#George Weasley Oneshot

[vilentia]

Physical Touch

George Weasley x reader

Summary: George Weasley discovers his love language of physical touch in his relationship, leading to a deeper understanding and connection.

Just wrote something short to get the idea out of my system.

****

In their sixth year at Hogwarts, George Weasley and you had stumbled into a relationship as unexpectedly as one might stumble upon a hidden room in the castle. It was fresh, exhilarating, and filled with the kind of magic that didn't require a wand.

In the bustling corridors and beneath the ancient trees of the Hogwarts grounds, George had a way of speaking without words. His fingers would absentmindedly play with a strand of your hair during study sessions, his hand would find yours under the table in the Great Hall, and during quiet moments in the common room, his thumb would draw invisible patterns on your skin. These small gestures were his language of affection, his way of saying you mattered in a world that was often too loud and chaotic.

One crisp autumn day, as you both lounged by the Black Lake, watching the giant squid's tentacles occasionally break the surface, Fred Weasley, George's inseparable twin, ambled over with a mischievous grin. "Merlin’s beard, George! Do you need a magical adhesive to keep your hands off her for a second?"

George's smile faltered, and a shadow of doubt crossed his face. You laughed it off, assuming it was just Fred being Fred, but something shifted in George after that.

He became hesitant, his touches fewer and more restrained. The corridors seemed colder, the classes longer, and the common room a bit less welcoming. You felt the change but couldn't understand it. Why had George, always so warm and playful, suddenly turned into a distant echo of himself?

One chilly evening, in a quiet corner of the library, surrounded by ancient tomes and the soft glow of candles, you decided to breach the silence. "George, what's wrong? You've been acting so differently."

He looked up from his book, his eyes meeting yours with a vulnerability you hadn't seen before. "I... Fred made a comment the other day. About me always touching you. I started thinking, maybe it's too much. Maybe I'm making you uncomfortable."

You reached out, your hand covering his. "George, do you know what love languages are?"

He shook his head, confusion written across his face.

"They're the ways we express and feel love. Yours, I think, is physical touch. It's not too much, George. It's just your way of showing you care. I love it. It makes me feel close to you."

A small, relieved smile broke through George's uncertainty. "Really? I never thought about it like that. I just... feel more 'me' when I'm close to you."

Grinning, you nudged his shoulder playfully. "Well, feel free to be 'you'. Hogwarts can be a big, lonely castle, but your touch makes it feel a lot more like home."

From that moment, George's hesitancy melted away. His touches returned, each one a silent word in a language only the two of you understood. And in the middle of a school full of magic and mysteries, you found comfort and warmth in the simplest magic of all - a touch, a look, a connection that needed no spells to be real.

[iiwontgiveuponmilkk]

Amortentia | F.W.

summary: fred and george open their shop and she's late to the grand opening. she finds ginny and hermoine standing by the love potions. she uncorks one to make the girls feel better, but she's shocked by what she smells.

word count: 1523

warnings: fluff, one mention of drinking

notes: since this was winning the poll, here you are ;)

Her day did not start how she hoped it would. She had taken the day off, but the world had other plans. She had been called into work at 3AM, unable to say no. She told her supervisor that she absolutely had to leave before nine, but she ended up being there until a little after ten. She had rushed home after her shift. She intended on going straight to the shop, but she looked like hell. She hurried to get changed and make herself look presentable to the public. Seven hours at the hospital had left her hair a mess, and it wasn’t easy to tame. She ended up pulling it back in a braid, smoothing her hair the best she could. She didn’t bother trying to cover the dark circles under her eyes, it was pointless. She had stopped for a coffee on her way to the shop, needing as much caffeine as she could to stay awake. She hurried down the sidewalk, practically jogging. She grinned when she saw the shop, the boys really weren’t ones for anything subtle. Walking into the joke shop was like something out of a movie. It was lively from the second the twins had opened the doors. She had been caught up, not able to make it right when they opened. She found herself wishing she was here when they opened the doors. It was almost ironic how magical the whole scene was. She promised her best friends that she would be there as soon as possible. She brought her coffee to her lips, forcing herself to only sip it. If the caffeine couldn’t keep her awake, the energy in this shop definitely could. It was buzzing with life and laughter. 

 She smiled to herself as she looked around. Kids were running around the shop, looks of awe on their faces. Teens were eyeing candies that would definitely get them out of class. She forced herself not to shudder at the many memories of the prototypes for all of those candies, and the time she accidentally ate a fainting fancy. It took mere seconds for her to hit the ground, yelling at Fred and George when she woke up. She found herself overwhelmed by a sense of joy for the twins as she looked around trying to find them in the crowd. The shop was packed, she figured it would be. She was so proud of both of them. She finally spotted the two, buzzing around the shop, talking to almost everyone as they zipped around. She figured the twins would find her soon or later, not wanting to interrupt them as they hastled a group of what looked to be first or second years. 

She spotted Hermoine and Ginny at a display of what looked to be love potions. She had to hand it to the twins, the display would easily draw anyone in. It was gorgeous. She made her way through the crowd and greeted the two girls. "What are you two up to?" She asked, picking up a heart shaped vial, turning it over in her hand. "We're just looking." Ginny mumbled, her cheeks slightly pink. She let it slide, already knowing what they were doing. She knew Ginny had a crush on Harry, and she knew that Hermoine was pining after Ron, even if she would deny it. "Well, I'll just look, too." She winked, uncorking the vial. “I’m sure they won’t mind.” She brought the vial up to her nose, freezing at the smell. Vanilla, pumpkin juice, floo powder, and cedarwood. She corked the vial, slowly putting it back on the display. She looked up to the two girls, hoping her cheeks weren’t as red as they felt. Ginny gave her a knowing smirk, but Hermoine looked clueless. “What did-?” Hermoine started to ask, but was cut off by the twins. She felt her cheeks burn a little hotter, causing Hermoine to smirk. That partially answered her question.

"Hello ladies. Love potions, eh?" The twins said in unison. Her cheeks burned as she met Fred's eyes. Oh, for merlin's sake. "They really do work!" Again,  in unison. The two girls wandered away, putting the potions back. George was quickly distracted by a group of young wizards, leaving her and Fred alone. She tried her best to avoid his eyes, hoping her blush would fade. "I'm sure you won't be needing that anyway." Fred slung an arm over her shoulder, "Glad you're here." He gave her a small squeeze. She leaned into him, fiddling with her sleeves. "Quite honestly, I might. You seem to be quite thick headed." She bit her lip, glancing around the shop. The silence that fell over them was deafening in the loud shop. “Uh, anyway, I do have to get back. I took an hour so I could come down.” She finally looked up at Fred, only to find him already looking at her. “What time are you off?” She noticed a faint shade of pink across his freckled cheeks. Maybe he wasn’t that thick headed. “6ish? I’m covering for Lottie so she can get some rest. We’ve been beyond short.” She fiddled with the hem of her sleeve, trying her best not to seem nervous or utterly embarrassed that she not-so-subtly told Fred she liked him. “We’ll be done around 7. Can I stop by?” Fred gave her a hopeful look. She fought the smile tugging at her lips. “Since when do you ask before you just show up? You know you’re always welcome.” She gently nudged him with her shoulder. “Sooo, is that a yes?”

She arrived home earlier than she thought she would, Lottie came back after a ‘four hour power nap’. She took the extra time to relax. A long, hot shower followed by a glass of wine and her favourite satin slip. She had contemplated not wearing pyjamas, but she did anyway. If it were anyone besides Fred stopping by, she would’ve grabbed a jumper and leggings, but Fred had seen her in a lot of scandalous situations over the years. She was curled up under a blanket on her sofa about to doze off when a knock sounded at her door. She reached for her wand, haphazardly flicking it, hoping it would actually open the door. She heard the door shut, followed by footsteps coming up the stairs. “I’m offended, couldn’t greet me at the door?” Fred asked, feigning a hurt tone. She pushed herself up at the sound of paper crinkling. She gave Fred a confused look, but a smile graced her lips when she noticed exactly what he was holding. “How rude of me! I didn’t know you were bringing a poorly wrapped gift.” She teased, patting the spot next to her. She watched Fred as he moved across the room. She reached out, tugging on his coat as he crossed in front of her. “Take your bloody coat off.” She murmured. A small laugh came from him. “Hold this then, bossy.” He pulled his coat off, laying it over the back of her sofa before sitting next to her. His hand clasped over hers as she went to shake the paper package. “Just open it.” He laughed. “And I’m the bossy one.” She mumbled, narrowing her eyes at him. Fred leaned back, throwing his arm along the back of the sofa behind her. She pulled the twine and began unfolding the paper. She felt her cheeks heat up when she saw what he had wrapped up. She took the heart shaped vial in her hand, turning her whole body to Fred. “You’re a bloody idiot.” She gave him an exasperated look. “Merlin, read the label, love.” He laughed. She let out a huff, looking down at the label. The original label had been peeled off and was replaced with Fred’s handwriting. The label had been replaced with a description of her perfume, the smell of her shampoo, the tea she always drank, and what could only be described as the smell of St. Mungos when you walked in the doors. “You could’ve just got me flowers.” She mumbled, peeking up at the red-haired man sitting next to her. “Or, I don’t know, asked me on a date anytime in the past two years.” 

“You said you might need it.” He teased, his arm falling around her shoulders and pulling her into his side. She leaned her head against him, pulling her blanket over his lap. He pulled her closer against him. “Do I?” She whispered, turning the vial over in her hands. Fred pulled away from her, bringing his hand up to her face. His fingers curled under her chin, gently pulling her gaze to his. His thumb brushed over her bottom lip as he gave her a small smile. “If I ever say yes, I want you to force me to drink that.” He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. Her eyes fluttered shut as she kissed him back. She moved his lips against his, reaching up to tangle her fingers into his hair. She pulled back, resting her forehead against his. 

[shadowbriar]

George Weasley - What Matters

Pairing : George Weasley x (she/her) Reader Word Count : 0.8k Warning : Takes place on the night after the Seven Potters event. Not proofread I'm too tired. Synopsis : Soothing conversation after what seems to be the greatest nightmare the couple had to live through. Notes : Part of Shadowbriar's 2024 Valentines Project. If you like this story and would like to support me, please visit my kofi page and perhaps get me a coffee?☕

"Have you ever imagined a world where we’re not together?”

George frowns, lifting from the bed to lay on his side, his arm supporting his head. He watches her closely, seeing the glimmer of uncertainty in her eyes. Supposed the nightmare of him arriving at the Burrow with blood soaking his shirt earlier was still etched in her mind. 

The plan was a success, should one argue. Their objective was met. Harry is now safe and sound, sleeping in Ron’s room like a baby. Though some sacrifices needed to be made, loss to mourn and cry for, at least knowing that what they fought for was achieved would be the softer side of the bed they’ll sleep on tonight.

“No, never.” He says firmly, trying to provide some comfort for her “Why would I ever think that?”

She shrugs, “Reasons.”

Gently, George reaches for her hand and places it to his chest. He hopes that it could ease her wary mind a little. He wanted her to feel his heart beat, to feel his heat, to feel him. He knows that it would take more than sweet words and tender embraces tonight to get them through the night, to get them just a blink of sleep no matter how sore and aching their bodies are, but he has no idea how else he could comfort her when he too was still a little shaken from the event that occurred.

“I’m sorry,” She whispers, her voice shaky as she tries her best not to let the tears fall “I should be the one comforting you, but I just—”

“Shh, it’s alright, Darling,” George says as he pulls her close “It’s okay. I’m right here.”

“I could have lost you.”

“But you didn’t,” He reassures, patting her head gently “You’ll never lose me.”

“But I almost did, George. I almost lost you.”

“Love,” George pulls away a little, staring deep into her eyes with that boyish smile “It would take much more than Voldy’s gothic underling to keep us apart, trust me.”

She forces a smile, one that didn’t truly reach her eyes. Her stare was still vacant, like she’s trying to comprehend her surroundings and finding firm stepping after the rug beneath her feet was pulled. There has been no greater horror, no bigger fear and terror than the one she felt a couple hours ago.

“I can’t lose you,” She says to him “I just can’t.”

“I know. I can’t lose you, either.” He says gently, caressing her cheek “I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

“What’s left of you, you mean.”

George raised an eyebrow, “Meaning?”

“You lack an ear,” She tries to jest, smiling slightly bigger though her eyes still welled of tears “Can’t decide if it makes you lose a couple points in the appearance department or if it enhances it.”

“The latter, of course. You have one hell of an unkillable boyfriend,” He says proudly, grinning “Reckon muggles write it on their papers? A bloody ear fell from the sky. Imagine the horror!”

Her laughter finally breaks. Though it didn’t last as long as George wished it would, the lingering smile on her lips was enough to tell him that the storm is slowly passing. Gently, he leans in and kisses her. How the night went by was certainly unideal but now that she’s here, laying on his bed, everything feels alright. Like the pain on his ear was reduced into a slight itch and the soreness of his body was caused by nothing but a typical quidditch practice.

The sigh she let go as they parted lifted tons of her burden. The corners of her lips were still curled, satisfied with the solace they could both find in each other though chaos still unravels around them. It was modest and unadorned, but much more than enough to soothe both of their scarred minds.

“I love you,” She says softly “I don’t want to ever imagine a world without you.”

“Then don’t,” George answers “Don’t imagine it, don’t think about it, don’t worry about it because it would never happen. It’s us or nothing, remember? That’s all that matters.”

She chuckles, “That’s a bit extreme now, init? Us or nothing?”

“Well, I wouldn’t have anyone other than you,” He argues, raising an eyebrow “Do you have anyone you’d have other than me?”

“There’s a short list of possible names.” She jokes once again “You’re in my top three at the moment, honestly.”

“I hate you.”

“Okay, top five now from that comment.”

George let out a satisfied laughter, pulling her head close to his chest that she could feel the echo of his chuckle and the steady beating of his heart. Her arms now encircle his waist. There seems to be too much space between them tonight though their bodies were cramped together on such a tiny bed. No close is close enough for the two right now.

“I hope you know I didn’t mean that.” She whispers to his shirt “There could be no one but you.”

“I know,” George says, planting a kiss to the crown of her head “I know, Sweetheart, I know.”

[gimme-gimme-georgie-weasley]

Truly Madly Deeply [G.W. x reader]

a/n: inspired this scene from truly madly deeply. we miss you alan. uploading this and maybeee a hc before i go overseas tomorrow!!

wc: 0.3k

--

There, they laid on the couch, enveloped in each other’s presence. He carded his fingers through her hair, familiarising himself with the thickness and texture of each strand; the way it smelled of her shampoo seemed to do wonders to him. He had his other arm wrapped around her waist. She had her nose deep inside a book, lost in another world as she took a sip from her enchanted tea cup that floated beside her.

It all felt right; how their bodies melded seamlessly with each other, like puzzle pieces.

George hummed along with the tune as he traced a finger along Y/N’s jaw and upwards towards her left ear and fiddled with it, drawing little stars along the outer lobe. He smiled as he watched her squirm under him, satisfied that he finally pulled her out of her book.

“Love?” He said.

“Yes, Georgie?” She hummed half-heartedly.

He whispered, “I love you.”

She dog-eared the page, shut the novel with a ‘thwack’, and flipped around on her stomach to face him.

She folded her arms, resting them on his belly as she looked up at him through her eyelashes, “I love you.”

George knew what was going to become of this, having lived with her for forever. 

“I really love you.” Any second now, he thought.

“I really, truly, love you.”

“I really truly, madly–”

“I really truly, madly, deeply, love you.” She cut him off with a childish grin.

There she is, he smiled to himself, watching as the object of his affection slowly riled up to become the girl he fell in love with. Competitive, witty, just as mischievous as him. He drank in the playfulness in her eyes, no longer fighting back the smile on his face. Her hands flew up to cup his cheeks, rubbing a thumb in circles over his right cheek.

She pulled him closer, nudging their noses together as their foreheads touched. His warm breath that smelled of peppermint tea ghosted over her lips.

“I truly, madly, deeply, passionately, remarkably, juicily love you.”

--

[minlcna]

five knots of affection - george f. weasley

note: thank you for all of the support on my first post! it truly meant a lot. this one-shot wasn't supposed to be as long as it turned out to be, and i haven't perfected it yet, so i might reupload it or edit it later synopsis: george never learned how to tie his tie because you had been there tying it for him until fate tied the two of you together

warnings: cheesy puns and dad jokes which suck but are funny to me (yes i have a terrible sense of humor)

word count: 2.4k

୨୧���‿‿ 𝜗𝜚 ‿‿‿୨୧

George cannot tie his tie.

No, really, he cannot tie his tie for his life. He reminds you that if you had not tied his tie the first time, your strings of fate wouldn’t have ended up together like this. They would have ended up all tangled and knotted. He reminds you of all the instances in which you had straightened out his tie and your lives.

The first time was at King’s Cross station. It was his and your first year at Hogwarts, and the crowded station was a new experience for you. Mrs. Weasley had insisted on all four of her sons wearing their uniforms to the station, wanting to get pictures before Charlie graduated.

However, Mrs. Weasley was preoccupied with fawning over Charlie. It was his last first day at Hogwarts, and as a prefect and Quidditch captain, his mother made sure to get a lifetime’s worth of pictures.

Percy had helped Fred with his tie, only to be thanked with a handful of stink pellets in his back pocket, which created an odor of dung all around him, surrounding him like a halo. Because of this, Percy refused to help George, who was left to fend for himself.

You had been watching the whole thing with much amusement. The entire red-headed family eased your nerves on the first day, and with feelings of partial pity and partial repayment for the entertainment, you walked up to the younger twin.

You simply tapped him on his shoulder. As he turned around to face you, fingers still entangled in the fabric, you latched your fingers on his. You quickly untangled his fingers from the fabric and slowly guided them down.

He wanted to back away from the unfamiliar person, but he was stunned by the beauty of the 11-year-old.

Just as he started to wiggle around and grunt in protest, worried that his brothers might use this moment to make fun of him later, you grabbed the tie with both hands, encircling it around his neck and pulling it down slowly to rid the fabric of any creases as you quietly said, “Stay still.”

And just like magic, you inserted the wide end through the loop at the front and adjusted the knot by sliding it upward with just enough room to breathe.

Finally, meeting his widened eyes with a smile, you lowered the collar, said, “Wasn’t so hard, was it?” and tapped the collar’s fall.

George instinctively knew you two had meant to meet and would become good friends.

Since that day, your fate has been tied, and it has become tradition for you to help George with his tie on the train back to Hogwarts.

The second time was just before the Yule Ball started. The doors to the Great Hall were about to open any second, and his tie had become a colossal knot, slowly strangling him. His date was too occupied judging others’ dresses, so she hadn’t noticed the mess her date had become, not as though she could have helped him. She had long nail extensions, which prevented her from using her fingers too much.

He turned around and called out your name with a pleading look. You couldn’t believe how careless he had been to knot up his tie to that extent, but soon, the look of surprise was replaced by urgency. Maybe it was the thought of upsetting your date, leaving his hand to go help another guy, or perhaps it was the thought of everyone walking in with their dates, leaving you and George in front of the doors, trying to clean up the mess and becoming the night’s joke. You grimaced at the thought, threw a look towards your date, and quickly shuffled over to George, working your magic through the fabric, using your wand to clear the creases, and quickly tightening the knot and pulling it up to his collar.

You yanked his collar down and tapped angrily at the fall of his collar as you said, through gritted teeth and a forced smile, “When—will—you—learn—George?”

“Oh, how I love it when you call me George,” he said with a playful grin, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He gently brushed his fingers along your side as he spoke, gliding them lightly under your arm.

“That is your name, isn’t it?” you snapped back, trying to hide the butterflies in your stomach and quickly ran back to your partner. Slowly, the doors opened, and everyone walked into the Great Hall with their dates in hand.

You caught George giving you a thankful smile during the slow dance, but you missed his gazes on you throughout the night.

The third time was at Bill and Fleur’s wedding. Finally, there was some excitement amid the tension and stress. George had been busy helping Charlie set up the tent and the tables outside the Burrow, leaving barely enough time for him to get ready.

The guests soon cluttered in as their voices grew louder, and George had just finished putting on clothes.

“Would you mind helping me with the tie here, m’lady?” he exclaimed, trying to comb his hair with his wand.

You grabbed the wand out of his hand and replaced it swiftly with a comb. Without a word, you slowly took out the brand-new purple tie you had gotten months ago, which coincidentally matched the purple waistcoat George was wearing, too shy to give it without occasion, and placed it on George’s neck. He was now attempting to re-bandage the wound on the side of his head without messing up his now tame, neat hair.

You left the tie resting around George, grabbed the bandage, and went on your tippy toes to wrap it snugly on his head without messing up his hair.

George did nothing but stare at your face as you resumed tying the tie.

“You know…” he started, looking down at your face.

“Hmmm,” you lazily replied without meeting his eyes.

“I was thinking about my tie. And how it must be magic. It always leads to knot-worthy moments between us,” he said, finishing cheekily.

You couldn’t help but smile at the little pun as you crossed the wide end over the narrow end.

“Like as…?” You trailed off as you glanced up at him; your fingers looped the wide end of the tie back underneath the narrow end.

“I was thinking about how ties bring us together, and it hit me—you’re the one who ties my world together. So, how about we knot up some time together?” he asked nervously, chewing his lip from the inside.

You looked up, took in a breath, and froze your fingers. You couldn’t believe your ears, and your heart was beating simultaneously, feeling it dropping to your stomach. You were still holding in that breath and were now trying to move.

But just as suddenly as George had confessed, you scrunched up as much of the tie as you could and pulled him towards you. Leaning in, you closed the small gap between you. You didn’t give yourself time to think, to second-guess what you were about to do.

Your lips met his—firm, warm, and slightly chapped. It wasn’t perfect or practiced, but it felt real. George went still for a split second as if he hadn’t fully processed what was happening before encircling his arms around your waist, holding you softly as if afraid to break you.

He tilted his head, adjusting, and the kiss deepened. The fabric of his tie, still bunched in your hand, was soft against your fingers as you clung to it like an anchor.

When you finally pulled back, your cheeks felt hot, and your breaths came faster than before. George’s smiling eyes locked on yours, and for a second, the two of you just stood there, sharing flustered grins.

“It was love at first knot, for you and me, I mean,” you said cheekily, your hands still holding on to his forearms.

“Oh, I see I have competition now for my tie jokes. It is absolutely un-bow-lievable!” he replied.

You burst into giggles. Your attention suddenly returned to the wedding, and you became aware of the music and laughter coming from outside.

“Let me fix that for you,” you said as you pulled out your wand and muttered a quick spell to straighten the tie and remove creases.

“Aye, where’s the fun in that?�� George exclaimed, wanting you in proximity again.

“Something is telling me that if I come to fix your tie again, we’re going to miss the wedding, and I can’t have Fleur and Molly blaming me for keeping you away all night,” you said, putting your wand back and turning your back to George as you tidied yourself up in the mirror.

"Jumping so fast to a night together, hmm?" he teased, wiggling his eyebrows in that signature mischievous way that always left you both laughing and exasperated. "Blimey, didn’t think I was that charming, but I won't complain!"

You ignored his comment, trying to fight the wild thoughts in your head and the flush on your face. Your eyes met him in the mirror as he flashed his notorious grin.

Your eyes widened as you hastily turned back around. "George, no!" you exclaimed, and before you could stop him, George had wholly pulled off his tie and wrinkled it.

You sighed in disappointment, arms flapped down, at a loss for what to say. George leaned in, his voice dropping to a mock-serious tone.

"I like it when you personally tie the tie," he declared, tilting his head and flashing you his trademark lopsided grin. "It’s tradition, isn’t it? Besides, magic’s no good for something as important as this. Magic can't give me kisses as good as yours."

And before you could respond, you heard voices calling you down to the wedding.

The next time ended up being your wedding. Your dad had led you down the aisle, and once you reached the altar and faced George, you noticed the crooked tie. In habit, you reached to fix the tie, ignoring everyone else in the crowd.

George’s hands covered yours mid-adjustment. His voice was soft and teasing as he said, “Darling, you’re supposed to say ‘I do’ first.”

The crowd laughed gently, but you didn’t care. Looking into his eyes, you grinned, “I do. Now, hold still.”

With practiced fingers, you straightened his tie one last time, the one you had personally picked out for this day. A deep purple silk that matched the vibrant ivy adorning the wedding arch. Satisfied, you looked up at him and caught his gaze—full of love, warmth, and that eternal mischief.

“Perfect,” you said quietly.

“You always make me so,” he replied, his voice barely audible to anyone but you.

When the vows were exchanged, and the officiant declared you husband and wife, George didn’t wait for permission to kiss you. He pulled you close, his hands warm against your back, and kissed you like it was the first and last time all at once. Cheers erupted around you, but for a moment, the world consisted of just you two.

Later, during the reception, George’s tie had again gone askew, this time from all the dancing and celebration. He found you in the crowd and dramatically plopped into the chair beside you.

“Wife of mine, it appears your services are needed again,” he said, holding out the wrinkled tie like a knight’s banner.

Laughing, you grabbed the tie, deftly fixing it. “You’d think you’d learn by now,” you teased.

“Never,” he declared, pulling you into his lap. “How else am I supposed to get you this close?”

The last time was when your six-year-old daughter learned to tie a tie herself. It was far from perfect—crooked and loose, with one end far longer than the other—but you couldn’t bear to correct her. Not when her little face was so scrunched up in concentration, her tiny hands fumbling with the fabric as if it were the most crucial task in the world.

“Well, what do you think, Daddy? Did I do a good job?” your little girl asked, her big eyes shining with hope.

You playfully nudged George, who was grinning from ear to ear as he admired his daughter’s handiwork.

“Done!” she exclaimed proudly, stepping back to admire her handiwork on George, who was crouching his knees with the patience of a saint.

George looked down at the tie, then back up at her, his face lighting up with exaggerated delight. “Blimey, love, this might be the best one yet! Perfectly wonky—just my style.”

He moved closer to her ear and mock whispered “Better than any your mum’s ever done.”

“Oi!” you interjected with mock indignation, your hands on your hips. “Let’s not forget who’s been saving your neck—literally—for years.”

George chuckled, reaching out to pull both of you into a warm embrace. “I think it’s safe to say I’m the luckiest bloke alive, having my two favorite girls take care of me.”

Your daughter giggled, squirming happily between you. “Does this mean I can tie Daddy’s ties forever now?”

You exchanged a tender look with George. “I suppose,” you said, brushing a strand of hair from her face, “but only if you promise to teach your daddy how to do it himself someday.”

George feigned a gasp of horror. “Traitor! I thought you were on my side, darling!”

Your daughter giggled again, delighted by the playful banter, and you couldn’t help but laugh too. It was a moment of pure, unfiltered joy, the kind you wanted to freeze in time forever.

Later, after she had scampered off to play, George turned to you, tugging at the lopsided knot still hanging around his neck.

“Well, Mrs. Weasley, care to show her how it’s done?”

You rolled your eyes fondly, stepping closer. “I suppose someone needs to teach her the right way.”

George leaned forward, his hands resting lightly on your hips as you began to work on the tie. His voice was soft and full of warmth.

 “You know, every time you do this, I think about that first day at King’s Cross. How lucky I was that you decided to help a hopeless eleven-year-old with his tie.”

You glanced up, your fingers pausing. “Lucky? You’ve been scheming ways to make me tie your ties ever since.”

“And you’ve been falling for it every time,” he teased, his grin boyish and irresistible. “Must be love.”

You finished tying the knot and smoothed it down, your fingers tapping his collar, hands lingering against his chest. “Must be.”

George kissed you then—soft and sweet, his arms pulling you closer as if he never wanted to let go. And in that moment, with your daughter’s laughter echoing down the hall and George’s tie finally, perfectly in place, you knew that your strings of fate would remain tied together forever.

[writing-wh0re]

“Read it to me, darling.”

♥ pairing: george weasley x fem!reader

♥ summary: Based on this ask “you're reading a book and its so good, you dont notice george back from pratice. So he wants to test how much you love the book. ”

♥ warnings: smut 18+, oral, male performing oral, smut book (?), fingering, pussy eating, smut with little to zero plot.

♥ wc: 1090

♥ masterlist & taglist

You were surprised how quickly you were getting through this book. Determined and excited to start the third instalment in the series. 

George had been out for hours, you had noticed the rain softly washing against the window, wondering when he would pop back in to see you again. Although it wouldn’t surprise you if he kept practising in the rain. 

You eyes skim over the words, a small smile on your face as Archer and Astrid, the two main characters finally shared their first kiss. You continue to read ahead, pulling the strawberry lollipop from your lips as you turn the page, excitement filling your body. You place the sweet back in your mouth, sinking down into the bed a little bit more, knowing your coming up to the juicy part of the novel. Small butterflies fill your stomach as Archer and Astrid pine over each other, both taking their relationship to the next level, solidifying their love. 

“Love?”

“Sweetheart?”

Your book falls into your lap, your face a slight tint of pink, eyes adjusting to the man in front of you. Slightly wet with rain and sweat, his shirt off and on the end of the bed. Your eyes rake over his body, your mind wandering back to your book as you rub your thighs together, which doesn’t go as unnoticed as you thought. 

“Sorry.” You shake your head, pulling the blanket up your body, feeling a slight shame for being caught with smut. 

George smirks, taking the lollipop from between your lips, slightly glossy with sticky strawberry residue and spit. He places the sweet in his mouth, his hand under your chin. Tilting your face to look up at him. 

“Love, don't tell me I’m losing you to your book boyfriend.” 

You pout slightly, before you can speak the lollipop is back against your lips. You frown, swirling your tongue around the sweet, watching George’s eyes lock onto your actions as the bed dips under his weight, him resting on his knees in front of you. 

“Please keep reading.” He insists, a swift wink sent your way. Moving the blanket off your legs. 

A gasp falls past your lips, your fingers gripping the stem of the lollipop to ensure its safety. 

“George, I don’t-”

He places his hand around your throat, his face inches from yours, the sweet smell of strawberry wafting between you. 

“Shh, darling, I simply can’t take you away from this book, I’ll occupy myself.” 

George grabs the book from your lap, his eyes quickly skimming the words, a small smirk on his lips. He tuts, shaking his head before, his fingers tracing down the top of your thighs, slipping between your legs, tracing the outside of your panties. 

“Ah, no wonder your panties are wet.” 

Blush creeps across your face, your eyes slightly wide as the embarrassment of him reading the smut washes over you. You bury your head in the book, wishing it would swallow you and help you escape this shame. 

George chuckles, laying down on his stomach, his lips kissing up your thighs, biting the soft skin with every second kiss. 

“I want to know who you prefer by the end.”

His fingers hook inside your panties, pulling them down your legs. 

“Me or your fictional man.” 

You roll your eyes, your heart hammering in your chest. 

“Don’t be like that.” You mumble, his warm breath fanning against your folds. 

“If you stop, I stop.” His tongue softly licks up and down your slit, an eruption of butterflies soars through your stomach. 

“George.” You whisper moan, heat filling your body. 

“Don’t stop love, I'm enjoying this.” 

You sigh, picking the book up and resuming where you left off. George kisses your folds, his tongue slipping back between them, circling your clit while you re-read the same sentence. 

Fuck, this is harder than it seems. 

“Yes.” You moan, your grip on the book tightening, your hips rocking slightly. 

“Read it to me, darling.” 

“Uh.” The sound falls from your lips as his wraps around your clit, sucking on the sensitive bud. Your eyes lock with his as he softly drags his tongue up your slit. 

“Enlighten me, I won’t ask again.” 

You nod, quickly picking the book back up and finding where you left off while George continues to play with your pussy. You clear your throat before reading aloud to him. 

“Archer gripped Astrid's hair, his hand pulling the strands around his palm. He liked the contrast between her red locks and his skin. He continued to thrust into her with heated passion- Fuck George uh.”

George chuckles against your clit, his fingers now slowly pulling in and out of you. 

“Astrid moaned something that caused Archer to slow his thrusts, wanting to hear- fuck just like that - wanting to hear more of what she could offer him. He knew if he kept it at this pace she would beg, a situation Archer only dreamt of. Astrid rocked her hips back, Archer's grip tightening on the strands of hair, pulling her back against his chest, his hands falling from her fiery red locks and groping - George Oh- her bo- Yes, Yes, uhh - her boobs.” 

Your head tilts back, George's pace picking up both his fingers and his tongue. The book falls on your chest, your finger tangling in his hair, chasing your hair. You rock your hips against his lips, his hands slipping under you and squeezing your ass, helping to support your slightly elevated angle. 

“I’m close.” 

George simply responds by humming against your clit, his fingers curling inside of you. Your back arches off the bed, your book falling off your chest and onto the floor with a small thud. 

“C-cumming” You moan, your vision blurry as you squeeze your eyes shut.Your teeth biting against the strawberry lollipop as it shatters in your mouth. George slows his actions, small aftershocks shooting through your body, your legs twitching. You release a deep sigh as George pulls his fingers out of your pussy, his lips glistening with a mix of your wetness and cum. 

He reaches for the lollipop stick between your teeth. You simply open your mouth showing him the shattered remnants as he smirks, leaning forward and capturing your tongue in his mouth. Intertwining his with yours and savouring the strawberry flavour before pulling away with a lick of his lips. 

“You should read to me more often.” 

You simply blush, hiding your face in your hands and pulling the blanket back up over your legs. 

Taglist: @horrorxweasley @maybesandohnos @skarlettmikaelson @mathletemadison @wahooyahoo17 @zagreusdaughter @alina02 @addymartinsstuff @rebeldotty88 @peterpan-neverfails @thehumanistsdiary @anonreaderas @i-love-scott-mccall @sunshinemunchkin @themoonis-beautiful-tonight @veryspookybatbabe @uwiuwi @anythingandeverything97 @fckve @darling2800

[l0standn0tf0und]

George Fabian Weasley ☆ fic recs p.4

part 1.

part 2.

part 3.

part 5.

♡ = smut, 18+ only

dating george weasley and being a hufflepuff would include

george weasley headcanons for after the war

kissing with george weasley would include

hugs with george weasley would include

life with george weasley, pt.1

life with george weasley, pt.2

life with george weasley, pt. 3

george x short reader

cherry, lemon, peach

under the mistletoe

lost in translation

foolish flowers

eavesdropping

placing bets

third wheel

pillow fort

entry-her

itch

♡high fever

♡hidden fun

♡wet-on-wet

♡no going back

♡unintentionally

♡merry christmas

Not my stories. Just my favorites from other writers. All credits and support to the original authors: @georgeweasleyslostearhq @grangersnotes @theoreticslut @rip-us-xoxo @suugarbabe @george-weasleys-girl @cherry-pop-elf @ickle-ronniekins @thoseofgreatambition @mystery-star @alwaysthegeorges @wizardingdiaries @harrysweasleys @angelblacksmith @writesowhatnext @hrt-poetry

masterlist

[lidiasloca]

Hii how are you? I like your blog<33 Can I make a request about George Weasley? The reader is a Slytherin. There is a romantic attraction between George and the reader; they may even become lovers. One day, while the two are talking, George asks her why the Sorting Hat thought about her for so long in the past. The other house the Sorting Hat had in mind for her was Gryffindor. She has always kept it a secret because of her family, but finally decides to tell George about it.~

george's slytherin girl

george weasley x you

fluff

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄☆

“Just tell me,” George urged for the fifth time that afternoon. It didn’t help that he was hugging you around the waist as you lay on the sofa, his sweet caresses further coercing you.

“No,” you laughed, feeling helpless against his curiosity. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Ugh,” he groaned in feigned frustration. “That just makes me want to know even more.” He squeezed your waist, making you giggle. “Tell me why the Sorting Hat took so long with you.”

You pressed your lips together, pondering whether to finally give in and confess. It had all happened such a long time ago—yet George still remembered that ridiculous Sorting Hat perched on your head. Maybe you could tell him after all.

“Alright,” you mumbled, feeling defeated.

He let out a childish giggle of pure joy, clapping his hands together like an overexcited child—although he was far from it.

“Well, do you remember we had already seen each other before the Sorting?” You waited for him to nod. “And do you recall how I went red immediately? How I tried to hide from you?”

“I didn’t think you were trying to hide from me. Was I that hideous?” he asked, grinning like a fool.

You pointedly ignored him. “Well, I was very timid back then. Very.” You took a breath. “And I kind of liked you—very much.”

His grin morphed into a cocky smirk. “Did you, now?”

“Oh, shut up.” He pretended to zip his lips. “And then it was the ceremony. You got sorted into Gryffindor, and when the Sorting Hat was on my head, I prayed it wouldn’t put me in the same house as you. I knew I’d live with the constant fear and hope of finding you around every corner. So, I begged. The Sorting Hat’s first guess was to put me in Gryffindor, but after hearing my prayer, it kindly placed me in Slytherin.”

You feared you had rushed through the story when you saw the surprised look on George’s face.

“Say something,” you said, a hint of desperation creeping into your voice.

“Sweetheart…” he breathed.

“What?” you asked, nerves bubbling up inside you.

Then he burst out laughing. He laughed and laughed at your serious face. At last, catching his breath, he said, “You are so adorable, Y/N. You got into Slytherin because you had a crush on me—shouldn’t that be in Hogwarts history books?”

“Oh, shut up.”

“No, really. It’s actually a pity we aren’t in the same house.”

“No, it’s not. I couldn’t have borne more than a few minutes in your presence.”

“Liar,” he replied lovingly, still sporting that smirk.

“Besides,” you continued, “I love Slytherin.”

“Alright, that’s true. But still, if you were in Gryffindor, we wouldn’t have to fight anyone who finds us in the common room,” he remarked, raising an eyebrow.

“And that’s exactly why I know I’m perfectly suited for Slytherin. I love a good quarrel.” He chuckled at the sight of your mischievous smirk. 

“My Slytherin girl.”

-Characters by J K Rowling

a/n: maybe not the sort of mistery fic you asked for, anon. hope you enjoyed it nonethelss. i really liked the idea 💞

[dreamcubed]

me! | george weasley x reader

song; me! [taylor swift, brendon uri(n)e] pairing; george weasley x fem!muggle!reader genre; accidental marriage, s2l, fluff, comedy word count; 7,8k timeline; post-second wizarding war (fred lives au) warnings; swearing, referenced alcohol consumption, references to hook-ups, references to sex, references to the war summary; after waking up in bed with a red-haired stranger and no memories of the night prior, you run off as quickly as you can. it isn't until months later when you're trying to buy a house that you learn that you can't just leave that forgotten night in the past

thought it would be ironic to have the song with the lyrics "i promise that you'll never find another like me" and "i'm the only one of me" with one of the twins lol

masterlist

"you're the kinda guy the ladies want."

————————————————

Typically, you were more responsible than this. You had always stayed away from drunk hook-up culture, hoping (perhaps too idealistically) to find organic love. Yet, on the night of your cousin's bachelorette party, you got so drunk that you found yourself in bed with a stranger the next morning. And you didn't know what to do.

All you could do for a few moments was look around the hotel room that you had evidently decided was necessary for the hook-up - and although you couldn't remember a single thing after your tenth shot at the club, the fact you were both naked gave away the events of the night prior.

He was red-haired, and quite nicely toned, but he also donned a partially missing ear. You couldn't see his face, so at that particular moment you couldn't judge whether or not drunk you had good taste. You pushed that thought aside - that was the least of your concerns. You needed to get out of there and forget that anything had ever happened, which shouldn't be too difficult thanks to the alcohol-induced memory loss.

So, with that, you slipped out of bed and scavenged for all your clothes around the room, and then quickly departed. You made it all the way down to the lobby without any human interaction, but it was there at the desk that you finally had to communicate.

"Heading out for a bit, Mrs Weasley?" the receptionist smiled at you.

You frowned, not understanding why they would address you as such - probably had mistaken you for someone else. But, you were in a hurry, so just grinned and nodded, leaving to never return.

***

Not many people were fortunate enough to buy their first home (alone) at the age of twenty-four without any help from their parents, but you had chosen a rather well-paid career path and had been meticulous with your money savings, so this was a reality for you. After a few months of working with a real estate agent to view houses and find the perfect home for you, you had finally come to a decision.

You had stumbled upon it really, when travelling from London to visit your family, you came across a road that you had sworn hadn't been there before. Curiosity had overcame you, and you had driven down it to find the cutest village named Godric's Hollow, which could also be described as peculiar. A lot of things in the village didn't make sense - like the fact they all seemed bewildered at the sight of your car - but the architecture was gorgeous. When you drove past an adorable rustic cottage with a 'for sale' sign out front, you didn't even have to think twice about viewing it.

It was a strange process, however, as the sign didn't have a number for the real estate agency, but instead read 'owl Cauldron Realtors for more details'. You asked around for information about Cauldron Realtors (a particularly strange name, comparable to the robes many of the older members of the village wore), and they pointed you in the direction of the realtor's.

From then on, the process to view the house and apply for a mortgage had been relatively normal, if not a bit old-fashioned in the lack of technology used. However, you reasoned that it was a small village and that they merely hadn't updated themselves like cities just yet.

***

"Why have you asked me to come here?" you asked as delicately as you could upon entering Cauldron Realtors.

"We have had something come up," Mr Linseed said to you. He was an eccentric old man, constantly adorning a pair of half-moon spectacles perched on the tip of his nose.

"Like what?"

"You told us that you weren't married."

You frowned.

"And I thought it was a bit strange given your muggle situation, but honestly I had simply assumed that you were a squib."

He was using a lot of words that you didn't understand. You had heard the word muggle passed around in the time that you had spent in Godric's Hollow, but had been unable to find out what it meant online or in any dictionary. Everyone used it so commonly you had felt too embarrassed to ask.

"Obviously, this changes the process for you to apply for a mortgage. We need your husband to sign off either that he will partially own the house or have no claim over it."

"I don't understand- I'm not married," you said.

"No?" the man raised a brow at you, "When we searched for legal documentation of your name, we found that it hadn't been Y/N L/N for a few months, but instead Y/N Weasley. I didn't think much of you not having gotten around to changing your bank details yet since it hasn't been long, but going by your maiden name is a little strange. So, I assumed that the marriage was short-lived."

Why did Weasley sound so familiar? You wracked your brain for when you had heard it before.

"Heading out for a bit, Mrs Weasley?"

Your eyes widened.

The guy from the hotel.

"What did you say my husband's name was?" you said slowly.

"I didn't, but George Weasley," Mr Linseed replied, "You knew that, though, correct?"

You nodded, "Yeah... just making sure."

The man frowned at you, "He is quite well-known I suppose - the shop Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes is quite famous. Anyhow, here are the new forms that I need you to fill out and then we will be back on track."

You accepted them in a daze, but snapped your eyes up towards him again, "Where can I find Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes?"

"Diagon Alley, of course," Mr Linseed was clearly confused that you didn't know where your husband worked.

You had never heard of Diagon Alley, and he sensed that.

"You know? Through The Leaky Cauldron? On Charing Cross Road?"

Finally, a name you recognised.

"Oh, yes. Thank you, Mr Linseed, I'll be back soon."

God, what a process to get yourself a house.

***

You were pretty sure that in all your visits to Charing Cross Road, you had never seen that pub squeezed between those buildings before. But, you weren't about to complain, as you were desperate to find George Weasley and sort everything out. You couldn't remember his face, but you remembered his red hair and partially missing ear - that should be enough to identify him.

You hoped, anyway.

Upon entering the gloomy pub, you were met by quite a shocking sight - but one that wasn't entirely indifferent to Godric's Hollow. Except, you would describe the pub as having a more creepy ambiance, in a way. Beady eyes peered in your direction as you walked up to the bar, and you tried to hold your own as a woman with matted grey hair and disturbingly long fingernails smiled at you with missing teeth. You forced a smile back.

"Excuse me," you said to the bartender, who was similar to the woman in energy, "How do I get to Diagon Alley?"

He pointed to the door out the back.

"Just through that door?"

"You'll need your wand too," the woman who had smiled at you said, "To tap the wall."

"Wand?" you squeaked.

"I'll show you," the woman said eerily.

In any normal circumstance, you would have declined the offer, but you had already had so many new experiences you found yourself following her out the back.

"You're not one of us, are you?" she asked with a giggle of glee, pulling out a wooden stick from her pocket.

You didn't reply, watching as she brought it up and tapped some of the bricks on the wall. To your amazement, they then parted, presenting to you the most bustling and magical street that you had ever seen.

"Diagon Alley," she stated, "Although I prefer Knockturn Alley."

You thanked her, and hurried into the street.

***

The pet shops were strange: mostly having owls, cats and toads. The book shops were strange: having cages of moving books in the display windows. The clothes shops were strange: pretty much exclusively selling robes and pointed hats. All in all, Diagon Alley was the most eccentric place you had ever been.

There was a broomstick shop, a wand shop, and a place to buy cauldrons. You were so out of your depth that you decided you should focus on the task at hand.

It wasn't long before you found a bright and buzzing shop named Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, looking ten times more exciting than all the shops before it. You were almost overwhelmed with all the young people inside once you entered, and it finally became obvious to you that it was a joke shop. The numerous prank items on display were clearly enchanted in a way too, only furthering your amazement at this street.

You scanned around for a redhead, but it was really difficult to spot anything within the chaos. Eventually, you located a flash of red by the till and hurried over. The queue was unfortunately long, but you waited impatiently nonetheless.

When you finally reached the front, the red-haired man behind it looked at you, and you couldn't help but noticed he had two full ears.

"Are you buying anything, miss?"

"I'm looking for George Weasley," you said quickly.

He rose an eyebrow at you, "What for?"

"It's a long story, I really need to talk to him."

"I'll fetch him," he said, and disappeared out back for a few moments before returning with a man almost identical to him save for that all-too-familiar ear. He didn't look at you like he recognised you - maybe he drank so much he had memory loss too? That would make sense, considering he hadn't tried to find you either.

"Can I help you?" George Weasley asked, gesturing for you to move to the side so that his twin could continue at the till.

"This is gonna sound crazy, but," you took a deep breath, "You're my husband."

"You're right, that does sound crazy," he chuckled.

"You woke up in a hotel room a few months ago, right?"

His eyes widened, "I thought I hooked up with someone," he said, "Wasn't sure, though, because I woke up alone."

"Sorry about that. I don't really do hook-ups, I kinda freaked out and bolted."

"I don't really do hook-ups either," he shrugged, "No hard feelings."

"Anyway, as I said, it turns out we got married that night."

"Wow. I honestly can't remember anything."

"Me neither," you shook your head, "And we can't get an annulment - the cut off is three months. And we were way too efficient with sending off the marriage registration - we did it immediately."

He hummed, "That's quite a predicament. Divorce, then?"

You nodded, "Yes, obviously. But that will take ages, and I'm trying to buy a house for myself right now. I need you to sign off that you have no claim over it."

"That's no problem," thank God he was agreeable, "But what's your name?"

"Y/N L/N," you said, "Well, legally Y/N Weasley."

The man smirked at you, which admittedly made your stomach flip. Drunk you definitely had good taste: this man was gorgeous.

"Where's the house you're buying?" he asked.

"Godric's Hollow."

"Ah, my sister lives there," he hummed, "Nice village."

"Can I ask you a question - since you're my husband and all?" you didn't know why you added the last bit.

"Fire away."

"Why does everyone keep going on about muggles and wizards and witches and magic? I'm so lost, I don't know what's happening."

"Wait- you're a muggle?"

"As everyone apparently keeps saying."

He chuckled, "Oh, wow. My wife's a muggle."

"What does it mean?"

"I'll explain," he gestured towards the door to the back room, "But it'll be a lot to take in."

"I don't care, I just want an explanation."

And so, your husband, George Weasley, explained about the wizarding world that he was a part of. And how, by marrying him, you had automatically been granted permission by the Ministry of Magic to be an exception for all anti-muggle charms. Which was why you discovered the road to Godric's Hollow all of a sudden as a non-magic person, which you learned was what muggle meant.

At the very end of his explanation, you sat back in the armchair he had offered to you, "That explains so much. It's insane- but I'm relieved that it's not me going crazy."

"Must be quite a shock," he hummed, "I can't believe we got married. Are there any photos?"

"I mean, I suppose we could find the chapel we got married at and ask."

"Maybe it will trigger some memories of that night. I got drunkenly married - who knows what else I did?" he sighed.

"I don't know if I want to know."

George shrugged, "Better to find out that way than have a random woman come into your place of work and announce she's your wife."

You grimaced, making him laugh.

"I'm just teasing."

"Can I get your number? So I can contact you when I need to?" you asked.

George stared at you, "Number?"

"How do wizards and witches communicate?" you exasperated.

"By owl."

You blanked.

"You might want to get yourself one if you're moving into a wizarding village."

"How do they know where to go?"

"They just do."

You sighed.

***

"So, I phoned the chapel that we got married at and they confirmed that we signed the marriage registration and sent it off immediately," you said to George, taking a seat opposite him in your flat that you currently resided in, "They also posted this to me." You presented a large envelope to your husband and watched as he carefully opened it - even though it was already unsealed thanks to you.

He pulled out a marriage certificate: lettered in italic gold writing and clearly signed on the bottom two corners. As he pulled that out, another piece of card fluttered to the ground. You chewed your lip as you watched him pick it up.

"Wow," was all he said.

It was the same reaction you had when looking upon the photo of you and George at the alter: lips pressed together with smiles creeping on to your faces.

"We look so happy."

You hummed, "The photo hasn't triggered any memories for me."

You watched curiously as he waved it about. "It's weird that muggle photos don't move," he commented, "But- yeah- I can't remember anything more either."

"Maybe it's been too long," you reasoned, "Perhaps if we'd seen the photo the day after, it would've helped."

"Probably," he shrugged, "I can find a charm or potion that will help us remember - if you want to."

It hadn't occurred to you that magic was now a readily available tool.

"I'm not sure, to be honest," you said after a while, "I just really want to seal the deal on my house."

George nodded, "Of course, I'll sign the papers saying I have no right to it."

"Thank you for making this so easy," you said, giving him a warm grin, "When I found out I was married, I was so worried it was to a complete asshole."

"When I found out I was married, I thought it was simply a cute way a gorgeous woman had of flirting with me."

You felt heat rush to your cheeks at his comment. George was a stunning man: his damaged ear only added a rugged element to him, enhancing his beauty in a way that you didn't know possible.

He noticed your flustered reaction and chuckled a bit, "However, there is one problem with me signing those papers that your real estate agent really should've mentioned."

"What?" you filled with worry: that house was your dream house.

"If you're buying a house in the wizarding world, you're going to need a wizarding bank account."

"He kept going on about galleons," you thought for a moment, "But then he converted to pounds so I didn't think much of it."

George hummed, "Yes, but you're still going to need to pay in galleons."

"How do I get a wizarding bank account?"

"Only wizards, witches, squibs and muggles married to any of the former can access one. Oh, and muggles with magic children, even if they aren't married."

You realised what he was getting at. "So I can get one, but..."

"But it has to be a shared one with me."

You pulled your hands down your face, "But I love that house so much."

"I promise you I'm not trying to trap you."

"No, no- I get it. I just- that means I'd have to stay married to you until my mortgage is paid off. And that takes like thirty years."

"Even then, the bills would still need to be paid in galleons."

"Oh, fuck," you muttered, "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

George watched you in silence.

"I'm sorry. I'll divorce you and forget about the house," you said eventually, "It's not fair for me to force you to stay in a marriage for the rest of your life - I mean, I can't force you."

"I didn't say anything about that."

You frowned. In your mind, there was no other option.

"I'm willing to do it."

"George, it's just a house, you really don't need to-"

"I will," he reiterated, "You realise that if you divorce me, you won't be able to access the magic world anymore?"

It had become something you were so excited to explore that you were disheartened by that fact.

"It would be cruel for me to take it away from you, I think."

"But-"

"So, I will set you up on my bank account, sign off on the house, and stay married to you."

Your mouth was opened wide as you stared at him, and in a flash you had leaped across the coffee table in order to pull him into a hug.

"You're so amazing," you mumbled, hugging him tighter as he returned the embrace, "Thank you so much."

"Hey, anything for my wife," he chuckled.

Your heart stopped.

***

"I've had to change my name on my driver's license and passport and bank account and everything else," you sighed, "Such a hassle for a fucking house."

George, who was walking with you throughout the empty house that you had just officially bought, chuckled, as he seemed to enjoy doing, "You must really love this place."

You shrugged, "The house, I would probably get over. An entire magical world that I would lose access to? Not so much."

He hummed, gazing around the place. You had decided that he at least deserved to see the property that he had given up so much for you to own.

"I can't wait to begin decorating," you sighed, "I have big plans for the downstairs rooms and the master bedroom."

"What about the other bedrooms?"

"I'm not sure, to be honest," you pondered, "I'll probably make one of them an office, but the other two, I honestly don't know. It'll be a while before I have any kiddly winks running around."

"How come?"

"I need to find a man to create them with first," you reminded, "And that will be especially complicated since I'm married."

"Not if it's with me."

You were pretty sure his words held a joking undertone, so you laughed.

"Well, I shan't keep you any longer," you said, "I guess we'll keep in touch?"

"Stop by my shop as much as you can," George replied, but you sensed a slight trace of sadness in his voice.

Nonetheless, you smiled, "Of course."

***

Was two days later too soon to take George up on his offer of stopping by? Maybe, but life was too short for you to not do the things that you wanted to do. Plus, you were exhausted from moving furniture and painting (since you were stuck doing it the 'muggle' way), so a getaway from your new home was needed.

After getting someone from the Leaky Cauldron to let you into Diagon Alley, you made your way down to the corner that Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes sat on. You couldn't help the fond smile that tugged on your lips as you pushed open the door and heard the tinkle of the bell above you. The last time you were there, you had been too nervous about meeting your husband to properly appreciate the joyful buzz of the shop; it was truly a marvel to witness. You wish you had grown up with access to such extraordinary things.

"Hello," a redhead popped up beside you.

You jumped a little, not failing to notice the fact this man, although initially appearing to be George, had two full ears.

"Hello... Fred?" you attempted to recall his name.

He nodded, "I must say, I wasn't expecting my sister-in-law to pop by today."

It hadn't occurred to you that George would have mentioned his marriage to his twin brother, but now it seemed obvious that he would have.

"Is my husband here?" you asked, adding a joking undertone. Nonetheless, you couldn't help but notice how warm saying that made you feel.

"Of course, he's out back."

"Should I...?" you trailed off.

"You don't need to ask permission to go out back," he chuckled, in a strikingly similar way to George, "You're married to one of the owners."

"Yeah, but-" but before you could finish your sentence, your brother-in-law had disappeared. With a sigh, you proceeded on your way to the staff-only space, unable to push aside how special you felt being able to freely enter the area.

It was only when you caught sight of George's back did you realise that you had nothing to say and had simply stopped by.

"Y/N!" he smiled, turning around upon sensing your presence, "What brings you here?"

You shrugged, "You said to stop by often."

His grin stretched wider, "That I did, I'm glad to see you."

You felt shy after hearing him say that, and avoided eye contact.

"How's moving in going?"

"Oh- well. Exhausting, though," you sighed.

"I can't imagine having to do everything without magic," he said, "If you want any help to speed up the process, I'm more than willing."

You shook your head, "You've done enough for me."

"I could never do enough for you," he half-mumbled, but you heard it. You couldn't believe it, but you heard it. "I'm free this weekend," he said at a more regular volume.

"I mean- if you're sure-"

"Of course I'm sure."

"I-" you stopped yourself, "Thank you, George."

"Georgie!" a voice called from the front of the shop, not long before a short plump woman appeared in the doorway. "There you are," she said with hands on her hips.

"Oh, hi, mum," he said, "I wasn't expecting you."

"I was just in town looking to pick up your father a new shirt - I don't know how he wears them out so quickly!" she sighed, "I thought I'd take the chance to invite you over for a roast on Sunday."

You smiled at the evidently kind woman.

"And who is this?" she asked.

"This is Y/N."

"How did you two meet?" this time she had a glint in her eye.

"Uh, funny story, actually," George scratched the back of his head, "We're married."

You were surprised at his honesty with his mother.

The woman's eyes widened, "And you didn't tell me!"

"No one knew, mum- not even us," he quickly added.

She seemed to ignore what the last part of his statement implied, and swooped you into her arms, "Welcome to the family, my dear, we have a lot of time to make up for! You'll be coming on Sunday too, yes?"

She didn't give you a chance to reply.

"I'll have to tell your father immediately - do all your siblings know? I expect Fred does. Probably Ron too." She paused, "I haven't even introduced myself! Molly Weasley - call me Molly, of course."

"Mum-"

"Godric- I have so many people to tell! I'll see you both Sunday at four o'clock, please don't be late."

And with a hug to both of you, Molly Weasley departed just as rapidly as she had arrived.

"I'm sorry about that- my mum can be very full on," George apologised.

"I think she's sweet."

A soft smile graced his face, "Yes, she's a very lovely woman."

You hummed.

"I'll get you out of the dinner."

You frowned, "Why?"

"Well, my family will think you're- well-"

With a shrug, you replied, "I don't mind."

"I have a big family."

"I know."

"Most of them are quite loud people."

"That's okay."

"They'll ask a lot of questions."

"George, I want to meet your family," you realised as soon as you said them what your words could potentially mean.

"It's just- I- I don't want them to scare you away."

"Scare me away?"

He nodded.

You chuckled, "I'd like to see them try."

***

Sunday rolled around quickly, and as promised, George showed up at your house to pick you up at five to four. You figured that his parents must live very nearby if he was picking you up so late, but you hadn't given it much thought. All you had done was focused on yourself, dressing up what you deemed the adequate amount for a family event.

A knock sounded on the door, and you quickly rushed to open it, smiling when you were faced with the red headed man that you could call your husband. He was wearing a knitted jumper and baggy jeans, which was a relief to you since you also sported a knitted jumper, just with a skirt instead.

"Hello," you said, almost shyly.

"Hey," he replied, "You ready to go?"

"Yep, let me just-" you hurried back inside to grab the bouquet of flowers that you had bought for his mother, you weren't familiar with the guidelines for meeting family as you had never been in a relationship long enough to reach that stage, but flowers had felt like the right thing.

"Oh, for me?" he said teasingly.

You shook your head, dramatically holding them away from him, "You would be so lucky."

He chuckled, "Right, let's get going," he held out his arm for you to take, "You're gonna want to hold tight."

You frowned, but took his advice nonetheless, taking a firm grip of his bicep which had a hardness that made your heart flip. But before you could dwell on that thought, you felt like you had been sucked into a vacuum and spat out again in a split second. Your stomach cramped up and you felt nauseous as you fell on to grass in a completely new location.

"Sorry, that often happens the first time," George quickly helped you up along with the flowers, which thankfully were unharmed.

"Did we just- teleport?" you asked, holding your stomach. Thankfully, the nausea was already dissipating.

"We call it apparating but yes, we did."

"Why couldn't I be born a witch?" you whined, following George as he began walking up the path ahead of you.

You could only be amazed when the strangest house that you had ever seen came into view: looking like it should tumble over instantly with the mismatched extensions stacked on top of each other. Not too long ago, you would have been worried about its sketchy looking state, but now you immediately concluded that it was kept steady by magic. Even at the distance you still were from the house, you could hear a lot of noise coming from it.

"I bet you anything Fleur and Hermione insisted on being early," George grumbled, "Making my brothers look like angelic sons."

You smiled to yourself: his relationship with his siblings was making you want to reach out to your sister.

George didn't bother knocking when you reached the door, simply throwing it open and grinning at everyone who was stood around the kitchen. You couldn't help but feel some level of nerves as you were faced with so many strangers.

"George! Y/N!" Molly beamed, pulling you both into a hug, "I'm so glad that you could make it."

You presented the flowers to her, "I got you these."

"Oh, they're gorgeous!"

You watched as she pulled out her wand and arranged them in a vase without even using her hands. You didn't think observing magic would ever get old.

"Thank you, dear," she said, before turning to the others in the room. There was Ron, who you vaguely recognised from the shop, with a curly brown-haired woman on his side. Then there was the most ethereal woman that you had ever seen next to one of the more rugged looking men that you had seen in your time. There was also an older, balding, red headed man, who you suspected to be George's father.

"Y/N, you might remember Ron here," George said, and you nodded, "And this is his fiancée, Hermione. This is my dad, and over there is my oldest brother, Bill, and his wife, Fleur."

"Our little shit of a son is running around here somewhere," Bill added.

"Pleasure to meet you, Y/N," George's father shook your hand, "You can call me Arthur."

"I didn't realise you were bringing a guest, George," Hermione said.

"Oh, she's no guest," Molly smiled, "She's family."

The only person who didn't exchange confused glances was Ron.

"I'm his, uh, wife," you said, feeling awkward. You didn't really want to say it, because it felt like you were lying to them even though you weren't.

What followed was an array of congratulations, and Hermione accusing Ron of not telling her when he clearly already knew. And then, upon being asked, you both finally revealed that it was an accidental marriage upon which you were both very drunk. Molly was new to this news as well, but nonetheless, before you could give any more detail on where your 'relationship' with George currently stood, she spoke.

"As irresponsible as that was, I think there's something beautiful in the fact that you're now happily married."

While you weren't unhappily married, you didn't know how to say that you didn't know you were married until a couple months later, and that you weren't in a relationship with George. He said nothing to clarify, either.

That was when a small boy tumbled into the room.

"Ah, zis is Victoire," Fleur said, "Our son."

He was just as red headed as his father.

God, your kids with George would probably end up redheaded.

You internally froze at that thought - why had it seemed so natural to imagine yourself having kids with George?

You were yet again distracted from your mind, as seemed common in the Weasley household, when more people arrived. It was Fred and his fiancée, Angelina, as you soon learned. Shortly followed by Harry Potter, allegedly quite a celebrity, who was dating George's only sister, Ginny.

The only person to arrive alone was Percy, who had a much less chaotic energy than the rest of his siblings.

"You'll meet Charlie at some point," Molly said to you, "But he lives in Romania for his work with dragons."

It was insane to you that George had five brothers and one sister; having six siblings seemed like such a hectic upbringing. That thought almost led you to brush over Molly's mention of dragons - dragons?

Once again, you were introduced as George's wife, solidifying you in their eyes as a sister-in-law. These were your in-laws, you realised.

"Dinner's almost ready," Molly announced over the noise of all the people.

Many people rushed forward to help the woman with the finishing touches and laying the table, and you felt like an ass for not assisting as well, but you would have been of no help. They were all using magic, which was ten times faster than you could complete any task.

"What year did you graduate school? I can't remember you," Ginny said, evidently assuming that her lack of recognition was because you had been in a different year at Hogwarts from her. George had told you how most witches and wizards in a similar age group knew each other because of there only being one magic school in the country.

"I didn't go to Hogwarts," you said.

"Oh, did you study abroad?" she asked, walking over to the table with you.

"No, uh, I'm a- I'm a muggle."

Her eyes widened in realisation, "Oh! I see," she hummed, "That makes sense now that I think about it."

"You're a muggle?" Hermione, who had overheard, said.

You nodded.

"I'm muggle-born," she said, "I was raised muggle."

"I was raised muggle too," Harry added on, "But I'm not muggle-born."

After that point, Arthur Weasley kept posing an array of questions to you, explaining that he was fascinated by muggles, and it was even what had led him to having the job that he did. Wanting to be liked, you answered all his questions as best as you could, and found his childlike curiosity quite endearing.

"Leave the poor girl alone, Arthur," Molly scolded her husband.

"I don't mind," you replied, and, really, you didn't.

The food was absolutely delicious, to the point you almost moaned when you first put it in your mouth. You didn't think you had ever eaten such delectable food before, and you made sure that Molly knew.

Once the first course was finished and dessert was being brought out, Bill and Fleur stood up.

"We have an announcement to make," the latter smiled, looking to her husband.

"Fleur's pregnant," Bill grinned, placing his hand on her abdomen.

"Oh, that's wonderful news!" Molly exclaimed, "How far along?"

"Twelve weeks, two days ago," Fleur said, "In ze clear zone, as zey say."

"We don't know the gender yet," Bill added.

"For your sake I hope it's a girl," Molly sighed, "It took me six tries."

"We will be happy eizer way," Fleur said simply.

You couldn't help but get the sense there was some level of tension between her and Molly, so you leaned over to George as everyone began chatting again, congratulating the expecting couple.

"Do your mum and Fleur get along?" you whispered.

"Well, yes, but they haven't always," he whispered back, "My mum thought she was vain at first, even thinking that she would call off the wedding when Bill got that scar." He was referring to the large mark on his eldest brother's face.

You hummed.

"They've mostly resolved their problems now, but I think there will always be a bit of tension."

After dinner, you wandered around the home, observing all the moving pictures of the family.

"Aw, you were so cute back then," you said to George, looking at a photo of him as a toddler on a mini broomstick.

"Are you saying I'm not anymore?"

You shrugged.

"And how do you know that's me and not Fred?"

"You may be a twin, but there's only one of you, George," you said in passing, not realising how much those words meant to your husband. As much as he loved being an identical twin, there were times where he didn't want to be seen as part of a package deal. Even his mother struggled to tell him and Fred apart before his ear injury, but you- you could recognise him instantly.

Your gaze moved up the wall.

"That's an interesting clock."

It didn't tell the time, but instead had a hand for all of Molly and Arthur's brood, all currently pointing in the direction of 'home' apart from who must be Charlie, which pointed at work.

"Even on Sundays, he works," George sighed, "You know, there was a time where me and Fred had the same hand."

"Really?"

"Yeah, but after he moved in with Angelina, mum had it altered."

Your eyes flicked over the 'mortal peril' section of the clock, and you didn't realise you had read it aloud til he responded.

"Thankfully that hasn't served a purpose since the war."

It was unbelievable to you that such a life-changing war had happened while you remained completely oblivious.

"I suppose we'll have to expand the guest list for our wedding," Angelina approached you, making you turn away from the clock.

"Oh, you don't have to do that," you said.

"No, no. An extra person is hardly anything," she smiled, "You're family, of course you're coming."

Family.

"Well, thank you."

"Of course."

***

As you and George said your goodbyes and departed, you couldn't help but let out an elated sigh, "Your family is so warm."

He smiled, "I'm glad you like them."

"They're like, everything I want my in-laws to be."

"Really?"

"Yeah! Loud, happy, there for each other - with the slightest hint of drama, of course. They're perfect."

"We've been through a lot together."

"Yeah, I expect so."

You both fell into a comfortable silence, one that had you feeling content with your life in the most heart-warming way.

"You ready to apparate again?" George broke the silence when you reached the end of the path.

"As ready as I'll ever be," you grasped his arm tightly, prepping yourself for what was to come.

You didn't fall to the ground this time when you appeared outside your house, but you did still feel nauseous for a few moments.

"I'm really glad you came," George said.

"I'm glad too," you smiled.

And then there was silence - tension-filled silence. The kind of silence that led up to what you had secretly hoped would happen this entire time.

His lips on yours.

You moved your hands up to his hair as the kiss got more heated, flashes of memories dancing through your brain.

You met at the bar your cousin's bachelorette party was at, and began chatting. He was charming, and funny, and you were both really drunk. You went on a walk together - you walked past a chapel.

You had suggested getting married - jokingly, but he had then said.

"Why don't we?"

And so you did, giggling and laughing the entire time, even when you kissed. The kiss held the same magical feeling as it did now, that's what had triggered the memory.

He had kissed all along your jaw and neck as you both filled out the forms, and it wasn't long before you both booked a hotel and by all technical terms, consummated.

"I remember," you parted from him breathlessly, only to kiss him again.

"Me too," he mumbled, pushing you back against your front door.

"Do you want to come in?" you asked.

***

This time, you were the one to wake up alone in bed, but that wasn't the only difference. You remembered every single moment and sensation from the night before - and from your wedding night, for that matter. A smile almost crept on to your face, but it dropped when the panic set in that George had upped and left like you had before. You scrambled out of bed, pulling a shirt and some pants on, and then rushed down the stairs to see if he was anywhere in your house.

And he was.

There your husband was, in the kitchen, cooking a full English breakfast - using magic, of course. You had electric appliances installed when you moved in, since most magic homes didn't generally possess them, but with George there, you supposed they weren't really necessary.

"Hey, love."

Love. That's what he had called you all of last night and your wedding night.

It made heat travel to your ears.

"Hi," you replied shyly.

"Take a seat, I'm almost finished."

You obeyed, deciding to let the wizard take care of you, even though he really had done too much for you ever since you met him - the second time, that was.

Your dining table was a temporary one, as your entire home was still a work in progress: it wasn't easy decorating an entire house by yourself, especially without the assistance of magic. Nevertheless, it did the job. George came over with the food and sat opposite you, gesturing for you to dig in.

"Thank you," you smiled, picking up the cutlery.

"I told you, anything for you."

"You're too perfect," you mumbled, making George chuckle.

"My ear may be injured, but my hearing's fine."

You looked up at him to make eye contact, feeling like he could read you with his gaze, "Your ear makes you even more perfect."

"I'm glad you think so, would be a bit upsetting for me if you didn't."

"I aim to please," you grinned.

***

"You didn't tell me the wedding would be quite so soon," you huffed, straightening out the pastel pink dress you adorned in the mirror.

George shrugged, tightening his tie, "Didn't think about it."

You were, of course, in reference to Angelina and Fred's wedding, merely two weeks after the dinner in which you met the former. Out of all the moving boxes you still had left to unpack, you had been forced to dig for a suitable outfit that fitted the colour scheme.

Aside from work, you and George had been practically glued at the hip in the days since he first stayed at yours - and he had been consistently staying at yours ever since. He had probably spent about three nights total at his own flat in that time span. So much to the point that when he came over the day prior, he had brought his suit for the wedding with him, fully anticipating that he would be spending the night.

You hadn't put a label on what you currently were, other than legally married, as it was.

"We have to be early," he said, "Since I'm the best man."

"I'm aware," you replied, sitting on the edge of your bed to pull your shoes on, "I'm pretty much ready."

"Alright, let's go."

***

The ceremony was a beautiful occasion: held at the Weasley house, The Burrow. The entire garden was decorated beautifully in shades of pink, purple and white, with bouquets of flowers adorning every table and chair. Obviously, a drastic difference from your own wedding.

You were sat in the crowd while George was up near the altar with the maid of honour, but he was not your focus. Angelina was a transcendent bride.

When it came to the meal, you were - to your shock - sat on the primary table where the newly weds were. You supposed that it made sense, since George was obviously going to be sat by his twin brother, and you were his wife. Generally, married couples weren't separated at events. You were certainly relieved, since you hardly knew anybody else.

The only other people on the main table were Molly, Arthur, Angelina's parents, and Angelina's maid of honour and her partner. There was a second table for the rest of the Weasley siblings and their partners, and so on and so forth for more distant relatives and friends.

Once the toasts were made, the meal commenced, and you hadn't realised how hungry you were 'til that moment.

"Slow down, love," your husband commented, "I'd prefer if you didn't choke."

You shrugged, your mouth full. Once you had eventually swallowed, you said, "Much grander event than our wedding."

"We could always renew our vows," he said, and even though he had made many comments about wanting to do anything for you, and had done many intimate things to you in the bedroom (and elsewhere in your house, for that matter), it felt like the first real confirmation that you were in a relationship. Even more, that you weren't just in a marriage out of convenience, but instead because you simply wanted to be.

You parted your mouth to reply, when some children from Angelina's side began causing chaos by running around. "Lord, our kids better behave," you muttered.

George turned to look at you, and it was then that you became aware of what you had said.

"Our kids?" he was grinning.

"Shut up," you mumbled.

"Never - just let me know when you want to start, love," he winked at you.

"A bit too soon, I think."

He shrugged, "We got married within a few hours of knowing each other."

"We were drunk."

"We can get drunk again."

You sighed, "We don't even live together."

"I can move in."

You didn't have anymore rebuttals.

"Are you out of arguments now?" he asked.

You reluctantly nodded.

"Perfect."

***

Instead of apparating directly to your house, you and George decided to take a late night walk around Godric's Hollow. It was such a pretty village, and you had yet to appreciate its beauty in the dark, with all the magical lamps glowing around you. But, you knew that you and George needed to have a conversation, especially after the kids talk from earlier.

"Are we together?" you asked him, even though your interlocked hands should have answered the question.

"We're married, love."

"Yes, but are we together?"

"I'd like to think we are - do you?"

You remained silent for a few moments, before nodding and looking at him in the darkness of the night.

"Then there you have it."

"I just don't get why."

"Why what?"

"Why you've done so much for me when you hardly knew me."

George chuckled, "I admit, I don't know exactly when I made the decision to do anything for you, but when you strutted into my shop, determined as ever, and announced that you were my wife, I just-" he paused, squeezing your hand, "You looked so cute and I knew- in that moment- that I would never meet someone else like you."

You felt like you were melting on the spot.

"It may have seemed selfless that I helped you get the house - but, to be honest, it was the perfect excuse for me to trap you to me- make it easier for me to pursue you, that is."

"I love you, George," you sighed.

"I'm glad, because I've loved you for quite some time now."

"Love at first sight?"

"You would be so lucky."

You let out a childish giggle at that.

"But, yes, I think it was."

——————————————————

masterlist

written; 18/08/2023 —> 03/09/2023 published;04/09/2023 edited; —/—/——

[iheartmysun]

George Pining For You During Valentines

(headcanons)

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

• you can bet that he'd be daydreaming about valentines day before february even started

• he can hardly believe that you've denied everyone that has asked you to be their valentine

• it makes him wonder if he has a chance

• would try to work up the nerve to ask you out

• but would back out when he actually had opportunities to do so

• he's just nervous about messing up

• george is also worried that you'd reject him like everyone else who has asked you

• he'd definitely write about you in a journal or something of the sorts

• there's just so much built-up emotion! he HAS to be able to put it somewhere, even if it's just on paper (for now)

• of course you'd drop hints here and there, so of course he'd somehow convince himself that you weren't actually trying to get his attention in that way

• george is possessive over you, but not in a way that comes off as toxic! it's so much softer than that

• it's just that you're you, and what else could possibly be better than you?

• he knows that rationally, you'd never leave him. even if you didn't reciprocate his feelings

• but he still stresses over it. even if he knows that thought is silly

• he's honestly just so endeared and enamoured by you

• in his eyes, you're the brightest star in the sky

• your entire being puts the most beautiful of skies to shame

• he sometimes wonders how a person like you could even exist

• you see straight through him and he loves it

• he couldn't be more appreciative of feeling so seen

• knowing him so well probably plays into why he acts so awkwardly during such a season

• maybe you aren't saying anything because you don't feel the same. or maybe you just haven't noticed

• it throws him for a loop, and he just can't seem to stop worrying about it

• you've caught his attention and he doesn't plan on looking away anytime soon

• it's hard not to give with just how remarkable you've been

• there's not a single thought in his mind that could possibly conjure up a concept of being with anyone else but you

• and yet here he finds himself, not saying a word

• stealing as many sly glances as he can

• not noticing the glances that you steal back

• sneaking a heart covered card and sweets to your dorm will have to do for the time being

• even if it kills him (just a bit)

--------------------------

Thank you to @george-weasleys-girl for the prompt! Make sure to go check out the Season of Love Event, everyone! ♡

[iconicstoner]

shut up…and kiss me

gn!reader x george weasley

words: 1121

summary: y/n is tired of the stupid pranks the Weasley twins pull, but despite this, they can’t help but find one of them so lovable.

“It’s every day with these stupid pranks.”

“You don’t have to take the fun out of everything,” Lee says with a grin. We’re sitting at our table in the back of the charms classroom. The class has just ended, but Lee and I have nowhere to be. Somehow, we lucked out with having a free period before lunch, giving us extra time to goof off.

“I just want to pass this class. I shouldn’t have to worry which class the Weasley twins will blow up next.” Lee rolls his eyes, but I don’t feel wrong for what I said. Usually, with this free time, we would go to the quidditch pitch to mess around and inevitably terrorize Oliver Wood because of it. Or at the very least, we would get to relax in the common room, but I’d been trying to avoid the twins ever since their pranks started getting shockingly extreme.

“In their defense, I don’t think they’ve ever blown up an entire classroom.”

“Yet,” I mumble. Lee says their pranks are getting more extreme because we’re about to graduate, so there are fewer consequences. I say it’s because they’re getting more deranged.

“Awe, you don’t like our pranks?” I quickly turn my head to the right to see Fred’s head poking between Lee's and my shoulders. It’d be comedic if his ability to be sneaky wasn’t so terrifying.

“We just want to entertain the masses.” I swivel my head to the left to find George hovering over my other shoulder. He’s closer than Fred was, and the smell of pine radiates off him. It overshadows the smell of fireworks and candy that linger on his clothes, most likely from his new inventions. It combines to make a warm smell that I could wrap myself in on a cold day.

“Well, clearly y/n is not part of the masses, because they don’t seem to be having much fun,” Lee mocks. Fred and George pout while Lee tries his best to keep from laughing his ass off.

“You don’t like our pranks?” Fred asks as he jabs his index finger into my cheek.

“That’s just pitiful,” George says. He leans his head against my shoulder and lets out a deep sigh. From the right, I can tell Lee and Fred are giggling. A part of me wants to say something, or to shut them up, but the other part of me wants George to stay leaned up against me for eternity. As I’m contemplating my choices, George lifts his head.

“Time to go, Feorge?” Fred asks his twin.

“We have mischief to manage elsewhere, Gred,” George responds with a serious look. My suspicion that they’re maniacs grows rapidly.

“I have never understood those nicknames they have for each other,” I tell Lee once the twins are out of the room.

“I have never understood how you and George aren’t dating yet.” I shoot him a grim look, but he just returns it with a toothy smile.

“I don’t know what makes you think I’m interested in that miscreant.”

“Well, the fact I have eyes capable of seeing past your bullshit makes me know you want him. I see the way your eyes linger on his lips and the way you two always keep physical contact for just a bit too long, and let’s not forget the time Gryffindor won a quidditch match against Slytherin and you ran over to the field and hugged him for like ten minutes.”

“Maybe I’m just passionate about quidditch,” I counter. Lee laughs in my face, but when he realizes I’m serious, his smile drops.

“If you were passionate about quidditch, you’d be dating Wood, not drooling over George.”

“Hey! I do not drool,” I scoff, and he just rolls his eyes.

“Well, since you’re so passionate about quidditch, let’s go study by the pitch,” he suggests hopefully. He suggests going there so much that I consider he could be the one in love with Wood.

As we make our way down to the pitch, I hear soft music, which is a shock because I’d usually hear the whirling of brooms and yelling amongst teammates. As we round the corner, I turn to see George Weasley standing alone on the quidditch pitch. He’s taken off his school robe and just has on his white button-down and black trousers. Small candles that gently hover above the ground circle him while he holds out his hand in my direction.

“Now, go talk to him,” Lee says mischievously as he lightly shoves me forward before walking away in the other direction. I guarantee that he and Fred will be spying on George and me this entire time. I stand in front of George and slowly take his hand as the music continues to softly play in the background. It’s a song I’ve never heard before, but I can tell it’s French, and I can tell that it’s the type of song you slow dance to. As George takes my hand, pulling me close, he begins to slowly waltz with me on the field.

“How did you manage this?”

“I had to beg Wood to reserve the quidditch pitch so I could use it,” he says with his face tucked into my hair. I can hear his smile, and I’m impressed he worked something like this out.

“How’d you convince Wood to go for that?” My question is just louder than a whisper so I don’t disrupt the music as we continue to dance.

“I’m going to prank the Slytherin quidditch captain in return,” he tells me with a quiet laugh, and I can't help but smile. “I love to be near you,” he continues, “as crazy as I might sound, I wouldn’t want to love anyone but you.” My face heats up with his words, but he just holds me tighter.

“As stupid as I find some of your pranks, I wouldn’t want to spend a second away from you,” I admit. It’s something I never thought I’d hear myself say out loud, but I’m happy to finally get it off my chest. He gently pulls himself away from me and stops dancing. I look up at him nervously, hoping I didn’t say the wrong thing, but before he gives me that chance to apologize, he’s already got one hand holding my jaw. He pushes himself towards me again, and I feel his soft lips meet mine. The kiss quickly turns passionate, and my thoughts become jumbled.

“So, would it be safe to say we’re dating now?” He asks with a cheeky grin as he pulls out of the kiss.

“I think it would be safe to say that,” I assure, right before pushing us back into the kiss.

[vilentia]

More Than Just Friends

George Weasley x Hufflepuff!Reader

Masterlist

The oppressive atmosphere at Hogwarts hung heavy over the castle like a perpetual thundercloud. Professor Umbridge’s reign as High Inquisitor had seeped into every corner of school life, leaving even the boldest of students wary of speaking out. Rules were tightened daily, punishments grew harsher, and pink-clad decrees plastered the walls in endless rows.

For George Weasley, the suffocating atmosphere had done nothing to dull his defiance. If anything, he felt more determined than ever to fight back, whether through the whisper of secret meetings in the Room of Requirement or the explosive experiments he and Fred were conducting in preparation for their grand departure. Yet amidst the chaos, there was one constant that kept him grounded: Y/N Y/L/N.

George found Y/N in the library late one evening, her head bent low over a worn copy of Advanced Potion-Making. A candle flickered weakly beside her, casting warm light over her notes as she furiously scribbled. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, and George couldn’t help but smile.

“Burning the midnight oil again, Y/N?” he asked, sliding into the seat across from her.

Y/N glanced up, startled, but her expression softened when she saw him. “Some of us actually need to pass our N.E.W.T.s, George.”

“I’m offended by the implication that I don’t,” George replied, leaning back in his chair with mock indignation.

Y/N smirked. “Please. You and Fred haven’t opened a textbook since third year.”

“Not true,” George said, though his grin gave him away. “Fred uses his Transfiguration book to prop up the short leg of his bed.”

Y/N laughed, a sound that felt like a warm breeze cutting through the chill of the library. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” George said, leaning forward, “you tolerate me. Why is that?”

Y/N shook her head, but there was a smile tugging at her lips. “Because I’m an excellent judge of character.”

“Ah, so you’ve realized I’m the superior twin, then.”

“Absolutely not,” Y/N said, her tone teasing. “Fred’s at least twice as charming as you.”

George clutched his chest. “You wound me, Y/N.”

She laughed again, and for a moment, the tension of the school faded. They were just two friends sharing a quiet moment in the chaos.

The next morning, George and Fred sat at the Gryffindor table, their breakfast plates piled high with toast and eggs. Y/N passed by with a group of Hufflepuffs, her laughter carrying across the hall. George glanced up instinctively, his eyes following her as she disappeared out of the Great Hall doors.

Fred didn’t miss it.

“You’ve got it bad, mate,” Fred said, smirking over his goblet of pumpkin juice.

George frowned. “What are you on about?”

Fred rolled his eyes. “You know exactly what I’m on about. Y/N. Your favorite Hufflepuff.”

“She’s a friend,” George said firmly, though his ears turned pink.

Fred snorted. “Right. And I’m the Minister of Magic. Come on, George. You’re fooling no one. Not me, not her, not even Flitwick—and he’s barely taller than the table.”

George glared at him but said nothing.

Fred leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Look, I get it. She’s great. She’s clever, funny, and somehow manages to put up with you. But if you don’t tell her how you feel, someone else might. Probably that git from Ravenclaw who keeps trying to sit next to her in Charms.”

George’s jaw tightened. “She doesn’t fancy him.”

Fred grinned. “Not yet. But if you keep sitting on your hands, you’re going to have some competition.”

That evening, Y/N found herself dragged into an empty classroom by George and Fred, who were grinning like a pair of Cheshire cats.

“What’s going on?” she asked, eyeing the pile of rockets, sparklers, and brightly colored packages stacked on the desk.

“Testing,” Fred announced grandly.

“For what?”

“Our big finale,” George explained, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “When we finally say goodbye to this nightmare of a school, we’re going out with a bang. Literally.”

Y/N folded her arms. “And you need me here because…?”

“You’re our safety consultant,” Fred said, handing her a pair of enchanted earmuffs.

Y/N arched an eyebrow. “That’s not a real thing.”

“It is now,” George said, grinning.

Despite her protests, Y/N found herself seated on the edge of a desk, watching as the twins lit fuses and sent dazzling fireworks spiraling around the room. The air filled with bursts of color and the sharp crack of explosions, but Y/N couldn’t stop smiling.

One particularly bright rocket exploded into a giant spinning Catherine wheel, filling the room with golden light. George turned to Y/N, his grin fading slightly as he watched her laugh, the light catching in her eyes.

Fred noticed.

“Well, well,” Fred said loudly, breaking the moment. “Looks like we’ve got an audience member who’s impressed.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head, Fred.”

“Oh, not me,” Fred said, smirking at George. “He’s the one who’s trying to impress you.”

George flushed, turning back to the pile of fireworks. “Ignore him,” he muttered.

Y/N’s gaze lingered on George for a moment, her expression unreadable.

The next day, as Y/N and George crossed the courtyard together, a sharp voice cut through the air.

“Mr. Weasley. Miss Y/L/N.”

They froze. Dolores Umbridge, her pink cardigan practically glowing in the pale sunlight, approached them with a sugary smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Out for a stroll, are we?” she asked, her voice dripping with false sweetness.

“We’re on our way to class,” Y/N said quickly.

Umbridge’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve heard about you, Miss Y/L/N. Always in the company of certain… disruptive elements.” Her gaze flicked to George, who met her glare with a defiant smirk.

“If you’ve got something to say, Professor, feel free,” George said, his tone casual but edged with danger.

Y/N nudged him. “George,” she whispered, her voice a warning.

Umbridge’s smile tightened. “Ten points from Gryffindor. And Hufflepuff,” she added with relish, turning to Y/N. “For associating with troublemakers.”

Y/N bristled but said nothing. As Umbridge swept away, George turned to her, his expression apologetic.

“Sorry about that,” he said.

Y/N shook her head. “It’s not your fault.” She hesitated, then added, “But you could try not provoking her.”

George grinned. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Y/N sighed, but there was affection in her exasperation. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” George said, echoing her words from weeks ago, “you tolerate me.”

That evening, Y/N sat in the Gryffindor common room, a cup of tea warming her hands as George sprawled on the couch beside her. Fred had disappeared upstairs, leaving them alone in the glow of the fire.

“You know,” George said after a long silence, “I meant what I said earlier.”

Y/N glanced at him. “About what?”

“Tolerating me,” George said with a small smile. “It means a lot.”

Y/N frowned, setting her tea aside. “What’s this about, George? You’re not usually this serious.”

George hesitated, his usual bravado slipping away. “I just… I know I’m not the easiest person to be around. Especially with everything going on. But you’ve stuck by me. Even when you didn’t have to.”

Y/N softened, her gaze steady. “Of course I have. You’re my friend, George. And I don’t just tolerate you—I care about you.”

George’s heart skipped a beat, but he quickly masked it with a grin. “Good to know, Y/L/N. Now, what are we going to do about Umbridge?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “You never change, do you?”

“Not for a second,” George said, and for the first time that day, the weight of Umbridge’s tyranny felt just a little lighter.

Masterlist

[iiwontgiveuponmilkk]

Subspace | F.W.

summary: *requested* she spent the day purposefully teasing him and getting on his nerves with only one thing in mind. fred fucks her into subspace and takes care of her, she got a little more than she bargained for, not that she's complaining.

word count: 2075

warnings: straight smut, dom!fred, teasing, some fluff, okay honestly it's straight filth

notes: so excited to have a request after such a long time! may change the gif, can't find the right one... also may update this one again, it feels a little short

minors dni. 18+.

masterlist

She was driving him mad, absolutely mad. She waltzed into the shop around noon that day to bring him his lunch. The lunch he would have never forgotten if she hadn’t decided to tease him from the moment she woke up. She decided to join him in the shower this morning, wrapping her arms around him from behind. He thought it was cute at first, then she was gripping his cock in her hand. She waited until a groan fell from his lips before she released him and slid out of the shower. He had turned, reaching out to grab her and pull her into him, but she had managed to slip just out of his reach. He went through the morning frustrated, thinking about what he would’ve done if he wasn’t already running late that morning. And here she was now, a tiny little skirt on that was barely longer than his jumper that she wore. His eyes drug up her body, finding her smiling innocently at him when he met her eyes, batting her eyelashes at him. “I brought your lunch, seems you forgot it this morning, Freddie.” She handed him the small bag, a blush on her cheeks. He grabbed her arm as she turned to leave, pulling her against him. “And what are you up to now, love?” He whispered in her ear, nipping her earlobe. “N-nothing, just making sure you eat today.” She smiled, trying to hold her composure. She gave him a sweet smile, distracting him as her hands moved to his waist. Her fingers hooked under his belt, pulling him against her. She rested her chin on his chest, looking up at him. “You might want to eat that alone.” She bit her lip, a mischievous look twinkling in her eyes. His hand snaked around her waist, “and why is that, love?” The way he looked at her sent a shiver up her spine. She was sure he would take her right here and now if the shop wasn’t full. She let her fingers ghost over his growing bulge. “You’ll see.” She pressed a quick kiss to his lips, wiggling out of his grasp and leaving just as quickly as she came in. 

Fred had left a few minutes early, telling George he would close up tomorrow. He had stormed into her flat, finding her cooking dinner. “Oh, hi love.” She grinned, her smile slightly falling as he stalked over to her. “I see you’re still playing your little game.” He shook his head, looking her over. The skirt from earlier was gone, leaving her in just his jumper. He pulled something delicate and lacy out of his pocket, dangling it on his finger. “Did you misplace these? Hmm?” He raised a brow, watching her bite her lip. “I-” She started, only for him to cut her off. “You what, love? You just wanted to tease me all day, is that it?” His hands were on her hips, lifting her onto the counter. His hands slid over her thighs, pushing her legs apart. A whine left her lips as he drug a finger through her folds. “Have you been this wet all day? Just waiting for me to come home?” The only answer that came from her was a moan as he slid a finger into her. “I really shouldn’t be rewarding you.” His voice low as he thrusted his finger into her, slowly working in a second. She rocked her hips forward, trying to get him to go faster, to give her more. “Freddie, please.” She whined as he pulled his fingers out of her. “Not a chance, love.” He lifted her off the counter, gently pushing her down on her knees. She looked up at him as he removed his belt, unbuttoning his slacks. She slid her hands up the front of his thighs, her fingers grasping the waistband of his slacks and boxers, tugging them down. His hand wrapped around his dick, giving it a slow pump. His other hand ran through her hair, grasping a fistful of her hair at the back of her head. She wet her lips, looking up at him. Fred gave a quick tug on her hair as she slid her hands up his thighs. Her left hand gripped his thigh as she spread her fingers. Her other hand wrapped around his dick. She ran her hand up his length, brushing her thumb over the tip. Fred reached out, lifting her chin to pull her gaze back to his. He brushed his thumb over her bottom lip. “You look so good on your knees for me, baby.” He smirked, gently pushing her head forward. She parted her lips, taking his tip in her mouth. A small groan came from him when she swirled her tongue around him. Her hands came to rest on his thighs when she started to move. He let her go at her own pace, but soon realised she was still teasing him. The slow strokes of her tongue and shallow movements, and the look in her eyes when she looked up at him. He grasped her hair tighter, thrusting his hips forward. The moan that fell from her lips as he fucked her mouth made his head fall back. He pulled her off of him when he felt himself getting close. His fingers left her hair, grasping her chin gently as she stood. He leaned down, capturing her lips in a hungry kiss. She tangled a hand into his hair, the other grasping his shoulder. His hands slid down her body, grasping the back of her thighs as he lifted her. She wrapped her legs around his waist. He nipped her bottom lip before swiping his tongue along it. She parted her lips, her tongue brushing against his. 

She gasped when Fred dropped her onto the bed. She pushed herself up on her elbows, looking up at him. “Are you ready to behave?” He looked down at her, holding her gaze as she nodded. He shook his head as he began to unbutton his shirt. “Use your words, princess.” He slid his shirt off, watching her as she pulled his jumper over her head. “Yes.” She reached out for him as he moved over her. He used his knee to push her legs apart, his eyes dragging up her body. “Look at how wet you are for me.” He smirked as he got to his knees at the edge of the bed. He grabbed her ankles, yanking her down until her hips were at the edge. He pressed a kiss to the inside of her thigh, nipping the skin before he moved down her leg. She watched as his mouth moved closer to her pussy. Each nip seemed harder than the last. Her head fell back when he pressed his tongue to her clit. His name fell from her lips when he plunged two fingers into her. She felt herself getting closer, then he dragged his teeth over her clit. She yelped at the feeling, her eyes rolling back when he sucked her clit between his lips. He curled his fingers, her toes curled, a moan leaving her lips as she clenched around his fingers. He pulled his fingers from her, he looked up at her as he pushed his fingers into his mouth. Her cheeks heated at the sight, causing him to smirk. He climbed over her as she scooted up the bed. She leaned up, kissing him. She pulled him down as she laid back on the bed. “You’re in for it, love.” He pressed a kiss to her neck, sucking a mark into her skin. “You’ve had me thinking about being inside of this pretty little pussy all day.” He gave her no warning as he sank into her. He tangled his fingers into her hair at the back of her head, yanking down. Her fingers dug into his shoulders as he thrusted into her. She gasped when he nipped at her collarbone. He maintained a tight hold on her hair. The pleasure mixed with small kisses of pain was starting to overwhelm her. Her nails dug into his skin when she felt the warmth building in her stomach. She moved her hips to meet his, trying to reach her orgasm. Fred kissed her hard, biting her bottom lip. He pressed his forehead to hers as she came, lewd moans falling from her lips. 

He flipped her over, pulling her hips up so she was on her knees. His hand moved up her back, pushing her chest down to the bed. She turned her head, reaching to move her hair out of her face. Fred grabbed her hands, pinning them above her head as he leaned over her. “Let go, love.” He whispered in her ear, rubbing his tip through her folds. She whined, pushing her hips back when she felt his tip at her entrance. He let go of her hands, leaning back. She gasped when his hand collided with her ass. His palm smoothed over the red handprint. “What did I say, princess? Let go, let me take care of you.” She gasped as he slammed into her. “F-Fred.” She moaned, “I-i.” Her words lodged in her throat as her breath hitched. He slammed into her relentlessly. She knew what she was doing earlier, teasing him. She just wanted him to come home and fuck her over the counter. But this? This was even better than that. She yelped when his hand came into contact with her ass again. He smoothed his hand over her hips, digging his fingers as he pulled her back against him to meet his thrusts. Her legs were shaking, she wasn’t sure she could take anymore. He leaned down, wrapping his arm around her chest, pulling her up with him. His fingers wrapped lightly around her neck as her back arched. She whimpered with each thrust. He pressed his fingers into her pulse point, her head falling back onto his chest. He glanced down at her, noticing her mouth fall open. She reached up behind, tangling her fingers into his hair. He slid his other hand from her hip and between her thighs. He used his fingers to circle her clit. “Look at you, taking me so well.” Fred groaned, giving her a hard thrust. Incoherent babble fell from her lips as her free hand gripped his arm that was pressed across her chest. He could feel her clenching around him, he pressed his fingers harder into her clit. She whimpered when she finally came, the feeling almost too much. Her fingers tugged at Fred’s hair, her eyes fluttering shut. Her fingers slowly slid from his hair as she started coming down from her orgasm. His hips snapped against hers, a groan leaving his lips when he came. She moaned at the feeling of him spilling into her, clenching around him again. He kept thrusting until she was trembling as she came again. She mumbled something incoherent again as her body relaxed against him. She was putty in his hands, if he let go of her, she would fall to the bed. He gently laid her down on the bed as he pulled out of her. He laid down next to her, rolling her over and pulling her into his side. He smirked when he noticed the dazed look on her face. He smiled to himself as he realised what state she was in. She curled into him, laying her head on his chest. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, holding her 

“Hey, love.” Freddie whispered, dragging his fingers up her arm. “Mm?” She hummed, nuzzling her face into his chest. He chuckled, pressing a kiss to her head. They laid in silence for a while as he held her. Her fingers traced paths between the freckles on his chest and stomach. “What are you doing down there?” He asked quietly, being patient with her. “I’m naming the stars.” She mumbled, moving her head to look up at him. A lazy smile graced her lips as she looked up at Fred. He brought his hand up to her cheek, tracing a finger under her cheekbone. “You want to take a shower?” He asked, holding her soft gaze. She shook her head gently, pulling herself closer to him. She nudged his chin with her nose, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw. He pressed a soft kiss to her lips. A soft sigh escaped her lips as he brushed his nose against hers. She brushed her lips against his, biting her lip as a small smile formed on her lips. It didn’t take long for her to shift so she was laying on top of him. He lightly drug his fingertips up her spine. 

“Freddie.” She mumbled, lifting her head to look at him. “Yeah, love?” He asked, turning his head to look at her. “Can we take a shower now?” She asked, giving him a small pout. 

[shadowbriar]

George Fabian Weasley Masterlist

♤ Angst - ♡ Fluff - ✮ AU - ♛ Popular

One-shot

♡ Overtime: Inspired by Overtime by Seafret. George gathers the courage to confess to the Gryffindor Head Girl who always seemed to have a handful heart.

♤♡ Never Walk Away Again: Inspired by Never Gonna Leave This Bed by Maroon 5. She knew that she’s playing with fire from the beginning, but his demeanour has poured nothing but gasoline and now she’s the only one burning in flame as he watches on the side.

♡ Mother Knows Best: The Weasley family dinner might not just be another gathering this time as Molly Weasley invited his long lost lover. Set after the Great War. Fred is very much alive.  

♡♛Pretend Boyfriend: “Well, since you don't have anyone you want to go with and that I need someone to shield me from these boys, would you please be my pretend boyfriend?” George deals with his feelings as he falls deeper for her in their fake relationship.   

♤♡ Soul Bound: The old grimoire was wide open for her to read. Truth be told, she never thought she would ever need to open the grimoire. But desperate time calls for desperate measures and that’s certainly what she is right now.  

♤♡♛Delicate [Requested]: Insecurity and misunderstanding led the boy to ask the wrong girl for the Yule Ball.

♤ Starcrossed: George Weasley x Malfoy!Reader George comes to the realisation that sometimes, somethings are destined to end.  

♤♡ One Day [Request]: Being the centre of attention all of their lives has made the two crave for privacy and tranquillity more than anything, but would solitude be a good enough reason to keep their relationship secret?  

♤♡ Loved and Lost You [Requested]: Fake dating gone wrong when she realises that her silly idea to help the Hufflepuff boy costs her his bestfriend.  

♤♡ Nothing’s Gonna Hut You Baby: The war took something from everyone and it certainly took a big part away from George Weasley.

♤ Vitalum Vitalis: Balancing the scales of life and death is never close to the word safe, but what else could she do when he’s losing his other half?

Series

♤ Reignite: One ill-considered joke leads to another hasty decision that though both of them have to suffer the disastrous aftermath, only one could try to light the spark again.

♤ Ember: This story is part II of Reignite. He crawls back to the past, trying to salvage whatever is left of them. But one could only try so much before their heart yields and cave in defeat.  

[gimme-gimme-georgie-weasley]

The Weasley and his Cafe [G.W. x Reader]

Summary: George runs a little cafe in Diagon Alley

wc: 2.1k

a/n: i've actually had this idea in my drafts from April but never really bothered to finish it :') inspired by the time I went to a cosy little cafe and found the worker there really cuteehrjrhadsdjkasdkashdkhewastoooldforme. i love the idea of george starting up a cafe soo much

-

You hated Mondays. 

They seemed to suck the life out of you, one hour at a time. Long, winding hours that dragged on for centuries, doing hocus pocus groggily: like walking through thick sludge with weights tied to your ankles and eyelashes. So, to fix that, you found yourself strolling down Diagon Alley, looking for your fix of morning coffee. Just your luck, a new cafe had opened down the street. 

With the ring of a bell, a voice boomed from the far end of the little wizard-owned cafe.

“Welcome to Weasley’s Wonderful Waffles; we offer more than just waffles, though. Had to keep up the alliteration! But I assure you, our waffles are wicked.”

A tall, young man emerged from the back with an ivory espresso cup in one hand, and a cloth in the other. His freckled face stretched widely into a friendly smile. A cream-striped brown apron with a large “W” embroidered in green wrapped around his waist, his long red hair had been tied up into a topknot while long stray hairs framed his face. You could’ve sworn you saw a few piercings on his right ear.

The man then unsheathed his wand from his waistband, and, with the flick of a wrist, a chair slid out for you to sit on.

“Table for one, I presume?”

“Um! Yes, please.” 

You fiddled with the fleece of your coat, unsure of what to make of the lively interaction this early in the morning. The last time you checked your watch, which wasn't long ago, it had only been a quarter past seven. Where on Earth did this man's energy come from? “Lovely! The menu will talk to you shortly. I’ll be by the counter once you’re ready to order, love.” He said with a wink, and strode off.

Not long after, a shrill voice directed your attention to below you. The menu had grown a mouth and started listing out various pastries and drinks, though rather slowly. Do Monday Blues apply to talking menus? You thought to yourself.

The drag and sibilance had almost lulled you back to sleep before a “Weasley Latte” and “Wicked Waffle” jerked you awake. The dish names were certainly riveting. Just what exactly makes this latte a Weasley, and this waffle Wicked?

“I’ll have a Weasley Latte and a Wicked Waffle, please.” You said to the red-haired man at the counter not long after making your choice.

“Alright, that’ll be…” He fiddled with the cash-register that either barked or hissed each time he pressed a button, “1 Galleon, 12 Sickles, and 5 Knuts, dear.” He said with a delightful hum and looked up from the cash register to you with that same lovely smile.

For a brief moment, your eyes met. His were a lovely shade of hazel that glimmered in the morning sunlight that leaked through the blinds, revealing a deep chocolate shade underneath them, and before either of you could say a thing, a wave of customers dressed in Ministry robes swarmed the cafe engrossed in light chatter. You quickly pulled out the gold and silver from your purse with a flustered smile and scurried back off to your table by the window, muttering a quiet thank you.

He watched as you resigned yourself back to your table, amused at the interaction. His wide smile did not once falter.

It didn’t take long for you to be enamoured by the man’s cafe. 

Little trinkets that laid around on display occasionally burst out into life, flying around the cafe all the while putting a smile on the faces of customers. Magical portraits that hung around were either crocheting, enjoying a nice cuppa, or taking a catnap. You could’ve sworn there was a portrait of a man who looked exactly like him in deep sleep.

The counter housed a glass dish with coffee beans that smelled magical: a mix of chocolate and deep roasted notes. Fairy lights adorned the walls, adding to the warm and cosy atmosphere. Flowers came to life, engaging in conversation with people who seemed like they could use some company, and you were one of them.

Said flowers would occasionally mourn the dried flowers on display, “She was my best friend, she was. If only she hadn’t been so stubborn about that diet! Every flower knows they need to be watered every day, and not every three days!”

A vase of asphodels bubbled animatedly, each bud asked you about your day and asked if the waffles were really nice. You nodded politely and tried to offer a bud a bite of your waffles, but then remembered flowers probably couldn’t stomach waffles even if they tried.

“George is lovely, isn’t he?” One of the buds started as its leaves flailed around excitedly

“Terribly lovely!” A tiny sprout beside it giggled, “He always waters us with that lovely concoction! Makes my roots smoother.”

Ah, so his name’s George.

Then, before you knew it, you were back at the cafe the next week.

And the following.

Soon enough, you dropped by every day ordering the same Weasley Latte and the occasional waffle, and perhaps a glance or two at George. By then, you figured out what made a Weasley Latte a Weasley Latte was the extra spice it had to it. It tasted like nutmeg with hints of cinnamon and a spicy kick of ginger at the end. It really does the trick, waking you up and all.

George would drop by your table every now and then with a platter of different pastries in hand each time, saying it was “on the house” or "we had extra". You began to wonder who "we" was, because by the looks of it, he was the only one running the cafe, unless there was an elf with a Disillusionment charm running around. How he does it, you didn’t know; but he did a magnificent job running the cafe even during peak hours. You couldn’t help but admire that about him. He didn’t seem to crack under pressure and always wore that smile as if handling a hundred over customers was child’s play.

One particular day, the caffeine coursing through your veins had emblazoned you to do the unthinkable. Before George could walk off after the usual platter offering of enchanted eclairs this time, you spoke up.

“Um! Whatimed’youend?” You blurted out, face flushed.

Bloody brilliant. You ought to Scourgify your mouth and Obliviate yourself when you get home. Maybe invest in a Pensieve too, just to relive this memory every time you need to ground yourself.

“Sorry, dear? I didn’t quite catch that.” George cocked his head to the side.

You quickly composed yourself, “What time do you end?”

Was it even possible for the man’s smile to widen even further? Surely it couldn’t be. Nevertheless, he managed to grin twice as wide. He shoved his tea towel into the front pocket of his apron.

“Eleven. You can tell me all about yourself when I close up shop, love.” He said, winked, and walked off, leaving you in a stupor as he tended to a customer in need of a refill of water.

“Oh, goodness, Y/N’s in love.” The vase of asphodels cooed in a sing-song fashion.

“Am not!” You argued, but the wild grin on your face said otherwise as you tried to help yourself to the eclairs and now-tepid coffee. You should’ve casted a Stasis charm on it.

“Are too!” A pot of lilies giggled.

* * *

Eleven o'clock surprisingly came faster than you were actually ready for. Bloody hell, did someone speed up your watch? Nevertheless, you flattened out the creases in your clothes, checked yourself out in the mirror, and combed through your hair for the umpteenth time before finally heading out. 

Curse you, caffeine high.

You apparated with a crack in front of the cafe, and found him closing up. His back was turned to the window while he enchanted the mops and brooms to clean the floor. Chairs levitated and rested upside down on the tables. A couple of “Scourgify'' charms got rid of coffee stains and crumbs left behind by crumbly pastries.

His head then craned upwards to the vase of asphodels that whispered to him. Then, he quickly twirled around. You stood there, smiling awkwardly at him through the window as his mouth was left agape. He looked down at his watch, then back at you, then his hands flew up to his head in exasperation as though he had forgotten he left a fire-breathing dragon unattended in a wooden home.

“Oh, Merlin! I lost track of time! I’ll be with you shortly, dear!”

It was only five minutes past eleven, what was the rush?

Five minutes later, he came running out of the cafe with a few paper bags in hand and apron neatly shrunk and tucked away into his back pocket. The sleeves of his sweater were rolled up to his elbows, revealing his forearms. His hair was now out of the top-knot. It rested nicely on his broad shoulders, and framed his face even more delicately. He brushed a strand behind his ear, now revealing the piercings you had suspected were there. 

You quickly swallowed the lump in your throat and looked elsewhere before he caught you staring.

“Did you wait long?” He asked as he cast charms on the shop.

“Not really, it’s alright.” You said as he muttered the last few charms, completely thief-proofing it.

After sheathing his wand in his waistband, he stuck out his arm in an offer for you to take it as the two of you began your trip down the alley and to nowhere in particular.

Then, silence befell the two of you as you walked down the streets of Diagon Alley. The moon was in full view as stars glimmered in the night sky. The sound of your heels clicking down the cobbled pathway of the street echoed throughout the now-quiet town. In the corner of your eye, you saw Madam Malkin closing up shop.Ollivander’s was already closed. Eeylops Owl Emporium was still open, surprisingly.

“You know, I never really caught your name,” George started, breaking the silence, “Oh, and before I forget, these are for you.”

He reached out, offering you a white paper bag with the same green “W” that was on his apron.

“Eclairs, dear. I saw you eating them with a lot of gusto.” He chuckled.

“I– Oh my goodness–,” You flushed, “I’m Y/N, by the way. You’re George, right? The flowers talk about you a lot.” you managed out as you accepted the paper bag.

George’s face brightened.

“Indeed, I am! And you’re from Hogwarts, too, aren’t you? I think I remember you getting your cauldron stuck to the table in fifth year potions, was it? Cost your house a fortune for that from Snape, didn’t you?” He said, eyes twinkling with each word that came out.

You stayed quiet for a few seconds in awe. How on earth did he remember that? That was, what? Aeons ago? 

And soon, the night was spent walking aimlessly as you both recounted your years at Hogwarts. He rambled about his family, the shop, and quidditch. (“The Irish team remain undefeated, I dare say!”) You rambled on and on about your freelance writing career and a novel you were itching to publish. Neither of you really seemed to touch on the war. It was best that way. 

You both shared a particular distaste for the Daily Prophet, and had shared horrible experiences with Rita Skeeter.

“Honestly, I can’t stand her! Did you know? My sister-in-law found out she was an unlicensed Animagus in her fourth year and held her captive in a glass jar? Brilliant, she is.”

“By sister-in-law, you mean Hermione Granger? Minister for Magic? That’s wonderful, George.” 

Your head craned down over to your watch, then over to your front door. You must have subconsciously walked the path home while in deep conversation with him.

“Well, George. Thanks for the night. It’s been lovely– you’ve been lovely. Well, here’s my house.” You said sheepishly as the two of you stood outside your door facing each other.

He chuckled, “You’ve been quite lovely yourself.”

Silence. 

Then,

“No, you’ve been really, really, lovely. The free pastries, the wonderful lattes– I mean what on earth is it that you put inside it? It’s magical, that’s what it is– and your cafe’s interior design is just brilliant–” You found yourself rambling like a hormonal teenage girl confessing her love to her crush. Then, a hand found its way to your cheek, cupping it as his face leaned into your ear, with barely a whisper.

“Don’t worry, I fancy you too.”

A quick peck was placed. He winked that same signature wink that left you weak in the knees. Then, he Disapparated, smiling at you with that stupidly beautiful smile.

The sound of the crack echoed and lingered for a while, ringing in your ears as did those six words that left you speechless.

Then, the ringing faded out and clarity came crashing in like a tsunami. It hit like a stunning spell.

“He fancies me, too.”

--

[jiroufann]

Hey guys!! I'm Juno, a beginner writer who randomly likes to write fanfiction (mainly for harry potter) in the spur of the moment! I hope you like them!

Harry Potter

[reader inserts]

all too well - fred weasley

about you - george weasley