the way his arm hovered over your shoulder, his chest so close to your back.  

“That’s Bill, he's the oldest, works as a curse-breaker in Egypt,” He said as he pointed to the long haired boy, then moving his finger over to the other boy, who had a large burn showing on his arm. “That’s Charlie, a bloody legend at Quidditch. He was Gryffindor captain.”

“What does he do now?” You turned to look at him for a second. Merlin, your faces were so close to each other.

“He works with dragons. He's the one that helped bring them to Hogwarts for the tournament.” Fred didn’t realize how he’d lead you back to that night until he saw your eyes flicker a bit. Oh, now he just felt bad and embarrassed.

You felt embarrassed as well, feeling stupid that even the smallest mention of the tournament would bring you back to Cedric’s death.

“Prefects. Both of them.” Fred blurted out, his attempt to shake you from your thoughts. “Mum was unhappy when neither me nor George were picked to be one last year. She said we broke the pattern.” He murmured. 

“You and him have set off dungbombs multiple times. In several different places of the school. She really thought they’d choose one of you?” You let out a breathy laugh.

“Still so snarky. I thought we had something good going.” He dramatically sighed and pouted out his bottom lip.

“In your dreams.” You mocked, both of your heads turning when you heard the flame from the chimney spark up. 

Katie stood there with raised eyebrows, surprised at the sight of Fred and you so close to one another, you quickly split away from each other.

“Hi Katie! Great to see you made it!” He cleared his throat, trying to pretend she didn’t see you two with your faces so close.

Fred so easily carried on, so easily pretended like you were never that close just a few seconds ago. That he wasn’t staring down at your lips. The butterflies in your stomach were still fluttering.

Fred calling your name broke you out of your thoughts.

“Could you show Katie where your twos room is at? After you can come down and we can get started with the cake and presents.” He happily rubbed his hands together like a giddy child, you just nodded and gestured to Alicia to come with you.

Katie thankfully never mentioned the sight she saw of Fred and you. Only asked you how you were doing and made casual small talk.

The table was crowded as everyone pulled up extra chairs to the table to sit and watch the twins open their gifts.

They went through their gifts politely but tearing open the wrapping paper as excited teenage boys do. Your stomach flipped once they got to yours, you hoped the smaller enchanted boxes were enough to throw them off with their guesses of what it was.

They eagerly opened each of their own boxes. Faces dropping in shock as they pulled out their gifts.

“Are these the newest model of the beaters bats?” George asked, his jaw ajar as he stared at you. Fred followed with the same look.

“I remember hearing you guys talk about how your personal practice bats were getting old and close to breaking so…” You shrugged nervously, clearing your throat. Everyone’s eyes in the room were on you in all the equal amount of shock. 

You gave a small smile. 

“Oh dearie, how much did you spend on those? I can-“

“It’s fine. Mrs.Wea- Molly, you don’t have to pay me back. I’m happy that I bought these for them.” That last sentence is something you’d never expect to come out of your mouth. 

You were glad you bought something for the twins? Who would’ve expected you to ever say that.

Fred noticed your nervousness, you weren’t a fan of everyone’s attention being on you. He cleared his throat.

“I think George is about to take a bite out of the wrapping paper if we don’t eat cake soon.” Fred joked, turning Mrs.Weasleys and everyone else’s attention to the cake now.

Thankfully everyone had moved onto their own conversations with each other once everyone had gotten a slice of dessert.

Yet, Mrs.Weasley urged for you to allow her to pay you however much the bats cost back. You made up a lie that you got a discount on them from your dads friend. Which she most likely didn’t completely believe you about, but she sighed and gave up on trying to convince you.

Afterwards the adults split off into their own group outside,  the rest of you changed into pajamas and crowded into the living room to watch a cheesy muggle movie to laugh at.

Before the film started George brought out a handful of celebration crackers, forcing everyone to grab one and wear the small paper crowns that popped out of them.

Fred and you were the only ones that got pink crowns.

During a boring part of the movie, you went into the kitchen to refill your glass with a bit of elderflower wine that the twins had snuck from their mum.

Footsteps followed across the wooden floor behind you.

A hand slid over a second glass, you looked up and of fucking course, it was Fred.

“Pour me some too?” He asked, jerking his head to his glass. You sighed and poured the liquid in his glass as well.

You immediately turned as soon as you grabbed your glass, wanting to escape any moment alone with Fred that could turn into-

“Hold on, your crown’s a bit lopsided.” Fred stopped you, his hands reaching up to fix the paper crown, pulling it down, trying not to tear the thin paper. His hands were so gentle, so careful.

“There! Prim and proper!” He gave you a shoulder dusting and put his hands on his hips like a proud mother. 

You let out a puzzled breathy laugh and walked away, trying to ignore that weird hitch you felt when his hands felt so close to your face.

After the movie ended and conversation became slow, you all went upstairs and to your rooms.

“You and Fred eh?” Angelina teased as you threw your pillow you brought onto the spare mattress. You offered to sleep on the extra mattress, letting Katie and Angelina sleep on Percy’s old bed.

“Don’t start.” You half jokingly pointed a threatening finger at her, already knowing the intention behind her words, “There’s nothing between me and him.”

“Nothing except the raging boner he has for y-“ Her sentence was cut short by you flinging your pillow at her, making her nearly double over in laughter.

“She has a point…in a way. We all saw the way he and you were sneaking glances at the table, and on the couch.” Angelina plopped down on the bed next to Katie, who was finally beginning to cool down. You just shook your head, taking your pillow back.

“No, no! Don’t deny it! You two were giving each other eyes all night! ” Angelina poised as she began to shuffle under the covers of the bed, Katie following.

“We weren’t! I’ve been interacting with him as little as possible this entire time.” You were lying straight through your teeth, horribly too. They didn’t believe you, you didn’t even believe yourself. You knew your own words weren’t true.

“Oh fuck off.” Katie laughed in disbelief, “As little as possible? When I first got here the space between you two by the fireplace seemed quite little.” She teased, you felt your cheeks flush as Angelina broke into a grin.

“What? Wait- hold on- what are you talking about?” Angelina darted her eyes between the both of you, your denies were quickly cut off as Katie began to talk.

“When I arrived in the chimney, she and Fred were like two inches apart, looking at each other like they were about to kiss.” Katie scoffed and pointed at you, your jaw dropped.

“He was explaining the pictures on the wall to me!” You exclaimed.

“Oh my- Just admit it! You’ve clearly gotten a liking for him!” Katie groaned out, rubbing her hands down her face.

“I don’t! I’m only here because he’s been way too nice to me lately. I’m neutral about him at the most.” 

“Y/N. You got him and George the newest beaters bats.” Katie deadpanned.

“You from six months ago would’ve thrown up if you knew that in the future you actually bought the twins gifts, nice gifts.” Angelina added in, nodding.

You groaned and fell back against the mattress.

“Fine, I got both of them good gifts! I’ve grown accustomed to the twins. Maybe just a tiny bit fond of them, alright?” You muttered, pulling your blanket over your body, settling in.

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll see how long you keep this act up.” Angelina teased before turning off the lamp behind the bed, telling you goodnight as you did the same.

Too many things kept you up. Angelina and Katie’s teasing words. That weird feeling in your stomach you’ve started to get when you stand next to Fred. How close your faces were to each other the other day.

And the lingering reminders of your dead best friend. That was the worst. You wished it’d stop. How do you forget about losing someone you grew up with?

You weren’t anywhere near being able to sleep, and shifting around on the mattress was hopeless. Sitting up, you were able to see Angelina and Katie in the dark room, they were both knocked out and sleeping peacefully.

You snuck out the room, cringing as the floorboards creaked underneath your feet.

The window at the end of the hallway let in enough moonlight for you to be able to see your surroundings.

You weren’t really sure where to go, it felt weird if you went to sit downstairs. It was nearing three in the morning and everyone was asleep.

Instead of going downstairs, you sat along the top step of the stairs. Not sure what good this would do, it’s just about the same as lying awake in the bed.

You traced over the small floral patterns on the wallpaper with your finger, doing anything to keep you busy from your thoughts.

It was so silent in the house, the quiet was scary compared to the amount of noise going on just a few hours ago. Everyone caught up in their own conversations, laughing at jokes or stories, the drunk and tipsy singing and cheering from the adults. Now the place was so calm and silent you could hear a pin drop.

A door squeaked open and the sound of feet against wood made you whip your head around towards the noise.

Fred was standing in front of his bedroom door, squinting and rubbing his eye.

“Y/N? What’re you doing out here?” He asked as he yawned.

“Couldn’t sleep. Again.” You shrugged, placing your hands on your knees. “What’d you come out here for?” You rubbed your hands back and forth on your pajama bottoms.

“I heard sniffling.” 

“Oh. Sorry.” You mumbled, embarrassed at not realizing you were being loud. Fred walked over to you, stopping and standing next to you as he looked down at your gloomy face.

“You alright?” He said so softly, voice nearly a whisper. He took a seat next to you on the old wooden step, being sure to scoot and leave a good amount of space between you too.

Your answer to his question was a weak shrug. You stared and fidgeted with your fingers, blinking away the glaze forming in your eyes.

“Were you thinking about him again?” Fred hesitated before he asked, you just frowned and nodded. He let out a sympathetic hum in response.

“Our last conversation was about you.” You blurted out, Fred’s head immediately turned to you, a strange shocked expression on his face.

“It was nothing bad, I mean, I was annoyed as always but we were just talking about how I was going to give you your hat back.” Fred just nodded in response, really not sure how to respond.

“Fred. Why’d you forgive me so easily?” You sniffled, “I know I was crying and all, but you didn’t have to forgive me out of pity.” You looked at him.

“It wasn’t out of pity.” Fred let out an unbothered scoff, “I could never really hold a grudge against you. I missed annoying you.” He tilted his head teasingly, you let out a weak laugh then sniffled.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be all depressed on your birthday.” You looked at your feet as you wiped your eyes.

“Well it’s past midnight, so it isn’t my birthday anymore.” He shrugged, slipping his hands into the front pockets of his plaid pajama pants. You rolled your eyes playfully, sniffling.

Holding it together for a few seconds, then breaking down into small cries again.

“I’m sorry, I’m- I think about how I knew him for so long, and now that he’s gone I just…I feel so alone. I just feel so stupid.” You sighed out, feeling embarrassed and pathetic at how vulnerable you were being. Fred stood up. 

“Come on.” He breathed out, it almost sounded like a disappointed sigh. You stared at him with a perplexed look as he stood up and walked a few steps down the hallway, waving you over.

“Come on, you can sleep in my bed for the night.”

The weird thing about this was that you didn’t grimace or cringe at his suggestion. You didn’t refuse, you stared and hesitated for a second before getting up and going along with him.

George was already knocked out on his bed when you walked in. On his stomach in a starfish position and snoring. It got a small laugh out of you and Fred.

As you settled under Fred’s blankets, you remembered how comfortable it was from the one time you slept in it after the attack during the summer.

“Are you sure you’re okay with me sharing the bed? I can sleep on the floor if you want.” Fred whispered, trying to not wake up George. It would be awkward if he saw you in his brother's bed.

“Yeah, it’s fine. Thanks.” You whispered back before turning on your side, back towards Fred and front facing the wall as you felt the mattress dip as he got on.

It was quite cramped, his twin sized bed was not big enough to fit two people, especially not with Fred’s tall frame. You laid with your backs facing each other.

You tried your best to keep your eyes closed, but you couldn’t, you were stuck looking at the wall. You opened your mouth to speak, searching for words.

“Fred?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you hold me?” Maybe it was the tiny bit of elderwine you had earlier talking, maybe it was the tiredness, maybe it was that you felt really fucking sad, and you needed comfort.

You knew Fred and you weren’t exactly friends, but right now you're all this is the most comfort you could get at this moment.

“Um, yeah.” He cleared his throat, slightly confused but understanding. You felt the mattress shift as he turned to face you, his warm hands snaked around your waist, stopping and resting at your stomach. He gently pulled you close, your back touching his chest. The close contact made your breath hitch.

“Is this okay?” He asked softly, not moving his hands any more.

“It’s fine, yeah. Thank you.” You said quietly, nodding and finally being able to close your eyes and keep them closed. It doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep after that. Your mind is quiet and you're comfortable for once.

You wake up to Fred unconsciously flipping on his back, still asleep. You’re faced towards him, your head laying somehow comfortably on his arm.

The sun is peeking through the half closed blinds, stripes of gold light beam down across his face, enhancing the sight of his long eyelashes, his slightly parted lips, the freckles all along his face. You could probably count each one with how close you were to him. His long orange hair is splayed all over the pillow, it looks really soft. He’s got a pretty face, you must admit.

It’s quite nice when he isn’t talking. He looks nice. This is nice.

“You’re staring.” Fred mumbles with his eyes still closed, a meek smile on his lips. Your eyes widen for a second in shock that you’ve been caught without him even opening his eyes. 

“I think my arms’ gone numb. I can’t feel it.” He said through another sleepy mumble.

“Oh, right.” You sat up, the sleepiness quickly leaving you and being replaced by realization of where you were. The embarrassment set in and you scrambled to climb over Fred and stand up. A very awkward position.

George's bed was empty. There was no way he didn’t see you and his brother sharing a bed. Great.

“I’m gonna go brush my teeth.” You sputtered out and headed for the door, wanting to get out soon as possible. "Don’t you dare tell anyone about this." You stopped and turned back towards him, pointing a threatening finger at him, your tone falling back into the frustrated one you always would have around the twins.

 "Wasn't planning on it." He shrugged after holding himself up by his forearms. Eyes squinty and sleepy, his hair messy and sticking up in some places, severe bedhead. It was kind of cute in a way.

“I won’t let this make anything awkward between us, you know.” He added, unbothered. 

“There is no us.” You shook your head before leaving. There you went again, reverting back to your harshness to deny it all.

It was honestly hard to hate Fred as much as you used to. To be fair, it’s hard to have that pure hatred for someone after they’ve stroked your hair while you’ve cried in their arms. Twice.

It’s hard to hate someone when you’ve shared a bed and fallen asleep with them holding you.

You looked away as you gave him a stiff nod, leaving the room in an obviously flustered manner.

As you returned to the room across the hall, planning to grab your toothbrush and toothpaste from your bag.

Angelina was already sitting up in the bed and stretching, the spot where Katie was empty. Her belongings were gone as well too.

“‘Morning.” Angelina mumbled as she rubbed sleep from her eyes.

“Morning. Did Katie leave already?” 

“Yeah, her parents had some surprise trip planned.” Angelina yawned, “I can see you slept well, I saw that you chose a different bed last night when I got up to use the bathroom.” She grinned evilly at you, you rolled your eyes.

“I can explain-“

“I don’t think I need you to. I'd rather not hear the details.” Angelina chuckled, your jaw dropped slightly once you realized what she thought had gone down.

“It was not what you think it was! We didn’t…sleep together. Not like that.” You whispered out the word, “We slept in the same bed but nothing more than that.”

“Except some cuddling?” She raised her brows at you.

“Listen, I was sad and probably tipsy and I wanted comfort.”

“You could’ve gotten comfort from me or Katie.” She shrugged. You stammered as you tried to find words, she was right. 

“It’s not that simple.”

“Yeah, because you're in love with Fred, not us.”

“I’m not in love with him!” Angelina shot you a look and you broke, “Okay, maybe, I have grown fond of him. But I’m not in love with him. It’s driving me insane, I used to hate him!” You groaned as you plopped down onto the edge of the bed.

“Used to. That’s the important part.” Angelina pointed at you with a smile. Happy to finally get you to admit that you did have some sort of liking towards Fred. You let out a sound of frustration as you put your head in your hands.

Angelina shifted and removed her legs from under the covers, stretching them before standing up and yawning once again.

“I’m gonna go find George. Good luck with this new chapter in your life. It’s really not that bad.” Angelina said as she patted you on the shoulder, leaving the room with just you in it as she went downstairs.

The worst part is that it was comfortable being so close to Fred. 

No. The worst part was that Fred looked gorgeous in the sunlight. You couldn’t get the image of his stupid gorgeous face out of your head.

You had no idea how you were going to deal with these intruding feelings.

tell me what you thought here! <3 or ask tba to the taglist for this series!

TAGLIST: @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @five-seconds-flat @nal-leo-17 @rhunew @albertdabuttler @livingdeadgirlflorette @getthefuckoutofhereidiot @merikaberika @beomibeom @sleepygirlsworld @rookiegoose @suna-rintired @imamexican @whotfskai @miaandthediamonds @tarzanathetumblingwarrior @isabellavolere @navs-bhat @df841 @siriusmarryme @ooopsiedaisy997 @residentdemonhunter @ma1dita @b4tm4nn @anonymously-ominous @mistpx

[moonlightdancer26]

I have a headcaon that sev knows how to tell the twins apart

LMAO ME TOO. I actually headcanon that Sev was quite fond of the Weasley family.

Bill was a smart student, who, according to Ginny, didn’t like Snape. But I doubt Snape cared about what the students thought of him, I think he just cared if they did well in his class or not. Given that Bill was a prefect + Head-Boy and got 12 O.W.L.s, he definitely didn’t get in trouble that much and was a clever student, so Snape probably tolerated him.

We don’t know much about Charlie but based on Hogwarts Mystery he low-key likes Snape, so I think they were alright.

I personally headcanon that Percy L O V E S Snape and admires everything he does, he definitely criticises his siblings (*cough* Ron) whenever they say anything bad about him.

Fred and George seem to be amused by him despite thinking he’s a git (though I doubt they took anything he said seriously) and I think they had natural talent in potions. Snape definitely values experimental projects and creativity (considering his spell creations and rewriting his potions book), which the twins have, so despite their troublemaking antics I’m sure he at the very least respected their creativity (this is a headcanon I’ve had for such a long time, I’m so happy I can finally talk about it lmao).

I think Severus mostly disliked Ron because of his association with Harry, his disregard for school rules, and his laziness in class, but I think out of the trio he tolerated Ron the most (they’re also both my fave characters in the series so I just like the thought of them being cool with each other lmao).

As for Ginny, I don’t think he hated her, but he found her mildly annoying because of her obvious crush on Harry in CoS and then in the later books when she came out of her shell. She didn’t complain about him much, the closest thing we get is her saying that “Bill doesn’t like him either” as a reason for not liking him. Plus I always thought Ginny would’ve made a good Slytherin and wasn’t super annoying in class so I think he at least preferred her to Hermione lmao.

I think Snape was okay with Molly (and I think she respected him as a teacher, she liked him enough to correct Harry for calling him “Snape” instead of “Professor Snape”), but I think he probably didn’t respect Arthur’s love of Muggles and thought he was a bit silly, and I think he liked him less than Molly due to Lucius’s influence lmfao.

I know this has nothing to do with your original question, but can you tell I’ve had this headcanon for a really long time and jumped at the opportunity to rant about it? 😭

[eddaawrites]

Good for you

Dylan Matthews

warnings - smut with barely any plot, nicknames (mostly baby), piv sex, no protection (don't be silly, wrap your willy.), cunnilingus, bad writing, not proofread (i can't be bothered.), english isn't my first language guys, be nice.

a/n - sorry this took so long, hope you enjoy.

ps. i listened to to this song like hundreds of times while writing this, it's embedded in my DNA at this point.

after laying in bed for what feels like hours, tossing and turning, i finally sit up. i move to sit at the edge of my bed, the alarm clock that sits at my bedside reads, in bright red, 3:48AM. with a groan i get up and tip-toe past my roommates bedroom door and make my way into the kitchen. the view from the kitchen window is pitch black, safe for a couple street lights on the other side of the street. 

i haven’t been getting much sleep these past few weeks. the attempts i’d made at going to sleep had shown to be pointless, because the second my head would hit the pillow i was wide awake with my thoughts echoing into every crevice in my head, loud and unrelenting. some of the thoughts had contained stress regarding various things, from my job, my family, and upcoming bills. But there was one thought that always made the others seem quiet in comparison, the one that just wouldn’t quit nagging at me, was my roommate Dylan.

he was just so… him. his charm, his humour, and his face. oh god, his face. i don’t quite know when it’d happened, but i’d developed a sort of school girl crush on the man. everything he did made me want to climb him like a tree, it’s embarrassing really. the way my face would flush when he’d crack a joke, the way i’d cross my legs when he’d smile at me just to relieve some of the pressure bubbling in my lower stomach. 

i’d tried to get over it, i really had, but all my attempts had been futile. so, i’d chosen to ignore it, hoped that it’d go away on it’s own. 

when I’ve grabbed a glass of water and some pretzels from the snack cabinet, i lay down on the sofa and turn on some cartoons. ‘It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown’ plays on the Television and the theme song sounds throughout the living room. within a few seconds my thoughts have floated over to the brunette a couple of rooms over, and as if I’ve summoned him i hear footsteps coming my way. 

his head peeks out the corner and his eyes lock with mine, his hair is tousled, his eyes are heavy, and when he reaches his hand up to brush through his hair, his shirt rides up his stomach and when i catch a glimpse of the patch of hair trailing from his bellybutton down to where his grey sweatpants hang low on his waist, i have to drag my eyes away from the sight. 

‘what are you doing up?’ he asks, walking over to me and taking the seat next to me, his eyes landing on the cartoon. ‘couldn’t sleep. did i wake you?’ i ask in return. he glances over to me, his eyes landing on the pretzels next to me, and he grabs a handful, shoving a couple into his mouth. ‘no,’ i wait for him to elaborate. ‘just, my head wouldn’t shut up’ i nod in understanding. ‘mine either.’

we sit in silence for a couple of seconds before he speaks up. ‘what we’re you thinking about?’ he asks. i look over at him admiring him for a second. his face is illuminated by the TV screen, the dim light makes him look otherworldly, his features appear somehow sharper, and his eyes are glistening. when i don’t answer him he looks over to me, his eyes locking with mine. the movement causes a strand of his hair to fall onto his face, and before i can even think to stop myself, i reach over and brush it out of his face. ‘his hair is so soft’ i think to myself as i run my fingers through his hair. when he leans into my touch i freeze, snapping back to reality. i mumble an apology as i go to retract my hand, but his hand locks around my wrist, keeping it in place. his eyes are locked with mine and his voice is raspy when he repeats his question. ‘what were you thinking about?’ his eyes look so deep into mine that I’m sure he’s looking directly into my soul. and as if he’s compelled the truth out of me i answer. ‘you.’ my voice is barely above a whisper and as the words leave my mouth, his eyes go dark and suddenly his lips are on mine. 

the kiss is hot and messy. our teeth clash together, and he grabs a fistful of my hair, pulling, angling my head to deepen the kiss. his other hand reaches around me and pulls me onto his lap. my hands are in his hair, then on his chest, then around his neck. his hands are much like mine, travelling up the sides of my body, and down to my hips. ‘god, you’re perfect’. he says as his hands slip beneath my top, exploring my curves before eventually reaching up to cup my breasts ’i’ve wanted this for so long.’ i sigh contentedly ‘me too, baby’ i mumble against his lips. his fingers pinch and roll my nipples gently, sending waves of pleasure coursing through my body.

i arch my back into him and move my hands from his neck down to the hem of his top, tugging at it. he breaks the kiss momentarily, raising his arms to allow me better access to remove his shirt. once it’s discarded i run my hands over his bare chest. ‘like what you see?’ he teases lightly, his voice thick with desire. i laugh at his teasing, ‘shut up.’ i mumble and pull him back into a kiss. he chuckles against my lips and flips us over, laying me down on the couch, my legs on either side of his hips and his forearm by my head, holding himself up. i melt into the kiss and tangle my hands into his hair to deepen it. his hands slide down to my ass, squeezing gently. ‘mmm,’ he moans into the kiss. ‘you’re killing me here.’ my brain goes fuzzy as he squeezes my ass and my back arches, pushing my breasts against him. ‘Dylan,’ i moan against his lips, ’please.’ 

He deepens the kiss further, his tongue swirling with mine in a heated dance. he breaks the kiss momentarily to whisper against my lips. ‘please what, baby?’ His hands continue their exploration, inching up underneath my top to caress the soft skin of my stomach. ‘i need you,’ i pull away to gaze into his eyes, ‘please’ i whine. i hear his breath catch at my plea, a growl rumbling in his throat and he tears off the rest off the rest of our clothes. ‘patience, sweetheart,’ he pants, and my eyes fall down to his cock, throbbing with need, and my eyes widen. ‘relax,’ he says, noting my hesitation ‘we’re gonna take this nice and slow.’ he leans down, capturing my nipple between his teeth, nibbling gently before soothing it with his tongue. ‘but first… i need to taste you.’ without waiting for a response, he lowers his head, dragging his tongue along my slick folds before circling my clit with the tip and I throw my head back with a semi-pornographic moan. ‘fuck, Dylan. feels so good.’ he hums, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through my core. ‘that’s it, babe,’ he encourages, his voice muffled ‘let me hear those sweet sounds.’ my hands fly to his hair as he delves deeper, tasting the sweetness of my arousal as he explores every inch of my dripping cunt.

‘oh my god,’ i whimper as i feel the familiar tightening sensation in my lower stomach. ‘I’m close, baby.’ i tug on his hair and he doubles his efforts, sucking on my clit while he plunges two fingers into my pussy, and i cry out. ‘come for me, baby.’ he urges, as my walls clench around his digits. ‘let me hear you scream my name’ his words send me skyrocketing over the edge and i scream. ‘fuck, Dylan. m’cumming!’ he groans as my release floods his mouth, lapping up every drop greedily. ‘fuck, yes,’ he hisses, continuing to pump his fingers in and out of my spasming cunt. ’taste so good, baby.’ 

once my tremors subside, he withdraws his fingers, bringing them to his lips to suck them clean and i watch him in awe. ‘delicious,’ he murmurs, crawling up my body to claim my mouth in a searing kiss, and i moan at the taste of myself, pulling him deeper. without breaking the kiss, he turns us around, moving into a sitting position and pulling me to straddle him again, positioning the tip of his aching cock at my entrance. ‘ride me.’ he commands huskily. ’take what you need.’ his hands grip my hips, assisting my decent as i sink down onto his rigid shaft and we moan in unison, watching my pussy swallow his cock. when he bottoms out i sit in place for a minute to get used to his size, my hands on his shoulders to steady myself, ’s’big, Dylan.’ i moan. ‘it’s okay, baby.’ he reassures me, stroking my back soothingly. ‘you’re so fucking tight, but you can take it. just relax and let your body adjust.’ he holds my hips steady, giving me a moment to acclimate to the fullness before slowly starting to thrust up, and i whine. ‘that’s it… ride me, baby. show me how much you want this big cock inside you’ his words spur me on and when i begin to move, he wraps his arms around me, holding me close as we rock together in a slow, sensual rhythm. i moan as the stretch resides, and pleasure floods through me. ‘fuck, you feel incredible,’ he groans, his hips snapping up to meet mine with increasing urgency. ‘so hot and wet… I’m not gonna last long if you keep bouncing on me like that.’

i wrap my arms around him as i bounce on his cock with renounced vigour, my legs ache, and when he thrusts up from a certain angle i cry out. ‘there! Fuck, right there, baby!’ he gasps sharply at my exclamation, his member twitching when he hits that perfect spot within me. ‘right there?’ he confirms, his voice strained with lust, and i nod fervently. he grinds up into me harder, hitting  that sweet spot again and again, and a scream-like moan resounds from my throat. his hands roam over my back, gripping my ass cheeks tightly as he thrusts up into me with abandon, and i let my head fall into the crook of his neck with a drawn out moan. ‘oh, god. Dylan, baby, I’m gonna cum.’ my nails leave half crescent marks on his shoulders as i dig my nails into them, and he hisses, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chases his own climax. ‘cum for me.’ he pleads, his voice rough with desire. ‘make a mess on my cock.’ with a final hard thrust, he reaches down to rub my clit in tight circles, and my mind goes hazy as he sends me spiralling into another orgasm, and i have to bite down on his shoulder to keep from screaming. ‘fuck, Dylan! oh my god.’ i moan as he pulls me away from his shoulder by my hair and crashes his lips against mine as he spills inside of me, coating my walls with his cum. 

he collapses back onto the couch and pulls me with him, laying my head against his chest. i listen as his heartbeat slows down to it’s regular rhythm. and we just lay there for a minute, me in his arms, him playing with my hair.  

we’re gonna get so many noise complaints in the morning.

taglist: @yourenogoodforme, @thatgirl5839 , @cherib3lla

[amillionideas]

Bill and Charlie

I think it’s so intriguing when you pull back the curtain on Bill and Charlie. On the surface, they’re framed as the “cool,” successful older brothers: Bill with his suave curse-breaking career and ponytail, and Charlie with his rugged dragon-wrangling life in Romania. But beneath that image? There’s definitely a deeper, more complex story. Why did they both leave home so quickly, and why did neither seem eager to come back and carry the burden of their large, struggling family?

The Pressure of Being the Oldest

As the eldest, Bill and Charlie would’ve grown up carrying a huge weight of responsibility. The Weasleys are a working-class family with seven children and not a lot of mone: Arthur’s humble Ministry salary barely stretches far enough. Bill, as the firstborn, would have felt the pressure to succeed in a very tangible way: to set the tone for his siblings, to be the “responsible one,” to help his parents. And yet he leaves for Egypt as soon as he finishes school, rather than staying to support them. That feels… telling.

Charlie, similarly, runs off to chase an inherently dangerous, not particularly glamorous job working with dragons. For both of them, there’s a kind of escape embedded in their career choices. It’s not that they don’t love their family, it’s that they needed to get away from the emotional intensity and the demands of being a Weasley. Maybe it was suffocating to be the “golden children” in a family already bursting at the seams.

Why Did They Leave?

• The Weight of Expectations

Imagine growing up in a home where money is always tight, where your parents are constantly stressed, and where the unspoken expectation is that you’ll do your part to ease that burden. Bill and Charlie are both exceptionally talented (Bill was Head Boy, Charlie was a Quidditch star) yet instead of staying close and contributing directly to the household, they leave. That suggests they may have felt smothered by the expectation to put the family first.

There’s a quiet rebellion in that choice: to prioritize their own lives over family duty. Maybe Bill didn’t want to be the surrogate third parent. Maybe Charlie couldn’t handle the pressure of being the role model. Their absence says, I can’t stay and be what you need me to be.

• The Weasley Family Intensity

The Weasleys are warm and loving, but they’re also loud, opinionated, and emotionally overwhelming. Molly’s love can be suffocating, and Arthur’s laid-back, idealistic nature leaves a lot of practical worries on the shoulders of the older kids. Bill and Charlie, by virtue of their independence, may have craved a quieter, freer existence. Their careers, isolated, adventurous, and away from home, could reflect a desire for space from that constant emotional pressure.

• Survivor’s Guilt (in a Family Sense)?

It’s possible that both Bill and Charlie carry a kind of guilt for leaving their younger siblings behind. They got out, they pursued their passions, but they also know that means the weight of “holding things together” fell to Percy. Bill, especially, seems aware of this when he reenters the family dynamic during Half-Blood Prince. His relationship with Percy is probably one of recognition, he knows what it’s like to be the one expected to succeed, and maybe he understands why Percy snapped.

• Molly’s Intensity as a Mother

Molly Weasley is a wonderful mother, but she’s also a smothering one. She worries, she controls, and she has a vision of what her children’s lives should look like. Bill and Charlie’s choices defy her ideals (Bill’s long hair and earring are a quiet act of rebellion against the tidy image she wants for him). Charlie’s outright rejection of a more stable Ministry job feels like a rejection of her overprotectiveness. Maybe they left because staying meant losing their sense of self under the weight of her love.

The Emotional Cost of Leaving

For all their independence, there’s a cost to that distance. Bill and Charlie are noticeably absent from key family struggles, especially Percy’s estrangement. Why didn’t they intervene? Why didn’t they pull him back from the edge when they, of all people, would understand what it’s like to clash with their parents?

And in general, I feel like any reader can notice Charlie’s absence in the aftermath of a lot of dramatic moments. He’s there sometims, yes, but he isn’t a central emotional anchor. It makes you wonder, does he feel guilty for not being around more? Does Bill, with his new responsibilities as a husband to Fleur and his work at Gringotts, feel the weight of leaving too much unsaid?

The Relationship with Percy – A Missed Opportunity

I love to think about how much richer Percy’s arc becomes when you view it through the lens of Bill and Charlie’s departure. All three brothers share a similar drive, ambition, independence, a desire to carve their own path, but while Bill and Charlie did so in socially acceptable ways (curse-breaking and dragons are cool), Percy’s Ministry career was treated with ridicule. What does that say to a kid who already feels like an outsider? What message does it send when the brothers who “did it right” are celebrated, but he is mocked for his choices?

I can imagine a version of this story where Percy’s break from the family isn’t just about the Ministry, it’s about being angry at Bill and Charlie for leaving him behind to carry the weight. Maybe there’s resentment there: You got to leave, and no one called you selfish. Why am I the bad guy for wanting something better?

Why This Complexity Matters

Again (more on my post about the Weasleys), the Weasley family feels so real because they aren’t perfect. Their love is fierce but complicated. Bill and Charlie are adored, but their absence leaves scars, on Percy, on Ron, and even on Fred and George, who are forced to grow up in the shadow of their cool older brothers without the same freedom to escape.

By exploring their reasons for leaving, the emotional weight of their distance, and the gaps they leave behind, you transform them from "cool big brothers" into something deeper: men who love their family, but who also had to choose themselves to survive.

And the best part? This adds so much more emotional punch to the moments when they do come back. Bill helping to protect the Burrow and standing by Fleur against his mother’s disapproval. Charlie arriving for the Battle of Hogwarts. Their return is meaningful because of the distance, because it shows that love, even when it’s messy, always finds a way home

[artdcnaldson]

and when we move on (we dont) and get a new boyfriend and get engaged all within the span of six months and suddenly art finds himself at your engagement party and you look happy and he thinks maybe he imagined his importance to you - maybe he had it wrong and he was the fleeting obsession. how else are you able to move on so quickly? he's miserable but he still plucks up the courage to come congratulate you even if he doesn't mean a word of it. says, "you look beautiful - honestly." just because, well you do.

and its then that your mask slips - you look like art punched you - not those slaps you'd both traded in the past - but like he'd genuinely punched you in the gut. wounded ane pained like he'd just said the most awful thing in the world to you. and your hands tremble when you hand him your champagne glass and mumble "im sorry - excuse me -"

you have to be somewhere alone. suddenly constricted and panting and you find and alcove to lean against and you feel tears burn your eyes and even worse still, a presence at your back - "hey, what -" because of course its him, of course it is. "what's wrong - what did i say -"

you could laugh. you could laugh if a sob wasn't cut off in your throat. you hate him. on your engagement day. the nerve to say you were beautiful. with those genuine eyes and soft expression - like he meant it. like he always thought you were.

he breaks your heart and and you try to move on - you let yourself drown in the next man that shows you attention because arts words follow you everywhere - how you're not the marriage type - well, your fiance wanted you. he wanted you and that had to be enough because if you remained alone and unwanted you think you'd die from the pain of it -

so for him to say something like that now - all of the sudden -

"why do you hate me? i left you alone, didn't i? patricks still your friend. you have everything you wanted - I just want to move on, art. I just want to be wanted - why are you here?"

GODDDDD your mind <3

You know it’s sudden— everyone knows it’s sudden. But you’re the only one who knows why you rushed into it so intensely. Why, after six months with someone, you agreed to marry someone who you hardly even knew.

You knew the basics— Charlie wanted to be a college professor. His mother was filthy fucking rich, old money, and she liked that you came from an affluent background. He enjoyed skiing, and watching tennis, and he did rowing in high school. He was allergic to cats. He liked ordering raw oysters and slurping them down embarrassingly loud at restaurants. He never ordered for you, always paid the bill, never pushed you past a heavy makeout session on the couch.

Because you couldn’t go past that anymore. You couldn’t be easy, couldn’t give it up. You had to be the type of girl someone would marry, you had to be girlfriend material, and wife material, and mother material.

Charlie wanted to get married, wanted a big family, and you checked those boxes for him. You’d never have to want for anything, he’d pamper you and keep you spoiled like you were used to. He was strawberry blonde like Art, but his smile was more refined and practiced, and you wish it wasn’t. When he proposed you said yes, and cried tears that were supposed to be happy, but how could you know for sure?

Art shows up to the engagement party as Patrick’s plus one, and you feel dizzy. But you have to be normal— you can’t give anything away. You just… try to avoid him. When he starts gravitating your way, you find an excuse to talk to someone else, or make your way into the kitchen for a fresh drink. Anything to stay away, because you can’t fucking see him. You can’t do that right now, or ever.

But of course he finds a way— he’s too polite or maybe he’s just too cruel to leave the party without offering a congratulations. You’re cornered like prey, grip so tight on the stem of your champagne flute that you’re worried it’ll snap.

And he doesn’t say congratulations. He just looks at you with a genuine, completely earnest smile and says, “You look really beautiful. He’s really lucky.”

You feel your heart seize in your chest, like someone’s grabbed it and squeezed viciously. The corners of your mouth twitch downwards, but you fight it and bring a polite, practiced smile to your lips. “Could you excuse me for a second?”

He looks confused as you put your glass in his hand, as you close his fingers around it so he doesn’t drop the expensive crystalware. As soon as you’re sure he has it, you’re weaving through the many guests to find solitude. Most of them are Charlie’s friends, few are your acquaintances— people that would just as soon pray on your downfall as they would offer a sweet congratulations.

You slip into the hallway feeling suffocated, drawing quick breaths through your nose until you tuck yourself away in a nicely tucked away alcove and take a slow, steadying breath.

But Art lingers at the edge of your vision, and you want to just cry and cry as he gets closer, as he puts a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, what…” his brow furrows, he searches your face for some sort of clue, something to help him understand. “What’s wrong? What did I say?”

The noise you let out is strangled, almost animal. You look at him and see that he means it, he doesn’t fucking know, he doesn’t understand. Maybe he just can’t.

“I can’t believe you’re—“ your voice cracks and you look away from him. You can’t stand to see that kicked puppy expression, the earnest concern. You can’t fucking look at it. “And after everything?”

Charlie is a good man. Charlie makes you happy, or he can one day, with time and distance. And he sees you as someone he wants to spend his life with. Isn’t that enough? Why is Art trying to spoil it for you when the alternative is proving him right? That would kill you. You’d rather just die.

“I was just…” he trails off, turns your face toward him with two fingers against your chin. The softest he’s ever touched you, and it feels so foreign and wrong that it shatters something inside that you thought you’d fully repaired. “I thought you’d want to know. That I still think about you, that I want you to be happy.”

Tears spill down your cheek, inky and black from your mascara. “You’re so fucking mean, Art.” Your voice is weak as you look at him. He drops his hand back to your side, but stays close, so close you’re reminded of how intoxicating his presence can be. “Why are you doing this to me? Huh? I did what you asked and I left you alone. And I didn’t tell Patrick, because I didn’t want to hurt you. Why isn’t that enough? Why are you trying to spoil this for me?”

Confusion and hurt flashes across his features. Is that what you thought he wanted? For you to really leave him alone? He didn’t want that, it nearly fucking killed him. He spent the end of senior year tanking in tournaments, he hardly slept.

Patrick had told you about Art floundering, and it made you sick. You’d actually laid in bed crying about it, wracked with guilt. You thought it was all because of you, because you’d distracted him and ruined him.

It felt like he was there only to remind you that you were poison. That you would do the same to the sweet boy just through a set of double doors as you had done to him. But you wouldn’t. You’d never do that again.

“Charlie wants me. I’ve been his girlfriend for only a few months and he already wants to marry me,” your wavers pathetically as you think back to what Art had said back home. The prospect that he could be right was fucking terrifying, but you’d left that girl behind. “He could be the only one who wants me like this. So why are you trying to show up to my engagement party and look at me like you— like—“

You can’t say it, but he knows. He looks at you and he knows. You wince as he sinks to his knees in front of you, tears filling your eyes. Because his hands slide up your calves, settle on the back of your thighs.

He kisses your knee, softly, reverently, looks up at you with soft, desperate eyes. You sigh softly as his lips trail up, skimming along your soft thighs. You lean back, pressing against the wall, feeling yourself melt for him.

“Art,” you gasp weakly. “You can’t. We— we can’t.” You know you’re speaking the truth, but your words and your actions aren’t aligned. Your fingers card into his hair, and your entire body lights up when you finally touch him again.

It aches in your chest— longing and hurt and love and hatred. You never felt as much as you do with him. Charlie doesn’t light up that part of you the way Art does. Maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe it needs to be hidden away, cut off like a rotting limb.

His lips press to the spot just beneath your hem, and he peers up at you. “Let me.”

Not a question. A plea. Let him.

Let him what? Love you? Touch you? Let him eat you out in the shadows of a hotel hallway? Let him back in? Let him have you? Let him be yours to worship again?

“Okay,” your voice is barely above a whisper. “Okay.” You repeat, just to make sure you’re certain. Of what, you don’t know.

His head slips beneath the skirt of your dress, and you moan softly at the press of his lips over your panties. Soft, sweet kisses over the fabric that make you open up for him. You feel need dripping from your center, longing.

You haven’t been touched since him— not that he’d ever actually tried. But having him touch you, kiss you… it feels like ice melting.

He tugs your panties to the side, mouths at your cunt like he’s kissing it. Like he’s kissing you. You moan softly, let your head knock against the wall.

“Art—“ you practically sob. His tongue parts you, laps at you from your dripping entrance to your clit. He moans and nuzzles closer, lets his nose rub against your clit as he presses his tongue inside of you. He squeezes at your thighs, dimples the plush flesh there.

You’re so sensitive— it’s a combination of months of barely even touching yourself, of missing him, of craving him. You’re dripping onto his tongue, moaning softly. You can’t manage more than soft gasps of his name, pleas for more— Art Art Art Art Art.

He draws your orgasm out easily, like it belongs to him. Laps at your release, works you through it until your knees are shaking. He pulls back, mouth glistening with your release.

He stays on his knees, presses another soft kiss to your thighs, and another, over and over again. Soft, reverent, tender. He looks up at you so earnestly, so desperately, that you feel a sob stick in your throat.

“I need to get back,” you say suddenly, when the ache in your chest is too much to bear. “Charlie’s probably wondering… you know— I’ve been gone too long.”

“Charlie?” Art asks, his voice weak, pathetic. He’s still looking up at you from his knees, and he has to scramble up when you start walking towards the women’s bathroom to tidy your makeup. “Why are you doing this?“

He could be asking anything. You answer what you think he needs to hear, what h ended a to know. “He’s going to be a good husband, Art. He’s always sweet, and he’s never… he doesn’t just see me like— like what you see.” You take a steadying breath. “What you said to me back home was true, I know that now. But I can’t just be alone. It’ll kill me.”

You pause, let your lip twitch into a sad smile. “Just please leave me alone, Art.”

You slip into the bathroom, he hears you click the door locked so you can’t follow. Not like last time. When he returns to the party, he drinks three more glasses of champagne. He leaves before Charlie gives a toast to you, to your impending marriage. He can’t fucking stomach it.

[sapphicantics]

Two Sides of the Same Coin | Chapter One

Pairing: Regina George x fem!reader

Summary: After a nobody destroys the Jocks and insults the Queen Bee without a care or an apology, you get catapulted to the top of the social food chain next to aforementioned Queen Bee, Regina George, who now has to learn to share the spotlight with North Shore’s new bad girl. | Or alternatively, your ‘don’t give a fuck’ attitude sucks you and Regina into each other’s worlds sending you down a path you never expected.

Chapter word count: 1.7k

Contents: vaping, underage drinking, mentions of weed, threats of violence, mentions of broken bones, shitty comebacks - I think that’s it, lemme know if I missed any

Note: Alright, I’m finally here with the first official chapter of Same Coin. Now I don’t know how often updates are gonna be for this fic but they will be coming, I’ve got so many ideas for it.

Intro - Chapter 2

— — — —

Menace is a bit of a crazy term to use to describe someone who sticks up for themself, but this is high school and everyone loves to exaggerate, especially boys with fragile egos who can’t stand the school knowing they got their asses kicked by a girl.

And when the girl is you — a girl who keeps to herself and minds her own fucking business like people should do any-fucking-way — oh, there’s bound to be countless descriptors thrown onto you to help rebuild their fragile masculinity.

Volatile, temperamental, crazy, psycho just to name a few.

You’re not sure how those are supposed to rebuild their masculinity, especially when you can just kick their asses and knock it right back down again. Despite those seemingly negative connotations that come with your new title, it does, admittedly, have a rather nice ring to it.

Anyways, nice ring or not, negative connotations or not, title or not, you’ve got far more important things to focus on instead.

Like why the fuck Charlie Hudson is in front of you right now.

It’s lunch and you’re under the bleachers with a strawberry flavored vape pen in hand. You take a hit and blow a cloud of smoke past your lips, raising a brow at him.

He doesn’t speak for a while probably assuming you’ll do so first, but you just take more hits from your vape and continue to stare at him. He approached you, he came over here to you, he’s interrupting your time so he must want something from you and he either tells you on his own or he doesn’t tell you at all. It makes no difference to you, but you’re definitely not gonna ask what he wants.

It’s only when you check your watch does he remember he’s on a time crunch and finally opens his mouth to speak. “I’m having a party tonight. I was thinking you could swing by for a bit.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Well, it’s gonna be a whole thing, you know?” No you don’t know, and that really doesn’t answer the question on why he’s inviting you or why he thinks you’d even want to go, but thankfully he continues. “Real big, real fun, real cool…” he reaches into his pocket, pulling his hand out and passing some cash over to you. “…really need someone to bring the Mary Jane.”

You tilt your head at him, looking between him and the cash before sliding your vape into your jacket pocket. You pluck the cash from his hands and flick through the stack. There’s a couple thousand dollars here — broken up into smaller bills because why not — a little over a thousand by your count, sixteen hundred to be exact, which is far more than you usually charge to supply a party, but if the rich boy wants to give you all his money then you’re not gonna stop him.

Perhaps, this might make you a thief to some, but really, what’s one more negative connotation added to your name?

You slip the cash in your pocket and nod. “I’ll be there at ten.”

He flashes you a smile as you walk past him and brush your shoulder against his. There’s no force behind it — okay there’s a little force behind it, not a lot though — but still he flinches at the pressure and you don’t miss the way he reaches up to rub at his shoulder out of your peripherals.

That reminds you that you need to make a few things clear. Well, one thing, specifically.

“Oh, and Charles?” He hates that name, thinks it makes him seem like an old man and what better way to ensure he knows you’re serious than calling him by his government. He seems to understand this as his eyes snap to yours and he tenses. “If North Shore wants a chance at making it to state this year, it’d be in your best interest to ensure your brother is on his best behavior tonight. Unless, of course, Lucas wants more broken bones. You got me?”

The bell rings behind you then, a seemingly ominous warning to the boy whose face is now alight with fear. You don’t bother waiting on a response, you know he’ll obey your wishes. You smirk and turn on your heels, disappearing into the school.

— — — —

You show up at 9:45.

Fifteen minutes before the agreed upon time, a rather gracious compromise in your opinion.

One you’re already starting to regret as you walk into the house.

The music is blasting so loud you can barely hear yourself think. The house stinks of sweat from the hundreds of people crowded around each other, dancing, singing, laughing, and making out.

Everyone is drunk — some way more wasted than others — but somehow they all seem to sense your presence and part for you like the Red Sea. Some of them even turn their heads to see if it’s really you before quickly looking away and whispering to their friends.

You roll your eyes at that and Charlie takes this moment to finally make his appearance, trudging his way out of the kitchen. He makes a detour once he spots you and after a quick greeting, he leads you out to the backyard. “You got the stuff?”

“What a stupid question,” you scoff. “You think I’d take your money and then show up to this party empty handed with this duffle just for fun?”

You shrug the bag off and place it on the ground between the two of you, unzipping it as you do so. Inside is a bunch of pre-rolled joints and plenty of bags of weed for those who prefer to use a bong. There’s some rolling papers in there so people can roll their own joints, but you’re pretty sure if anyone does rolls their own joints tonight they are not using the weed you bought — because they don’t trust you so they won’t trust the weed you bought, and also no one goes to a party without their own weed. On the off chance that they do use yours, however, the necessary supplies are there.

Charlie whistles at the haul, eyes wide, clearly not having expected this much from you, but that’s not really surprising.

“Damn, I knew you were a pothead but that’s pathetic even for you.”

It is surprising, however, that Charlie took time out of his day to summon an actual demon from hell to this party.

You say this out loud. On purpose. Because it’s your mouth and you’ll say whatever you want.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

You turn your head to see none other than the devil herself, Regina George, glaring at you.

“You fucking heard me, Regina. You’re a demon and you should go crawl back into whatever fiery pit of hell you came out of.”

“Yikes, someone’s feeling dramatic today. But if I left, who would teach you how to dress?”

You chuckle and shove your hands into your pants pockets. “Rather presumptuous of you to assume I would want fashion advice from someone who looks like a copy and paste Barbie doll.”

“Oh, sweetie, it’s adorable that you think your opinion matters-,”

You hold your hand up to stop any further comments and start talking over Regina, effectively cutting her off and shutting her up. “I’m so glad you said that because your opinion does not matter at all, not to me especially when I didn’t even ask, and acting like it does is only going to do you a disservice so I’m gonna go ahead and let you know - I don’t care and you can keep the rest of your shitty opinions to yourself.”

Regina scowls and steps into your personal space, pointing her finger at you, inches away from jabbing into your skin. She’s towering over you slightly and now that she’s so close, you have to tilt your head up to hold eye contact with her. “Listen here you little bitch-,”

For the second time in less than a minute, you cut Regina off, smirking at the little vein that bulges on her forehead. “No, I don’t think I will, actually.”

Regina is about to blow. You can see it in her eyes, in the way her shoulders are so tense, and if you can see it so can anyone else in the vicinity. You lean closer, lowering your voice to a whisper so only she can hear. “Be honest, are you just mad this shirt got to come out of the closet, and you didn’t?”

Regina’s hands are fast.

SMACK!

But so are yours.

You catch her wrist in your hand before her open palm can collide with your cheek, the sound echoing like a gunshot in the backyard. A hush falls around those outside and you feel dozens of eyes lock on the two of you.

Regina tries to pull her hand away and you tighten your grip in response - not enough to leave marks or to cause pain, just enough so she’s forced to stay where she is.

She glares at you, her eyes alight with fury and jaw tense. The air crackles with the intensity of her anger, and you can feel the heat of her rage radiating towards you. But there’s no backing down now.

“Enough, Regina!” you snap, your voice firm and unyielding. “This isn’t the time or place for this!”

Her eyes narrow, and for a moment, it seems like she might explode again. But you hold your ground, your own anger flaring to match hers.

“We’re not doing this,” you continue, your tone brooking no argument. “Not here, not now.”

She looks ready to argue, but you cut her off, stepping forward with a fierce determination. “Back off, Regina. We’ll settle this later.”

The tension hangs thick in the air, but she finally takes a step back and you release her, her jaw still clenched. Without waiting for her to respond, you turn on your heel and stride away, your heart pounding with the adrenaline of the confrontation.

You venture inside and slip into the kitchen, grabbing a beer. You down it in one go and grab another one for the road before leaving out the front door.

It’s gonna be a hell of a day tomorrow.

[redroomreflections]

Just A Check In

Natasha Romanoff xfem!reader

The Loud House universe - available on a03

Summary: R and Nat talk about divorce and what their lives look like now

note: Idk what this is fr I just wanted to write it

This is about 3 years in the future from the actual timeline.

The kitchen is quiet, a gentle hum of the refrigerator and the occasional clink of dishes in the sink are the only sounds breaking the peace. You and Natasha are in one of those rare moments of solitude, settled into your domestic routine.

You sit on the kitchen counter, your legs dangling over the edge, a pile of mail spread out before you. You sift through it with a relaxed focus, your eyes skimming the envelopes and papers, while Natasha, leaning against the counter with a mug of tea in hand, vents her frustrations.

“Charlie was just—” Natasha begins, her voice a mix of exasperation and disbelief. “She gave me such attitude this week. I thought that was something we’d have to deal with when she’s a teenager, not now.”

You nod and hum your agreement, sorting the pile of letters into bills, junk, and others. The first pile is already quite large and will be a pain in the ass to sort through. You mentally remind yourself to look over the online bill payment settings again, as you have for the past month or so, to see if there are any new updates or if anything is still glitch.

As Natasha continues to recount Charlie’s most recent bout of rebellion, you can't help but grin, knowing exactly how your wife feels.

"She is a preteen. 11 years old is a pretty big deal," You offer her. You look up, catching Natasha’s gaze with a knowing smile. “You mean you don't like the whole ‘don’t tell me what to do’ thing?”

"I definitely don't," Natasha groaned. "It's almost like everything I say goes in one ear and out the other. And the whole smart mouth thing..."

"Well, when she was younger you told me not to scold her on it," You shrugged. "Remember when there was a time I was the one that was too strict."

"Yeah, yeah, but this is different. She's starting to get mouthy with me, and it's not cute anymore."

"I know, babe."

Natasha huffed and leaned forward, placing her mug down next to you. "I want to ground her for life."

You barked out a laugh, reaching a hand forward to squeeze Natasha's shoulder. "Babe, no."

"She's lucky she's cute," Natasha muttered, turning back to grab her tea. "Even though it's wearing off."

You smiled and shook your head, turning back to the mail.

"Speaking of teenagers, what happened with Cara? She's been out a bit late these days." Natasha asked.

"She's eighteen," You remind her. "She has her own curfew. We don't have to worry about her as much. Taking a year off to figure out what she wants to do with school hasn't been easy on her."

"Yeah, you're right," Natasha sighed.

She was quiet for a moment, and you heard the gentle scrape of the wooden spoon against the ceramic mug as she stirred her tea.

"So... I guess what I'm saying is I don't like having to parent my daughter," Natasha finally spoke up. "And I'm tired of Charlie and her attitude. It's getting exhausting."

"Oh, really?" You replied, looking up. You caught her gaze and grinned, tilting your head to the side. "What about your wife? You can't handle her either?"

Natasha chuckled. "Oh, I can definitely handle my wife."

"Yeah, well, that's good, " You looked into her eyes. "Charlie will get better. Give her time and talk to her more. Let her know you're there."

"Why doesn't she hate you?"

"I'm the cool mom," You shrugged. "It's practically a crime. Plus, Cara took me through the ringer so I guess it's high time you receive that."

Natasha pouted. "Not fair."

"It is," You chuckled. "But seriously, it'll all get better. Kids go through changes. We can't expect her to stay the same sweet little girl forever. But the good news is, when we get to the worst of it, we can always give her to my mom."

Natasha let out a chuckle and nodded. "Alright, I'll hold you to that."

You smiled and turned back to the mail. After a moment, Natasha began to stir her tea once more. You check your phone, deciding to check your messages when you find one from Denise. One of your mutual friends from college is divorcing her husband.

"Oooh, Denise says Jude and Nadine are getting divorced," You say, looking up.

Natasha raises a brow. "Oh? Why?"

"Apparently he was sleeping with her friend," You replied, reading the message. "Oh, wait, I forgot to tell you."

"About?"

"The friend's pregnant."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I'll show you the messages," You said, putting the phone down. "That's insane to me. They've been married just as long as you and I have."

Natasha scoffed. "People can have a long marriage and still cheat."

"True," You agreed. "But they were really happy. I thought they were going to last forever."

"Well, not everybody gets lucky," Natasha said.

"That scares me a little," You admit. "I know we're solid but..."

"But?"

"Well, a lot of my friends are starting to split, and... it's weird," You said. "I mean, you remember our first few years. We didn't have the best luck either. Now, we're deeper into it. It's so much easier to get into a routine. We are just as busy if not busier than when we moved into the house. The kids take up most of our time. We don't even have sex like we used to. We're almost on a schedule these days and..."

"And?"

"We can't be that couple," You sighed.

Natasha smiled and leaned in, her lips ghosting over yours. "We are not like that."

You raised a brow. "Are you sure? Because the last time we were really spontaneous was... actually I can't think of a time."

"It's not a big deal, right? As long as we make time for us." Natasha paused. "You're really afraid? Did that message prompt this or was this something you've been thinking of a long time?"

You bit your lip, shrugging. "I'm not sure. I guess it's been building up."

Natasha leaned forward, her fingers brushing the strands of hair out of your face. She pressed her lips against yours, her hand falling to your neck. You closed your eyes, your hands finding her waist.

Natasha's kisses grew in intensity, her tongue sliding into your mouth. Your breath caught in your throat, and you found yourself moaning against her lips.

"Fuck, Nat," You groaned.

Natasha chuckled, pulling back. She placed a few chaste kisses against your lips, then pulled back completely, a satisfied grin on her face.

"Better?" She asked.

"Hmm," You nodded, smiling. "Yes, but I don't know if that eases my worries."

"We are fine," Natasha promised. "I'm glad you're telling me this right now. If it's something you're worried about we can work on it. My parents don't plan on moving out anytime soon. Trust me I've asked. Maybe we can utilize them a bit more." She rested her hand on your bare thigh. "We're just as solid as when we first started. Even more so. We are not the same people we were fifteen years ago. I promise, baby. We are not like them."

You smile, the warmth of her words and touch seeping into your body. "I'm sorry for bringing it up."

"No, you're not. It's okay," Natasha chuckled. "I'm not angry or upset. I want us to have these talks and check in with each other. As for the sex, when we do have sex, I'm just as satisfied now than back then."

"I can't believe you just used that term," You laughed. "Back then."

"It's true," Natasha argued. "Do you feel the same?"

You nod, a grin forming on your face. "I think my libido has grown as I've gotten older. As if that's even possible."

"What I'm hearing is I'm not taking care of you," Natasha moved to stand between your legs. She placed her hand on your knee, rubbing gentle circles against the skin.

"That's not what I meant," You insisted.

"Sure it's not," Natasha grinned. "Maybe I need to remind you just how good I can make you feel."

"Yeah?" You smirked, your arms wrapping around her neck. "Prove it."

"With pleasure."

Natasha pressed her lips against yours once more, her hands sliding up and down your thighs. She squeezed and massaged the skin, her lips molding with yours.

Your hands slid down her back, resting at the hem of her shirt. You pulled her closer, your tongues meeting in a passionate embrace.

Natasha pulled back, a low groan rumbling from her chest. "Fuck."

"What?"

"Luke."

"What?"

Natasha stepped back, holding a finger to her lips so you could be quiet. Sure enough, you heard the heavy footsteps of your four-and-a-half-year-old along with the scraping of dog nails. Luke walked into the kitchen sleepily, his hands holding gently to Midnight's fur, as he looked between the two of you.

"Can I have a drink?" He asked.

"Of course, sweetie," You answered.

"Do you want some juice?" Natasha asked.

Luke nodded, his eyes drifting shut. "Apple please."

"Okay, sit down, and I'll get you a glass," Natasha said, moving to grab the juice out of the fridge.

Luke stumbled to the table, and Midnight followed, plopping down beside him.

"We will finish this I promise," Natasha leaned over to quickly peck your lips.

You grinned, nodding. "I'll hold you to it."

[nuninho2000]

what's your opinion to all weasleys?

Well , let's start with the parents:

Arthur: I like Arthur, i really enjoy his fascination with everything related to Muggles, it reminds of those kinds of scientists, explorers and collectors on whatever are things found in Nature and then takes home with observing and studying , he's a great role model father that is caring, understanding but can be put his kids in their place when enough is enough and his relationship with Harry and Hermione and the way he takes care and watches over then is really underrated

Molly : I like Molly too , she's the definition of what a realistic mother looks like , she's not a perfect mother but always is trying her best and what's her kids to shine and have success especially in school, sure she can be a nag sometimes with her overprotective side but she is the best mother than you could ask for , in some ways she reminds my own mom and the way she welcomed Harry and show he's part of the family is good

Bill : I like him , he's a very cool old brother that has a cool job and is that kind of brother that everyone loves and the brothers friends look up to , he's a good looking and stylish guy that is patient and helpful, i love his relationship with Fleur and i think are great pair

Charlie: he's the Weasley sibling that we have less showing but just like Bill we can see that people love him especially his teammates from Quidditch like Oliver Wood , his work with dragons always fascinated me because i love dragons and the thought of him working on dangerous job is really badass

Percy; unpopular opinion but i like Percy's character arc and appreciate his development from a snobbish person and is a student role model who is ambitious and wants more , his ambition got the better of him and act really bad during book 5 the way he spoke to his father and how he was ashamed of him , ignoring his mother Christmas present was out of line, to be honest I don't blame him that much for not trusting Harry because despite knowing him they don't get along but the main reason why Percy sided with the ministry was because of the promotion and his ambition got the better of him and when was finally reveal that Voldemort returned and Harry was right all along his pride didn't make go apologise to his family and he had it coming when his siblings ignored him and twins and Ginny throwing food at him but i was really he came around in the end and finally apologised, made amends and fought in the battle of Hogwarts side his family

Fred Weasley : smart person and was a talented wizard that was a great duo with twin brother George, his death was really sad not only because he died next with Percy when everything was alright between them and the fact he died with a smile is heartbreaking and fitting his character

George Weasley: I like him , i think in terms of personality i like him more than his brother Fred , he's a great mastermind and was the best Quidditch player among the twins, i love how protective he is with Harry especially in book 2 when Harry said he would do anything to get the golden snitch and even got mad at Oliver for it , along with Ginny consolidated Ron when he thought his rat was killed

I find it so relatable he gave his pass away brother's name to his son because my name is a tribute to my dead uncle that i didn't know but from the people that knew him said he was a wonderful person

Ron : he's my favourite Weasley character and one of the characters i like the most in the series and he's in my top 10 HP favourite characters, he's brave , funny, smart, passionate, loyal, lovely person and a character that i have a ton of respect for .

He's the best friend that any person likes to have and the best friend and company that someone like Harry and Hermione should have , without him the Golden Trio wouldn't be complete and we readers couldn't have a better person to show us how the Wizarding World works .

Ginny: the lovely girl who conquered the heart of our beloved protagonist and his soulmate.

What can i say about Ginny? The shy girl that wasn't exactly shy had a good growth throughout the series and showed how brave and reckless she could be by fighting against the possession of a memory of Tom Riddle with 11 years old and hang on until it became inevitable, fought against her own trauma, had many friends, was popular, become a Quidditch player which was dream considering that use to practice without her brothers consenting and notice but the peak was when her wishes and dreams became real when the love of her life and soulmate kiss her in front of many people and started dating, unfortunately and was necessary she understood when Harry broke up with her not because he stopped loving her but to protect her .

With Harry, Ron and Hermione haunting for Horcruxs she alongside Neville and Luna restarted the DA and fought against the Carrow and tried to steal the sword of Gryffindor and fought in the battle of Hogwarts .

After the battle she and Harry rapidly started dating again, got married and had 3 wonderful kids and she realised her dream of becoming a Quidditch player for 4 years and then started to write about sports after retirement.

I love the Weasley family, what's not like, right?