#George Weasley x Reader series fanfiction

[wandsandwheezes]

NASCAR IV | G.W //F.W

WARNINGS // 8.6k // SMUT 18+, George x Reader // Fred x unnamed OC, Angry Fred, Racer!George, light angst, fighting, rough sex, soft sex, breeding kink af, mentions of alcohol, cars, sex, possession, praise kink, a (tiny) amount of degradation, oral, unprotected sex.

A/N // Ladies n gents we are back n better than everrr!! This has legit been sat in the WIPs for a year and I have not had the energy or motivation to get back to it until now. ps.. thank you to @darthwheezely for helping me out on this one as my co-writer, idk what i'd do without you!! pps.. stay tuned for more works in the future!

It was always good to be home. As much as George adored being on the road, there was something so blissful about waking up in his own bed, with the woman of his dreams curled tightly into his chest. This was what made it worth it. 

“Good morning, muffin,” you muttered peacefully, hand reaching up to push the messy tufts of hair from his sleepy eyes. He threw his head back and groaned at your use of the corny nickname so early in the morning.

“That divorce and sweet sweet alimony cannot come soon enough,” he grinned, soon getting whacked in the face by the pillow next to you, his own hand reaching to pull you by the scruff of your neck into a sloppy kiss. 

Like most mornings, George was already out of bed, walking around aimlessly in his low-slung plaid pj bottoms as he searched sleepily for either his shop uniform or at the very least something that would easily pass without Fred throwing a fit.

“Are you sure you want to leave me?” You teased, pushing yourself out of bed, letting his t-shirt fall past your hips as your feet patted along the wood floors, taking you to him. You wrap your arms around his waist groggily, forehead resting against his back as you take in his warmth.

“I’m never sure about leaving you, angel, I doubt you’ll take much convincing if I suggest lunch?”

“I’ll make your favourite sandwich and swing by later, yeah?” You smiled, giggling as he spun you around, strong hands holding your arms as he leaned down to kiss you.

“They say you’re the lucky one, but lord, woman you make me the luckiest.” 

The sun was not Fred’s friend today. But honestly: no one was Fred’s friend today, not when the sun was over a hundred and two degrees in a shop with shitty A/C with his wife away playing hostess for god knows how many interviewees in that pretty black dress.

He probably wouldn’t even be this angry if she hadn’t been an insufferable prime American tease, waking up to her lips wrapped around the base of his cock and sending delicious vibrations throughout his body before pulling off right as he was about to release:

“You’ve got work today, ace, I need you to be a good boy.”

So there was Fred, as horny as a fourteen year old, deprived as a fourteen year old, and about as pouty as a toddler. Even George knew how pissy his brother had been, eyeing him rather sharply. 

“You know, Freddie, It would be nice to come into work one day with you having not woken up on the wrong side of bed.” George chuckled, pulling up the bottom of his already oil-stained shirt to wipe at his jaw. The older twin stalked around him and hit him in the chest with his rag.

“Actually, I was sleeping quite well on my lovely and rosy smelling side of the bed until I got fucking booted like a small boy and-” he was briefly aware of George laughing at him and made to punch his younger brother over the hood. “- it’s not funny, you know...it’s…” he swallowed, the familiar feeling of his strawberry tint rising to the surface, “...ithasn’tbeenasrecentasyou and before you ask me how I know that, remember you’re the other half of my DNA in mum’s womb,” he childishly spat. He slid into the driver’s seat of the Mustang they were working on and began drumming the dash, his knee bouncing against the side door - a tell tale sign of his frustration.

“I thought we established that you are in fact half of my DNA, just because you were born first doesn’t mean shit.” George rolled his eyes, throwing the rag on top of the car before joining his brother in the passenger seat.

“No, because I, in fact, am the prettier twin, which means I not only had sex first, but also get more privileges such as Denny’s coupons, discounted smoothies, and more phone calls with my mother than you.” Spotting you walk into the workshop area he honked the horn a couple times and giggled, whistling when you walked in.

“Ahoy my lovely sister-in-law!” He grinned and honked once more, a loud and obnoxious greeting - so uniquely Fred.

Rolling up to the side of the car, you laughed, seeing George rub at his temples, sighing to himself over the continuous blaring horn. You leaned in against the window, poking your head into the car with a smile, pressing a kiss to George’s cheek while Fred’s smile dropped, his face forming into a stare of jealousy, quickly forcing a smile again to hide his obvious frustrations. 

“Oi! Get a bloody room you two!” He huffed, honking loudly when George leaned in to kiss you again.

“Do you mind?” George gritted out.

“Yes, a bit, actually, you may have the back office for now to do somewhat lovey and sinful things but please try to be discreet, kids!” He winked salaciously and leaned forward against the wheel, his elbow cocked on the dash as he fought to not think about destroying his wife to be the second she got home. Usually racing helped, kept his mind (and libido) wandering if he felt a bit pent up - but at least for a few months or so, there wouldn’t be any release. The thought alone had him throw his head back and groan in displeasure.

“I brought lunch, wanna eat with me?” You grinned, batting your eyelashes, a move that practically had George falling out of the car, grabbing your hand as he followed you out to the back office. It was definitely hotter in the back, if you were being honest, yet that had nothing to do with the blazing sunshine but the way your fiance could have practically drank you in whole by the way he was staring. 

“Stop staring, George, your eyes will go square.” You laughed, setting your bag on the table, pulling out the sandwich you had made for him, pushing it into his chest as you pulled out your own lunch. 

“You know that doesn’t work with staring at humans right? Just TVs.” George retorted, walking backwards before plopping himself down on the sofa. “You didn’t happen to bring my-” You had already reached into your bag, pulling out his water bottle, something he not only had a habit of leaving at home but something he nearly always drank with lunch. Props to him for staying hydrated but after so long together you had managed to pick up on nearly all of the smaller things about him. 

“What would I do without you, huh?” He smiled, taking the bottle from your hand as you slipped onto the sofa next to him, legs swinging over his thighs as you unwrapped your sandwich. This was normal for you, reminding you of the days before racing and before America, a part of you growing fond of those memories. 

“You seem lost, Angel.” He muttered, hand reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, a worried look painting his expression. Shaking your head at him, you pulled yourself up to be straddling his hips, your nose bumping against his softly before capturing his lips into a kiss. 

A part of both of you needed this, the locked lips while his hands held your hips in their place, effortlessly controlling the way they would rut against his growing bulge, both desperate for the friction. He was moaning into your mouth, his hips bucking up to meet yours as the innocence in the kiss quickly slipped away, his own desperation to have you ruling how his hands had practically ripped your shirt off of you, his lips messily pressed against the newly exposed skin of your chest. 

“Shit, baby, I just wanna get those tight little fucking shorts off of you.” He groaned, hand snaking up to tangle in the hair at the back of your head as your hips continued grinding relentlessly. You were ultimately putty in his hands, moldable and pliant only for his skilled grip and teasing touch. 

“No time for that though.” He chuckled, his quick fingers effortlessly slipping the material to the side before the pad of his thumb found your clit, rubbing in teasing circular motion, a loud and lewd groan falling from his lips at the feel of just how wet you were already. Your hand flew to his mouth, finger pressed against his plump lips to keep him silent.

“Not so much noise, Georgie.” You giggled, a faint moan falling from your lips as his fingers began to tease your entrance. Your own warnings of silence had fallen short the second you found yourself wrapped around his fingers, his long digits pulling desperate moans from you by the second.

“Not so much noise, angel.” 

—

The elder twin had watched his brother follow you out, had seen the way his twin’s eyes had smoothed over the curve of your ass, how he’d admired your shorts and in utter and complete disdain Fred kicked the inside of the car. It was dumb, the way he was wishing he could have his girl thrown in front of a bathroom counter and force her to watch him fuck that pretty pretty cunt of his, and unknowingly slid his hand down to his jeans and started to palm.

His jaw was clenched at the thought of her slutty little stunt she pulled this morning when they both knew how wet she would get when she had her mouth around him, and gritted in a groan as he squeezed his clothed erection.

“God, fuck, love,” he panted, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans half way to slide his boxers down, his cock springing free instantly. He thought about how her cunt fit perfectly to his cock, how no matter how many times he’d slipped deliciously into her, she always seemed just as tight as the first time, meanwhile his hand loosely pumped back and forth on his shaft. This was pathetic, he knew it was pathetic, but still the idea of her underneath him while her breasts heaved and her smokey chocolate hair was strewn about the pillow had him grunting.

“God, I’m so surprised you’re not pregnant yet, with the amount of cum I stuff you with and the rounds we do in a day,” he growled, all eleven inches sunk deep into her.

“Oh, shit, baby, god, you feel so good,” he panted, his thumb tightly rolling small circles on his tip. 

“Want it so bad, baby, wanna be so full and round soon as we can,” she had moaned, arching so far into his hold that he had thrusted at the same time a nipple brushed his lips and into his mouth, biting the sensitive flesh and causing her to whine.

“Such a fucking whore,” he snarled, his hips bucking up to meet each stroke of his fist, his head thrown back in ecstasy as he imagined his palm to be nothing but her - no, his - soft and soaked pussy. 

His hips were jerking at the speed of sound, he didn’t really care if anyone else could hear, if anything it made him more turned on, let ‘em hear, he could give less of a shit and especially if she were here, he’d make damn sure everyone from Houston to L.A. knew exactly which racer she was getting boned by each and every night.

“Freddie, honey, please, I need you to so bad,”

“I’m right behind you, baby, goddamnit so fucking good,” and with a faint shout of her name he released, his dick twitching under his own rough touch, his eyes screwed shut at his own frustration, none of it was real, the memory of it and the smell of sweaty sex in not only hotel rooms but in cars across the country dimming his mind back to square one. He laughed harshly at his own predicament, assessing his own situation before whistling lowly.

“Fuck, I need a drive.”

—

“George, for the love of God, stop fuckin’ with the carburetor, we already checked it an hour ago,” Fred whined, leaning against the back of the car. The day had been relatively slow beyond that one car, the hour approaching about 4:30, Fred eagerly awaiting until those hands hit 6.

“We did? I could have sworn we didn’t but I wouldn’t know, would I?” George rolled his eyes, pushing himself away from under the hood, heading over to you to take the tool you aimlessly held from your hands, not before his hands pressed against your neck, pulling you into a quick kiss.

Fred went to retort, interrupted only by the grizzly rotary of the engine rev close by. He knew exactly what the sound was, the same kind of rev that ecologists blamed on the hole in the ozone, the smell lewd and hungry for attention. 

It wasn’t just any old car, it had to be for racing. And sure enough it was, two in fact, fully souped up in high gear and brand new paint blinding in the Arizona sun. Fred held a hand above his eyebrows to see who it was, and George leaned back around Fred trying to do the same thing. When the cars pulled up and swerved albeit messily into the lot the twins broke into grins.

“Is that-?”

“-yeah, it’s-”

And then the car doors opened, one man rather lanky and lean and the other shorter and stocky, the rather lean one putting both his hands on his hips and clucking: “Well, I’ll be damned, freshen up then lads,” and grinned mischievously.

“DEAN!”

“SEAMUS!” They both yelled and jumped at their friends, a chorus of rowdy hugs and how are yous being traded from each of the boys.

“Alright then, boys?” Seamus quipped.

“Well, Jesus, we sure hope so, haven’t seen you since, shit what March?” George ran a hand through his hair, looking at Fred to confirm that and he nodded in response.

“Sounds about right, we’ve had to keep to ourselves - don’t want a bust like what happened to Diggory, y’know,” Seamus smirked.

“That arsehole from - shit what was his sponsor, Georgie?”

“Wonderbread,”

“Yeah, I never liked him, hits on everything that moves he does, my girl included,” Fred made his way to their mini-fridge swinging out a couple of bottled cane-sugar Coke (the only kind he and his wife ever drank, unfortunately for their bank account), and distributing them to each of the boys, passing around the bottle opener.

Dean scoffed. “Fred, you think everyone flirts with your girl and Y/N.”

“I’m a protective man, Thomas, not my fault I see a douche bag and-”

“Anyway,” George cut him off, leaving a rather pouty Fred in his place, and leaning back to sit on the hood of the car. “What brings you two ‘round then?”

Seamus and Dean visibly held their bottles a little tighter, then looked at each other.

“Well, we um...we have this thing we do on Thursdays down behind Tucson-” Seamus started.

“-not the raceway...it’s a bit more shifty, if you get it.” Dean finished, taking a swig of Coke. George studied the two for a second and finally leaned back on the car hood.

“Boys, what is this?” He asked softly, Fred shifting uncomfortably on the minifridge.

Seamus opened his mouth again, his face a great shade of crimson when Dean leapt in again.

“We do it in secret because if Indy or Nascar found out we’d all be dead but...we never really stopped racing you know. We just...we do it in the backwoods area of town-”

“Where it’s basically just sand and flat land for miles,” Seamus added, nodding vehemently. 

“Count me in.” Fred spoke quickly, pushing himself up off the mini fridge and over to the two boys, a smirk hanging off his lips in anticipation of being able to put his foot to the floor again on a track, albeit a dirt-road track, it was a course nevertheless.

“Yeah, no, Fred you can’t, if the Wood Brothers find out you are never racing again.” George cut in, fingers pressed to his temple in fear of his brother’s own recklessness.

“Come on, baby brother, I think you need to loosen up a little, what do you think, y/n?” Fred’s smirk only grew as he raised his eyebrow, hoping to entice the younger twin into his lure.

“You know, Georgie, I think it would be good for you and Fred to race together, you know, just for fun...” You shrugged, staking over to George, arms wrapping around his waist, as you looked up at him with a pout.

“I suppose if those two big brains can still have jobs, we’ll be fine, right?” George sighed, feeling himself giving in, purely from a look from his girlfriend.

“That’s the spirit!” Dean smirked, a smile cracking up on Seamus’ lips as the four boys looked among each other, almost silently communicating a plan until they had erupted with laughter.

—

The clock had said 9:34, roughly 26 minutes before Fred would be ecstatically waiting for George outside his studio apartment. His neck was tilted upwards, covered in shaving cream with a bath towel wrapped loosely around his waist. The sink was littered with expensive cologne and aftershave, the first purchase he ever made after his first check at the shop, his scalpel grifting smoothly up his jawline. 

Fred had learned very early on that preparation was absolutely everything, and after his little twelfth place charade - he felt his mates needed to remember that he was, for all intents and purposes, that bitch. 

“Fred, baby, you home?” He heard her call out, the clanging of keys falling into the empty fishbowl on the coffee table.

“Yeah, cupcake, I’m in here,” he called out stiffly, listening to her start to rant on about the interviews at hand - none of them were ever any fun, he’d been to enough to learn that all they cared about were raunchy questions geared at his wife and female reporters flirting with him in front of studio audiences. 

“...and god my feet were killing me, she wanted to walk with me all the way down the block and-“ she stopped analyzing his posture, his broad and freckled back still slightly covered in drops from the shower, his V-line angled to the side to a point where if she tugged on his hips juuuust right it would be sure to drop in one fell swoop, combined with the fact that he was shaving. 

“Honey?” 

“Yes, dear?” He side eyed her and smirked before turning his eyes back to the mirror, finishing the last of the area around his upper jaw and by his cheekbones.

“Are you going somewhere tonight?” She questioned, standing next to him now, looking at him directly through the mirror. He licked his lips at the sight of her minorly aggressive position and broke contact.

“Just for a bit, love, I’ll be back probably when you’re asleep.”

“And were you planning on telling me?”

“And were you planning on being a tease this morning after I gave you such a lovely time last night?”

He watched her mouth open and close as if she were about to say something and faltered, and snorted. “Yes, exactly, I thought so,” he said, turning around to grab a hand towel, splashing water on his face to rinse off the cream.

“Oh...I see what this is,” she purred. He stopped and slowly pulled his face up to the sink, setting a hand down on the sink to ground him from the massive hard on that was occurring under his towel, and turning towards her.

“What was that?” 

“I think you’re a pent up, horny teenager that doesn’t like being told no,” she smiled cruelly at him and watched as Fred’s jaw tensed ever so slightly. 

He rolled it gently and went to move past her but she was quicker, and pushed him backward with five painted red nails to his chest. She looked up at him and roughly scratched down his torso, causing Fred to hiss at the fresh red stripes. She slid a hand up his chest and stopped at the column of his throat, gripping ever so slightly, before leaning up to kiss him and pulling away just so he could feel her exhale.

“Have a nice night, Freddie,” she whispered before quirking a brow and grinning, prancing off to their bedroom alone.

When she was out of earshot he shakily breathed out, trying to steady his breathing and his yearning cock - he’d deal with her later for sure, regardless of his behavior or not.

It was 9:32, approximately 28 minutes before George would pick him up outside his studio apartment…

—

The twins arrived at around 10:15, the drive there filled with only uncomfortable silence at what was to come. George was a bit pissed to say the least, once again Fred was getting his way for an adrenaline run, and this time Y/N had backed him up.

George’s last place he would be right now is behind the wheel of his own fucking car.

He parked it next to Dean’s sleek, jet black chevy, his hands gripping the steering wheel ever so slightly as he leaned back against the headrest.

“You realize if we get caught we could never race again, right?” George prompted quietly.

“Here’s an idea; don’t.” Fred rolled his eyes, reaching over to flick his brother in the ear, eyebrows raised playfully.

“Yeah, no shit, sherlock.” George grumbled, turning off the ignition, listening to the signature growl of his engine grind to a stop. 

“Why is it always such a bad idea to do anything fun once in a while, Georgie,” Fred grumbled, his knee bouncing against the floor of the car. “It’s not like we’ve had anything to do as of late, you know.”

“Of course, besides, hmm, I dunno, not making our sponsors upset? By like possibly following the very slight and basic set of rules we’ve been given?” George snipped, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel. He sighed to himself and went to get out of the car when Fred grabbed his arm.

“Hey, you agreed to this too, you know-”

“Yes, at the behest of my lovely fiance and my snot nosed, ant thorax of a barely older brother and as such, I’m driving this thing when this shit factory of a drag race starts.” He whacked Fred’s arm away and exited the car, immediately all but smiles on his face as he went to greet his friends, a sporadic and adrenaline heated Fred on his tail.

“Well if it isn’t the two most obnoxious bastards in NASCAR,” Fred turned to see his best friend and ex-pit crew member, Roger Davies, and excitedly gripped him in a hug, hands clapping backs and tears falling down cheeks at the renewal of friendship.

“Georgie! Look, it's Rog!”

“Holy shit, not my first husband-!”

“Your only husband, Weasley number 5, and Fred can disagree all he wants,” Roger grinned and pulled both boys into a hug before whispering in their ear, “watch out for Finnegan and Thomas, boys, the cheating hasn’t stopped since last season,” leaving the twins utterly confused.

“Oi! Not another sleepover without me?” Boomed Dean from behind them. Roger immediately pushed past the two entirely confused twins and went to clap Dean on the back.

“Just getting them acquainted with the rules before a race...you know how hard it is to follow all the rules, don’t you, mate?” Roger winked and headed back to the twins, moving them back to the car as all the other drivers retreated to theirs.

“Rog, what was all that?” Fred whispered.

“Dean has been known to be a bit...well, shifty as of late with these. Always been a bit of a windy bloke, you get it, but ever since Target dropped him from the sponsorship he hasn’t really been...getting off as much in racing as he used to.” Roger nervously laughed, rubbing the back of his neck, leaning against the back of George’s car.

“By ‘cheating’ what does that entail?” George crossed his arms in repose.

“He’s always been a thrill chaser, you know this, Georgie.”

That was true, Dean had always been after a nice high. An adrenaline junkie back at primary school, Dean and Fred (as George unfortunately remembered) would feed off each other like invasive flowers, the group think of two singularly aggressive and needy young boys clouding the canopy of their friends (and brothers) with misfortune. Anything from groundings to almost arrests to nights spent aimlessly wandering the London streets in the wee hours of the morning - to Dean’s favorite: bets.

Dean would bet and bet and bet if his life depended on it and when it came to racing, if there was a bet out in his name to win, he was sure as shit going to make sure that he was the winner, this led to more and more alterations to his cars, some that even street racing frowned upon. The media never got their hands on the true reason Dean had lost his Target sponsorship; just one simple, illegal, engine part. One that gave him the lead in a race that caught him out. 

“How hasn’t someone banned him then?” George laughed, looking over at his friends, only for Roger to clear his throat with a chuckle himself.

“You can’t ban someone from street racing, Georgie, not without the authority that NASCAR has.” Roger explained, pushing away from George’s car to head towards his own. “See you on the track, boys.” 

“Track?” Fred choked over the words, confused thoroughly at this point.

“I don’t think we’re in for just a drag race, Freddie.” George gulped, watching Roger slip inside his car, the lights flashing on and the sounds of rumbling engines echoing through the air. 

—

“What do you mean I can’t drive your car.” Fred practically whined, if his eyes rolled any harder they would be in the back of his head.

“I mean what I said, dumbass, you’re not driving my car.” George protested, his arms crossing over his chest as he stood protectively in front of the driver’s side door.

“But you’d let me drive it in a drag race, that doesn’t make any sense, like at all.” 

“That was when you had to drive in a straight line, you are not putting my baby in danger just to race her round a track.”

“Your baby? George, you do realise I race too right?” 

“Fuck off. You’re not driving, that’s final.”

“Yes the fuck I am, now move.” Fred was practically pushing his brother out of the way as he tried to get himself in the driver’s seat. “Twenty minutes ago you didn’t even want to be here, now you want to drive?”

“Fine.” George sighed, finally stepping aside, only to grab the back of Fred’s shirt. “One scratch and you’ll be fixing it, either that or I’ll break you.” 

“I’m not gonna crash the car, George, now get in.” Fred slid inside the car, George following suit on the passenger side. Fred went to pull out of the space that George had parked the car in, only to stall, dropping the clutch out of excitement, causing his younger brother to yell, out loud and quickly. 

“Nope! I’m not doing this.”

“Fucking hell, George, shut up I can drive.” 

—

There was something about the way tires kicked dust up as they sped around the dirt track that had Fred on edge. This race was unlike anything he’d ever seen or been a part of before, if he was being brutally honest it was exhilarating to be doing something like this, much more so when his brother was sat in the passenger seat. He didn’t need to look over or even take his eyes off the road to know that George was already being hypercritical of Fred’s driving skills, especially when the livelihood of his pride and joy of a car lay in another’s hands.

If George were gripping the steering wheel in that moment, his knuckles would have been well and truly white, watching clouds upon clouds of dust spray over the freshly washed exterior of his car. Instead, George’s hand was dripped tightly on the door, bracing himself for the sharp corners and bumpy jolts, thinking about how all the up and down was surely going to fuck his suspension. 

Fred laughed to himself, but mostly at the way his twin was acting, almost as if George hadn’t spent most of his adult life behind the wheel of a car driving faster than any other man would dream of. Fred shouted over the roar of the engine “Jesus, Georgie, let loose a little will you?”

“I’d be way less uptight if you would have just let me drive.” George replied, sighing to himself, a small ‘woah’ falling from his mouth at the feeling of the back wheels spinning.

“It’s a bit fucking late for that decision.” Fred laughed back, passing a car that had the unfortunate and untimely end of spinning themselves off the joke of a track. Once the dust parted and George saw the mess in front of him, his eyes widened, heart racing if it could have beaten any faster.

“I will kill you if you do that.” the younger man grumbled, watching Fred speed past car after car, pushing them up the ranks. 

“I told you I won’t crash your precious car… I’m starting to think you love her more than your lovely lady.” Fred bit his lower lip to stop himself laughing at his own comment. Looking up in the rear view mirror, he spotted the glistening black and bright blue of Roger and Dean gaining on the lead the twins had.

It was nearing what Fred hoped to be the end of the track, watching as the finish line grew nearer with every second. In what seemed to be all at once, a loud revving came in from Fred’s Left, The lightning bolt blue car overtaking George’ in a matter of seconds, pushing right past the finish line without a care in the world. Following closely in second was Dean’s beauty of a car, Fred managing to keep right behind his two friends, pulling third rank in the race. 

—

Fred was the first out of the car, slamming the door behind him as his rage was starting to bubble out from his lungs. George hurried to catch up with his older brother, the look in his eyes and his body language evident that nothing short of violent impulsivity would amount from the situation. Fred pushed past Roger, ignoring the pleas for peace, he was never mad at Rog, Rog deserved a top rank, but his anger was centered towards Dean.

Dean needed a nice loss.

“Oi, Thomas.” He got closer to the man, Dean turning around slowly, a haughty sense of pride glazed on his face. “What’s wrong, Freddie, I’d figured after your little twelfth place at the table third should be a nice welcome to you,” he drawled, before Fred lunged at him, getting held back only by Davies.

“Aw, does poor little Freddie still need a babysitter?”

“Open that mouth one more fucking time-”

“Fred-” Roger stuttered.

“No,” he pushed from his grasp and proceeded to get inches from Dean’s face

Dean smirked and leaned back to grab a beer from the cooler beside him. “Fred. Your little tough guy act doesn’t scare me anymore, you know that.”

George stepped up next to Fred, “It’s not an act, mate, I think you know us well enough by now to get that we don’t take kindly to cheaters,” he said softly, rising to his full height.

Dean immediately leaned back at the sight of the two gingers, and even going as far as shrinking at the pure sight of Roger Davies, not as tall but definitely as intimidating, standing between them.

“The track never did cater to a liar, Thomas, we figured you’d know that by now,” Roger added quietly. 

Dean scoffed, the adrenaline clearly rising in his chest, as the men behind him started to eye each other, the violence of the situation reaching a silent all time high. “I’m not gonna take shit from a losing tosser, his stooge of a younger brother, and a dumb blonde-“ 

Fred had launched himself all the way forward, his index and thumb forming a U shape as he grabbed Dean’s face, slamming it directly into the window. Dean struggled in Fred’s grasp, lifeless and sloppy fists flying in every direction possible. When Fred finally pulled off the boy and began to walk off, a smug and bloody smirk gracing his haughty face, Seamus lunged forward, a punch matching the back of Fred’s head. 

A full on fight occurred, George rushing forward to slam Seamus to the ground, dust flying in every which way under the artificial lights. Fred had taken to pummeling Dean as if he was losing himself entirely in aggression.

The twins had always had an aggressive streak - but it had rarely been released in their current younger years of “adulthood.” 

Amongst the mess of brawling fists and kicked up dirt, Roger had managed to summon the presence of one of the two Weasley girls - you, the understanding quick thinker with a tendency to be for whatever your boyfriend did and Fred’s Wife, the american firecracker who rarely took no for an answer.. When you had arrived, Rog and George were stopping Fred from lurching at Dean once more, Instead you were focused on the graze that lay above George’s brow, taking a deep breath and shaking your head at just how reckless he had become. 

“George Weasley, I swear to fucking god you bastard.” You shouted, pulling him up by his bicep and pushing him back against his dust-covered car. “One night I leave you, One night and you end up in a back street race nearly getting your ass handed to you by Dean fucking Thomas-”

“It was Seamus, actually-”

“Not the fucking point, George.” you slapped his chest, only for him to wrap his arms around your waist, keeping you pulled close, a small smirk hanging off his lips.

“Fred said I needed to let loose, and I did and it was the best fun I’ve had since the end of season… but that obviously isn’t what I should be saying… I’m sorry, really am.”

You rolled your eyes, a sigh falling from your lips as you rested your head on his chest, with all the stress that NASCAR had given him, it really was the best thing that he was getting some actual joy in his free time. “At least you had fun.”

-

You knew you couldn’t be mad at him for long, not with the puppy dog eyes he was giving you as he knelt down on the floor, elbows resting on the mattress to look at you. Part of him realised that he needed to not piss you off any more than he already had, after all it was a little more than what you were expecting from him and with so much on the line after all of his hard work you were more mad at the fact he would so easily chance it.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” He quipped, a small smile on his lips as he stretched his back out, leaning forward across the mattress, fingertips grazing over your knee.

“You know what you’re doing.” You sighed, trying to look away from him, only to feel his full firm grip squeeze at your thigh.

“I’m just trying to apologize to you.”

“Yeah right.”

“I know how much you gave up to be here with me, for us, for me to achieve my dreams and I only went and nearly threw it away for a cheap race and I’m sorry.” 

His eyes were glassy, filled with a sadness that you only recognised from the day he left for America, he truly was sorry for what had happened. 

“I want to make it up to you, princess.” He pushed himself up onto the bed, his head resting on the pillow, your eyes never leaving him as you watch him shift to get comfortable. 

Your hand reached out to brush the hair out of his eyes, watching his eyes flutter closed as a small sigh fell from his lips. You were quick to shift so that you lay next to him. 

“There’s nothing to make up for, Georgie.” You smiled softly, shifting slightly closer to him, feeling his hand drape lazily over your side. Something about seeing him so vulnerable made you want to protect him with your whole heart and yet he was always the one to protect you.

“There’s everything to make up for, my love.” He smirked, leaning in to nudge his nose against yours softly before pressing a small kiss to your lips. “Just let me make you feel good.”

“George you don’t–” You went to protest, but he was quick to cut you off with another kiss, this time his hand gently pulling your hips closer towards him.

“I know just the way to make things up to you.” He pushed himself up slowly, arm wrapping around you to lay you down on your back, finding his place between your thighs, your legs either side of his hips.

His hands slowly raked up your thighs, finding his way up to your hips, fingers hooking underneath the waistband to pull the material down your legs, leaving you bare from the waist down. You had almost forgotten how much of a tease George could be, the way his fingers had quickly found your clit, the long digits finding your entrance soon after, only to warm you up.

Positioning himself with your legs hooked over his shoulders, he drew in a breath, releasing the cool exhale over you as you sighed frustratedly, hips bucking to try and get some friction if any, only for his hand to push your hips back down, a chuckle falling from his lips.

The second his tongue was licking a prominent stripe along your aching pussy, you were well and truly putty in his hands. Each flick of his tongue had you squirming, unrestrained moans falling from your lips as the pleasure built.

It didn’t take him long to attach his lips to your clit, sucking relentlessly at the bundle of nerves, his fingers pushing knuckle deep into you, curling up to hit your favourite spot, having you a wordless mess of nothing but moans of his name.

“Such a pretty thing you are, baby.” He hummed, thumb coming up to circle over your clit as he watched the way you had thrown your head back, your hands finding his hair to pull him back down needily, earning a chuckle from him.

His tongue continued its work, pulling you closer and closer to release with every flick. He didn’t let up until your thighs were shaking and your chest heaving, mind clouded only with thoughts of him and how lucky you were.

—--

Fred Weasley got home all too late, the door closing a bit louder than the man had wanted behind him. The slightly elder Weasley crept from the doorway to the bedroom, careful to mind the light creaks in the hardwood floor, taking every ounce of stress on his feet to avoid any miscalculations. 

When he got to the bedroom, he saw the woman he loved, asleep no doubt by the sight of her mussed hair and lightly agape expression on her lips. Fred exhaled slowly, what he thought was quietly, until he heard her voice clearly say:

“So where were you?”

The man before her felt his heart thump harder than he felt when his own mother would corner him in the kitchen, the memories of sneaking out and sneaking back only to return with a-

“So are you going to tell me where you were?”

“Out.”

“No, really?” She spat, sitting back up and clicking the lamp on, her face etched with rage.

“I waited up for you the entire night, the least I probably deserve is an explanation.”

“Well, love, you didn’t seem to want to talk to me earlier, so I guess the lack of communication goes both ways, now move over.” he said briskly, beginning to take off his shirt. When she didn’t move, her face unwavering in anger, he rolled his jaw, swallowing back and refusing to feel the light effervescence of guilt in his throat.

“I said m-”

“I’m aware. See, Fred,” his wife exited the bed, and unfortunately for him, she was clad in only the black satin nightie he had gotten for her after his first big win. The guilt was rising now, as was something else low on his hips.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry, okay? I am, I-”

“Interrupt me again, and you get the couch, got it?” He nodded, his eyes drawn to the tears welling up in hers. “Fred, I’m your wife now and-and knowing my husband, my husband was out doing god knows what or who for that matter and has the audacity to come back in at three in the morning and be pissed at me? Who the hell are you?” 

“I was racing! I was racing alright, and I’m sorry, I’m sorry I-I came in late and made you pissed because I love you and I am never going to do this again but God can you please put something else on so I can focus correctly-” and then he was kissing her, and somewhere deep in his cerebral cortex, this was probably unbearably toxic, for him to start apologizing angrily for the shit that he put her through but-

“God, you are a piece of fucking work aren’t you?” She snarled, already beginning to unbuckle and unzip his pants. 

“But ‘m your piece of work, and currently,” he spat back, mouth melding in a messy and unkempt addition to hers, the entire situation wholly and completely Fred in every way possible, as he shed himself of his shirt and picked her up, “-I’d like to be fucking you.”

It didn’t take him long to pitch her body on the bed, his wife scrunching delectably at his fiery hair and his own ropy and iron hands squeezing at the bottom of her bare thighs. It had been long, too long, and with the already latent tension from their little bathroom incident earlier in the day - there wouldn’t be any denying Fred nor his girl of a quick, ravenous fuck tonight.

“Missed you so much, baby,” she whined, yanking his head up to mold herself to him in a heated kiss, the man atop her not needing to be shown twice at her action. “Missed you more, had me fuckin’ twitching and creaming in a car earlier, you did,” he chuckled, arousal thick and evident in his tone.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” He rasped, his eyes scrunching close as one of her delightfully un-dainty and gently calloused hands palmed him over his boxers. “God, wanted you so bad, baby, wanted to just drop the towel and have you on the sink, then ‘n there.”

“You mean that?” She said shakily, as he kissed her one last time before sliding down her body, his lengthy digits trailing down above him.

“God, absolutely, and if I look under here I wonder if - oh look at that, ‘was right, wasn’t I?” Much to her disagreeing whine, he sat up on his heels, his damn near naked body covered in sweat, his myriad of constellations adorning his chest like only the finest stars in the night sky. He looked up at her, the face only him or his twin could make, rum eyes bright and full of mischief, but also something else more sinister as his fingers trailed up her thighs.

“Fred, please-”

“‘Got you, baby, don’t you worry about me,” he mused, lazily almost, while his fingers drifted higher up the apex of her thigh before-

“No.” She said simply.

“Shit, I’m sorry do you want me to stop-?”

“No.” Fred’s wife, almost too fast for him to register, threw her left thigh around his waist, gathering momentum from her other leg fast enough to get him on his back, effectively pressing her hand to the center of his chest before all he could say was:

“Didn’t know you could do that, love,” he drawled, a quirk of a brow and a little smile on his face.

“You didn’t know I could do a lot of things, Freddie.” She shot back, bringing her nails up and in to scratch at his bare chest, her hips rolling to his and rubbing his tip under his boxers so well he thought he was going to explode.

“You have any plans beyond making me cum in m’pants, dear?” He hummed, his hands reaching up and under her satin to cup and squeeze at her bare ass.

“I was planning on making you cum so hard your ears pop, actually.”

“Merlin, woman, get on with it then,” he groaned, her laugh bubbling in his ears like champagne as her nails abandoned their spot on his broad chest to the hills and valleys of his v-line, the light grazing and nimble touch causing a wanton moan to erupt from the back of his throat along with a small, “fuckin’ hell, petal.” He watched with rapt but seemingly pained eyes as she slowly - too slowly, for his personal taste - began to lift her hips and grind the tip of his erection, his palms getting more clammy as he waited with need for her to sink onto him - if she’d even give him that.

But all too soon, she stopped her rolling onto his cock, making him swear at the loss of contact. “Goddamnit, fuck me already.”

“Oh, Freddie,” she preened, moving a hand back to cover one of his own sliding it to her soaking cunt, “after how bad you’ve been today? And you think I’m gonna reward you? Baby…” she drawled, reaching down to squeeze his thick cock, the action alone making him grunt and his neck veins pulsate with life.

“‘Do anything y’want, anything,” he whined, desperately trying to fuck his hips up to meet her friction. He knew his wife would push him, push him to the absolute limit until his dick exploded and his throat gave out from how hard he’d be screaming, she’d done it before, but it was so late, and God, he needed to bury himself deep in the milk and honey of her sex before it was too late.

“Then you have to be a good boy, Freddie, remember?”

“I know, I know, ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry, ma’am,” he babbled, the pleasure and lack of stimulation running through his veins. “Please,” he whimpered, his voice small and pliant like rubber.

She cocked a brow at him, curling her shiny red nails around his chin and gently tilting him toward hers. 

“Been so bad, baby boy, but I guess ‘m gonna have to give you a treat some time…you just look so delicious like this,'' she purred, moving her hands to the swell of his bulge, delighting in the whine that escaped his throat like the rush of water in a stream (or something a bit more sinful in its entirety.) Fred’s wife swiftly lifted his cock free from it’s confines, his hands coming immediately to steady at her hip bones and kneading greedy circles into the tough skeleton. 

“Ready f’me, precious?”

“Fred, don’t be pretending you’re the one on top at present,” 

“Good Lord, woman, stop the banter and rock already.” The two chuckled breathlessly at Fred’s words, his wife pressing an airy kiss to his red and puckered mouth before bringing her cunt to just barely graze his tip, a movement that had the ginger subjected to her ministrations roll his eyes back and murmur a throaty “fuck” against her lips. 

“Baby, please-“

“I know, Freddie, my love ‘ve got you,” she whispered before finally sinking down onto him, both partners releasing hisses and throaty moans at the feeling of being one.

It took no time at all for the ginger beneath to bring his hands to her now bouncing ass, guiding her roughly to every ridge of his cock. She was sloppy, the ride of pushing Fred’s high further and further to the forefront of his system. Fred oh the other hand had started to spastically fuck up into her now, moaning out her name the more he listened to the sound of her wet cunt being slid up and down on his thick cock. 

She was close, dangerously close, the feeling of his balls clapping against the bottom of her ass in time with her pants. Fred was in nirvana, the way the light graced the sides of her face making her look like the most fallen of angels when-

“Fred, I can’t, I, please”

“I know, bub, ‘m right there with you,” he coaxed, all too soft in contrast with the rampant fucking he was giving her, waiting until he could feel her about to soak his cock before flipping her over, almost too quickly throwing her legs around his waist and thrusting further than what he thought was possible. His hands gripped hers and somewhere in his mind he blacked out against the feeling of the black satin rubbing against his torso. 

“Baby-“

“Fred-“

Fred relished the feeling of her collapsing around him, his back fully extended as he rolled softly and slowly into her to push them through their conjoined high. He loved this, he always had, how her body heaved gently under his and his hands and mouth could whisper sweet nothings into her skin, soothing her form and giving her all the love he could possibly muster. 

“I am sorry you know, bub.” He finally said after a while, his hands rubbing back and forth on her thighs. 

She leaned up and pressed a kiss to his nose and then his lips, smiling lightly against his mouth as her eyes fluttered shut, “yeah, yeah, I know.”

“Just…don’t do it again okay-?” She whispered.

“Baby, you know I won’t. Scout’s honor ‘n all-“

“You didn’t let me finish, Weasley!”

“Well, then what’s the rest of it?” 

She smiled at him before craning her lips to his ear: “next time you drag race, I better watch.”

She giggled when he threw the covers above their heads.

—

It was two days later, the sun blaring just as brightly as it had when Dean Thomas proposed a drag race, and now, as the front door bells jingled an entrance, the twins had done something they didn’t last time.

“We’re closed,” they both said flatly, not looking up from the respective cars.

“Even for me?” A familiar voice asked the boys, causing them both to raise their heads.

“Sirius!” They both squawked, the lanky men scrambling to their feet to hug their favorite agent, the older man hugging them back immediately.

“Why’ve you come from LA?”

“Yeah, is something wrong? I can guarantee you whatever it was it was 100% George’s fault-”

“Fred.”

“Sorry.”

Sirius released a small smile that had been tugging at his face the whole interaction. “Boys, I’ve got a bit of an announcement for you.”

“And what would that be?” George asked suspiciously. Fred looked out the corner of his eye at his twin, and all Sirius did was throw his hands out and up.

“Boys: we’re going to Monaco.”

[sweetpandorabox]

George Weasley as a Boyfriend 🧨🦁

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨sweetpandorabox୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎…⋙

Warnings ⚠️: Slight mentioned of sexual themes and some spicy stuff.

Dating this mischief-maker yet kinder and handsome twin could include:

👨🏻‍🦰👂🏻🧹

He's very affectionate but in the most caring way, unlike Fred who's more playful he learns how to style your hair for you (like braids and ponytails) by asking Ginny to teach him, instead of holding hands like most couples do, he offers you a piggyback ride everywhere so you don't have to walk. He gives you a playful noogie when you tease him, tucks your hair behind your ear so he can see your face better, randomly making out of nowhere because he really needs it, and of course some light pranks here and there to make you laugh.

He and you aren't allowed to sit together in any classes that the two of you share together, not because of PDA since he's usually more lowkey rubbing your thigh under the table, but because the both of you just cannot stop laughing around each other for no reason which distracts the whole class.

The both of you wear a matching bracelet that George made himself, you wear his initial in yours and he wears your initial in his, and the two of you made a promise to each other not to take it off ever or not lose it, all to show that the two of you belong together.

He's a really patient boyfriend, no matter how angry you are and taking it all out on him or how annoyed and upset he gets he's never once raised his voice at you or dumped all his frustration at you in any way. He's even the first one to apologize after every fight, even if he didn't start it.

He calls you cute nicknames like Babe, Gorgeous, Dream Girl, or Precious.

Likes when you call him Georgie, Darling, Stud, Freckles, or Dreamboat (you used to call him that teasingly before you guys started dating not knowing he was into you, and still uses it to this day).

His love language is probably quality time, just like Fred he values his memories with you and loves making new ones all the time because those are truly precious over other things.

Anytime he needed a password he always uses your name and last name, your birth date, your favorite color, or the date when he asked you out to be his.

He can sing quite well and would sing a song when you're sad or aren't feeling the best, then he would offer his hand which you always take and he would spin you around before slow dancing with you to his singing as the music.

He would sneak into your room at night when you're asleep and kiss your forehead then leave something on your nightstand beside your bed so you'll always wake up to something new every day, whether it's a fresh bouquet of flowers in a vase, a book he issued for you that he thought you may like, a box of treats like chocolate and sweets or one of his sweaters/hoodies that smells like him.

He's shyer then Fred and still have that occasional blush, stammer and avoid eye contact with you when you change your appearance a little bit or did something that he found really attractive like twirling your hair or biting on your pen while focusing on something.

He tells funny stories about you any chance he gets to all his friends and Fred who finds it adorable that he's so excited to talk about you all the time.

He owns a polaroid camera that was made in the muggle world that he got from his dad as a "don't tell your mother I broke her favorite tea cup" present and takes it every time the both of you are out on a date, and he would ask to take pictures of just the two of you, let it print out and kept it in a bundle inside his sock drawer.

Holidays at the burrow Molly and Arthur love you and make you feel like a part of their family, but you happened to be closer to Ginny because it's like having a little sister. You'd talk about boys, quidditch, fashion, and more.

Instead of focusing on making joke products and trying them on you, he keeps trying to find ways how to make cool things that you can keep and that would impress you because, to be honest, he's just a little boy trying to impress his girl.

Sometimes out of nowhere he just goes "Will you marry me precious?" and get down on his knees or put your hand on his heart because he can't believe you're real and that never fails to make you blush so you just answered "Of course I will, but not now" with a giant smile on your face.

Hornier than Fred, but instead of being rough/playful and degrading during sex he seems to be more of a praiser and more gentle in the best way.

When you lay down on the Gryffindor common room couch he would sit on the opposite side, put your feet on his lap and message it asking about your day and what he can do for you today as well.

When he isn't with you during the holidays (Summer, Winter, and more) he would send you a cute little postcard every single day and a little gift through his family owl Errol.

As soon as he graduated and got the joke shop open he surprises you by saving up his money and getting his own place close to the shop so you can move in with him which you obviously accepted when he asks. The next thing on the list is a ring to marry you.

Taglist:

@igncrantbliss @milivanili99 @thatdummy-girl

[keep-it-pottah]

In The Shadows of Love’s Sin’s - F.W. G.W. I

A/N: I originally posted this on Wattpad but figured maybe I should post it on here as well so more people can read it. This is a series and is based on the movies cause I like the movies better and I'm starting this series with the third movie cause I hate the first two and have no ideas on how to really write anything involving the twins with the first two movies. Oh yeah, the spelling and grammar probably aren't good cause my native language is Korean and I'm still not completely fluent in English yet.

Also I lowkey hate this so far but at the same time I don’t so idk.

!! FEM ALIGNED/FEM READERS DNI !!

"So, what's it like in Egypt?" You ask once you were sat between Fred and George, a copy of the Daily Prophet in your hands showing the photo of the Weasley family while they were on their trip to Egypt. "I'm guessing it was hot?" You asked as you looked between the two boys sat on either side of you.

Fred, who was sat on your left, lightly shrugged before he scooted himself a bit closer to you in order to point to the pyramids in the background. "It was a bit hot, but the sights there made it so worth it." He said as he looked back up at you, a small smile resting on his lips once his gaze had landed on your own.

"Yeah, all the old and creepy stuff was so cool." George, who sat on your right, spoke up. He scooted himself closer to you the same way Fred had just done. "Knowing your fascination with all things creepy and old, you'd love it there, Y/N." George teased you while he lightly poked your shoulder.

You rolled your eyes at your friend's remark. "Oh, haha." You replied in a sarcastic tone while you gave George's arm a playful shove. "You could do without making fun of my interests for once, you know." You stated with a raise of your eyebrows.

Fred moved now so he had each leg on either side of the chair he sat on. "Ah, but it is not making fun of you that we are doing, dear Y/N." He states with a grin as he places an arm on your shoulder while he looked up at you with his charming and seemingly "innocent" eyes.

George is swift with his finishing of his brother's sentence. "Simply stating facts." He replied as he copied his brother's action and placed his own arm on your other shoulder. "We are not making fun of your interests."

"No matter how weird they are!" Fred continued while he lifted a finger up to make his statement more true.

"We are merely... pointing out that you would enjoy all the creepy and old stuff in Egypt." George stated with a grin as he had moved to rest his chin on top of his arm on your shoulder.

"Especially the tombs with the mummies in them!" Fred finished while he imitated his brother. The two boys were then resting their chins on their arms, both of which were still resting on your shoulders.

You huffed while you shrugged their arms off your shoulders. "Call it what you want. I see it as you making fun of the fact that I enjoy history and all things that prove that life isn't all happy-go-lucky." You responded as you moved to stand up from the chair you had sat in. "On another note, you two both need to learn about personal space." You stated while you pointed between the two boys. "You both seriously lack the ability to understand personal space."

Fred and George both made a faux offended look to each other before they moved to stand next to you once more.

"Of course we understand personal space." Fred starts as he moved to stand on your left.

"It just so happens that we enjoy your personal space more than we enjoy our own." George finished while he stood on your left. However, before you were able to speak up, the twins looked over and saw that their little brother, Ron, was showing both of his best friends, Harry and Hermione, the same clip that Fred and George had just shown you. Both of the twins attentions were then turned towards their brother as they both walked over to him.

"You're not flashing that clipping about again, are you, Ron?" The first twin had teased his little brother while he snatched the clip away from the younger boy.

Ron furrowed his eyebrows with a small pout-like frown rested on his lips. "I haven't told anyone." He huffed, after he pulled his pet rat closer to his chest.

"No, not a soul." The second twin responded as both of the twins walked around the table the three younger wizards sat at.

"Not unless you count Tom..." The first twin stated.

"The night maid..." The second twin continued.

"The day maid..."

"The cook..."

"The bloke that came to fix the toilet..."

"And the wizard from Belgium." The second twin finished with a teasing grin as he folded the clipping and placed it back on the table once the two were on the opposite side of the table from their little brother.

"Harry!" The twins and Ron's mother, Molly Weasley, called out once she had spotted Ron's friend, causing the younger wizard to turn his attention to the woman.

Ron scoffed before he looked over to where you stood once you had moved to get closer to the scene. "Hey! You showed it to him!" He argued, pointing to you. Fred and George grin as they moved to stand next to you once more.

"Ah, but you see here, Ronald," Fred starts as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, which caused you to roll your eyes.

"Y/N, here, happens to be our best and closest friend," George continued as he once again copied his brother by wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

"And he is also the only person we showed," Fred continued as well.

"Because we do not feel the need to gloat about our trip, so we only showed the one person we actually enjoy talking to,"

"And the only person who we know actually enjoys hearing about our trip rather than random people who don't care about our life."

"So, you see, your argument about how we showed him," George motioned towards you, "is invalid."

Ron huffed and looked back down at the table as you, Fred, and George moved to sit down once more. Fred and George, of course, were sat on either side of you once more. You were always in the middle of them, no matter where they stood or sat, if you were with them you were in the middle.

"Maybe you should take a page out of their book, Ronald." Hermione stated in that same know-it-all tone she had anytime she said anything. That only caused Ron to roll his eyes and caused you to give her a sort of side-eye, judging glance. You and Hermione did not get along. At all.

Just then, Harry came back with a sort of lost look on his face as Fred and George's father, Arthur Weasley, was stood behind him, watching him walk back with a dark look in his eye. You and the twins all noticed it, yet no one spoke of it as you three were getting lost in your own conversation with each other.

~~~~~

Students shouting goodbyes to their parents, parents shouting tearful goodbyes to their children, the train whistle blowing, and the train engine roaring up signifies the beginning of a new year at Hogwarts. You and the twins stand at a window, your heads sticking out as the three of you wave goodbye to Arthur and Molly Weasley.

Of course, Molly is too busy running after the train to notice you and the twins. She carried Scabbers, Ron's rat, in her hands as she ran. Scabbers squeaked in her hands as she called out. "Ron! Ron! Ro-" She cuts herself off as she finally reaches Ron, who was three windows down from you, and hands him his rat. "Oh, for goodness sake!" She exclaims as she hands him Scabbers, a slight look of guilt and embarrassment on Ron's face at the realization that he left his rat behind. Once Ron has hold of his rat, Molly points a finger at him as she speaks once more. "Don't lose him!"

Ron lifts a hand up and waves with a nod, the same embarrassed expression on his face as he does so. You, Fred, and George all laugh at that before moving back inside the train and heading off to find a compartment that was either empty or had a few of your friends in it so you could join them.

"So, Freddy, George" You start as the three of you walk along the train, "Any classes you're excited for this year? Or are you just going to try and guilt trip me into doing all of your homework again?"

Fred and George exchange a grin before looking over at you once more with the same grin. "You know us too well." Fred starts, giving you a nudge.

"Although it's going to be exciting to mess with whoever the newest professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts is." George continues before the three of you stop in front of an empty compartment.

"Ten galleons says they quit on the first day." Fred says as you open the compartment door and step inside, the twins following after you.

You shake your head in response. "After you made Professor O'Neil quit our second year, I'm not taking that chance again." You say as you put your stuff above the seats, then help the twins put their stuff up. "Besides, after O'Neil quit, we had to get Quirrel to take her spot instead and we all know how that ended up. So are you sure you want to make this one quit as well so another one of you-know-who's followers can take it?"

George rolls his eyes as you put his trunk on the shelves above the three of you. "It was just a joke, Y/N. You're too uptight sometimes."

Fred hums and nods in agreement as he helps you put his trunk up next. "He's right, you know."

You just scoff before shutting the compartment door and sitting down on the opposite side of the twins. "More like I'm just trying not to get you two expelled or anyone killed."

George crosses his arms over his chest. "Hey, it wasn't our fault that Quirrel tried to kill Harry and bring back you-know-who. How were we supposed to know?"

You just sigh and shake your head. "Just- don't try and make anyone quit this year. It didn't end well last time."

Fred and George both groan in annoyance. "Fine." They say in unison. Just then, the door to the compartment opens and two of your friends, Angelina and Lee, enter. They both sit next to you after putting their things up, with Lee on your left while Angelina was on your right.

~~~~~

A few hours later, after you had fallen asleep, the compartment was now silent, as was most of the train. The only sounds filling the small area was the quiet pattering of rain drops against the window, the train running on the tracks, thunder rumbling in the distance, Fred and George occasionally speaking quietly, and distant sounds of people speaking on occasion.

Lee was asleep as well, leaning against the window to the outside, Angelina was reading a book while you had your head on her shoulder, fast asleep, while Fred and George were eating whatever sweets they had got from the trolly and arguing on which ones were better.

Eventually, the sound of the train wheels squeaking and the train shaking as it comes to a halt causes everyone to stop what they're doing and look around in confusion. You and Lee end up waking up at the sound of the train wheels, and you blink a few times before sitting up straight, looking around in confusing like the others.

"What's going on?" You ask, rubbing your eyes a bit as you look out the window for a moment to try and figure out what was happening. "There's no way we're there already."

Fred shakes his head. "No, we're not. We're just stopped out of nowhere." He says in response as he looks out the window as well.

"Did we break down then?" You ask as you move over to the door to the compartment. You then open the door and peak your head out, looking down the little hallway to see if there was an answer out there somewhere, only to end up seeing other students doing the same. However then, the train jerks, causing you to fall backwards, landing in George's lap with a little 'oof'. George groans, as you had landed right on his groin and it was pretty painful. "Ah, hell... Sorry, Georgie."

George just groans in pain once more, his hands grabbing your waist to try and push you off of him. You quickly stand and move off of him, sitting beside him now. Just then, the power in your compartment, and the rest of the train, goes out. You furrow your eyebrows and look around in confusion.

"What is happening?" Lee asks, now having finally woken up. He lifts his head and looks out the window, narrowing his eyes to try and see through the fog and the rain. "There's something moving out there." He mumbles before letting out a shiver.

After he finishes speaking, frost begins to slowly coat the window. Everyone shudders at the sudden drop in temperature, breaths now visible in the chill air. You notice how George wraps his arms around himself, so you mindlessly wrap one of your arms around him to try and warm him up. Unbeknownst to you, Fred frowns and glares at you and George a bit in slight envy, while George smiles to himself. The lights flicker on for a few moments before flickering off once more mere seconds later.

The train jerks once more, causing Lee to his head on the window and to groan in pain. "Ow!" He exclaims and hisses softly as he rubs his head. "Dammit."

Fred then turns away from you and George and looks out the window instead, furrowing his eyebrows in concentration. "I think... I think I see someone coming on board?"

The frost on the window then begins to slowly turn to ice as the temperature drops even lower, below freezing this time. All of the drinks you all had begins to freeze as well, and everyone's breathing becomes even more visible. The train jerks more roughly this time, causing everyone to fall back in their seats and to look around in a panic. "What the bloody hell is going on?" Angelina asks as you all look around. "It's so cold."

Just then, the faint silhouette of a cloaked figure begins to appear in front of the door of the compartment, the sound of wind whistling and an eerie hum filling the air. A long, skinny, and seemingly bony hand reaches out, the slender fingers curling and causing the door to slowly slide open. A soft, muffled, whooshing sound fills the air as the cloaked figure appears in the doorway.

The more the door opens, the colder the compartment gets. All of the cheerful, happy feelings in the air drop and is replaced with numbness and pain. It was as if all the happiness and glee had been drained from the world. However for you it's different. Instead of numbness you feel, it's shame, disappointment, and anxiety.

Once the cloaked figure is standing in the open doorway, you can immediately recognize it. "Dementor..." You whisper, causing the dementor to turn its attention to you. The more it focuses on you, the more the shame you feel grows.

The dementor gets closer to you, its hood pulling back a small bit. A distorted whooshing sound fills the air as its hand reaches out and caresses your chin. Its fingers are cold, ice cold, and it burns. You can feel the burns being left behind on your skin as the dementor begins to inhale, feeding off of all the feelings of shame and disappointment coursing through you at the moment. It hurt, it was so painful. The worst agony you had ever felt before.

After you had let out a groan in discomfort, Fred suddenly stands and shoves the dementor out of the compartment and slams the door shut. He yells out in pain, the pain from the cold burn on his hands almost unbearable. However before you can say anything, the world around you begins to fade and all sounds grew quiet. The last thing you hear is the sound of Fred and George calling out your name until it all goes dark.

[odinsonslut]

4 am

⊹ genre: angst, fluff ending

⊹ pairing: george weasley x reader (implied female)

⊹ themes: slight enemies to lovers, slight friends to lovers???

⊹ summary: following the abrupt ending of your friendship, George, the instigator of the breakup, continues to treat you with carelessness and disregard. You’re pushed to the point of retaliation, leading to a cruel confrontation. George attempts to redeem his character and finally express his feelings.

⊹ warnings: swearing, kind of a heated suggestive make-out, a mean george.

⊹ word count: 2.1k

⊹ a/n: I haven’t written since, like, 2018. PLEASE, please treat me gently. I know I tend to overuse the same phrases within a story. I also suck at writing summaries. I promise there’s more to it than described 🫶🏽🫶🏽

It was 4 am when I jolted awake, still wading off the reminiscent agitation from a dream involving a sinking ship and a niffler from what I could remember. Hermione’s lamp was on its dimmest setting right next to where she had fallen asleep, book in hand, a muggle book I had gifted her since I rarely saw her reading for pleasure since we entered our fifth year. 

I turned her bedside lamp off on my way out, hoping the elves were up preparing breakfast. I’d befriended Winky and often spent time with her over butter cookies in the kitchens when I had trouble sleeping. Her addiction was steadily improving without the burden of her previous master.

I made my way to the common room, contemplating walking all the way down to the kitchens, when I heard a thudding pair of footsteps down the stairs. It was George. It was too late to act like id never looked up; we had already made eye contact. Our usual routine was to avoid an acknowledgement of any form. Things hadn’t been the same since he’d rejected my invite to the yule ball last year, though that wasn’t why our friendship had fallen through.

“He’s got you sneaking out at night now too?” 

I was taken aback. The last time we’d ever spoken was the reluctant exchange of Merry Christmas’ due to Molly’s prodding at the burrow. The ‘he’ George was referring to was the date you ended up with at the ball, Draco, the reason George had cut you off completely that night.

“Tell Angelina she’s welcome to join us when she grows tired of faking it with you.” 

I was furious. Why does he get to decide your friendship is over? Why does he get to be mad about your relationship after rejecting you? Why is the standing of our relationship always dictated by how he feels and what he wants? And why should I continue acting civilly towards him?

I picked a book off the shelf and bumped his shoulder as I passed him, deciding to return to bed. I had lost my appetite.

-

I’d practically sprinted to the great hall for dinner after a two-hour-long class of potions. Since your breakup, being partnered up with Draco for the next year was a little awkward. Keeping the DA a secret and him being on the inquisitorial squad just caused too many issues that couldn’t be resolved on top of the Gryffindor-Slytherin debacle. He was the sweetest boy, and being apart still hadn’t affected how he treated you at all: softly, politely. It was comforting knowing he’d always have a soft spot for you, but getting to the point of friendship would take a little longer.

I sat between Hermione and George, across from Harry, getting subtle looks from my friends. I was tired of walking on eggshells around George, waiting for him to dictate how our interactions go or tailoring my behaviour for his comfort. This was his problem, not mine. 

“Get yourself somewhere else to sit. This seat is spoken for”, he spoke immediately. 

I refused to react defensively. Instead, I picked an eclair off his plate and took a bite. 

Harry avoided looking at us at all, shovelling meat pie into his mouth. Hermione didn’t employ the same faux indifference, staring directly at us. George shifted a bit farther away from me and continued eating, similarly refusing to give me a reaction. 

“Where is Angelina? Last I saw, she was off ‘practising’ with Marcus Finch”, I prodded, refusing to concede

“Your desperation for me is becoming pitiful to witness; it’s pathetic. Keep her name out of your mouth; you’d think it’d be exhausted with what all you spend your time doing with it.” 

You finally got the rise out of him you were looking for, you pushed him to a breaking point, but it wasn’t the satisfying victory you imagined. It hurt.

I kept my gaze downcast, lightly placed the remainder of the unfinished eclair back onto George’s plate and left the hall. I spent the night on a couch in the room of requirement, unwilling to accept Hermione’s comfort quite yet.

-

“What on earth is going on with you two?”  Hermione was lying on my bed beside me, our hands loosely intertwined. She’d spent all Saturday morning with me, avoiding the topic of George completely till now. 

I sighed

I knew it would be an inevitable discussion, but a part of me wished I could avoid it into in-existence. “It was embarrassing, Mione. I think we’re truly done with each other, and I honestly feel okay with the thought of that. I know I pushed him, but hearing those words was jarring. It felt like a completely different person than who I thought was still in there. It’s the lighthearted and slightly sarcastic tone in which he said it that made it hurt. I feel foolish.”

“Nothing you put him through warranted that response, honestly? It sounded more like a projection to me. You were dignified in accepting his rejection, and he cut you off for going with someone else?”

“There is absolutely no sense in trying to decipher why the Weasley boys act the way they do. I’ve still never gotten a sound explanation as to what exactly Ron was on that night, either. I mean, it’s obvious he was jealous but-

“Yeah, jealous he wasn’t Victor’s date for the night”, She cut me off.

“oh my god, whatever happened to the Krum-themed anal plug Fred had custom-made Ron for Christmas third year?”

-

Opening my eyes felt like such an effort; my head felt like pounding out of its skull in an unfamiliar bed in the boys’ dormitory. I recognised the burgundy hand-knitted sweater with a large W embroidered on it. My heart leapt into my throat for a split second. I had worried I’d somehow managed to break into George’s room for a confrontation. 

He had been on my mind a lot lately. It had been about two months since the incident, and since we last spoke, and lately, he and Fred have been all everyone can talk about with the success of their prototypes and antics that seemed to have tightened in frequency the more decrees imposed by Umbridge.

I was rushing to get my things together when he walked in. I paused in place, petrified.

“You were careless last night. I don’t know when you became this person, but you’ve got to stop letting Malfoy ruin you. Muggle narcotics are dangerous.”

Just hearing his voice chastising me yet again pulled at me internally. 

“I’m begging you to stop saying anything to me at all if they’re going to come out like that; I will genuinely beg because I just can’t take this from you anymore, George.”

He looked unamused 

“When did you become so weak? Malfoy broken you down so badly that all you know how to do is make yourself small and beg?”

I’d had just about enough. I threw George against the wall yelling at him to shut the fuck up, haphazardly punching him wherever I could land any, the frustration that had built up for months finally meeting its outlet. Save from shielding his face, George stood there and took it till I was done.

“Draco and I broke up over two months ago. He’s a good friend, he does help me get what I use, but he makes sure I’m safe and alive whenever I’m using” I finally broke the silence, and we sank to sit on the floor across from each other.

“I know, he told me last night. He was carrying you outside the common room, yelling at the fat lady to let him in to put you to bed. He told me you’d broken up and that you remained friends. He also said you were developing a problem and needed me back.”

“I don’t need Malfoy speaking for me, and having you around would actualise my supposed ‘problem’. Why am I in your clothes in your bed?”

“When I opened the door for Malfoy, you asked me to stay with you. You told me you just wanted one night of being us again, so I gave you clothes to change into, put you to bed in my room, and slept on the couch in the common room.”

I stood up to leave without acknowledging his response, relieved nothing else had happened. 

“I don’t know that it’ll change anything for you, but I’ve felt sorry for treating you the way I did for a really long time. I figured you’d finally found peace with the situation and avoided trying to resolve things for that reason. At least, that was the excuse I forced myself to believe. I didn’t realise I was really just afraid of confrontation and rejection. Not generally, just with you. You were right about Angelina, too, apparently, she’s been shacking up with Finch since Christmas,” He continued 

“None of that means anything to me. For as long as you got to decide to do whatever you wanted with my feelings, all I wanted was to get past this. This doesn’t mean anything to me after what you’ve done with the importance I trusted you enough to hold to you. I’m well within my right to decline your apology. And it isn’t even to spite you for your selfish decisions. You were right. I am truly happy without you. You don’t mean anything to me anymore.” I spoke with my back towards him and walked out and back to my dorm immediately after.

-

George had spent the last three weeks trying to earn back a spot in your life as the friend he once was to you. He’d done everything you hoped he would for the longest time, and it felt empowering to ignore his advances and put your pride first. But the more time you reluctantly spent with the old George, the harder it was to stop your previous feelings from resurfacing.

This particular morning, if you could even classify 4 am as the morning, George had snuck into your dorm with Harry’s cloak in hand. You only agreed to leave with him because he promised you a visit to Winky. After devouring an entire gooseberry pie between you, George suggested a walk by the lake. It was tempting, especially after seeing how he interacted with Winky, as normally as he does everyone else, without judgement. But you pushed yourself to decline and returned to the common room together.

You spotted professor Snape on your way up, seemingly aggravated by Peeves, omitting a chuckle from George as he watched Snape flail around, attempting to curse the ghost.

“Who’s there?” He sneered

I immediately lifted my hand to cover George’s mouth as we scooted closer together under the cloak. We kept our eyes locked as we tried to remain still. His eyes dipped to my lips at the same time he lifted my palm off of his. Tangling his left hand into my hair, he used his right to guide my waist back till we hit the wall and kept me in his hold, his lips moving closer to mine with every breath he took

“What’re you doing?” I asked softly enough for just the two of us to hear

He looked into my eyes as he finally connected his lips with mine, our eyes fluttering shut after the initial kiss as we melted into it. He teased my tongue with him as he hoisted me up to his level, wrapping my legs around his waist. The build-up of tension escaped us with every rough feverish kiss. His kisses moved to my neck as he began guiding my hips against his, perfectly lining me up against him. I could barely keep myself composed.

“It’s unfortunate, the 50-point deduction limit per student” My blood ran cold at the sound of Snape’s voice. George immediately dropped me to the ground, where I landed on Harry’s discarded cloak. George squeezed my hand in comfort, signalling he’d take care of things.

He took a breath and stepped toward Snape. “I drugged her, Sir; she’s completely innocent.”

“God, you’re an idiot”, I thumped him on the back of his head.

We sniggered, trailing a few steps behind Snape as we were escorted back to our dormitories, not too fussed about detention every week till the end of the term.

End

✩ I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE ANY OF MY WRITING POSTED ON ANY EXTERNAL WEBSITES ✩

[turvi]

My Girl

GIF NOT MINE CREDITS TO THE OWNER

Pairings: George Weasley x Reader, Draco x Reader (slight)

A/N: He looks so beautiful here thanks to whoever made this GIF I love it. Also, REBLOGS and FEEDBACKS are appreciated.

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

I woke up with the sun hiding behind the clouds I instantly noticed that it might rain today. I opened the window and the smell of rain and pleasant weather instantly brightened my mood. Yes, it's definitely the weather that has my mood brightened up and not the fact that I spent last night talking nonsense with George Weasley.

It's not like I have never seen him around in fact it's like he is everywhere but I never thought I would have a conversation with George Weasley let alone enjoy it. It's not like he is a bad person but the fact that I always identified him as the other twin. He was just in the background in my life. I never thought we would have so much in common even after the fact that my family is one of the most powerful families like the Malfoys and I am a Slytherin.

I get up from my bed reluctantly. I have to face my reality. With the new day, I am no longer Y/n who makes bad jokes, loves hugging, and loves singing off-key. Today I am Y/n L/n, she has to maintain her family's reputation. She will marry Draco Malfoy and tolerate his snarky comments, and his flirtations with other girls. Just sit there like a doll and take jabs from life without shedding a single tear. I know my fate. My mother and my grandma shared the same fate. Their husbands sharing their beds with everyone but them.

As I walked down the stairs I noticed George and Fred in the hallway laughing. I crave the life they have, the family they have. Unfortunately, George looks up at the same time I was looking at him and I walk past him fast. Like last night never happened. He kept calling my name and I kept ignoring him like it didn't hurt my heart to act like nothing happened.

I quickly hide behind a pillar so that he loses my trail. I want to tell him how sorry I am, how much I enjoyed our conversation last night, and how if circumstances would have been different I would have let him hold me. I hope he hates me because my fate won't let me love him. George Weasley will hate me and I will have to live with it

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

George's POV

Y/n avoided me like she never me told her deepest fears, things she hated, things she liked. I should have seen this coming. Everyone warned me but I still went after her.

People will call me stupid for the decision I am about to make but I don't want to have regrets in my life. So I devised a plan with Freddie. The best part? He loved it. She might hate me if I do this but I will hate myself more if I don't. But I can't give up on Y/n not until she personally tells me to.

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

Y/n's POV

I walk to my dorm and lost track of Draco mid-day. I don't know how am I supposed to spend my life with him when he is not even willing to try just a bit. As I open the door I saw a bouquet of calla lilies on my bed. I picked it up and noticed a note attached to it.

My Dearest Y/n,

You have given me the greatest gift. Gift of getting to know you. I want to return the favor. Please please come to the courtyard at 8:00 pm. I'll wait for you with your gift.

PS: It is something that reminds me of you

Yours

Forge

I couldn't help but smile. He actually listened to every word I said. He is making it hard for me to distance myself from him. He was supposed to hate me. Well alright, I am going to give him an ultimatum that I can no longer be around him.

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

I quickly make up an excuse after dinner to Draco why I won't be joining him. He waves me off. Tears brimmed my eyes. I tried, I really did but I just don't know what I did to deserve a fate like this.

I got up and went to the courtyard immediately to see George peeking from behind a pillar.

"Thank you for the flowers, George. They were really pretty"

"How did you know I sent the flowers?" he says finally showing himself

I chuckle "It was just a wild guess, also your handwriting is bad"

He slowly made his way towards me "Hi"

"Hi, where is my gift"

He looked at his watch and took my hand and started running.

"Where are we going, George?"

"Don't worry love I am not running away with you....... not yet just wait and watch"

He leads me towards the empty ground, whomping willow just meters away.

"I don't understand"

He points toward the sky and soon it is filled with glowworms. I notice Fred and Lee Jordon hiding behind the bushes waving at me. I look back at George to find him already looking at me.

"Glowworms remind you of me?"

"Well you see how they go so well with the night I think you are the glowworm to my night."

He got closer and nudged my nose. I instantly backed away the hurt in his eyes shattering my heart.

"We can't George"

He took my hand and looked into my eyes "I am willing to fight for this Y/n, I feel what we have is going to be very special and I will be an idiot if I let go of this, but I can't fight if you don't feel the same"

"George my parents will not agree, I have always listened to what they say.... but not anymore I really tried to be good with Draco and it has led me to nowhere, I won't let go of the chance of being with someone who actually cares about me so George Fabien Weasley would you like to be my boyfriend and if the chance comes up run away with me?"

He looks at me slackjawed and slowly cups my face "Yes". He peppers my face with his kisses.

"Y/N L/N IS MY GIRLFRIEND" he yelled at the glowworms

"GEORGE NOO" I held him back

"Oh wait I haven't kissed you properly love"

With that, he pressed his lips to mine holding me closer and making me forget my promise to myself as he kissed me passionately.

[kdizzzy]

his sweater

george weasley x f!reader

(just some bits and pieces of a fic i may or may not end up piecing together)

He loved to watch the flecks of sunlight beam down from between the swaying leaves and dance on your beautiful face. Eyes closed, the faintest smile playing at the corner of your lips as you remembered a joke he'd told earlier that day, hair sprawled out and mingling with the vibrant green blades of grass. He hummed a sigh of content, never for a moment taking his eyes from you.

"Everything alright, George?"

You peeked your eyes open, studying the tall ginger boy between your lashes. His hair was bright and brilliant, his face speckled in tiny brown kisses, beautiful brown eyes ringed in green and in gold. He was every bit a child of spring. His dimples were as present on his cheeks at rest as they were when he laughed his glorious, chiming laugh.

"I don't know why they wouldn't be," he mused, a smirk forming at the edge of his mouth.

He laid down in the grass beside you, nestling you in the crook in his arm, and this time it was you who let out a heavy and happy sigh.

"I'm sure you could think of a million and one reasons," you joked, earning a soft chuckle from him in response. His laughter rumbled from his chest and you cozied up to him as he wrapped his arms around you and played with your hair.

"Things could never be anything but alright when I'm holding onto you, love."

[tealeafgrimm]

Wrongly Accused

Fred Weasley x Reader

Words: 1.1k

Summary: You didn't like him. And for a good reason. At least that's what you thought. But as it turns out, the reason for your quarrel is not his fault at all.

A/N: I am so sorry! I'm very stressed with my job at the moment and just can't find enough time to write. I really want to get back to my schedule, but for now I think I'll just post whenever I can. So please bear with me. I hope you still enjoy this one-shot.

---

That was just your luck. Of all people, you had to work with HIM. Of all the people in the class, he was the one. You didn't know whether to laugh hysterically or cry. If you hadn't been completely wrong, you could have sworn that Professor McGonagall had even smiled slightly when she had read out your names. The old witch knew exactly what she had done. You were sure of that.

While the whole school (apart from maybe the Slytherins) loved the Weasley twins, you were at war with them. Well, actually, only with Fred Weasley. Since your first year at Hogwarts, you couldn't stand each other and you always clashed. And he was the one you were supposed to be with, preparing your transformation project? You would have been better off with Moaning Myrtle. You'd have been able to stand her better than Fred Weasley's face.

And Fred, too, was thunderstruck at the mention of your name as his project partner. While his twin brother laughed, Fred gave you a scathing look, which you were only too happy to return.

"Now that the groups have been divided, please get together to discuss the next steps. Remember, the grade of the project is one third of the final mark. Therefore, I advise you to make an effort. Transformation classes will be cancelled for the next three weeks so that you can use the time to complete your project. If you have any questions or problems, please see me in my office hours," Professor McGonagall announced, before gesturing for you to get together in your respective partner groups.

Neither Fred nor you moved. Only when Angelina Johnson hinted to Fred that she needed his space to work with George did he reluctantly stand up. Inwardly you grinned that he had to make the first move. Your pride wouldn't have allowed it. With an expression on his face as if he had been told he was to spend the next three weeks alone with Professor Snape, he dropped into the chair beside you without saying a word.

There was an unsettling silence between you before you decided to say something.

"Okay, listen Weasley. I know you don't care about your grade. But I do. And I'm not going to let your incompetence get me a bad grade at the end of the semester, understand? So, if you still want to enjoy your life, I suggest you follow my rules and at least use your remaining brain cells on this project."

"And why should I do that?" asked Fred, annoyed, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"Because you don't want to know what happens if you don't. I'll meet you in that empty classroom on the third floor during normal hours, understand?"

"Like I'm scared of you," he laughed maliciously, rolling his eyes.

"Oh, I never said anything about being scared. But I happen to know all those secret passages you always use. And it really would be a shame if the teachers knew about them, wouldn't it. And I also know that the little 'accident' the Slytherins had last week wasn't Peeves' fault. Maybe I should clear that up sometime too," you hissed at him. With satisfaction, you could see the colour drain from Fred's face.

“You wouldn’t”, Fred hissed. “Try me and find out”, you shrugged your shoulders, clearing your desk, ready to leave the classroom. “Don’t be late Weasley.”

~~~

You didn't know how you had survived the next few days without being at each other's throats. But with each day your emotions bubbled more and more.

After barely a week, you finally had enough.

"Say that again and I swear to you Weasley, you'll wish you'd never been born!"

"Sitting here with you makes me wish that all the time!"

"You're such an ignorant idiot do you know that? Life is not just a joke!" Your voice was getting louder and louder and you could hear the vein at your temple throbbing.

"And you're obnoxious! Do you even have friends at this school? I don't think anyone likes you anyway!"

"I have friends! Imagine being friends with people without constantly doing something at someone else's expense!"

"You're one to talk! You're always up in my business!"

"Well, YOU deserve it! After all, you started it!"

For a few seconds Fred looked at you in amazement before exploding.

"I started it? You're just way too sensitive. How vindictive are you? Just because I threw food at you once when I wanted to hit Lee?!"

Now you were speechless. Perplexed, you looked at Fred.

"What are you talking about?" Your voice took on a normal pitch.

"Well, the first year Halloween feast? George and I wanted to start a food fight. I wanted to throw mashed potatoes at Lee, you leaned forward over the table and I hit you right in the face?"

You remembered the situation that you hadn't thought about it in ages and began to laug out loud.

"I haven't thought about that at all!", you snorted as Fred looked at you open-mouthed.

"I don't understand. I thought that was the reason we were fighting?", he finally asks as you wiped away a tear from the corner of your eye.

"What, I wouldn't have been mad about that! I'm all about that Potions lesson where you deliberately threw that stinky tincture at me that made me come out with pustules all over my face!"

Now it was Fred who started laughing.

"Oh, you think that's funny huh?" you asked angrily. You had spent hours in the hospital wing before Madame Pomfrey could make the painful pustules disappear.

"That wasn't me! That was George!", Fred finally replied, trying to suppress another laugh.

"That wasn't you at all? It's still not funny!

"I'm sorry, you're right. I just can't believe that all this time we thought the origin of everything was two completely different things. And in the end, I wasn't even involved. And just so you know, George felt awful afterwards, he just thought your hair was changing colour. He wanted to apologise but he didn't know what to say."

For a while you sat next to each other without saying anything. Finally Fred held out his hand to you. Wonderingly you looked at him.

"Well, I guess now that we know that I never actually did anything to you, we can bury the war hatchet, can't we?" he asked and winked at you.

"Hmm, I don't know, depends a bit on how the mark turns out for our project," you replied, smiling at him before returning his handshake.

"I still think you're taking the whole grade thing too seriously. Maybe we should just..." But before he could finish his sentence, you raised your hand to silence him.

"Don't finish that sentence Weasley. You may not have done anything then, but that doesn't mean I can't change my mind. So get to work and you're not dismissed until we finish the assignments."

[beautifulbuckys]

The Fire and the Flame [1/8]- George Weasley x Reader

“Impossible is in, I don’t know if you know that.”

“You’re impossible, did you know that?” George laughed, standing up and pushing himself out of the ancient wooden chair. As he stood, the chair creaked, even louder when he relieved the back of the wood from his heavy book bag. 

Summary: As Quidditch season starts, your schedule gets flooded with Quidditch players who are too busy with their schoolwork. What happens when your newest pupil isn’t what you thought he was?

A/N: Hi! This is my small dabble back into writing, I really missed it <3

Quidditch season was fun, sure.

The thrill of typically innocent house-to-house competition was thrilling. Everyone rooted for their team, sports lover or not. Some muggleborns compared it to muggle ‘futball’.  The constant woosh that Quidditch players made from feet above you, balancing beautifully on their thin broomsticks. 

What wasn’t fun? The influx of students needing to be tutored. Sure, you loved tutoring those in need. Though typically, the students you tutored were having genuine struggles. It was a different kind of magic to watch a subject click for someone struggling. During Quidditch season, it was a different story. Nobody was struggling because they didn’t understand why you needed a frog eye for the midnight projection potion. They weren’t struggling because they couldn’t grasp the certain hand flicks needed for more advanced charms. People were now struggling simply because they were falling behind. This especially happened to the Quidditch players themselves. You honestly can’t blame them. They’re amazing at a celebrated sport and they’re committed to something grand! However, it’s frustrating when you’re mandated to tutor them and they act like you’re a burden for being required to. Every single time you’ve tried to tutor the star chaser, they’ve given you a sour attitude and made you feel small. 

Amd now? You’re stuck in the library waiting for your newest Quidditch star pupil to arrive.

It was almost curfew, but tutors get an excuse as we’re hand selected by the heads of our houses. Pupils gain that advantage too, if they select the late time slot. Although it’s judging a book by its cover, many Quidditch players suspiciously chose this time slot. 

Quietly, you assemble your Wizardry Poetry textbooks that you’ve been studying for the year. Wizardry Poetry is a small, less popular elective. Many people that take the class take it to get out of Snape’s detentions, as he seems to have a small space in his miniscule heart for her. Nobody calls him out for it, they just quietly take advantage of the crush. Although it’s not the most popular, it’s exciting. In your opinion, poetry is a light shone into a dark corner nobody wants to explore. Poetry is raw emotion, something people typically cower away from at the opportunity. That’s what makes wizard poetry so exciting. Many pieces written by the famous wizard poets highlight the balance between dark magic and light. It’s a weapon used by those already wielding a powerful tool. 

“Erm,” A deep voice suddenly broke the calming silence of the Hogwarts library. “Are you my poetry tutor?”

You picked your head up from your bookbag, noticing the tall Gryffindor beater standing sadly behind the seat across from you. “Oh yes! Hi. Feel free to take a seat,” You cringed at the formalities. The pupils you’re used to aren’t shy about loudly announcing their presence and obnoxiously filling the small table space. This was new. “George, right?”

He nodded, “How’d you know?”

You chuckled quietly. “You’re the quieter of the two.” The boy said nothing in response to this, seemingly validating your point. Although you’re not particularly friends with the 2 boys, you knew them. You were in the same year and had a few classes with the twins. This is how you knew the difference. Both George and Fred were in your potions class. They sat next to each other, to nobody’s surprise. Fred, who always sat on the left, had a knack for clanging glasses together and making unnecessary comments. Although they were together in that class, you could just tell George was more reserved than his brother. They both laughed together and made jokes, but it was obvious. George was in your Wizardry Poetry class. When it’s just him, his reserved nature becomes a lot more apparent. “So, if you don’t mind me asking, what exactly are you struggling with?”

You knew him in class. He definitely wasn’t struggling. He grasped the subject pretty strongly whenever he was called upon to read or make a comment. To an outsider, he might’ve been a poet already. 

“Well, honestly, I’m just more busy than anything else. Quidditch is just getting to the exciting part of the season and I have sunrise practices every morning. The team’s practice schedule is no joke,” he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “And honestly? I think poetry is kind of stupid,”

Stupid?

“Poetry isn’t stupid.”

“Sure it is,” George said. “It’s boring and tries to be all deep and stuff. Maybe if it took itself a little less seriously I’d feel the opposite,”

You shouldn’t be as offended as you are. You strongly disagreed with him. Poetry was a gorgeous example of literary art. Sure, it can be difficult to scan for meaning and purpose. However, you feel that the payoff of understanding the raw emotion written by an artist. “Whatever you say George, I’m not here to change your mind, just change your grade. Have you started the assignment she gave us on Tuesday?”

Our poetry teacher assigned us an arguably simple project due at the end of the semester. We were expected to craft a page long piece of poetry about our experiences with magic. She said we had full creative capabilities with our projects, and she wasn’t going to judge or grade our topic chosen. She was mostly looking for our understanding of poetry and is expecting us to pull ideas from previous wizard poets. 

George gently shook his head, the shoulder-length red hair he grew out dancing on his shoulders. “Nope,” He popped the ‘P’ in nope, flashing a cheeky smile.

This was going to be a long few weeks. 

As George and I reviewed his work and created an academic plan to ensure he doesn’t fall behind, it became painfully obvious why George was failing. He grasped the subject with the grip of a giant. It’s not that he didn’t understand stanzas and line numbers. George just didn’t have a reason to care. He had no aspiration of ever becoming a poet, and it became noticeable that George only joined the class to get out of Snape’s detentions. It didn’t make sense though. How could he understand so much and just not care? Did he not have a personal connection to the class?

Maybe all he needed was a lifeline. 

“I think this session was really helpful to you George. Please remember, we’re meeting Thursday at the same time,”

George raised his eyebrows at you, awkwardly grinning. “I might have a surprise Quidditch practice,”

“Why would you know about it if it was a secret, George?” Was he seriously trying to skip out on our session? You found that the session was something that could strengthen George’s academic record. It also helps that he was someone actually enjoyable to talk to. Who knows, maybe you could even teach him the real magic of poetry while you were at it.

“You’re impossible, did you know that?” George laughed, standing up and pushing himself out of the ancient wooden chair. As he stood, the chair creaked, even louder when he relieved the back of the wood from his heavy book bag. 

[mastermindmiko]

Drunk (Part four)

pairing: George Weasley + OC

word count: 2493

warnings: injuries, mentions miscarriage, affection, voldemort, the L word. I think that's it

Part five

Hey! if you think this didn't completely suck, feel free to check out my masterlist

When Juliette reached Grimmauld Place 12 with Neville she was immediately greeted with an old face. “Professor Lupin!” Neville exclaimed loudly.

He gave them both a soft smile and said “I’m not your Professor anymore Neville, call me Remus.” He then set his gaze on Juliette who was standing awkwardly beside them, her brain still unable to process the information; noticing that Remus added, “I suppose you have a lot of questions, let’s sit in the living room and I’ll answer what I can.”

They both followed their old professor to the living room and they sat on the couch and he sat in front of them. They sat in a uncomfortable silence -at least it was uncomfortable for Juliette- for a few seconds, then Remus clapped his hands and began “well first of all, Sirius Black is your Godfather while Neville’s godmother is Marlene McKinnon; The reason why Juliette was not taken with you neville is because during that time the ministry thought it was important to have juliette be raised with a proper family, and things were more tight with neville due to a certain prophecy made some time ago. The Lores had wanted a child, a female to be exact and after their miscarraige to a girl they made the rash decision of taking you Juliette.” His face kept turning from one of them to the other as he addressed each one of them in a part of the explanation.

“Secondly Juliette, Sirius is innocent, he didn’t do any of the things that the prophet or the ministry says he does; if you want to know the rest of the story you can go ask harry. Who is your Godbrother by the way. Sirius had a talk with Dumbledore and they agreed that you could stay here until Christmas break ends; since it is the First of December it will be less than two months.” They sat in silence for a few minutes, to give them enough time to process each word he said, knowing that Dumbledore doesn’t take in their feelings. “ I’m going to give you both sometime to take it all in and I’m going to go find Sirius.”

They were both left alone with their thoughts, then she processed the thought that the person sitting next to her is her real brother. She jumped on him and hugged him, Neville tensed and then wrapped his arms around her after a few seconds.

They heard an obnoxiously loud “AWWWW” and then an even louder frustrated “SHHHH”. They unwrapped their arms from around each other and looked at the source of the noises. They were greeted by an awestruck Sirius Black and an aggravated Remus Lupin looking at them. Juliette recognised her Godfather from the newspapers from her third year.

Sirius crossed the room, finding no reason for him to hide anymore since their embrace was finished; and hugged Juliette. She, like Neville, tensed at the gesture but did not return it. He let go of her and then cleared his throat and then said “probably too soon for that.”

“Sorry I'm not used to it.” She replied, feeling guilty.

“Oh, okay then.” He said shrugging his shoulders and then slide between them on the couch and slinged his arms around both of their shoulders and said, turning to Neville “you know kid, the only reason I wasn’t your godfather was because alice didn’t trust me with both of her children; as if McKinnon was better than me or something.” He let out a scoff at the send of his words.

Juliette let out a chuckle, now getting to understand the personality of this man. She was excited about how the rest of winter break was going to be. She then looked meekly at her godfather and said “can I stay here for the rest of the term?”

His face brightened at her words and she was sure that if he wasn’t sitting he would’ve jumped with joy. He replied “yeah, of course.” He then turned his face to Neville and added “not sure about you though.”

Neville then looked at the floor and said “I have to go back because classes and the DA, and my plants.”

“Yeah, Dumbledore thought you would say that, so he told me to tell you that you can come visit Juliette every Saturday until Break.” Sirius said, pulling his arms away from their shoulders and standing up from the couch. “Tell me when you’re going back to Hogwarts-” he then saw the look that Remus was giving him so he added “I’m going to leave you both now, do sibling stuff, but don’t kill each other; if necessary maim only.”

When he exited the room, Neville was the one to embrace Juliette this time and Juliette felt like she could cry but then she realised he might get freaked out or something. They stayed for a few hours talking, until he had to leave.

They bid each other farewell with probably their 100th hug, and then Juliette went to Sirius to talk to him.

»»————-　　————-««

It’s been 20 days since Juliette’s adoptive parents died and 20 days since George had seen her last. To say that he’s worried is an understatement, and he wasn’t the only one that was worried a specific bleach blonde Slytherin seems to be facing the same emotions.

Has no feelings for me, my ass; he thought. He’s looking at the Slytherin who has the same dark circles under his eyes that he has; and isn’t eating anything. George had been forced multiple times to eat by his siblings and multiple letters from his mother.

This event showed George that his feelings are in-fact as fucking obvious as the ferret’s feelings for her.

He couldn’t focus on his classes, not that he did in the first place; but not focusing is much more unpleasant than he anticipated when having a reason.

He knew that by that day that she had left Hogwarts, he had tried to go to her dorm several times and got no answer. He would try to send her a letter, but not knowing her address and not knowing where she would be without her parents prevents that action.

Even if he had sent a letter, he knows that whatever information he would’ve gotten wouldn’t have made him cheerier; once again looked at the bleached blonde ferret.

Tristan has gotten over the fact quickly he skipped one day of classes and then he came back as if nothing happened in the first place; and those were his actual birth parents that died.

He assumed that she would grieve their death, but he didn’t think that she would grieve their deaths for this long; and from the stories that he was told by her they had treated her like shit and that she couldn’t have possibly loved them.

George didn’t assume that he could be anymore worried that day, but he was proven wrong when his family and harry were all taken to Dumbledore’s office in the middle of the night; saying that his father was under attack from Voldemort’s fucking snake.

Ginny started crying and Fred had taken her into his arms, trying to appear strong for her; Ron on the other hand wasn’t doing much to appear strong for your younger sister thing. His eyes were watery and he seemed on the edge of bursting out crying just like Ginny.

George is about to have a panic attack or at least that’s what it felt like to him. His hands are placed in his pockets to prevent Ginny from seeing his shaking hands; he tried to think positively, but the lack of sleep and the amount of worry prevented him from doing so.

They were all sent to Grimmauld Place 12 while his mother went to St. Mungo’s. It was the middle of the night, but Sirius greeted them with hope.

George tried to talk to Harry to question him about his father but he seemed to snap at him every time he tried. They were all standing in the hallway that was right beside the staircase and in front of the kitchen, where all the order’s meetings were made.

Once they reached the living room after the kitchen, George sat on the couch head back trying to calm down his nerves; while Ron held Ginny trying to calm her down and Fred was blaming Sirius for not helping their father saying “ I don’t see you risking your neck-”

George resisted the urge to punch his brother from stupidity, Sirius was wanted in the ministry, of course he wasn’t going to go to the ministry to help their father. George blocked out the rest of their conversation until they heard a voice that made them all quiet down.

“What the FUCK, is all this noise for?” Juliette said, entering the room. She was wearing a red silk night gown that reached her thighs and her hair down, slightly messy. -from sleeping he assumed- George felt relief rush through his entire body, and he jumped off the couch and hurried to her. Before he tightly wrapped his arms around her, he heard a soft, surprised “George?”

He tightened his arms around her and for a few seconds he forgot everything that's wrong at this moment in his life, feeling relieved by the familiar smell of Lavender, almonds, and coconut.

“Are you okay? What happened?” He asked her to unwrap his arms from her torso and lift them to cup her face in his hands. He could see a blush decorating her cheeks when she lifted her hands to hold his hands on her face and say, “Nevermind me, what happened to you guys?”

The few seconds of comfort were demolished by the question, remembering that his father might very well be dying, or maybe even dead right now. He moved away from her, his hands falling and sat back down on the couch; his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands as he let out an exhale.

He could hear Sirius whispering to whom he thought was Juliette and then he heard Juliette let out a small ‘oh.’

He felt the couch dip from beside him and two small arms wrap around his torso, lifting his head and he saw her hugging him. She leaned closer to his ears and she whispered “you should sleep, you look really tired.”

He cracked a small smile and looked at her “that’s because I am tired it’s two in the morning.” She gave him a small sympathetic smile and then laid his head on her lap, she gave him a kiss on his forehead that made his heart skip several beats.

“Sleep George, I’ll wake you if anything happens.”

Her words were the last thing he heard before he fell into the deepest sleep he’s had in eighteen days, with her hands in his hairs and the butterflies in his stomach; he fell asleep with the girl he loves. Leaving him to deal with his problems the next day. His last thought was:

Shit, I think I love her.

⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⁀➷｡˚⸙͎۪۫⋆

I really hope he can’t hear how hard my heart is beating, Juliette thinks as she continues to play with a sleeping George’s hair. After about an hour, Mrs. Weasley sends a letter about Mr. Weasley’s health; and even though Juliette doesn’t want to, she has to wake George up. She promised to wake him up if they receive any news. She slowly takes out her hand from his hair and leans in closer to his ear and starts saying his name in whispers.

“George.”

“George, wake up.”

“George, We got a letter from Mrs. Weasley.”

He started shuffling around slightly, and his eyes slowly fluttered open. A cute smile graced his features when his eyes fully opened, She felt butterflies. A smile took over her own features, and she said in a soft voice “we got a letter from Mrs. Weasley.”

As if he remembered the situation they were in, and the smile left his face and so did her’s. He lifted his head from her lap, but still took her hand in his; as Sirius started to read the letter. She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze hoping that he’d know that she was there for him.

She had spent the past sixteen days, spending more time with Sirius, Remus, and Neville. She would lose in chess with Remus, but beat Sirius in an exploding snap game; and Neville came from Hogwarts six times to spend time with her. He told her if she wanted to come visit their parents in St. Mungo’s at Christmas with him, and she agreed; even though she was actually terrified of their Gran from what Neville told her.

She saw Harry head up the stairs, as soon as Sirius finished reading the letter. She turned to George and said “I have to go, I’ll come back” He looked at her and nodded, seemingly lost in his own thoughts.

She hurried up the stairs after Harry, and saw her room’s door open. She entered and saw Harry panicking on the floor, his head resting on the wall. She rushed beside him and placed a calming hand on his shoulder, he started crying and saying “what’s wrong with me?”

“Nothings wrong with you Harry, you saved Mr. Weasley’s life from what I heard from Sirius. You need to stop blaming yourself.” She replied, she heard him start sniffling and slowly calming down.

After a few minutes of sitting in silence, Harry scanned the room with his eyes and said with a confused look on his face “who’s room is this?”

Juliette let out a small chuckle and said with her hand slightly raised up “mine.”

Harry looked at her quizzically “since when?”

“Since Sirius decided it was about two weeks ago.”

Harry looked at her even more confused, “you’re staying here?”

“Well of course godbrother, where else am I supposed to go?” She replied and asked with a smile.

His eyes widened slightly, and he looked at her skeptically. “Godbrother?”

“Yeah well Sirius is also my godfather too, so you’re kinda like my godbrother.” She said, shrugging her shoulders and lifting herself up from the floor. She held out a hand to him and he accepted it.

“I’m sorry about your parents by the way.” He said sympathetically.

She lifted her right hand in front of her and waved a dismissing motion and said “don’t be I’m adopted, turns out Neville’s my brother.” He raised an eyebrow. She replied saying, “You can just ask Sirius.”

They headed down the stairs and Juliette sat beside George once again, intertwining their fingers as Harry sat next to George on the other side.

George rested his head on her shoulder and kept a firm grip on her hand, as they all waited for Mrs. Weasley to return from St. Mungo’s.

[donaweasley]

Back to Main Masterlist

George Masterlist 𓅂

🧡 = Fluff | 💔 = Angst

𓅂𓂃⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆𓂃𓅂𓂃⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆𓂃𓅂

The First Stay:

Everything is Fair in Love and War 🧡

Gist: You had met the twins at Hogwarts; you’re a year junior to them. Although you are best friends with both of them, you cannot help your heart’s inclination towards the younger one. During one of your stays at the Burrow, some feelings threaten to spill out but…will they?

A Walk in the Dark 🧡

Gist: After an awkward incident involving your one and only crush George Weasley, he tries to sort the uncomfortable situation out. But will it lead to some revelations or...just a heartache?

[b1ravenclaw]

Requests open!!!

Hey guys, I'm in dire need of inspiration so I thought of doing some requests!!

If you would like to send me some I'd love to give it a try, smut, fluff, angst you name it.

Characters and fandoms I write for, at the moment, are:

Harry Potter: George Weasley, Fred Weasley, Theodore Nott, Ron Weasley, Oliver Wood, Remus Lupin and James Potter.

ACOTAR: Azriel, Cassian, Rhysand, Lucien and Mor.

Outer Banks: Rafe Cameron

[haveanotherfandomblog]

Roses and Thorns

Chapter Three: Halloween

Pairing: George Weasley x Fem!OC

Genre: Adventure, Angst, Comedy, Fluff

Word Count: 5.2K~

Warnings: N/A

Masterlist || <<Previous | Next>>

Mid-September brought a slightly less than subtle change to the weather. The sun spent most of its time hiding behind the clouds as the wind ran rampant through the ground of Hogwarts. Gwen liked to spend her free periods outside, soaking in what little bit of sun was left before winter came barreling in and made it near impossible to go outside.

Though she was beginning to miss the warm weather, her mind was kept occupied by her studies and Quidditch. All Cedric talked about for the first two weeks of school was Quidditch--him and Tamsin. Any time spent in the Hufflepuff common room was spent talking about the game, and the pair explaining to her the fundamentals of what they called “the best game in the whole world”;  though she did get a kick out of telling them it was just the wizard version of basketball.

Quidditch tryouts for the Hufflepuff team were on the second Saturday in September. Cedric paced around the common room all morning, wringing his hands until they were a nice, bright shade of red. Tamsin and Gwen sat on the couch, attempting to study, but ultimately just watching as he paced until tryouts.

They all made their way to the Quidditch pitch. It was a large field with slightly overgrown grass and stands that stood high upon stilts. On either side of the field sat three hoops. Gwen gave Cedric a charm bracelet she had made for good luck before following Tamsin up the stands. There were scattered students in the stands, most of them older and using the excuse to come outside. There were a few other Hufflepuff students she recognized from her year: Heidi, Maxine, James, and Arthur. They were seated in the front row, watching intensely for the tryouts to start.

Cedric made his way to the middle of the pitch, clutching a broom in his hand. One by one the players began rising in the air. The Captain, Jenetta Weaver, a sixth year, was in the middle of all the players, directing them around the field. She was a fierce looking girl with long brown hair pulled into a French braid and a serious expression that always made her seem slightly confused.

She blew a loud whistle, then tossed one of the balls in the air. Immediately, the players dove for the ball, tossing it to one another and making a beeline for the hoops. One of the seventh years, who Tamsin said was a Hufflepuff Quidditch legend like Jenetta, was pacing the hoops. She had short black hair kept back by a bandana that Gwen knew was being kept in place by magic. She watched in amazement as she blocked the ball with practice ease, a smirk on her face.

Cedric was floating in the air, watching as everyone played. Another Hufflepuff student was waiting in the air with him. He didn’t do much in the air, just watched the other players.

“Tamsin,” Gwen called, pulling her out of her conversation with Heidi. “What position is Cedric going for again?”

“Seeker. That’s the one that goes after the golden snitch.” Gwen nodded her head as she watched the rest of the players. One boy, a seventh year named Marshall Allen, was hovering nearby Cedric, his hand wrapped around a bat. He had short blonde hair and was big and burly.

A black ball came whirling towards them. Cedric had barely turned half an inch before Marshall was swinging the ball, knocking it clean towards the other side of the field. Gwen gave a gasp as the other Hufflepuffs buzzed with excitement. She went to lean on the railing, more concerned with Cedric’s wellbeing than with the possibility of falling several feet.

Then he began to dive. The girls jumped from their seat, watching as he dove straight for the bottom of the pitch. They waited with baited breath as he slowly pulled the broom up at the last minute, keeping one of his hands outstretched. He slowly turned his broom before he wrapped his hand around something.

Jenetta blew her whistle, waving to gather everyone’s attention. He rode up to where she was and triumphantly held the golden snitch in his hand. Gwen hollered, clapping and waving as she jumped in the stands. The other students murmured around her, giving her odd stares. She didn’t care as he waved back before passing the snitch to Jenetta.

Tryouts continued for some time. She didn’t realize how late these could run, but she was determined to stay the entire time. Most of the other Hufflepuff students had ventured back inside, leaving Gwen, Tamsin, Maxine, Heidi, and a couple of boys from Cedric’s year in the stands.

It was almost dark when Jenetta announced her decision. She would, of course, remain as one of the chasers along with Jaqueline Beck, a seventh year. Malcolm Preece, a skinny second year with brown hair and fair skin was to join them as their third chaser. Marshall Allen remained a beater, and Anthony Rickett, another second year with a round figure and ashy-blonde hair, would join him as the second. Hufflepuff legend Ida was to remain keeper, and Cedric was the new seeker.

Gwen was beside herself, cheering and jumping and dancing. She grabbed Tamsin’s hand and dragged her down the stands, running to where he was dismounting. She tackled him to the ground, laughing and cheering. His second year friends joined her, dog piling him as they cheered. Tamsin let out a laugh before joining in, patting his shoulder aggressively. He let out a laugh, staring up at the darkening sky.

“You did it!” Gwen shouted for maybe the thousandth time as they entered the castle. “Are you going to tell your parents? I bet they’ll be so proud! This is so exciting! OMG, now I want to play Quidditch! Don’t know if I’ll be any good, but it’s always worth a shot, right? You did it!”

He nodded his head, doing the dance to enter the common room. The other Hufflepuff students gave him a round of applause . He bowed his head before collapsing onto the couch. He was still drenched in sweat but he didn’t care. Midnight barked and jumped onto the couch. He made himself comfortable on Cedric’s lap before promptly falling asleep.

“So, when’s the first game?” Gwen picked Midnight up from his spot and set him on her own lap. He provided little protest as she went to scratch his ears.

“Well, the first game of the season is sometime in early November, but the first Hufflepuff match will be mid-to-late November,” he said. “That’s when I’ll get to play.”

“You’ll be great,” Tamsin assured him. “You were like an all-star out there. Before you know it, you’ll be a Hufflepuff Quidditch legend.” He laughed softly, shaking his head. Only time could tell.

***

The rest of September was highly uneventful for Gwen. She spent most of her time studying for her classes. Cedric was swamped with school-work and Quidditch practice, so she hardly ever saw him, and when she did, he was always exhausted. Tamsin spent most of her free-time hanging out with their other dormmates, giggling over things Gwen didn’t understand. They never excluded her, but there was little fun to be had when every joke had to be explained.

No, she didn’t understand their wizard jokes, but she harbored no ill-will. She simply opted to put her focus where her family excelled, in their studies. It provided her with great comfort that Mark was always as eager to study as she was. The only problem was he was selective about which subjects he wanted to study for. Half of their classes fell to the bottom of the list. His favorites consisted of Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, and Charms. He only put in an effort with potions to avoid detention with Professor Snape.

Ava was willing to give each class equal attention, but getting her to sit down and put forth the effort was another story. She would have rather spent her Saturdays wandering and exploring the castle. As fun and exciting that sounded, Gwen knew they needed to do well in school if they wanted to stay. She assured her there would be plenty of time to explore after their work was done, but getting her to focus was like getting a dog in a bath: chasing her around until you lured her with a treat.

The only person who put in the same amount of effort as Gwen was Richard. When he sat down to work, he didn’t stop until everything was done and done perfectly. Every step in his process was meticulously thought out and planned, and while the other three certainly threw more than one wrench into his work, he never left the study group or said anything mean, he simply continued on and reworked what he needed. He also helped Gwen make sure Ava and Mark completed all their work so the pair wouldn’t have to serve detention.

***

Gwen would want her kind personality and academic achievements to be her mark on Hogwarts. Unfortunately for her, her legacy would consist of wit and mischief, and it all began at the beginning of October.

October First marked the start of another school week, and the official countdown to Gwen’s favorite holiday. She and Richard were on their way to class, discussing the homework from the weekend, when two unexpected visitors stepped into their path. Richard latched onto Gwen’s arm, forcing her to stop and pay attention to the people in front of her.

“Hey there, Gwenny ol’ girl,” Fred greeted, an innocent smile on his face. His nose was still slightly swollen, despite the magic of Madam Pomfrey. “Heard ‘bout your friend making the Quidditch team. George an' me got on too, see. Beaters.”

“Congrats.” Gwen moved to step around them, tugging Richard along. Fred stepped to the side, bending his head down slightly.

“What’s the rush?”

“We need to get to class. Have a nice day.” She sidestepped them once again, and he followed suit. She exhaled loudly through her nose, frustration beginning to bubble inside her. “Can I help you?”

“Have a piece then.” George produced a piece of candy from his pocket, wrapped in shiny silver plastic. “Go on. It’s delicious. Toffee flavored.” He stuck his hand out farther, a matching grin on his face.

Something in Gwen’s body pinched the base of her spine and worked its way up to her neck. She glanced over to Richard, who seemed annoyed rather than suspicious. She gently pushed his hand away, reaching back to find Richard’s.

“Thanks for the offer, but I’ll pass.” She pushed between the boys, tugging Richard along. Once she felt they weren’t going to follow, she took the chance of looking back. Both boys looked infuriated and disappointed.

“What do you suppose that was about?” Richard asked, pulling out his books. He set them neatly in the corner of his desk, spines lining up with the edge and the top sides lining up as well.

“I don’t know.” Gwen frowned, turning back to look at the door. “I doubt anything good.”

Her instinct was right. By dinner time, she saw multiple students, from all the houses, covered in massive blue polka dots, all claiming the same story: Fred and George Weasley had offered them the toffee flavored candy in the shiny, silver plastic wrap.

Ava told Gwen they had received a week’s worth of detention and had lost ten points each. Gwen shook her head and returned to her table. Those boys sure seemed to have a knack for getting themselves into trouble.

Cedric had told her they were just as bad their first year too. Sooner or later they were going to do something they couldn’t come back from, and when that happened, she just hoped they didn’t take half the school down with them.

***

Gwen, Mark, Ava, and Richard had agreed to meet every Saturday in the library to review the week’s lessons and to catch up on any work. The four fell into a routine, and while it was still far from a friendship, Gwen knew that they’d be inseparable by the end of the year.

The only issue came from Richard. While the rest of the group had other friends to hang out with, Richard seemed to be a loner, and not the stare-off-into-space-brooding-bad-boy type. It was more along the lines of help-no-one-within-a-ten-mile-radius-will-come-near-me type, and that bothered Gwen to no extent. He refused to spend time with any of his housemates, including his dormmates. In fact, he only went to his dorm to sleep. It didn’t help that almost all students outside of Slytherin avoided him too.

He assured her he didn’t mind spending time alone, and she knew that some people needed time alone, like her sister Nat, and others simply liked it, like her sister Penny, but the two of them still interacted with other people.

On days Gwen didn’t need to study, and most of the students were just hanging around, and Cedric was busy with his Quidditch practise, her and Richard would spend time walking around the black lake, bundled up as Jack Frost nipped at their noses. He wasn’t much of a talker, like her brother Nick, but Gwen found comfort in having someone listen to her without interrupting. In a family as big as hers, being heard wasn’t as easy as it should have been.

It was a Saturday after a particularly hard week in Potions, two weeks after the candy incident, that Gwen ran into the Weasley twins. Running being an operative term as the four of them had been on their way to the library when a familiar sharp pain entered Gwen’s back and shot up her spine. She stopped in her tracks, furrowing her brows.

“Gwen? What’s wrong?” Ava asked, tilting her head. Gwen didn’t know what to say. She looked around the corridor, but there wasn’t another soul.

“I don’t know. Something just feels… off.”

“I think you’ve been working too hard,” Mark said, turning back around. “Why don’t you get some rest, we’ll catch up tomorrow.

BOOM!

The entire corridor lit up like Times Square on New Year’s Eve. Fireworks shot out bright colors into the castle ceiling and produced dancing creatures of all kinds. The loud noise had startled Ava, Mark and Richard, as the three of them quickly ducked for cover.

Gwen, on the other hand, gave out a laugh, looking up and giving out a long whistle as the creatures disappeared.

“Oi! Come on!” Fred and George stumbled from their hiding spot, looking at her in utter disbelief. She gave them a grin, shrugging her shoulders. Her group rejoined her in the middle of the corridor, looking less than thrilled with the Weasley’s.

Of course, Mr. Filch was also less than thrilled with the mess and fire hazard they had caused. She’d never heard such shouting before. They slumped their shoulders as they were escorted to Professor McGonagall’s office, and given another week’s worth of detention, and lost another ten points each.

“I don’t know what their problem is,” Ava said, sitting with her back against the window. “They keep losing our house points and soon wea not gonna have any.” She put three piles onto the table and pulled out her ink and quill.

“Forget the points,” Mark said, dumping his bag’s contents onto the table. “They’re putting everyone in danger with stupid pranks like that. I mean, the  amount of fire hazards from that prank alone could have had devastating consequences.”

“How come you didn’t react? Did you know about it?” Richard sat with his back against the door, moving to put Mark’s items into a controlled space before setting his own books down.

“I didn’t know. I just got a weird feeling. Besides, those weren’t that bad. I mean, you haven’t seen real fireworks till you’ve been to D.C. on the Fourth of July.”

“Wow, you Amaricans are a lot mora tough than I thought.”

As the days passed, Gwen found her excitement for Halloween dwindling. The other students didn’t seem to care about the holiday, seeing as for them, it was always Halloween. They didn’t care for carving pumpkins, there was no way to watch scary movies, and nowhere to go trick-or-treating. The excitement of Halloween was almost non-existent, and that brought her cheerful demeanor down several notches.

Tamsin was the first to notice her shift in behavior. Instead of her normally cheerful jigs, Gwen’s violin seemed to only produce slow and melancholy tunes. Even in the common room, they could hear her sad songs that even made the Fat Friar sad.

She decided that Gwen needed a nice pick me up, and there was no better place for spooky lore than the library. On their way there, another sharp pain shot through her spine, causing her to stop in her tracks. She held out her arm, stopping Tamsin as well. She opened her mouth to protest, but was quickly shushed.

She was not amused by Gwen’s sudden odd behavior and pushed her arms away, placing her hands on her hips. She gave her a pointed look, looking around the semi-empty hallway.

She brushed off her annoyance, watching as Mr. Filch marched down the corridor, Mrs. Norris hot on his heels. He grumbled as he passed the girls, ignoring most of the students as he went to round the corner.

Loud screaming startled the corridor as he fell backwards, legs stuck together like a mermaid. The children’s mouths fell open as Mr. Filch flailed about the floor, yelling and pointing like a mad man. Gwen covered her mouth as Tamsin struggled not to laugh.

It was no surprise when the culprits turned out to be Fred and George. They emerged from around the corner, faces almost as red as their hair. They turned their heads and saw Gwen and Tamsin staring at them, disappointed but not surprised. Fred looked like he could strangle someone as George drew his mouth into a thin line.

“What is going on here?” Professor McGonagall’s voice carried through the corridor loud and clear, effectively silencing everyone except Mr. Filch, who was still flopping around the floor like a fish. She cast an unamused stare down at him before pulling out her wand and giving it a slight wave.

His legs were released and he scrambled to stand up, turning a nasty stare onto the twins. Professor McGonagall held up her hand, silencing him at once. She turned her sharp gaze onto them, releasing a slow and steady breath. 

Of course, with his impeccable timing, Peeves came swooping in from another corridor, laughing and pointing at the pair. Though usually excited for the encouragement, both looked like they wanted to throttle the poltergeist.

“Oh ho ho! Looky what we have here! Silly silly boys!” He let out another rambunctious laugh circling above them. Professor McGonagall simply shooed him away, with threats of Dumbledore and the Bloody Baron. He stuck out his tongue before flying away to cause problems somewhere else.

“Everyone, get to your classes. Now.” The other students scrambled to avoid getting detention. Tamsin pulled Gwen along, eager to leave Professor McGonagall’s war path. “As for you two, after your fiascos this month, I see it only fit that you both receive a month’s worth of detentions. As such, you both lose twenty points-- each.” Gwen felt bad that they kept getting into so much trouble, but she couldn’t understand why they did it. No one was laughing, not even them. Hopefully now they learned their lesson.

When Halloween was right around the corner, Gwen found herself in a sour mood almost everyday. Her sunny disposition was nowhere to be seen, and the entire Hufflepuff dorm was filled with her low and somber music. Even Richard was beginning to miss her chatter. Her mood was a mystery to everyone, herself included.

Halloween had always been a happy time in her life. Her family always went trick-or-treating in Grandpa Dave’s nice neighborhood, followed by a trip to a haunted house, and ending the night with a big party at their house. Yet the excitement for her family’s favorite holiday was nonexistent.

“Oh, chea up Gwen,” Ava encouraged. They had just finished their last class of the day and were going to drop their books off in their respective dorms. “My dad told me tha’s always a big feast for Halloween. Sure to be a sight to see.” Gwen shrugged, fiddling with the edges of her notebooks. “Don’ worry, you’ll feel tons betta when you get some suppa in you.”

“Okay.” Gwen waved goodbye as she continued down to the common room.

Most of the students were rushing out of the common room, eager to feast upon the delicious food they’d been smelling throughout the day. She pushed past the sea of hungry students and went to her dorm room, where her dormmates had already deposited their stuff. Heather’s books were piled neatly into her trunk, the lid left open in her haste. Heidi and Maxine had both placed their books on top of their trunks before they’d undoubtedly ran to join Tamsin, whose books laid in a skewed pile on her bed.

Gwen carefully placed her charm book on top of her other books before carefully closing the lid. She shuffled to the common room, which was almost empty save for the other Hufflepuff pets that weren’t owls.

Midnight was amongst them, lazily perched above the fireplace, his tail flicking back and forth. His bright blue eyes watched her carefully as she shuffled through the barrel hole and made her way to join the other students.

Ava’s dad was true to his word, the Great Hall was a spectacle to behold. Candles floated above them, casting a spook-tacular glow around them. The ghosts were floating around as well, moaning and causing quite the ruckus with Peeves. Candy and other Halloween themed food lined all five tables.

Cedric was seated near the end of the Hufflepuff table, chatting with the other Quidditch players. Their first Quidditch game was only a matter of weeks away. He waved her over, giving Tamsin a shove as she chatted with Heidi and Maxine. She moved over without breaking away from her conversation, shoveling her food into her mouth.

Gwen sat between the two, grabbing a fair and healthy serving of food. Cedric returned to his conversation of strategy and Tamsin only offered her a smile. Their plates were piled with delicious food and sweets of every kind, both magical and muggle. Gwen grabbed her fork, but couldn’t bring herself to take anything. She pushed her food around her plate, resting her chin in her hand.

She glanced around the Great Hall. Ava was sitting amongst a group of Gryffindor girls, giggling and chatting. Mark was eating and listening to whatever the other boys in their year were going on about. Richard was seated at the end of the table, a book in his hand as he read and ate silently.

It seemed no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t bring herself to enjoy the festivities like the other students. Even the ghost choir, who were singing a beautifully haunting melody, couldn’t put her in a good mood.

“You doin’ alright Gwen?” Cedric asked, pulling himself away from his teammates. Gwen let out a sigh, stuffing her mouth with mashed potatoes. “That bad, huh?” She shrugged, keeping her eyes on her lap. He gave her back a gentle rub, moving to eat his own food. She set her fork down, excusing herself from the table and turning in for an early night.

She knew that right about now, her siblings were seated in a circle in their living room, negotiating candy trades, with Kate and Lily easily swindling their other siblings out of their fair share. While that was going on, her parents would be seated on the couch, her dad with his cup of decaf coffee and her mom with her cup of herbal tea, watching in amusement as they waited for guests to arrive.

She knew Aunt Penny would have the coolest costume, and she’d have brought the pumpkin pie cupcakes with the white frosting sprinkled with cinnamon and nutmeg. Uncle Derek would have new ghost stories to tell and games to play.

The only thing Gwen couldn’t figure out was if they missed her as much as she missed them. She  wished she could call them and let them know she wanted to be there. She wanted to hear the new story and have one of Aunt Penny’s cupcakes. She wished she could have gone trick-or-treating and carved pumpkins and gone to a haunted house.

Instead, she was left wandering towards her dorm. Maybe if she hadn’t been so deep in thought and self-pity, she would have felt that sharp pinch slither up her spine. Maybe she would have heard the echoes of footsteps and muffled laughter. But alas, as she wound the corner to the stairs towards her common room…

SPLASH!

Water poured down on her, leaving her completely drenched. Her mouth fell open as she let out a gasp, looking around. Fred and George fell from their hiding spot, holding their sides as they howled with laughter. There were tears in their eyes as they rolled around the floor.

Now, Gwen loved a good prank. Pouring water on someone wasn’t too bad, and on any other night, she might have joined in on their laughter with a promise to return the favor. But this wasn’t any other night. And if they’d taken two seconds to look at her, they’d have seen what they did had a worse effect on her than they intended.

Tears welled in her eyes as her lip began quivering. One of the twins, she wasn’t sure which, hit the other, looking at her. Both stopped laughing as her tears began falling down her face. They glanced at each other before they both ran for it. One of them paused, turning their head back briefly before they disappeared from view.

She took a seat at the bottom of the stairs, bringing her knees to her chest. She rested her head on her knees, shivering as her tears mixed with the water dripping from her hair. This had to be, by far, the worst Halloween of her entire life.

“Gwen?”

She lifted her head to see Richard standing in front of her. His hands were gripping his satchel and his brows were furrowed. He took a seat next to her, eyes darting all over her.

“What’re you doing here?” She let out a sniffle, smoothing out her school robes. She used the back of her hand to wipe away her tears, not that it made much of a difference.

“I saw the Weasley twins leave shortly after you did. I wanted to make sure they didn’t do anything. I guess I was too late.” He reached into his bag, scrunching his nose as he pulled out his wand. “Reverte.”

The water vanished from her and left her nice and dry, though she was still cold and her eyes were puffy and bloodshot. She gave a breathy chuckle, using her sleeve to wipe her nose. She thanked him and fiddled with her robe, keeping her gaze down on her robe.

“So, do you want to talk about it?” He tucked his wand back into his bag, scrunching his nose as he fixed his glasses. She shook her head, tucking her knees back under her chin and earning a slight chuckle from him. She turned her head. It was the first time she’d heard him laugh.

“What?”

“First time you don’t want to talk, and it’s the first time you need to. Come on.” He gave her a gentle nudge.

“It has nothing to do with the twins,” she confessed, squeezing her legs. “It’s just-- it’s stupid. Getting worked up over something so silly.” She paused, but he wasn’t giving up that easily. He nudged her again, giving her a pointed look. “It’s just-- me and my family always celebrate Halloween with a big celebration. It’s almost as big as Christmas for my family, and, well, this is my first Halloween I won’t be celebrating with them. I dunno, I guess I just-- I don’t know.”

“It’s okay.” He gave her an awkward pat on the back. “There’s worse things to miss.” She turned her head, giving him a deep frown. “I mean, there’s nothing wrong with being upset. It was something important to you.” He drew his mouth into a thin line, furrowing his brows. “Why don’t you just write to your family? I’m sure it’ll make you feel better.”

She mauled over his words. He was right, if not for the reason he thought. Both her parents had degrees in psychology and both would be able to help her. She stood up suddenly, startling him into standing as well.

“Thanks Richard. You’re a good friend.” She gave him a strong hug, which, after the initial shock wore off, he returned hesitantly, giving her back a couple awkward pats. She skipped off to her common room, her mood better than it had been for most of the month. The first thing she did was pull out a roll of parchment and a quill.

Dear Reid Family and Extended Loved Ones,

I hope you guys had a spook-tacular Halloween! Mine wasn’t too interesting. Actually, mine wasn’t fun at all. They threw a big feast and had a ghost choir, but there wasn’t any trick-or-treating or haunted houses or Aunt Penny’s cupcakes. I’m sure Uncle Derek had a lot of cool stories to tell. Surprisingly, the ghosts here don’t tell many scary stories. They’re just really, really, really sad. I guess that’s what happens when you’re dead.

On a happier note, I think I’ve entered my first prank war. These two boys, brothers, have been trying to prank me all month. I’ve avoided it for the most part, but they got me today. It wasn’t too bad, just some water, but now I’ve got to think of a good comeback. (I’m looking at you for help Daddy!)

I was a little upset today because I missed you guys, but Richard (that’s my friend in Slytherin) really helped me today. He was actually the one who suggested I write to you guys. I can’t wait to see you all in a couple months for Christmas! I love and miss you all!

Love,

Gwen

She carefully folded the letter and slipped into an envelope before scrawling her mother’s name on it. It was a quick and uneventful trip to the owlery and back to the common room. By her return, most of the students had returned and were heading to bed for tomorrow’s classes.

“Gwen.” Cedric waved his hand, jogging over to her. “You okay? You left pretty early.”

“I’m okay.” She gave him an affirmative nod and a chipper smile. He smiled too, chuckling. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Well, you certainly look happier. Come on. You should get to bed. We still have classes tomorrow.” He nudged her towards her dorm room before he headed off to his own.

She climbed the stairs until she reached her room. Everyone was already asleep, happy in their candy-induced comas. She changed in her pajamas before also climbing into her bed. Midnight jumped onto her bed as well, snuggling right by her face as drifted off.

[apparentlytheproblem]

o r p h i c

fandom- outer banks

pairing(s)- rafe cameron

a/n: hellolo, i'm so sorry i deleted the request, it was very clumsy of me. the anonymous had asked for me to write about how both rafe and you seemed to hate each other but keeps each other in their minds throughout the day. one leads to another and they end up confessing thankyou for requesting, i hope you indulge your stories with me to write them out for you in the future with love, tiya

playlist: the rafe cameron mindset

summary: you looked so pretty, how could rafe resist a bite?

requested- yes

warnings- unestablished relationship, hateful but secretly in love, "love", "sweetheart", mentions of satan-?

Midsummers carried the bright, enliven days with the aroma of freedom and warmth, but here you were stuck at some barbeque enlightened by the presence of bloody Rafe Cameron.

it annoyed you how he was so aggressive and a devil of a narcissist who walked around as if he owned the world. But what pissed you off the most was how in every crowd you'd search for him, how you often thought about his stupid hair and his stupid face and how his arms looked so fine with his sleeves rolled up.

How could i be so dual?

you'd assume one would steer themselves from dangerous situations such as interacting with a hot headed Cameron who could fuck you up in more ways than one.

You were helping Wheezie collect seashells for her castle when he strolled in to the sand with his hands shoved in his pockets, confidence following him like an obedient dog.

"need her for a minute, dad said to let her tag on" he so nonchalantly expressed the reason of his prescence.

wiping the sand from your calves, you slid on your slippers and followed him. It was always necessary to be cautious with Rafe, you never knew what he was thinking. but at the same time, why did he look like that? like the angels envied the looks of the devil, even though they were to stay away, that smile pulled you on.

you both had gone a good few meters out of sight when he harshly twisted you around by your hand, pushing your back towards the cement wall. his right hand was hugging your waist while his knee was firmly placed between your thighs.

fuck

your heart was hammering and your legs were ready to turn into absolute mush when he was Infront of you.

"who said you could look so pretty huh?"

fuck it, who could resist the devil when he decides to take form of Rafe Cameron?

you lifted his chin and closed the space between him, your hands through his hair as you could feel yourself fall in rhythm.

he pulled back

oh

"I'm so sorry oh my god, I shouldn't have done that I'm so sorry, I-"

"darlin" he covered his eyes with a hand

" if you don't want to talk to me ever again I get it-"

"sweetheart"

"I'm just so-"

you were very rudely interrupted as he lowered his head, pulled you by your shirt and kissed you again.

OH

[odinsonslut]

Reformed pt. 1.

⊹ genre: fluff mostly

⊹ pairing: draco malfoy x female Hufflepuff reader

⊹ themes: slow-burn 

⊹ summary: reader returns 6 years after the war. To her dismay, draco is her new supervisor while she trains as an auror. He had also managed to integrate himself into all her closest friends’ lives, making him unavoidable. Also unavoidable is the building tension between the two.

⊹ warnings: mentions of death, the loss of close friends, nothing explicit.

⊹ word count: 1.9k

⊹ a/n:  eternally terrible at writing summaries, but this is a storyline I like way too much to leave as a standalone. It might be a two-part situation, maybe even a mini-series!! I don’t have solid plans for it yet; just trying to perfect building tension without moving too fast or being too overwhelming. 

-

It had been 6 years since the war, and since you didn’t complete your last year of study with your graduating class, you ended up going back to school after the war with a few of your classmates, being a small group of students, it gave you the opportunity to connect with Hermione and Ginny. You really hadn’t seen much of either of them before the war being a Hufflepuff with barely any classes paired with Gryffindor. 

The three of us found comfort in each other during the difficult period of readjusting to school life and feeling alone as Ron and Harry went on to be Aurors, and I was only able to keep in touch with Madeline, my best friend, who was in Ireland practising extensive herbology research to come up with more effective antidotes to those still recovering in St Mungo’s. The rest of the group just sort of dispersed. I’d have thought fighting alongside each other and experiencing shared trauma would have brought us even closer together, but the rest of them couldn’t stand any memory of Hogwarts or us as a whole, and I really couldn’t fault any of them for that. Losing our friends was difficult, and we couldn’t just be a group of fun-loving kids hotboxing in the astronomy tower’s store room anymore.

The girls took me in early on. Ginny and I bonded immediately over quidditch. As my team’s chaser for the past 3 years, my affinity for the sport nearly matched hers. We’d spend hours practising on the open field together, preparing her for the scouts attending the games this year. She was a shoo-in for the Holyhead Harpies, and while I’d have loved to pursue a similar career, I wasn’t nearly as talented as she was, despite her efforts to help me succeed alongside her. 

Hermione was pleased to learn that I shared her excitement for learning and punctuality. We’d spend entire nights discussing, sharing, and reading books together in my single-occupied dorm, and since we were N.E.W.T students, we shared most classes, making long nights of studying in the Gryffindor common room all the more convenient. We grew closer the more comfort we grew to find in each other. We’d bake together in the kitchens with the elves once in a while. We spent a great deal of time mapping intricate policies that could be implemented one day in favour of the house elves’ rights movement we aspired to achieve. The three of us would often spend nights in each others’ dorms playing exploding snap, some muggle games Hermione and I introduced to Ginny, doing our makeup, and just being the young, carefree girls we never really got to be. It was freeing to heal parts of me with them. We had been inseparable ever since

-

It had been four years since you graduated from Hogwarts. You achieved exceptional N.E.W.Ts results but were never able to keep a job for longer than 4 months. You’d finally set out to Germany, where you’d spent the last three years in the Aurorial Appraisal program once you finally discovered your passion, and since you fought in the battle of Hogwarts, you were accepted with little difficulty. Upon completing the program, Hermione, as the deputy head of the department of magical law enforcement, whom you’d kept in touch with over the years, managed to secure you a job at the Auror office. You were to be a trainee appointed to a practising Auror for the first 6 months of the job. 

Since the couple planned on moving in together but couldn’t quite afford the rent of an entire apartment on their own, Ron and Hermione invited me to move into the common room of the unit, to which I graciously accepted. 

After a week spent unpacking and finishing our apartment came my first day. Hermione and I travelled to the ministry together since we both avoid apparition outside of dire situations. We bid our goodbyes as I made my way to the Office whose Auror I’d be shadowing for the next six months. I knocked on the door twice and stepped back, expecting the door to open for me. I waited two minutes with no response. I knocked again and again, no response. I huffed in annoyance, pulling open the door for myself to be met with a slender man sitting at his desk, the newspaper open, shielding his face from me.

“Excuse me, sir. I’m here for the briefing and introduction to my supervisor. Didn’t you hear me knock?” You couldn’t help but include the last sentence to what would’ve otherwise been a perfectly suitable first impression. 

“I heard, just wondered how long you’d spend standing around wasting time before taking action”, replied a smooth, steady voice.

I scoffed. “Just thought I’d practice decent manners, but it looks like you’re out of touch with the concept enough not to recognise it.”

He chuckled softly in response, seemingly refreshed by my blunt responses. Finally setting the newspaper down, he extended his right hand towards me as he introduced himself. 

“Draco Malfoy, a pleasure”, he spoke with a friendly smile. I was shell-shocked. His gentle aura seemed so unfamiliar to me. His eyes seemed to convey friendliness. His cheeks were lightly contoured with smile lines, and all I could think about was how it was possible for a man like him to form them. The only thing that looked familiar to me was the way his nose scrunched when he smiled, as it contorted into the same position when he sneered, which is predominantly how he addressed me throughout our years at Hogwarts. 

“I remember”. I spoke harshly, allowing his hand to float awkwardly in the air as mine stayed glued to my sides, refusing to meet his palm.

He dropped his hand eventually, his eyes leaving mine to stare at the floor, hoping to think of something to alleviate the tension. My demeanour softened. Even the aversion of his eyes seemed like such a vulnerable display for someone like him whom, before this, I had only seen cling to his pride and perception. I softly told him how he should address me, and he nodded curtly in response, not wanting to say the wrong thing again.

My day was spent in the ministry itself. Draco took me through the theoretical aspects of training to begin with. Our conversation didn’t stray much from the work discussion after our initial friction at his conversational attempts. 

-

Hermione got back home 3 hours after I made it home due to the additional responsibility that came with her position, I deduced. 

I bombarded her before the door even shut behind her. 

“You will not believe whom I’m training under for the next 6 months”, I practically shouted at her.

She kicked me in my shin with her sharp heel. I immediately keeled over, ready to over-exaggerate the pain I was feeling, when I realised her reasoning. Malfoy walked in behind her, straining his signature awkward smile that really only seemed to make its appearance whenever I was around him. I returned the uncomfortable smile before turning to Hermione with a pointed look.

“I figured the two of you would have bonded today. Guess assigning you to each other with no warning didn’t turn out the way I had hoped,” She spoke apologetically. 

“Draco works directly under me, which is why I trusted him with you. We all get together every Monday for dinner. Tonight’s our’s since we’re breaking into the new kitchen; Malfoy makes a solid saffron-infused risotto.” She continued.

I could barely process any information when even more people walked into our now cramped entryway. Ginny ran into my arms as we both fell onto the floor, where we settled in a tight hug gushing over seeing each other. 

Draco shuffled into the kitchen with groceries and a fresh baguette in hand, the rest of them piled into the newly furnished living room, and Ginny and I settled on the floor, refusing to detangle from our now loose hug while we caught up.

-

“It’s so surreal to me like you guys actually hang out with Malfoy? Sure you don’t keep him around as a makeshift house elf?” I asked, motioning to the kitchen. 

Ginny and I had finally made our way to the living room to join the rest. After greeting Harry and the twins, I joined Hermione on the only beanbag she begrudgingly allowed Ron and me to tarnish her architecturally detailed living room with since it was a neutral tan. 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “He’s changed a lot as a person, and you better get used to being around him. You’re still due to be partners after your training program, you know.” 

I groaned immediately. “Why couldn’t I have been put under Harry or Ron?” I whined to Hermione 

“They’re already partnered with each other”, she consoled. “Plus, you two have a lot in common. His food’s even better than yours,” she joked.

I gasped and smacked her arm. “I know where you live, Hermione Granger”, I fake sneered at her. 

“You should join him in the kitchen”, Ginny spoke from the couch beside us “at least make an effort with the man before deciding you can’t stand him”.

-

“Though I’m sure this makes for a priceless view, you could make yourself useful. It is your kitchen.” He spoke, jolting me from my fixed position at the doorway.

“You haven’t left it long enough in the water,” I said as he lifted the saffron-infused water. 

“Take over for me then”, he smirked as he took a step back from the stove.

I was taken aback by his newfound confidence but refused to let it overpower mine, so I walked up to the stove directly in front of him, taking the wooden spatula from his hand on my way over. I lowered the heat and allowed the dish to simmer to deglaze the wine, entranced by the warmth of his breath down my neck, the heat of his body just millimetres away from touching mine.

“Are you actually going to do anything?” He whispered just above my ear, tickling the skin surrounding it, the feeling moving all the way down my spine.

I failed to respond to him. “Looks about done.” He poured the saffron mixture in and picked the spatula back out of my hand. He stirred the saffron in, not moving from his spot behind me.

He moved, and I immediately exhaled at the blow of cold air that came with his absence. I didn’t miss it for long before he was right back, just a hair strand away from me. He dipped a small teaspoon into the dish and put it up to my lips, I tilted my head up, looking at him questioningly.

His soft fingers took hold of my chin, moving it back down and tapping my lips “taste”, he said. My mouth immediately opened in response. I nearly moaned at the soft, rich, perfectly seasoned risotto. He chuckled a breathy laugh.

“I’ll plate these. Why don’t you tell everyone dinner’s ready” he instructed, once again detaching from his spot behind me.

I went to do just that when I was cut off mid-announcement. 

“What on earth did he do to you to leave you such a breathy mess?” asked George almost incredulously

“breathy and positively flushed” Fred chided

I heard Draco’s hearty laugh from the dinner table

I glared at the pair, ignoring Hermione’s inquisitive smile

-

End

[wisteria-blooms]

10, 11, 29 & 35 🥰

Thank you so much!! This is very exciting to answer. Link to questions.

10. What's your favorite part about the fic writing process?

Definitely fleshing out the story from the bare-bones idea. For me, it starts with a song and how the weather is, as weird as it sounds. Then, a simple plot and some key scenes. And then everything gets filled out as I'm writing. (For example, in long hair & tattoos, the scene where Y/N gets kicked out of her room in Nice due to her flooding was one of the first scenes to be written. Madame Millicent, living with Fred + George, etc all came after).

Actually, you know what, my actual favourite part is thinking about plot ideas as I'm trying to sleep. That puts me to bed so fast, and anything that sticks gets written the next day.

11. Are there any tropes that you particularly enjoy writing?

Enemies-to-lovers!! And forbidden romance. I've only explored this once with a Lucius series that I never finished...

Otherwise, there-was-only-one-bed, forced proximity, age gap,(hehe), unrequited love, pining, jealously.

29. Are there any characters, relationships, or general character dynamics you've never written about but would like to try?

So.... I want to go dark and lighter. I feel like I always write in the middle.

As for going darker, I posted this a while back. It would be a story where Y/N is forced to marry Lucius and produce a heir in a post-war world where Narcissa and Draco are both dead. Huge age gap. Everything about Y/N is heavily monitored, from what and how much she eats, her medication, her excises, the childrearing classes [I have no idea what to call this] she attends. Obviously, this would come with heavy warnings. But the biggest roadblock is just getting over myself and realize it's fanfiction, we're writing for fun, not accuracy...

As for going lighter, I've always wanted to write a Fred Weasley x Reader x Cedric Diggory love triangle. Y/N is childhood friends with Cedric, and she obviously has a huge crush on him. But enter Fred Weasley with his bad-boy charm and inability to stop flirting with her, leading her to make some bad decisions and losing Cedric in the process.

I'd... also like to write for General Hux and Kylo Ren. I love reading love triangles ahhh.

35. What do you enjoy most about being a fic writer?

The escape from the real world!!

[novthewolf]

Future series yet to come !

Hello everyone ! 😁

I wanted to talk to you about my future work I plan to write. There are three main stories I would love to share with you.

However, with my current Good Omens rewrite I have to choose which one to write first. So if you guys could help me choose, it would mean a lot.

Details :

- The Walking Dead rewrite/fanfiction | (Reader x Daryl Dixon relationship)

- Harry Potter rewrite/fanfiction | (Reader x George Weasley ? relationship)

- Fantasy werewolf/orc original work | (Werewolf!Reader x Orc!Male) | Title : The werewolf's... horde ?

Whatever you choose I would be happy deliver ^^ Plus, you can still vote in the comments after the poll's over.

Have a good day/night !

Bye bye ! ❤️