#The Weasleys
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casp1an-sea · 18 hours ago
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NOOOOO I DO NOT NEED THE MENTAL IMAGE OF BALD BILL WEASLEY 😭😭😭😭
GET IT AWAY
Weasley family headcanons cuz why not
Percy was the first person to find out Fred and George were serious about opening a joke shop because he saw them struggling to understand legal documents the common room. He never told their parents but he did sit with them and explain what they would need and they always took his advice even when they stopped talking to him
Charlie’s favorite little sibling is Ron and Ron sends the most letters to Charlie
Mr Weasley used to reserve special days once a month to take Ginny out and do whatever she wanted for a day
Fred and George only play the most pranks on Percy because they know he doesn’t actually hate it. And late at night he comes by and gives them tips or fixes spells for them. He’s their favorite brother but no one can tell.
Ron and Ginny tried baking once to surprise Mrs Weasley but almost made the oven explode
Ginny accidentally turned bill bald when she was a toddler and he told her to go to bed. He still holds a grudge over that.
Bill and Charlie and Percy meet up once a month as adults to keep each other updated about life.
Mr and Mrs Weasley are both amazing at dancing and unfortunately all their kids suck at it
One time in his first year Fred broke his ankle racing George to the dining hall. Percy gave him a piggyback ride to the hospital wing. Years later Fred returned the favor when Percy collapsed from exhaustion studying for his newts.
Ron can tell the twins apart he just pretends not to so that he can annoy them
Mrs Weasley and bill are the best chefs of the family but George is the best baker.
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toorumlk · 4 months ago
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the weasleys, circa 1995
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agreeeeeeeeeee · 2 months ago
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Best Friends Brother pt. 2 | C.W. ⋆✮⋆˙
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feat. Charlie Weasley x fem!reader
SUMMARY: Months have passed since you met (ie shagged and definitely didn't fall in love with) Charlie Weasley. And when Molly invites you to the Burrow for Christmas, your best friends Fred and George assure you that Charlie will not be in attendance. Spoiler alert: They are wrong.
CW: MDNI 18+, lots of christmas fluff and smut, Charlie being a shameless flirt, pining, brat tamer and primal!charlie if you squint, dirty talk, p in v, oral (f receiving), this is so tooth-rotting I cannot
AN: Charlie might be my favorite weasley to write for. and the implications of brat taming and primal play have my mind reeeeeeling
part one | masterlist
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“So what are you doing for Christmas, deary?” Mrs. Weasley asked, stirring a sugar lump into her tea. You were squeezed beside Fred into a booth at tea shop in Diagon Alley, having run into your best friends and their mother while Christmas shopping. Molly insisted you join them for a rejuvenating cuppa, and you weren't one to refuse an earl grey.
“Oh, nothing really. Probably watch some corny films and get take away,” you replied, nibbling on the edge of a croissant.
“What?!” She gasped, so loud the neighboring tables turned to see what the fuss what about.
Fred and George pulled an identical grimace.
��Unacceptable!” She cried, dropping her spoon with a clatter. “Why on earth didn't you tell me she was spending Christmas alone?!” She whacked George on the arm and kicked Fred in the shin under the table.
“We didn't know!” They whined in unison, rubbing their injuries.
“Oh, Mrs. Weasley, it really isn't a big deal—”
“Not a big deal! Dear, it's Christmas!” She reached across the table and took your hands, squeezing hard and holding your eye. “You will spend it with us at the Burrow, alright?”
Your heart stopped, your tongue going thick. “Oh, I-uh—”
“Charlie will be in Romania,” Fred hissed to you from the corner of his mouth. “Just say yes, or she’ll skin us.”
Charlie. Best friends brother, dragon wrangler, and the best lay you'd ever had in your life. It had been three months since your tryst in the storage room, and the hours of effortless conversation that came after, and you'd thought of him every day since.
You'd exchanged a few letters over the months, pleasantries and some light flirting on Charlie's part. He'd even sent you a few shed scales from your favorite dragon species, the Welsh Green, but beyond that, nothing had transpired.
He lived on Romania, after all. And his work was his life. You just had a bit of fun together, a few hours of fantasy, nothing more. But no matter how many times you repeated that like mantra, you still found yourself unable to move on.
“I hope you know, love, I will not accept 'no' as an answer,” Molly said, pining you with a stern glare.
“Well, thank you, Mrs. Weasley. I’m very grateful for the invitation, and I'd love to spend the holidays with your family,” you said, offering as genuine a smile you could muster despite your trepidation, and Molly beamed at you, already running through her plans for you all.
Fred slung an arm around your shoulders, jostling you with his excitement. “Yes! You're gonna love it.”
You were grateful, and you were eager to have a real Christmas with a family you adored, but it still felt…odd. You'd be spending the holidays with Charlie's family, but not Charlie.
You weren't sure if you were relieved or disappointed but…either way you were spending Christmas at the Weasley’s.
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The Burrow and it's residents welcomed you with open arms. The sprawling home was decorated floor to rafter in homemade garland and candles, with decorated trees in every room, branches heavy with ornaments and paper chains.
Harry, Hermione, and Fleur were also staying over the holidays, and Ginny was beside herself with excitement that you were joining as well, pulling you in for a crushing hug that squeezed the last of bits of anxiety from your heart. Percy and Bill helped with your things, and the twins were quick to get a drink in your hand while everyone chatted excitedly over one another.
It was warm and merry, and you couldn't believe you almost missed this because of a stupid, little crush.
After about an hour of conversation, you noticed Ginny start to fidget under Harry’s arm, glancing at the location clock by the stairs every few minutes. The hand with Charlie's name remained firmly at ‘work’, while the rest piled into ‘home’.
You exhaled, fighting the nerves reknitting themselves in your stomach.
“Oi, twitchy,” Fred bumped your shoulder, drawing your attention back to the conversation. “What's on your mind—”
The floo station suddenly flared to life, verdant green light blasting through the room as the flames roared. Everyone yelped and scurried back, well, besides Ginny, and when the flames died the next instant, you realized why.
Charlie Weasley stood at the center of the fireplace, a bag over his shoulder and a smug smile on his face.
Your stomach turned inside out.
Merlin, how had he gotten even more handsome? His hair was a slightly longer, his beard thicker to ward off the biting, Romanian cold. He wore a heavy coat and cargo pants, leather boots still packed with melting snow.
“Charles!” Molly shrieked, throwing herself at her second oldest son and pulling him into a bone-crushing hug.
“Charlie!” Everyone cried, rushing to greet him while you tiptoed the opposite way, meaning to escape into the hall so you could collect yourself.
“Ah, ah,” George said, catching your wrist, grinning. “You don't want to do that,” he teased.
“And why not?” You huffed.
“Better to play it cool,” he winked, and you stuck your tongue out at him.
He was right, though. You would only survive this if you played it cool. Pretended everything was normal, that you hadn't been pining for this man for weeks on end, that the thought of spending Christmas with Charlie didn't make your heart flutter with excitement.
“But the clock!” Arthur laughed, finally wrangling Molly away so he could hug his son.
“Asked Ginevra to enchant it,” Charlie said, hugging his father with one arm and bundling his little sister into his opposite side, dropping a kiss on top of her head. “Seems she did well.”
“It is not to be tampered with!” Molly crowed, wiping tears from her cheeks.
“Alright, alright. I'll fix it,” Charlie chuckled, withdrawing his wand from his belt and muttering a reversal spell. The clock hand whirred around the face, confused, before it finally settled on ‘home’ with everyone else.
Charlie made his way around the room, hugging everyone and chatting until finally, he reached George, who you were attempting to hide behind.
Charlie pulled him into a bear hug, clapping him on the back. “She knows I can see her, right?” He murmured to George, just loud enough to be sure you also heard him.
Your cheeks warmed, your stomach falling through the floor.
George scoffed. “Stop checkin’ out my girlfriend, mate.”
Charlie grinned, shoving George to the side, perhaps a little harder than necessary. “Dream on, Georgie,” he chuckled, eyes shining with amusement. He finally turned to you, his expression softening. “Happy Christmas, y/n,” he said, approaching slowly, the heavy plod of his boots matching the jump of your heart.
“Happy Christmas, Charlie,” you replied, playing coy and reaching up to brush some snow from his wide shoulder. “How's my Welsh Green?” you asked.
Charlie smirked, his eyes sweeping over your face, down your neck, before flicking back to your eyes. “She nearly took my head off this morning when I tried to give her breakfast.”
“My kind of girl.” You felt your skin prickle under his attention, but you held your composure.
“Mine too,” he purred, lowering his voice. Heat curled low in your stomach, remembering the way his voice pitched and deepened while you—good god, you were losing your mind.
“Time for supper!” Molly called over the dull roar of conversation, and you slipped away from Charlie to follow the twins into the dining room, desperate for a breath that wasn’t sweetened by his cologne.
Dinner went by in a blur of food and activity, Charlie sat by Arthur at the head while you were sequestered to the other side with the twins. After eating, Charlie slipped away to shower, and you joined everyone else back in the living room for board games and music.
You were wrapped up in a game of Scrabble with Hermoine and Ginny when Charlie re-emerged, his hair damp and slicked back, dressed in flannel pajama pants and a black t-shirt. Your mouth dried, your pussy fluttering at the mental image of him in the shower moments before.
His eyes found you across the room, his tongue darting out to wet his lips while they swept over you, taking in the House crewneck and pj shorts you’d changed into. You turned back the game to hide your face, swallowing the lump in your throat.
A moment passed, then Charlie turned to join Bill, Percy, and Arthur in the study, casting you another glance over his shoulder before disappearing.
A few more hours rolled by, and one by one, everyone went to bed besides the older men in the study. Molly set you up on the couch, apologizing profusely for the lack of space, but you waved her off, happy to curl up by the fire and read the book Percy lent you.
You settled in with a blanket over your lap, a book in one hand, cup of tea in the other. Soon though, exhaustion began to tug at you, and your eyes started to flutter closed, the warmth of the room and the chaos of the day taking its toll as you slipped into unconsciousness.
Distantly, you felt someone take the book from your hand, the empty tea cup from your lap, and you swam back to wakefulness, lifting your head.
“Just me, love,” a voice said, soft and male, and you immediately recognized it as Charlie’s.
You blinked open your eyes, finding him sticking a playing card in your book to hold your page. “Oh, what are you doin’?” you mumbled, rubbing a knuckle in your eye.
“Are you sleeping down here?” he asked, crouching in front of you, brow lightly creased. He smelled like woodsmoke and cinnamon, and you had to remind your sleep-addled mind that you could not just melt into his arms like softened candle wax.
You nodded. “Guest beds are full. But it’s okay, m’comfy.” You snuggled back down on to the couch, pulling the blanket up to your chin.
“I don’t think so. C’mon, you can take my bed.”
You shook your head, grumbling an unintelligible protest into the pillow as sleep crept back in on you.
Suddenly, you were moving, the couch falling away.
“I’m not letting you sleep on the sodding couch,” Charlie grumbled, curling you into his chest. You gave half a thought to try and free yourself, to put up some sort of fight, but his heartbeat was right against your ear, reverberating in the barrel of his chest, and you just couldn’t bring yourself to move away.
He carried you up a few flights of stairs and down a hallway, nudging open a bedroom door with his foot, careful to walk you through without bumping against anything. He set you down on his bed and tucked you under the thick duvet. The smell of him wrapped around you, clean and warm and Charlie, and you moaned in contentment, too tired to stop yourself.
Every one of your cells had missed him.
He pressed a light-as-air kiss to your temple before pulling away. You reached out to catch his hand, surprising him.
“Where are you gonna sleep?” You asked, voice muffled by his pillow.
“I’ll find somewhere,” he murmured, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb. “Used to sleeping in strange places.”
You must have pulled some kind of face, your filter nonexistent in your sleepy state, because he leaned back down to you, lips brushing the shell of your ear.
“Better stop with that pout, sweetheart. You’ve got me strung out on the gallows,” he warned, a teasing lilt to his voice.
“M’not doing anything,” you teased back, peeking open your eyes to look at him.
“I’m trying to behave this time,” he chuckled, crossing his heart. “You deserve to be properly courted.”
A yawn stole the snarky quip from your tongue. “If you insist,” you sigh, eyes fluttering closed again.
“I do. Now, get some sleep,” he whispered, but you were already gone.
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The following morning, you trudged down the stairs at an egregious hour, the incessant, jovial chatter of the Weasley's impossible to sleep through.
You found them all in the kitchen, steam from the kettle floating through the air, chased by the scent of cinnamon and syrup.
“There she is! The dead walks the earth! Now go bloody change!” Arthur shouted, shoving a rumpled but bright-eyed looking Charlie out from the crowd around the kitchen island.
“Huh?” You looked between the twins and Arthur, but Charlie slung an arm over your shoulder, tugging you into his side.
“I've been summoned to the Ministry for an update on a particularly nasty Horntail,” he said, then leaned in a little closer. “And Happy Christmas Eve, darling,” he whispered.
“Happy Christmas Eve—sorry, what does that have to do with me?” You asked, your brain catching up to the situation.
“The sap refused to risk waking you up to change into his suit,” George supplied. "So they're running late."
“Why would you—”
“Ignore them, you can sleep as long as you like,” he murmured to you.
“Charlie!” You hissed. “You should have woken me up!”
“Over my dead body, love.”
“Charles! Now!” Molly shouted, rattling the rafters.
“Fine, fine.” He reluctantly pulled away from you and bound up the stairs.
“Good morning,” Fred said, beaming at your scowl.
“Morning people, are we?” You asked, accepting a cup of coffee from George.
“No,” Ron argued, his head pillowed by his arms on the table.
Fifteen minutes later, the clop of heavy boots coming down the stairs drew everyone's attention away from their breakfast.
Charlie came around the bend, dressed in a simple, espresso colored suit with a black wool coat, a leather bag slung over his shoulder. His hair was pushed back, brushed and tidy, and silver jewelry shined from his pierced ears and ringed hands.
You nearly choked on your eggs, and Fred clapped a hand on your back.
Everyone wolf whistled and jeered, not used to seeing their rakish brother dressed to the nines. Charlie waved them off with a soft smile, leaning over you to grab a cinnamon roll. His freshly applied cologne wafted over you, spicy and warm, and all other thoughts vacated your head.
Arthur grabbed him by the arm. “Yes, yes. You're very handsome, you are my son after all. Let's go.”
“Wish us luck!” Charlie called, allowing an impatient Arthur to drag him towards the floo station. In a burst of green, they were gone.
“Are all mornings this chaotic?” You asked no one in particular.
“Yes,” they all replied in a unison, and you grinned.
You could get used to a little chaos.
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The day passed in a whirlwind of preparation, with you spending most of it with Molly in the kitchen or decorating with the twins.
Once that was finished, you'd gotten ready in Charlie's room, dressing in a white sweater dress and black stockings, your hair loose and makeup light.
You couldn't help but wonder what Charlie would think of it as you evaluated yourself in the mirror. You felt his absence like an ache in your side, and found your gaze wandering back to the floo station all day.
About an hour before dinner, green flames finally erupted in the fireplace. Everyone dropped what they were doing and rushed over, eager to hear about how it went at the Ministry.
You'd gathered from the twins that the fate of the Horntail hung in the balance after it destroyed a flock of sheep in Western Scotland. Charlie, along with several other Dragonologists, had been fighting for it’s life for months.
The flames extinguished, revealing Arthur and Charlie. Arthur was beaming, an arm around his son, while Charlie looked exhausted.
“Oh, thank goodness. Just in time!” Molly cried, throwing her arms around her husband.
“How'd it go?” Everyone asked at once, following Charlie as he stalked into the living room and dropped heavily onto the couch.
Charlie pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes shut against the racket.
“Our son was incredible, Molly. You should have seen him. Every question, he beat away like a bludger. It was masterful,” Arthur gushed, still grinning.
You watched Charlie warily. He certainly wasn't acting like it had gone well.
Bill, seeming as concerned as you, poured a glass of whiskey and passed it to his younger brother. Charlie swallowed the amber drink in one go, not even bothering to open his eyes.
“So, is the Horntail safe?” Ginny asked, sitting tentatively beside her brother on the couch.
“For now,” Charlie muttered, finally picking his head up and opening his eyes. “They want to reevaluate in six months.”
“But that's good, isn't it?” Harry asked.
Charlie nodded. “I suppose.”
You could feel the hurt and anger radiating off of him despite his efforts at composure. The resolution clearly wasn't good enough for him, and you understood why.
You resisted the urge to sit by him, to fuss over him like his family was doing. It seemed to only drive him deeper into himself. He didn't need to hear that it was a good thing, a victory, because it wasn't. It shouldn't be a debate in the first place.
Christmas Eve dinner passed with the expected chaos, and Charlie seemed to cheer a bit after a good meal, a few laughs, and another whiskey. But you could still detect a heaviness around his shoulders. You felt it as keenly as if it was your own burden.
After dinner, everyone moved back into the living room, but you followed Charlie into the now abandoned kitchen, the wreckage of the meal evident on every surface.
You leaned against the entry way, watching as he fiddled with random things, looking for a way to distract himself. “Hey,” you murmured, drawing his attention from the mugs he was straightening.
He gave you a tired smile. “Hi, love. How was your day?” He asked, moving towards you. He'd ditched his blazer and dress shirt before dinner, leaving him in his dark trousers and a white t-shirt, his muscles straining against the fabric.
“It was good. Made some cookies, strung some lights. We missed you, though.”
He braced a hand on the wall beside your head, leaning closer. “We?” He asked, raising a brow.
Merlin, his bicep was the size of your head.
You shrugged, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Me, mostly.”
The corner of his mouth lifted, freckles crinkling around his eyes. “I missed you too. Would have much rather been here to help out. I make a mean gingerbread.”
“I bet you do," you replied sincerely, watching the way his shoulders start to ease down. “I’m sorry about the Horntail,” you said, a little quieter. “But I'm glad you bought it a little more time.”
Charlie sighed, picking at a flake of paint on the wall. “I am too. Just wish I didn't have to do it at all. He doesn't deserve to be executed just for feeding himself.”
“I know. But I'm glad he has you to speak for him.”
Charlie searched your face, his eyes melting with blatant affection. Your heart tripped over itself, drumming hard under your skin.
He glanced up and you followed his gaze, finding a sprig of mistletoe hanging just above your heads. You hadn't noticed it before, but you supposed that was the beauty of mistletoe: it was always where you least expected it.
His eyes flicked back down to you, molten chocolate, and your thoughts turned to static. He reached up to cup your face, far more timid than you've come to expect from him, and tilted your head up towards his.
“Can't believe I haven't told you how beautiful you look yet,” he said, his other hand sliding around your waist to draw you closer. “A Christmas wish come true.”
You smiled, feeling like marshmallow over an open flame. “A Christmas wish?” You prodded, batting your lashes at him as heat spilled through you.
“Too cheesy?” He asked, bumping his nose against yours, your faces so close you could almost feel his smirk.
“The perfect amount,” you murmured, your lips grazing his.
Charlie closed the final millimeter, pressing your bodies together in a slow, sipping kiss. Every neuron in your body lit up, reaching towards him as you curled your fingers into his shirt, deepening the kiss. His tongue caressed the seam of your mouth and you parted for him, letting him delve further and taste you.
He loosed a low groan, his grip tightening as he backed you against the wall. He licked into your mouth, stoking the fire simmering under your skin.
“Hey, y/n—merlin, in the middle of the kitchen? Really?”
You and Charlie sprang apart, finding Fred with a hand clapped over his eyes, a cheeky grin on his face.
“So sorry for interrupting. Though, lucky it was me and not mum,” he teased, dropping his hand. But his smile quickly fell too when Charlie advanced on him, swinging an arm out in an attempt to grab him. Fred ducked to the left and bolted back into the living room, leaving Charlie laughing and shaking his head.
“Well, that's fantastic,” you huffed, pressing a hand to your sternum to quell your pounding heart.
“I can't say they'll be all that surprised.” Charlie cupped your face again, drawing you up for a quick peck. “I haven't shut up about you since we met.”
You're soul lifted out of your body. “You—r-really?”
He smiled, pulling you in for a hug, his big arms wrapped around your head and shoulders. “Really, love. You've got me wrapped around your little finger,” he said, his voice muffled by your hair.
“I thought I was going mad, I…I couldn't stop thinking about you,” you admitted, exhaling in relief. You hugged him around the waist, sliding your hands under his shirt just to feel his skin against yours.
You felt him stiffen at your admission, before the tension dissolved from his muscles completely. “Maybe we're both a little mad, then,” he chuckled.
“We should get back to the party before they start to miss us,” you said after a few moments of quiet, though all you wanted to do was drag him up to his room and show him just how mad you were for him. But you were a guest, and you needed a moment to get your thoughts in order.
It seemed Charlie had made up his mind about what he wanted, but you hadn't even begun to let yourself consider something real with Charlie Weasley. It seemed like too lofty a hope, an impossibility.
Your heart screamed ‘yes’ but your mind demanded a rationalization, a plan. Whatever you felt for him was intense, but you would hate to rush into something and ruin what you knew could be amazing.
Well, rush into something any more than your already had.
You realized he was studying you like your thoughts were written across your skin. “Baby, look at me,” he said, turning your face back up to his. “I know we started off on an…unorthodox foot. But that wasn't just a hook up and you and I both know it.” He leaned his forehead against yours. “There’s something more between us.”
“I feel it too,” you admitted. “But I've never…” you trailed off, unable to articulate the tumbling thoughts in your mind.
“Me neither, to be honest. I feel like I've been struck by lightning,” he said, breathless, a slight nervous tremble in his voice.
You nodded, reassured that he was feeling the same, vaguely crazed way you were.
“Trust yourself, y/n,” he said, releasing you from the hug and offering you his hand. “Overthinking is the thief of joy.”
“Get out of my brain,” you huffed in mock annoyance, smiling as you twined your fingers with his.
The rest of the evening passed in a rose colored blur, with cookies and games and storytelling. Charlie never strayed far from your side, though you kept any physical affection to a minimum. But based on the knowing looks from Arthur and Molly, and the teasing smirks and jabs from his siblings, they were definitely on to you two.
After the clock struck midnight, Molly demanded everyone go off to bed so Father Christmas would have no interruptions. You were all plenty old enough to know there was no such thing, but it still made you feel a giddy thrill of excitement. That glimmer of Christmas magic you never grow out of.
Charlie offered you his hand at the base of the stairs, a mischievous sort of smile on his face, and you accepted with a raised eyebrow. He led you up the stairs and opened the door to his room with a flourish.
You nearly toppled over when you walked in. It was completely transformed from this morning. Gone were the normal decorations and his dark duvet, replaced instead with a winter forest wonderland.
His bedspread was a deep forest green, with white throw pillows and silver trim, and a stuffed reindeer waited patiently for you on the pillow, floppy and velveteen. In the corner stood a flocked tree, decorated with pine cones and strung cranberries, and little animal ornaments carved from wood. The fire roared merrily in the fireplace, the mantle above it strewn with wild garland and rosemary. Two stockings hung above the flame, each of your names embroidered on them in silver and gold.
You whirled around to look at Charlie, who was smiling down at you, a slight flush to his freckled cheeks.
“When the hell did you have time to do this?” You asked, breathless and overwhelmed. No one has ever done something so special for you before.
“While you were wrapped up in Wizards Chess with Ron.” He snaked his arms around you, dropping a kiss to your furrowed brow.
“Charlie, this is—” emotion clogged your throat. “T-this is the m-most amazing thing—”
“Oh, baby,” he cooed, shushing you with a peck to your lips. “Spoiling you on Christmas feels like the least I can do to show you how much you mean to me. How badly I want this.”
“This?” You ask, sliding your hands up his broad chest. You expected to feel butterflies, but instead a warm blanket of peace settled over you, an understanding that this is exactly how it was meant to go. That here, with him, in the earliest hours of Christmas morning, was exactly where you belonged.
“Us,” he murmured, glancing at the stockings over the mantle, then back down to you, his dark eyes practically glowing with affection. “If that's what you want too.”
“Even with me here in London?” You asked, fiddling with his collar to hide the shaking in your fingers.
“We'll figure it out. You can come visit me as often as you like. And I can come back here a few times a month.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your cheek, moving down your neck like he just couldn't hold himself back anymore. “I have a cabin.” Kiss. “In the forest.” Kiss. “With a big fireplace.” Kiss. “And a soaking tub.” Kiss. “And I can cook.” Kiss. “And have a giant bed—”
“Charlie!” You giggled, tugging on his hair so he lifted his head and you could kiss him properly, melting under the eagerness of his mouth, the joy in his kiss.
He scooped you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. He crossed the room without breaking the kiss, sinking down onto the edge of the bed with you straddling him. The heat of your bodies pressed together was enough to have your pussy tingling, your breath labored.
“I wanna go where you go,” you breathed, breaking the kiss to appease your burning lungs. “I want to be with you.”
He responded with another fervid kiss, open-mouthed and hungry, and you let yourself get swept away in the riptide that was Charlie Weasley. Wild, impulsive, but so sincere, so lion-hearted and good. You weren't sure you'd ever get enough of him.
He seemed just as desperate for you, tugging his shirt over his head and letting your hands finally wander the full expanse of his body without barriers. You pushed him back onto the bed so you could really take him in, his big hands resting heavily on your thighs. He was broad and sturdy, his chest and arms corded with hard earned muscle, the tanned skin littered with freckles and silvery scars.
You nearly started drooling.
In a fluid motion, you tugged your sweater dress over your head, leaving you in nothing but your Christmas underwear set and black stockings. The set was black mesh, decorated with mistletoe and holly berries. You had bought in Hogsmeade on the off chance Charlie made an appearance, and it was worth the steep price to see his soul ascend as he took you in.
“Merlin’s fucking—” he didn't even finish the sentence, instead pulling you down onto his chest for another scalding kiss, his calloused hands wandering up your thighs and over your hips, smoothing over the curve of your rib cage and around the plane of your back. His tongue slid into your mouth, twining with yours. You could taste the whiskey he'd been drinking, tinged with cigar smoke and gingerbread, and you moaned at the decadence of him.
One of his hands slid around to cup the nape of your neck, the other bracketing across your lower back to press your hips flush to his. You ground down onto him, unable to ignore the thrumming between your legs any longer. You both groaned at the new friction, his hips lifting to press more firmly against you.
“Just so you know,” he gruffed as you kissed down his neck, licking a long stripe over his Adam’s apple, feeling his stubble under your tongue. “I put a silencing charm on the room.”
“Very presumptuous of you,” you teased, sucking at his pulse just hard enough to leave a faint bruise, but nothing too obvious.
His hips rolled against yours, coaxing a breathy moan from your lips. “Part of my training includes being prepared for any situation,” he countered, his voice strained with desire as you rocked against him.
“Uh-huh. And what else were you trained to do?” You asked, freezing in place to watch him squirm.
A wicked smirk crossed his face and suddenly you were moving, flipped beneath his body faster than you could blink. “How to tame brats,” he growled against your ear, and a shiver rolled down your spine.
He shifted down your body, kissing and licking along the swell of your breasts before unlatching your bra and tossing in across the room. He took both your tits in his hands, nuzzling the soft flesh before laving his tongue across both nipples, making you lift off the bed with a gasp of pleasure.
“It's not fair that you get to walk around with these all the time. Too fucking perfect,” he said, his voice muffled by your skin.
You almost said that they were his. That the only thing that wasn't fair was how quickly he'd stolen your heart. But you bit your tongue, moaning under his ministrations instead.
He sucked a pearled nipple into his mouth, flicking his tongue over it before grazing his teeth against it, his fingers pinching and rolling the other until your eyes crossed, desire pooling between your legs.
“Can take my time with you now,” he hummed, pulling back to pepper kisses across your chest. “Take care of my girl properly.”
My girl. Your head spun, your heart swelling with elation. You never thought this would happen for you, the perpetually single girl who never found someone you genuinely connected with. But Charlie was like a comet tearing through your life, turning every one of your assumptions about love upside down.
He drew you back from your thoughts with a bite under your left breast. “Come back to me, baby. No more overthinking.”
“It’s good thoughts this time,” you said, running your fingers through his ginger hair and scratching along his scalp as he soothed the mark with his tongue.
He looked up at you, a pleased smirk on his face. “Thinking about that soaking tub, huh?”
You pulled his hair, giggling at his antics while he moved further down your body. “Among other things—shit, Charlie,” you whined when his tongue dragged over the soaked gusset of your panties, scalding hot and firm.
He pulled them to the side, gliding his tongue through your slick folds and wrapping his lips around your clit, lashing it with the tip of his tongue. Pleasure coursed through you, your eyes rolling back in your skull as you cried out.
He hummed against you, moving back down to lap at your entrance with long, messy strokes. He was practically grinding his face against you, savoring you like you were the finest meal he'd ever had. He was so enraptured in pleasuring you that he was moaning right along with you, making your clit vibrate and walls flutter.
“Saints, I missed you,” he said, giving your clit and open mouthed kiss before sucking the sensitive bud between his teeth.
You couldn't even begin to formulate words, completely lost in his feasting, your body fizzing with delight and pleasure. It felt like you were high, your muscles languid, bones rubbery.
“Not thinking anymore, are we?” He teased, nipping at the soft skin of your inner thigh.
You whimpered and shook your head, raising your hips to chase after his mouth.
“Good girl.” he purred, rewarding you by latching back onto your clit, his middle finger easing inside your greedy channel.
You cried out, clenching around his finger as he pushed you closer to the edge, your listless haze making way for bright, desperate pleasure. You bucked your hips against his mouth, his tongue flattening against your clit as his inserted a second finger, stretching you. The sounds were damn near sinful, lewd and sloppy as he worked your pussy into submission, molding you like a sculptor with wet clay.
“Fuck, Charlie. M’gonna come,” you whined, tangling your fingers in his hair to keep him in that perfect spot.
He curled his fingers inside of you and your vision whited out, your orgasm ripping through you, body and soul. You screamed, spine arching off the bed as wave after wave of burning ecstasy rolled through you, his tongue and fingers not letting up for a second as you convulsed.
“That's it, honey. Just like that, let it all go,” he cooed, kitten-licking your clit as you started to come down, his fingers continuing to gently massage your spasming walls. “Try to relax, love. I know it's a lot, but just relax f’me. You're doing so well.”
You sank back into the mattress, breathing labored as he soothed your quivering pussy with gentle touches. “Charlie,” you moaned, your body finally settling and cycling from overstimulation to rebuilding pleasure. “Feels s’good.”
He nuzzled your clit, kissing over your slit, the top of your mound, your inner thighs. “I live to serve,” he said, withdrawing his fingers and sucking them clean. “And if I have to live my life in service to this perfect little cunt, so be it.” As if to punctuate his point, he laved his tongue through you again and you keened, nearly jumping away at the intensity.
You shook you head, tugging him up by the hair. “Need you to fuck me, Charlie. Please?”
He grinned, kissing his way back up your body until he caught your lips once more, the taste of you mixing with him in a way that pleased some possessive part of your brain. You deepened the kiss, licking into his mouth for more.
He pressed his body against yours, the weight of him warm and comforting as you savored one another. You trailed your hands over his back, feeling some of the ridges and scars stretched across the ropes of muscle. He guided one of your legs up over his hip, angling your bodies together like a puzzle piece.
You basked in the simmering kiss for a moment longer before need began to claw at your insides, your hips pressing up against his once more.
“Charlie, please,” you sighed into his mouth, dragging your nails down his back. “Don't make me beg.”
“But you sound so sweet, all breathy and desperate,” he cooed, pecking your lips a final time before moving off the bed. He slid your panties down your legs, tossing them aside with your other clothes, then removed his trousers and boxers, that gorgeous, rosy cock slapping up against his stomach.
He climbed back onto the bed and spread your thighs, kneading the flesh at your hip while he ran the rigid head of his cock through your drooling pussy.
“My sweet girl wants to get fucked, hm?” he said, his voice rough as he used his cock to massage your puffy clit. “Let me hear you ask one more time, honey. Sounds so pretty.”
“Please fuck me, baby. Please,” you whimpered, fisting the sheets on either side of you.
He notched his cock at your entrance, hissing through his teeth as your pussy opened effortlessly for him. “That's it, lovey. Fuck, your little pussy is so tight f’me,” he groaned as your walls clenched around him, coaxing him deeper. You could tell he was fighting the urge to bottom out in one thrust, the muscles in his arms and shoulders taught and trembling, chest heaving and jaw a little slack.
You reached for him, the feeling so intense you needed an anchor. He leaned forward, knowing what you craved, and let you wrap your arms around him and bury your face into his neck.
He rubbed soothing circles on your thigh, his other hand sliding around your back to hold you against him. “Too much, baby?” He asked, pausing his slow penetration.
“Too good,” you whimpered, digging your nails into his shoulders.
He nodded, loosing a breath as you clenched around him. “Feel like your squeezing my heart,” he groaned, and you could feel it racing just beneath his skin, frantic as yours.
“Keep going, Charlie. Please,” you begged, tilting your pelvis so he sank a little deeper.
He eased you back onto the bed, still holding you close. “Good girl, takin’ me so well. Just relax, honey. Just feel me,” he soothed as he pushed the rest of the way in, his cockhead nudging your cervix and stretching your walls just enough. Not sensing any discomfort from you, he started rolling his hips back and forth in fluid strokes, kissing your skin wherever he could reach.
Pleasure spread through your body like ink through water, coloring every sensation, every thought. You loosened your grip on him, opening yourself up to his unhurried affection as he fucked you slowly, letting you adjust to the onslaught of sensation.
“You're so pretty like this, so fucking perfect.” He mouthed at your throat, your head tilting back with a cry as he increased his pace, ecstasy dancing along your skin. “All mine to love on, yeah? You all mine, baby?”
You bobbed your head, already cockdrunk and blissed out, your body submitting completely to him. “Yes, fuck, yes. All yours,” you whimpered, that knot in your lower stomach starting to tighten.
“Fuck yes, my good girl.” He leaned down and caught your lips in a searing kiss, a growl rumbling through his chest as he fucked you harder, driving his cock in and out of your sopping cunt with powerful strokes. “And I'm yours, baby. All fucking yours.” He murmured against your mouth and you grinned, feeling your heart give a discordant thump of elation.
He leaned back to fuck you deeper, one hand tangling with both of yours and pining your arms over your head, the other sliding down to rub tight circles over your clit. You stretched out for him, arching your breasts up to his hungry gaze as he railed you, merciless and claiming.
“Saints, you look so fucking sexy. Gonna come for me, love? Mark this cock as yours?”
You let out a scream as a second orgasm was wrenched from your body, the tension unraveling all at once in a torrent of bliss. You clamped hard around him, feeling his cock swell, then buck as his own release crashed over him, your name coming out like roar.
You clung to one another, his hips still rolling into yours as your walls milked him dry, wringing every drop of pleasure from one another until you crashed back to earth as one.
After catching your breath for a moment, he lifted off of you, hands skimming over your face, your body. “Merlin, I’m sorry, baby. I really didn't mean to be that rough, are you okay? Did I hurt—”
You silenced him with a kiss, pulling his body back down onto yours. “Was perfect,” you mumbled against his lips and he smiled.
“You were perfect,” he corrected, pecking kisses all over your cheeks and forehead. “Can’t get enough of you.”
You giggled, squirming as his hands tickled along your sensitive skin.
“Can I take you for a real date tomorrow? I don't know if anything will be open, but I refuse to go another day without—”
“Charlie,” you shushed, cupping his bearded cheek. “You can take me to the kitchen and call it a first date. I don't care about some made-up fucking rules. I just want to be with you.”
He grinned, giving you a quick, toothy kiss. “Then how about I clean you up, make some mulled wine with this expensive shit I brought back from Romania, and we cuddle by the fire? Call that our first date, and next year we can celebrate our one year anniversary on Christmas.”
You pushed against his chest, laughing at his dramatics, but secretly hoping that would be the case. “It better be a hell of mulled wine then,” you teased.
“Oh, it will be. Romanians don't fuck around when it comes to their booze. Now, open those gorgeous legs for me.”
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“Charles Septimus Weasley! Get up!” Ginny shouted through the door, banging her fist on the wood. “You cannot sleep in on Christmas!”
“Septimus?” You groaned, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.
Charlie had his head buried in your neck, heavy limbs thrown over your body. He was warm as a furnace, and the still crackling fire didn't help matters.
“Sod off!” he barked back, nuzzling closer and tightening his hold around you. You glanced at the clock, and after your prolonged first date, you'd only gotten a few scant hours of sleep.
“Fine! Then I'll throw whatever's in this fancy little box in the fire!”
Charlie was up in a flash, tugging on pants and wrenching open the door, but Ginny was already gone.
He sighed, grabbed something from the hall, then swung the door shut. He looked ready to dive back into bed, but you were already up, pulling on a pair of his boxers.
He froze in place, a feral sort of glint in his eye, forgetting entirely about the package in his hands. When you went to grab it, he lifted it high above his head, well out of your reach.
“Charlie!” You pouted, trying in vain to pull his arm down. He still hadn't taken his eyes off of your body. “You really want me to make a bad impression on your parents for our first Christmas?” You snapped, fighting the smile rising on your face.
“Just do a little spin for me,” he said, twirling a finger around.
“Charlie!”
“Fine, fine. Here,” he chuckled, handing you a pair of pajamas with your name embroidered on them. They were red and green, with white stripes and gold thread, the material thick and warm.
You loved them already.
The two of you quickly got dressed and hurried downstairs, finding everyone else already piled into the living room, also dressed in matching pj's.
“Ah, the lovebirds finally make their appearance!” Bill teased from the big arm chair, Fleur cuddled into his side.
Charlie flipped him off, ignoring the squawk of disapproval form his mother.
“Come, come!” Molly grabbed you and plunked you down on the last free space on the couch, and George passed you a steaming mug of hot chocolate.
George leaned in and muttered, “It's no mulled wine, but—”
Charlie whacked the back of his head. “Quiet, you,” he warned.
“Charles, if I have to speak to you again!” Molly shouted.
“Alright, alright! Let's get this show on the road,” Arthur said, shooing his son away so they could distribute the clumsily wrapped boxes under the tree.
Charlie plopped onto the floor between your knees, his hands coming up to absently massage your right foot. Your whole body tingled at the contact, your heart still tight with joy.
Could this really be your life?
Arthur passed out gifts, and you ended up with a pile of three at your feet. A flat, rectangular box, a heavy, square box, and one small enough to fit in your hand, wrapped in green and gold ribbon.
They went around one by one, opening gifts. Charlie received a new pair of steel-toed boots, enchanted to prevent the Romanian cold from creeping in, and an expensive looking bottle of gin, courtesy of his big brother.
After him, it was finally your turn. Your heart thudded from the attention, and you started unwrapping the larger present with trembling fingers. You tore off the paper and opened the white box underneath it, finding a knitted sweater with your initial on the front. Your throat pinched shut, tears burning behind your eyes as you traced your fingers over it.
“You're part of the family now, love,” Molly said, smiling warmly at you as you wiped away a tear with the back of your hand.
“Thank you,” you sniffled, laughing at yourself, and Charlie gave your ankle a reassuring squeeze, pressing a kiss to your knee.
The next present was from Fred and George, a stack of books you'd been eyeballing the last time the three of you went to Flourish and Blotts, and you pulled them in for a group hug.
Finally, it came down to the last present. The tension pulled taut as a bowstring when Charlie turned towards you, propped up on one knee, presenting the small box.
“I know how this looks,” he murmured, glancing down at himself. “But I promise I'm not that insane.”
You giggled nervously, taking the present from his hand and trying to ignore that his entire family was watching you. You tried to focus on Charlie, the rise and fall of his shoulders, the lock of copper hair hanging over his brow, and blocked the others out.
Carefully, you undid the ribbon and tore off the paper, revealing a black, dragon-leather box. Charlie gave you an encouraging nod, noticing the way you hesitated, and you cracked open the lid.
Inside was a golden necklace with a Welsh Green dragon scale pendant sitting on a velvet cushion. It was the most stunning shade of emerald you'd ever seen, reflecting beautifully in the candlelight, shifting blue, then pearlescent, and back to green. It was breathtaking, and you fought back the tears gathering on your lower lashes so you could continue to gaze at it.
“Charlie, this is—” emotion stole your words, and all you could do was throw your arms around him and bury your face into his shoulder.
“I hope you love it, darling. Had it made just for you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your hair. “Here, let me put it on you.”
You nodded, sitting up and trying to wipe your tears before his family could see what a mess you were, but when you looked around, you saw half of them crying too.
Molly blew you a kiss, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief, and you nearly lost it again.
Charlie gently took the box from your hands and walked around behind the couch. His cool fingers grazed the sides of your throat and the weight of the pendant settled against your clavicle. A moment later, your heard the clasp click, and felt the warm brush of his lips on the back on your neck.
You fondled the pendant with your fingers, the metal already warming against your heated skin, the scale heavy and smooth. Charlie came back around to the front, eyes lighting up at the sight of your smile.
“Merry Christmas, my love,” he hummed, wiping a tear from your cheek with his thumb.
You grabbed his collar and pulled him in for a kiss. “Merry Christmas, Charlie.”
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Thank you so much for reading!! (and if you have anything you'd like to read for Charlie, my asks are open!)
2K notes · View notes
lovegoodlane · 3 months ago
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Pursuing the Prefect
7.1k words
18+ only
Warnings: brief alcohol consumption, sexual innuendos, oral sex [female receiving]
Summary: A Ravenclaw prefect catches Fred's eye, but she's not as easy to seduce as he had thought (slow burn, jealous ex, jealous Fred)
----
You stepped into the courtyard with your friends, taking in the autumn air. The leaves were finally turning the burning red color that you loved so much. It reminded you of someone.
"Hey, are you even listening?" Cho asked, nudging your arm. You had drifted off into your own thoughts while admiring the scenery.
"Of course, of course. You were talking about your Herbology exam," you replied, linking arms with Cho. She frequently complained about your "dreamy" tendencies, scolding you for having a wandering imagination. 
Your group continued through the courtyard, almost making it across to the next set of doors until a roar of laughter rippled through the students dotted around the courtyard. You turned to the commotion, finding the Weasley twins huddled around something on the ground.
As a prefect, it was your job to investigate things like this. And knowing the Weasley twins, it was best to interrupt whatever prank they had going on. 
The boys heard the clacking of your Oxford shoes on the stone path, turning to you as you approached. Both wore their usual grins, full of mischief and pleasure in whatever they had just done. You looked to the ground, finding a pale blond ferret on the stones by their feet.
"Now, what are you two up to?" you asked, crossing your arms in an attempt to appear intimidating.
This only caused Fred's grin to widen. "We just thought that Hogwarts could use a new pet."
"And who exactly is this pet?" you asked, bending down to pick up the ferret. It looked up at you, and you noticed that it had remarkably blue eyes.
"I think we should call him Mal-ferret. He makes a bloody cute critter, doesn't he?" George replied, tickling at the ferret in your hands.
You gasped, realizing who was in your hands. Draco Malfoy.
"You turned Malfoy into a ferret?! Are you bloody insane?" you asked, your voice raising in frustration and disbelief.
The boys only chuckled at your reaction, clearly enjoying their prank.
"Turn him back right this instant!" you demanded, placing Malfoy back onto the ground. "Don't make me get Snape, you gits!"
Fred grumbled, the smirk still playing at his lips. He loved when you got angry. And when you bossed him around.
George pulled out his wand and mumbled a spell, turning the ferret back into a human. Slowly Malfoy's features returned as he grew back to his normal size. 
"I'm telling my father about this!" he fumed, staring up at Fred. The ginger towered over him, making Draco's threats rather ineffective.
Malfoy stormed off into the castle as the students in the courtyard laughed. The twins laughed along with them, still very pleased with themselves.
"When will you two learn..." you shook your head at them, taking out your notebook. "That's 20 points from Gryffindor."
Fred exhaled, reaching for your elbow as you recorded the point deduction in your notebook.
"Come on, little bird. You don't have to be that harsh," he said, his voice sounding like honey as he tried to convince you to change your mind.
You looked up at him, being sure to make direct eye contact. "Flirting with me won't change your fate, Weasley."
George chuckled behind him, and Fred's eyebrows shot up in surprise. He straightened his shoulders, preparing to respond.
Fred leaned in, his nose almost brushing your ear. "If I were trying to flirt with you, darling, it would be a bit more obvious," he said, his voice low.
His breath tickled your neck, causing goosebumps to form. Your words caught in your throat and you almost choked. Heat rose in your cheeks, and you balled your fists in an attempt to regain control.
"You don't have an effect on me, pretty boy," you replied, spitting out the last two words. Your eyes locked, and you glared at him. Your heart began to pound as you held eye contact. His perfect hazel eyes bore into yours, the corners of his mouth turned up into a grin. The look in his eyes was almost...lustful.
Your jaw locked as your stubbornness kicked in. He was not going to win this. 
Fred took a step back, his hand reaching for the end of your braid and twirling it. "I'll see you at the Quidditch match tomorrow, birdie."
His sickening smile remained on his lips as he turned to George, walking back toward the castle doors. You let out a breath and hustled over to your own group of friends.
It was too late for you. Fred had noticed the color in your cheeks. The way you were fighting for control. It was in that moment that he knew he had to have you.
Fred had always liked you. You had several classes together over the years, and you were kind to him and his brother. You tutored him in Potions during third year, and you weren't as stuck-up as your fellow Ravenclaws.
There was something so tempting about you. Your "good girl" persona mixed with your unshakable attitude. It was like a drug to Fred, and now that he knew that he could make you weak in the knees, he was going to exploit it.
By the time you made it across the courtyard to your friends, your entire face was bright red. "Let's go inside," you insisted, hurrying out the words as you pushed towards the doors.
You had barely made it inside before your friends were asking questions.
"What happened?" Cho asked, sounding genuinely confused. "The way Fred was looking at you was...intense."
You ran your hands through your hair, trying to calm yourself. You had always thought that Fred was cute, but his reputation as a player had kept you away. You'd talked to him before in passing, but never like this. It was an adrenaline rush to stand your ground against him. Holding power over him felt...addicting.
"The twins just...they were just being gits. And Fred is always...you know Fred. He's defiant," you replied, your sentences smashing together as you attempted to compose yourself.
"Hey, are you okay?" Cho asked, running a hand down your arm.
"Yeah, just...didn't expect Fred to talk back to me. It's not usually that difficult to take House points away," you said, attempting to explain away why you were so flustered.
"But the way that he was looking at you..." Beatrice chimed in. "He looked....I don't know. I've never seen him like that."
"He's just being Fred," you said, trying to dismiss it. "Let's go to the library, I have mountains of homework."
Your group headed towards the library, finding your usual table and settling in. You tried to work on an essay for Muggle Studies, but you couldn't focus. Your thoughts kept wandering back to Fred and his hazel eyes burning into yours. The way his breath felt on your neck. His fingers twirling your hair.
You tried to snap yourself out of it. You knew that Fred was a flirt. He had quite the reputation with the girls at Hogwarts, and he did not have a hard time finding a date. He was probably just messing with you. It was nothing, and you scolded yourself for replaying the scene in your head over and over again.
----
Fred and George were lounging in the Common Room, finding anything to do instead of their homework. Fred was sketching in his sketchbook while George conjured and disintegrated flowers over and over again.
"What was your deal earlier today with that prefect?" George blurted out, breaking the silence in the room.
Fred turned to him. "What do you mean?" he asked, acting confused.
"You know exactly what I mean, you git. You were toying with her," George said, disintegrating another clump of flowers with his wand. 
"I wasn't toying with her," Fred said, seeming defensive. "I just...wanted to see if she would actually take the points away."
"Sureeeeeeeeeeee...." George replied, obviously doubtful. "You were flirting with her. In front of the whole courtyard, mind you."
"That was not flirting," Fred scoffed, focused on his sketchbook.
"What are you drawing?" George asked, getting up from his place on the couch to look at Fred's sketchbook.
"Nothing," Fred said, holding the sketchbook tight to his chest. "It's none of your business."
"Oh come on, Fred. Get off it. Show me the bloody sketch," George said, holding out his hand for the sketchbook.
Fred huffed, reluctantly handing it over. George took hold of the sketchbook, turning it so he could see the sketch. On the paper was a replica of your face. Fred had perfectly mimicked the stubborn fire behind your eyes.
"Oh, so you obviously don't fancy her," George mocked, still staring at the sketch.
"I never said that I didn't fancy her," Fred said. "I only said that I wasn't flirting with her."
"Where is this even coming from in the first place?" George asked. "We've known her for years and you just now fancy her?"
Fred shrugged. "I've always thought she was nice. Not as insufferable as some of those other Ravenclaws. But...I don't know. Something is different now. She isn't falling over herself for my attention."
"Oh, so you like her because she's a challenge?" George replied, his voice mocking. "That's endearing."
"Shut it, you prat. I can't explain it. She's just different. She's confident, and she's smart, and she doesn't back down. Most of the girls at Hogwarts aren't like that," Fred explained.
"The only girl here who knows how to talk back is Ang, but she's mine," George chuckled. "Interesting that we both like a strong-willed girl. Must be a twin thing."
Fred socked his twin in the arm, taking his sketchbook back. "You're being an arse."
"Never thought you'd fancy a Ravenclaw. They seem a bit too bookish for you. And how do you even know she fancies you too?" George rambled.
"I'm not sure if she does, but I can change that," Fred said, a smirk crossing his features. "I'm going to get her to come to the match this weekend. She'll be mine before the weekend is over, you'll see."
----
Students were buzzing at breakfast on Saturday morning. It was the day of the big Gryffindor vs. Slytherin quidditch match, and everyone was nervous with anticipation for the face-off. You were somewhat indifferent to quidditch, but you usually went with your friends for something to do on a Saturday afternoon. It gave you a break from doing homework in the library.
You had just taken another bite of toast when someone tapped on your shoulder. You put the toast on your plate, turning around in confusion. Standing behind you was none other than Fred Weasley. A grin was on his lips and his hands were behind his back.
"Yes, Weasley?" you said, slight irritation lacing your voice. You had finally gotten him to stay out of your thoughts, and now here he was again.
"I wanted to make sure that you're coming to the match today," he said, a certain sweetness in his voice. "And I wanted to give you this."
Fred pulled a scarf out from behind his back. It was his Gryffindor scarf, adorned with his house colors, crest, and initials. You stared at it in disbelief as it hung from his hands in front of you.
"Uhm...okay," you replied, sheepishly taking the scarf from him. A blush was starting to form on your cheeks. This was quite the unexpected move from Fred.
"If you're going to cheer for me, you need to be wearing my colors," he said, giving you a wink. This did nothing to calm the redness of your cheeks. You racked your brain for a snide remark to shoot back at him.
"I don't know what you're playing at, Weasley, but if this is you trying to mark your territory, I don't want it," you said, finally regaining your resolve.
His eyes softened, making your stomach flutter. Damn it.
"I'm not marking my territory, birdie. I just wanted a pretty girl to have my scarf. You're my lucky charm today," he replied, cocking his head to the side in a way that gave him a boyish vibe.
You huffed in response, reluctant to accept his answer. Before you could make another snappy reply, Fred leaned in to whisper in your ear.
"I don't mark my territory with a scarf, darling," he whispered, his voice low enough to give you chills. "I can show you later if you'd like."
You swallowed hard, clenching your jaw. You were not going to let Fred Weasley know that he could make you flustered. He can make any girl at Hogwarts swoon, but you were determined to not be one of them.
Fred backed away, a devious smirk on his lips. "I'll see you in the stands, birdie."
Fred left the Great Hall as if nothing had happened. You sat there trying to catch your breath, irritated at him for getting you so wound up. He was infuriating. But for some reason, you liked it.
----
You settled into the stands with Cho and Beatrice. Fred's scarf was in your backpack, and you were still debating on whether or not to wear it. 
"Come on, just put it on! It's cute that he gave you his scarf," Beatrice said, nudging your shoulder with hers. "Fred is adorable. All of the other girls are going to be jealous."
"Bea, Fred is a troublemaker," Cho replied. "He doesn't have the best reputation, and I wouldn't want to get mixed up in that if it were me. Wearing that scarf is just going to bring unwanted attention."
You had been stewing over this ever since breakfast. Now you knew that Fred's flirting wasn't just your overactive imagination or wishful thinking. It was real. You had to decide what to do, and you weren't quite sure of his intentions. 
"Wait, I have an idea," you blurted out, getting up from the stands before Beatrice or Cho could reply.
Your feet carried you to a place that you had been many, many times before. The Slytherin quidditch team's locker room. 
You had dated Adrian Pucey for most of last year, and you used the locker room as a place to hook up after hours. The breakup was relatively amicable. Adrian wanted to get more serious, and you were too focused on passing your O.W.L.s. You parted ways on good terms, but you knew he would be willing to get back together if you asked. 
You knocked on the locker room door, and Draco was the one to answer.
"Yes?" he asked, half-dressed in his uniform.
"Can you get Adrian for me?" you asked, crossing your arms as you leaned against the door frame.
Draco shut the door. It opened a few moments later, but this time it was Adrian.
"Hey," he said, taking in your figure in the doorway. He always looked at you like that. A mix of lust and admiration. "Everything alright?"
"Yeah," you replied, inching closer to him. "Can I ask a favor?"
"Of course, love," he said, his eyes soft as he looked at you.
Part of you felt guilty for this. Toying with Adrian was totally unnecessary, but you wanted to get under Fred's skin in the same way that he got under yours.
"Can I wear your scarf today?" you asked sweetly. "For old time's sake? And for good luck. I'm rooting for you."
"Anything for you," he replied. "I'll be back with it in a moment."
You huffed a sigh of relief as he turned back into the locker room to fetch the scarf. You had worn it to all of his matches last year, cheering for him from the stands even though you didn't understand all of the rules of quidditch.
Adrian returned to the door with his scarf, handing it to you.
"Thank you," you said. "I'll give it back after the match. You're going to be great."
You leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. He smiled at you in the same way that he always had. It made your heart hurt in a way, but you were motivated by vengeance. 
You made your way back up into the stands to sit with Beatrice and Cho. You sat down, weaving Adrian's scarf around your neck.
Beatrice gasped. "You're a masher! Adrian's scarf!?"
You smirked, pleased with yourself. "Adrian and I are still friends. He deserves to win today."
Cho groaned. "You're digging your own grave. Fred is going to be insufferable when he sees you. And leading Adrian on? That's just dodgy."
"I'm not leading him on," you said, feeling defensive. "I just asked to wear his scarf for good luck. I didn't promise that we were getting back together."
"Whatever," Cho replied. "You're making your own mess."
The conversation came to an end as both teams entered the pitch. The crowd cheered as the players lined up on opposite sides of the pitch, awaiting their introductions. 
As the announcers began, Adrian's eyes found yours. You shot him a thumbs up, and he nodded at you with a small smile on his face. It was just like old times, and a pang of sadness shot through you.
From the moment that he stepped onto the pitch, Fred immediately clocked the scarf that you were wearing. The silver and green. Slytherin crest. The "AP" stitched onto the bottom of it near the fringe. He felt like his blood was boiling. 
He watched the interaction between you and Adrian, noticing the way that Adrian looked at you. You still had Adrian wrapped around your finger, and that pissed Fred off. He loved competition, but he loved winning even more. 
You finally dared to look at Fred and instantly regretted it. His jaw was locked in anger, and his eyes were burning into yours. Your stomach dropped for a moment, taking away the feeling of victory you had. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.
Before you could process the wave of emotions hitting you, the match had begun. You watched in anticipation, as Fred was now more determined than ever to bring home a win for Gryffindor. 
You chattered with Cho and Beatrice to try to calm your thoughts. What was Fred going to say to you after the match? You were wringing your hands in nervousness, dreading the interaction that you knew was going to come later. 
The crowd erupted into cheers as the announcer declared that Gryffindor had caught the Golden Snitch. You were on your feet in seconds, watching the Gryffindor team fly to the ground and pile onto each other in celebration. 
You felt like the wind was knocked out of you. You were sure that Slytherin was going to win. Everyone was predicting that. This victory was unexpected, and you knew that it would give Fred another reason to gloat.
The teams lined up to congratulate each other, a practice that was required by the school because of past instances of bad sportsmanship between the teams. They high-fived each other, muttering "good game" before moving on to the next player.
Fred had finally reached Adrian. "Good game, Weasley," Adrian conceded through tight lips.
"Thanks Pucey," Fred replied, slapping Adrian's hand in a somewhat friendly high-five. "Is that your girl up there?"
Fred nodded to where you were standing with Beatrice and Cho in the crowd. Adrian's scarf was still wound around your neck, and you were playing with the fringe on the ends.
"Um....not anymore," Adrian admitted.
You were watching Fred and Adrian from your place in the stands. Seeing them converse made you feel uneasy. Especially when Fred began smirking. The look on his face was nothing short of diabolical.
"That's too bad," Fred said. "She looks cracking in that scarf. But I think she'd look even better with my hands around her neck."
You couldn't make out what they were saying, but the next thing you knew, Adrian's fist was connecting with Fred's face. It took only seconds for the other players to begin hollering and beating on each other.
The professors hurried into action, herding the spectating students toward the castle and attempting to break apart the fighting players. Your heart was pounding in your chest. Why would Adrian hit Fred?
The more you thought about it, the more you were able to paint a picture of what likely had happened. Fred has a smart mouth, and Adrian has a quick temper. It's a lethal combination.
----
You were stood in front of your mirror, fiddling with the skirt that Beatrice had lent you. She insisted on going to the Gryffindor victory party tonight. She had her eye on Oliver Wood, and she refused to go alone.
Parties weren't usually your scene. You had gone to a couple of Slytherin parties last year, but you hadn't stayed for long. You were usually only there long enough to take a few shots of firewhiskey, talk to friends, and would leave with Adrian to hook up.
Because of this, your wardrobe was not fit for a Gryffindor victory party. Some girls showed up in not much more than a bra and short skirt, while others opted for tying up their uniform tops and jeans. Beatrice was kind enough to let you borrow an outfit, but it made you self-conscious nonetheless.
It was only a plain black skirt and cropped cami. Nothing fancy, but you felt unlike yourself. Your day to day outfit was your uniform, and even then you paired it with preppy Oxfords and frilly socks. Nothing that screamed "sexy". You grabbed for your oversized flannel that you usually wore on the weekends, deciding that an extra layer would help your comfort level.
"Babe, you need to relax," Beatrice said, peering into the mirror on her desk to put the final touches on her lipgloss. "It's just a Gryffindor party. And you can leave once I have Oliver in my clutches."
"I know," you said, sounding defeated. "I just...Fred is going to be there."
You caught Beatrice's eyebrows raise from the reflection of the mirror. "Oh, so you're getting all worked up over Fred?"
You huffed. "No! I mean...he's just...he's going to be mad about the scarf."
"He's probably too knackered from the match today to care," Beatrice replied. "And from the beating he got from Adrian."
A lightbulb clicked on inside your head. You had forgotten to return Adrian's scarf. It was in your book bag. You reached for it, pulling out the scarf.
"That reminds me that I have to return this to Adrian," you said, turning towards the door. "I'll meet you back here in 15 minutes, I promise."
Before Beatrice could answer, you had already whirled out the door and down the stairs. You were headed for the Dungeons.
You still knew the passcode to the Slytherin dormitories, so getting inside was no problem at all. You made your way into their common room, finding Adrian on the couch with several of his quidditch teammates.
Your cheeks began to burn when he looked at you. It felt like he was devouring you with his eyes. He gulped, sitting up from the couch to greet you.
"Hey, love," he said, walking toward you. "I wasn't expecting you."
"Yes, sorry," you said, feeling suddenly sheepish. "I came to return your scarf as promised."
You held it up to hand it to him, and he grabbed the other end, using it to pull you closer.
"You look....I don't even have words," he muttered, sending a lightning bolt down your spine. His hand found its way to your hip, and you felt squirmy under his touch. "Where are you headed?"
"Uhm...I'm going to the Gryffindor party with Bea," you admitted, pulling away from him. "She wanted support in her mission to get with Oliver Wood."
Adrian chuckled and let out a huff. "She's always up to something. Are you planning on spending any time with Weasley?"
"Adrian..." you started.
"No, you need to hear this. What he said about you," Adrian said, anger rising in his voice. "That prat sees you as nothing more than a good shag."
You bit your lip, suddenly feeling nervous. "I can make my own decisions, Adrian," you said softly, feeling small.
"I know, love, but I don't want you to get hurt. He's a prick. He gets bad marks. And the way he talks about girls? Disgusting," Adrian spat out, shaking his head.
"I'm not going to the party for Fred, I'm going for Bea," you said, hoping to soothe his frustration.
"He's just...I don't like the idea of him being anywhere near you. What he said about you today....he deserved that black eye," he grumbled.
"What did he say?" you finally asked, your curiosity getting the best of you.
"He said something about my scarf. How you would look prettier with his hands around your throat," Adrian said, sounding disgusted as the words came out of his mouth.
Your face felt like it was on fire. What was Fred thinking? Anyone who knew Adrian was well aware of his temper. A remark like that about you was a surefire way to get beat up.
"I...you know Fred. He was probably joking," you said, trying to brush it off.
"No. The look on his face...he was dead serious. Nobody gets to talk that way about you," Adrian replied, his fists balling at his sides.
"Adrian," you said, reaching out to touch his arm. "I promise you that I can take care of myself. I can handle Fred. He's just being a git, that's nothing new for him."
"I know, love," he sighed, melting into your touch. "I just worry about you. You know that I care."
You nodded, retracting your hand from its place on his arm. "And I appreciate that. But I can stand my ground. Beatrice will be with me the whole time, and once she's off with Oliver, I'm going to go back to my room. I will be okay."
This seemed to calm him down, as he finally unclenched his fists and took a deep breath. "Be safe," he said, giving you a quick kiss on the forehead.
You turned back toward the entrance to the common room, making your way back up to Bea's room. It had definitely been at least 15 minutes by now, and she was likely getting antsy waiting for your return.
----
You and Bea stood on the fringes of the Gryffindor common room. It was packed with students with cups in their hands. The music was loud enough that you thought the lights would start shaking. 
"Let's get some shots," Bea said, grabbing your hand and leading you towards the makeshift bar set up near the fireplace. 
She picked up two shots, handing one to you. "Down the hatch," Bea said, taking her own shot.
You followed suit, grimacing at the burning sensation that followed. You had never enjoyed firewhiskey.
Bea occupied herself by looking for Oliver. You saw a tall ginger mingling with a group of other Gryffindors, and you couldn't quite tell if it was Fred or George from your view of the back of his head. 
"Looking for me, darling?" a voice said from behind you. He was close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off of his chest.
You turned to face him. His freckled face was marred with a black eye, the bruise extending from underneath his eye to the top of his cheekbone. Adrian must have hit him pretty hard.
You winced as you took in the injury, imagining that it had to hurt. "What, am I really that ugly?" Fred asked in a teasing tone. 
You stared up at him with a tight-lipped expression, crossing your arms. "It sounds like you deserved that black eye," you remarked.
Fred shrugged. "My words had their intended effect. Is Pucey still fuming?"
"You are such a git," you said, irritated at his lack of maturity. "I know what you said."
"Birdie, it's nothing that I wouldn't say to your face," he said, a smirk pulling at his lips. 
"Stop calling me that," you replied, feeling angrier by the second. "I don't know what you're getting at, but I'm not an object. Now piss off."
Fred was taken aback by your words. His little game had gone too far.
"Darling, I didn't mean--" he started, reaching for your arm.
"I mean it Weasley," you said, your voice raising in volume. You shoved his chest, forcing him away from you. "Piss off."
Before he could get in another word, you had stormed off to find Bea. She had to be here somewhere.
In your mission to find Bea, you stumbled into Angelina. "Sorry, Angelina," you said, nearly knocking her drink out of her hand. "Have you seen Bea?"
She shook her head. "Last I saw her, she was with Wood. I haven't seen them in a bit, though."
You mumbled a thank you and continued your hunt. If she was off somewhere snogging Oliver Wood, you would be pretty impressed. That would be record time for Bea. 
You went up the stairs toward the dormitories, determined to find your friend. You began knocking on doors, hoping that Bea was behind one of them. You didn't want to leave until you knew she was safe.
One of the doors was cracked open, and you knocked. Nobody answered, so you peeked your head in. 
Someone was sitting in the dark, their head in their hands. As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you realized who it was. 
"Fred?" you called into the dark room, your voice soft.
The figure picked up its head. "Yes?" he replied, his voice quiet and full of despair.
You entered the room, closing the door behind you. You pulled out your wand, muttering "lumos" before going any further.
Fred was sitting on the edge of his bed, his elbows resting on his knees. As you got closer, you noticed his face. It was puffy and red as if he had been crying.
"What's wrong?" you asked, sitting criss cross on the floor in front of him.
He shook his head, clenching and unclenching his jaw. You sat there in silence for a few moments before he swallowed, finally answering. 
"I'm sorry," he said, quiet enough that it sounded like a whisper. "I didn't mean...you're not...I'm just so sorry."
You looked up at Fred. There was a softness in his eyes that you had seen a few times before. It was genuine. He looked absolutely gutted. 
"Why are you sorry?" you asked, carefully prodding at him for answers.
"I didn't mean to make you feel like....like some sort of object," he said, sounding embarrassed. "You're not. I don't see you like that. I've been messing with you, but I took it too far. And I'm sorry."
Your heart pounded in your chest. You had never seen Fred this vulnerable. And you had never heard him apologize before. 
"You're just...I thought we were both toying with each other. I liked it. The way you talk back to me, your stubbornness. I love that about you. But making you feel like I only see you as someone to shag...that's not what I intended. That's not how I feel," he continued. 
"Fred," you said, sitting up on your knees. You reached for his hand, holding it for a second before he pulled away. 
"I really do like you. I am so sorry that I made you upset," Fred said, locking eyes with you again. "You don't have to forgive me, but I need you to know how sorry I am. You deserve better."
You stood up from your place on the floor. You parted his knees, standing directly in front of him. He looked up at you from his place sitting on the bed, nothing but softness in his gaze. He truly was sorry, and you knew it. 
Your hand found its way to his cheek, your thumb stroking his cheekbone that was bruised purple. You swallowed hard.
You leaned down, your lips meeting his in a whisper of a kiss. It was gentle, it barely even felt like your lips met at all. But you forgave him. This was your way of showing it. 
You pulled apart, but your gaze still held. "I forgive you, Fred," you whispered, your hand still on his cheek.
A small smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. Not a mischievous grin like usual, but a genuine, kind smile. One filled with adoration. 
Fred was like putty in your hands. His tough exterior gave way to a person who was sensitive and kind. You had seen glimpses of that before, but never like this.
You finally knew how he felt about you. His feelings were genuine. And you were willing to trust him if he continued to be this vulnerable in front of you.
"I do quite enjoy teasing you," you said, smirking down at him.
"I knew it," he replied with a small chuckle, his hand lightly touching against your hip.
You were still stood between his legs, quite a precarious position. You knew exactly where you were going to go from here.
You shoved him back onto the bed, and he let out a "hmph" of surprise. Before he even got a word in, you were on top of him, straddling his torso.
Fred's eyes were wide with surprise and his brows dipped in confusion. "I thought you were sorry," you said, your voice dropping lower than usual, sounding almost sultry.
"I am," he said, still confused.
"Then prove it," you challenged him, placing a hand firmly on his chest.
Fred grinned up at you. Now you were on the same page. "Are you sure about that, darling?" he asked.
"Did I stutter?" you replied, a slight sharpness to your voice as you looked down at him.
His grin widened. "Don't say I didn't warn you," he teased.
In a matter of seconds, Fred had flipped you onto your back and pinned your hands over your head. He looked down at you, obviously very pleased with himself.
"Tell me if you want me to stop," he said, locking eyes with you.
You gulped. "I don't want you to."
Fred leaned down to kiss you, your hands still pinned firmly above your head. He shifted so he was holding your wrists with only one hand, using the other to trail up your side.
The kisses started off slow at first, but they quickly gained in pace as Fred felt you squirming underneath him. "Impatient, are we?" he said between kisses.
You only groaned in reply, fighting against him to gain control of your hands again. His free hand gripped your waist, pulling you closer into him. You wrapped your legs around his torso, begging him to be as close as possible.
His kisses migrated down to your jaw, then to your neck. He sucked a few love bites into the base of your neck, and you were dreading explaining those to your roommates in the morning. 
Fred was relishing in the tiny moans that were escaping from your mouth. He knew that you were desperate, so he was determined to take his time. 
"Freddie, please," you said, your voice almost sounding like a whine.
"Oh, so I'm Freddie now?" he teased, kissing along your collarbones. He alternated between kissing and nipping at your sensitive skin, and it was driving you insane.
"If this is your way of apologizing, I don't forgive you," you teased back, squeezing your thighs around his midsection. Fred chuckled.
"What would you like then, birdie?" he asked, suddenly sounding sweet and innocent. His eyes found yours, and your voice got caught in your throat. You wished he didn't have that effect on you.
"Let me think..." you replied, trailing off in pretend thought. "Most people I know apologize on their knees."
Fred's eyes changed, the playful glint being replaced by a competitive fire. His trademark smirk crept across his face, and you knew you were in for it.
"Alright then," he said, finally releasing you. He backed off of the bed, standing on the floor in front of you.
Fred grabbed you by the backs of your knees, pulling you to the edge of the bed in one fluid motion. You giggled in reply, surprised by his sudden movements.
"I meant to tell you, this outfit is cracking," he said, tracing his hands down your thighs. A bolt of lightning ran down your spine, and you arched off of the bed. "I think you could lose the skirt, though."
Fred looked to you for permission, waiting for you to nod before he drew your legs together and tugged at your skirt. He pulled it all the way off, folding it before putting it on the floor.
"You're folding my clothes at a time like this?" you joked, trying not to feel embarrassed as you lay on his bed in only your top and knickers.
"You don't strike me as someone who likes creases in their clothes," he replied, pulling your legs open and kneeling on the floor. "You're a prefect, for Merlin's sake."
"Don't remind me of that while I'm half naked in your dormitory," you scolded him, playfully knocking at him with your knees.
"You're a good girl, I like that," Fred commented, brushing his hands on the outside of your thighs. He placed a kiss next to your knee, slowly kissing down your inner thighs. 
You tried to even your breathing, frustrated at how worked up you were over just some kisses. You were no stranger to sex, but this was something different altogether. Fred made you feel like your skin was on fire. 
Fred had finally reached your knickers, kissing along the waistband. A whimper escaped from your lips, and he looked up at you.
What a vision. Fred Weasley, cheeks flushed, lips pink, staring up at you with lust-filled eyes from between your legs. Your heart was beating so fast that you knew he could feel it too.
"Are you going to be a good girl for me?" Fred asked, his fingers playing along your waistband. 
"Freddie....please," was all you could manage to say. Your voice was barely above a whisper.
He pulled at your knickers, bringing your legs together so he could take them off. Instead of folding them like your skirt, he simply tossed them to the side.
"Will you tell me if you want to stop?" Fred asked, becoming serious for a moment. 
"Yes," you replied, reaching down to cup his face. You could still make out his freckles from the glint of your wand light. He was simply perfect.
Fred kissed your wrist, then kissed along your thighs once more. Your breathing became more rapid in anticipation of where his mouth would go next.
You could feel his breath on you. His lips finally made contact with your center, your hands gripping at his ginger locks.
He licked at your clit, his hands squeezing your thighs. You moaned, your fingernails digging into his scalp.
It took him only moments to find his groove, causing moans and swears to fall from your lips as he worked you closer to your release.
"Freddie," you breathed out, tugging at his hair. He groaned into you, making your back arch even further off of the bed.
You bit your lip, trying to fight off your orgasm. Finishing this quickly felt like letting him win, and you couldn't have that. 
Fred could feel the tension building within your body. His hand reached up to find your cami, snaking underneath it. He expertly located your nipple, playing with it with his fingers. His mouth never left you for a second.
Your body finally gave in, tired from resisting the pleasure. Your hips bucked lightly off of the bed, a mix of "fuck"s and "Freddie"s leaving your mouth.
Fred worked you down from your orgasm slowly, finally leaving your clit to put a few love bites on your thighs. Your chest was heaving, and you were trying to find the words to say to him.
"So fucking gorgeous, birdie," he said, his eyes burning into yours. 
You moved backwards on the bed, motioning for him to join you. He got up from the floor, laying on the bed next to you.
"Do you forgive me now?" he teased, turning on his side to look at you.
"Hmmm...I'll need to consider it," you replied, grinning at him. 
Fred had been in control, but now it was your turn. You pushed at his shoulders, turning him so he was laying on his back. You straddled him once again, but he looked less surprised this time.
"You really love being in charge of me, huh?" he joked, his hands stroking at your sides. 
"It's only fair, Freddie. I am a prefect, as you so graciously reminded me," you said, propping your hands on his chest. 
"Okay, madam prefect. Are you going to give me detention?" he said, rolling his eyes at you as he grinned.
"You wish. An hour with me in a classroom? Sounds like a scene from your dreams," you teased. 
You leaned down to kiss him, hands still on his chest. His arms wrapped around your back, pulling you in closer.
A loud knock on the door interrupted your kissing. You and Fred scrambled apart, and you had pulled on your skirt in a matter of seconds.
Fred went to the door, cracking it open. "Is she with you?" a voice asked, sounding a lot like Beatrice.
You came up beside Fred so Beatrice could see you in the room. She looked you up and down, taking in your messy hair and crooked clothing.
"I...um, I was just coming to tell you that I'm going back to the dormitories," Bea said, obviously shocked at the sight in front of her. 
"Okay, I'll come with you," you said. "I'll meet you in the common room in a few minutes."
Bea nodded, turning and heading back toward the common room. Fred shut the door, and you looked for a mirror. You found one, attempting to tame your hair and straighten out your clothes.
"Perfect prefect doesn't like to get caught hooking up with troublemakers, does she?" Fred asked, half teasing and half serious.
"Fred," you said, turning to face him. 
"No, I get it. Not good for your image, or whatever," he said, busying himself with straightening the covers on his bed. 
"Freddie, look at me," you commanded, your voice edging between soft and authoritative.
He turned to you, his face unreadable. 
"I like you Freddie," you said, taking a few steps toward him. "I'm not worried about my image. Yes, I'm a prefect, but I don't have a broom up my arse."
Fred chuckled. You took the last few steps, finally standing in front of him. You wrapped your arms around his middle, pulling him into a hug. Your head rested perfectly against his chest, and his hands found their way into your hair. 
"I'm sorry for antagonizing Adrian," Fred said, talking into your hair. "I know that he still loves you. I shouldn't have used that against him."
"Yeah, not your brightest idea," you replied, face still buried in his chest. "Adrian will understand eventually. He won't like it, but it's not up to him."
"Godric, you're sexy," Fred said, squeezing you tighter.
You laughed. "What was that for?"
"You don't let anyone tell you what to do. It's bloody irresistible," he replied. 
"You're included in that, you know," you said.
"Oh, I am very aware," he chuckled. 
"I have to go home with Bea," you said, slowly pulling out of the hug. "See you around?"
"'See you around'? That's the best you've got?" Fred joked, kissing the top of your head. 
"You wouldn't like me if I weren't hard to get," you replied, standing on your tip toes to give him a quick kiss on the lips. 
You turned and opened the door, glancing over your shoulder at him.
"I will never stop pursuing you, birdie."
----
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rainydayathogwarts · 4 months ago
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Into the Woods - George Weasley
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Summary: Waking George up to go out for a morning walk at the Burrow has him feeling quite frisky... This is basically straight up smut... 1.1k+ wc
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The cool morning breeze had you snuggling deeper into George's side, chills running down your legs as the short sundress you wore did little to help warm you up. George, barely awake and holding back a yawn, welcomes your soft touch, a hand snaking around your waist to subtly pull you closer to him. "Maybe next time I won't wake us up quite so early." You admit, glancing up at your boyfriend, who chuckles at the comment. "I'd usually agree but I'm actually enjoying the privacy. You, me and the sounds of nature." A laugh bubbles in your chest and you jokingly push George away, who stumbles on the grass, gasping out a "You flirt!" despite both of you knowing how much you enjoy it.
When George finds his way back near you, both his hands make their way onto your hips, forcing you to face him. You cock your head to the side with a curious smile, accepting the kiss he leans down for. One of your hands rest on his cheek, though you begin to pull away when you feel his tongue swiping at your bottom lip. "George" You whisper when he chases your lips again, pressing individual pecks on them before trailing kisses on your cheek and down to your jaw. "George!" Lighting pushing his chest away from you, you attempt to separate the boy's lips from the area he begins sucking at on your neck.
His lips separate from your skin with a popping sound, though he doesn't fail to dig his face in the crook of your neck instead, hands on your hips moving to trap your body against his in a loving hug. "What's wrong sweetheart?" He asks, the wind making his ginger hair tickle your cheek slightly. "Georgie what are you doing?" "'M not doing anything." But his hands say otherwise, trailing down to your ass where he begins fondling you. You raise your eyebrows with a small smile on your face, one of your hands coming up to play with his short hair before asking him "Is this because of what happened yesterday?"
At your boyfriend's silence, you let out a small giggle. When you'd been called down for dinner in the middle of a quite intimate moment, you knew George would struggle to sit through the meal, however you hadn't been expecting long lasting effects. "I can give you a quick one if you want." You muttered, yelping when George immediately straightened up, one hand clasping around yours to drag you behind the trunk of a thick tree. George didn't hesitate to press his body against yours, a hand quickly making its way under your dress to pull your panties down to your ankles as he began kissing your jaw again.
"George! I meant like, like a handjob or something!" You whisper yelled, actions contradicting your words as you laced a hand in his hair, pulling him towards your lips to kiss you properly. He willingly obliged, this time gaining access to your mouth as he twined his tongue against yours in a messy kiss. Pulling away with a pant, George mumbled "Fuck, turn around for me sweetheart." You obeyed, spinning around and bending over just enough for your butt to stick out. Putting both hands on the tree trunk for support, you listened closely to the sound of George unzipping his trousers. He guided his cock between your thighs, wetting himself with your juices before spreading them down on his cock.
Clumsily, George probed two of his fingers near your entrance, whispering in your ear "Just want to prepare you for me baby." before sinking them into you. You whined at the intrusion, eyes widening at your own sound before remembering where you were. "George... Georgie, how close are we to the Burrow?" Your hips rocked back and forth with your boyfriend's fingers, looking over your shoulder to see him peering around the tree trunk. "Far enough."
You didn't even notice him taking his fingers out until he began pushing his dick into you instead, emitting a gasp from you as you gripped the wood in front of you. You heard George curse deeply, hands regaining position on your hips as he began to thrust into you at an increasing pace. Your chest hit the rough trunk in front of you with every powerful thrust, and you were squeezing your thighs together for more friction, the mix pain drowning you in pleasure. George leaned in closer to you, lips latching onto your neck to aggressively suck hickeys that would be impossible to hide in this dress. His hands gripped your hips tighter, pulling you back onto his dick with every thrust of his pelvis to hit your core at an angle that brought you too close to your orgasm too quickly.
Warning George of your approaching orgasm with a moan, you let him grab the nape of your neck, using the momentum to pull your torso off the tree trunk and up against his chest. He trailed that same hand down the front of your body, sneaking under the skirt of your dress, he cupped your pussy, thumb delving between your folds to put pressure on your clit. "Fuck, George!" You moaned, shutting your eyes tightly and throwing your head back on his chest, hands latching onto the thick denim of his trousers as your orgasm overtook your body, thighs beginning to shake slightly. "Yeah, that's it baby." You heard George mutter, hitting you with harsher thrusts that only increased the duration of your orgasm as he reached his high too, abs flexing with effort as he quickly pulls out of your cunt, aiming his cum away from you.
A hand still rests on your hip as George continues pumping his cock, milking out his cum with loud pants to catch his breath. You mimic his breathing, both hands now resting on your waist as you wait for your legs to stop shaking. George recovers before you, tucking himself back in his trousers and leaning down to pull your underwear up your legs. When he finishes, he wraps his arms around your front, pulling you back against his chest to press loving kisses against your forehead. "We have to check that one off the list." He whispers against your forehead, prompting you to spin in his arms, tugging the bottom of his shirt and pressing yourself on your tippy toes to steal a couple of real kisses from him. "Oh so that's why you did this? A bucket list?"
George shakes his head, making direct eye contact with you, a wide smile on his face as he confessed "No, I was just really horny."
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samantitaswrld · 2 months ago
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ron eating pussy for the first time?
what you need | ron weasley x reader
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|an: i missed writing lol and it’s hp season so i wanted to write for my man crush 4L since nobody writes enough abt him smh. also listened to what you need by the weeknd while writing this.
feel free to send me any ron or fred asks!
pure smut btw!
|w.c 1.1k
you’d been spending the last few weeks of summer at the burrow with the weasleys, just as tradition called for. except this year, you and ron had made things official between the two of you. ronald had always been your kryptonite. his pouty, pink lips, button nose, bright blue eyes, toned biceps, and thick thighs. now he was finally yours, yours to kiss, to hold, to fuck. to make feel good. 
 you were so worked up from earlier. watching ron and his older brothers joking around together, roughhousing around the burrow in his white wife beater and low-hung plaid pajama bottoms. all you could think about was how badly you wanted to rip them off of him. you felt yourself getting wetter and hotter as you watched him shove fred for a joke he had made about his love for his favorite quidditch team. 
ron had gotten so muscly this year; you wanted so badly to feel him roughhouse you, to throw you around, to overpower you with his strength as he pleasured you and— 
“what are you so deep in thought about, hm?” fred said as he collapsed on the couch next to you. 
“oh... nothing. where’s ron?” you'd said as you clenched your thighs together, upset as you noticed his presence was no longer there, no longer around for you to gawk at.
“your boyfriend went upstairs to get ready for bed, i reckon. it’s getting late; you might want to start heading up there too, don’t you think?” the older brother whispered in your ear; without hesitation, you stood up and made your way into ron’s room, knowing exactly what you wanted, what you needed. 
opening his door, you found ron sat on his bed, back against the headboard, tinkering with a trinket his brothers had given to him. you make eye contact as you swiftly shut the door behind you and make your way to your boyfriend. 
you reckon he’s felt the same way today too, as no words are exchanged between the two of you, yet the sexual tension hangs thick over the room. he looks up at you with those big, blue eyes, and you can feel the pulse of your heat as you grab his trinket from his hands and place it on his bedside table. 
he knows; he knows exactly what you want, what you need. he’s never done it before, but he’s never wanted to pleasure you so badly before. you look so sexy in your white, lacy tank top that hugs your curves in all the right ways and accentuates your breasts, the way your sleep shorts fit perfectly on your waist, the way that your long hair runs down your back, and the way that your skin glows with lust. lips pink and bitten raw and eyes lidded low, pupils dilated with want.
you pull one leg over his lap and straddle him as he wastes no time placing his hands on your hips to guide you there. you greet him with a warm, wet, and passionate kiss, pressing your hot pussy down onto his semi-hard cock.
he can feel the pulse of your pussy through your thin sleep shorts on his dick, groaning at the sensation. he realizes how worked up his poor girl has been all day; he knows exactly what his baby needs from him. 
you whimper and rut your clit against his hard cock as his large, calloused hands roam your hot body. he places his hand at the small of your back and flips the two of you over with your back against the mattress. 
“is this what you wanted, my love?” he says as he lowers himself face to face with your clothed cunt. 
you look down at him and nod slowly as you abuse your bottom lip with your teeth. ron understands how long you must’ve been waiting for this to be so dumb off the few moments of friction you shared. 
ron wastes no time sliding your shorts and panties off of your body in one fluid motion. you felt his large, calloused hands on your warm, sticky thighs, spreading your legs apart as he stared at your bare, wet pussy from between your legs with wide eyes. 
oh fuck 
he has no idea how to do this. 
“baby, do you need help?” you ask, staring down at him into his eyes as he slowly nods; he’s gotten shy and a little embarrassed that he took it this far without knowing what to do. but you feel the opposite; as a matter of fact, it kinda turns you on even more.
“don’t feel embarrassed, my love; just start with small licks, yeah? can you do that for me, ron?” you said to him, the tone of your voice, and the affection laced within your words makes his cock leak with anticipation as he begins to do exactly what you told him to. 
you feel ron’s warm, wet tongue softly lick a stripe along your clit, the feeling sending fireworks through your abdomen. you whimper as you throw your head back while he continues to lap at your clit with small, unsure motions.
you grip his head of hair, letting him know he’s doing everything right, encouraging him to venture out on his own and begin letting your moans dictate the way his tongue moves against your aching pussy. 
his tongue works magic on your pussy as he flattens his tongue out more, licking longer stripes along your folds and sucking on your clit as he reaches the top, his spit mixing with your juices and coating his chin as he sucks and laps at your cunt. 
it’s all too much as he messily and hungrily eats your pussy, the feeling of the wetness he created dripping down your cunt and thighs, the sounds of him slurping away at your clit, and the eye contact he’s making with you as he does so.
“ron, i can’t—i’m gonna cum. oh fuck,” you whisper shakily as you bite your bottom lip raw from muffling your own moans. one of your legs locking up and shaking from their position that he keeps them held up in the air.
without words, he takes it upon himself to lap at just your clit in a rapid, continuous motion that he thinks you seemingly enjoyed the most. this sends you over the edge completely. gripping at his hair tightly as you throw your head back into his pillow once more. 
assuming you’ve finished, by the way, your limbs went limp, he placed a final, lasting kiss on your clit before finding his way back up to face you as he placed another kiss on your warm, red lips. 
“did i do well?” he asked boastfully, a grin plastered across his face, assuming he already knows the answer to this question due to the state you’re in.
“mhmm…” was all you could muster up, as the kiss was all you needed to drift off into a satisfied sleep in your boyfriend's arms. 
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teddyniffler · 2 months ago
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Simply having a Weasley Christmas time
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that-flipping-phoenix · 1 month ago
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remember when harry’s clothes were always too big for him because he was a stick of a child. remember when ron hit a growth spurt, ended up taller than half his siblings and realistically, all his clothes became too small. what if they just- what if they swapped
little tiny harry having clothes that were given to him by someone who loves him for the first time, having clothes that actually fit him, having clothes that feel like family.
lanky youngest son ron getting clothes that have barely be worn (because dudley got everything he ever wanted and had too many clothes to count, let alone wear regularly), trousers that don’t stop above his ankles, clothes that are only his and not bill and percy and fred’s first.
harry and ron started swapping clothes and never stopped. they are now fifty and don’t know who owns what. it is a reoccurring issue
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hpseeker99 · 8 months ago
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McGonagall: Ok so you hate Potter, now you hate Weasley. How many enemies do you have exactly? Snape, without hesitation: 37 Snape: It was 36, but then my bitch neighbor had a baby
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just-some-random-blogger · 2 months ago
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Sweets & Sweeties
You opened a bakeshop called Sweets & Sweeties which was just beside Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, and one day you accidentally lock yourself outside.
George Weasley x Reader (x Fred Weasley) | 1k+ | cw: fem!reader, Murphy's law, fred lives stfu, fluff, rizzler!Georgie, typos, etc.
A/N: i have this fic called tormented spirit and its fucked me up cos of how sad it is HAHAHAH i need a break and thats coming from someone who LOVES angst. ALSO i was never super into Harry Potter so idk lore™ but I've been watching the phelps twins and their baking show related content and i'm just so endeared by them AHHHHHHHHH. please leave comments/reblogs because this feels a bit mid cos i havent written fluff in 100 years T_T cross posted on ao3 | continuation fic
@pendragora if i have to suffer, you have to suffer
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Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes was always busy. Everyday, there were children and children-at-heart going up and down the block, eager to buy themselves trinket or treat to promptly cause mischief.
Because of the shop's success, your own shop also benefitted from it. Sweets & Sweeties was your dream come true. As a child, you loved sweet treats, and you would grow to learn you loved making them just as much.
You hadn't expected to sell out as often as you did, and you knew it was all thanks to the fact the establishment next door brought as many customers as they did, who then became your customers.
You were extremely grateful, and tried time and time again to show it through a simple gesture of a gift. It was rather hard to find the time to do so however, as the neighbor establishment was constantly packed. The first time you saw the owner of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, he had introduced himself as: "George Weasley," he says, dusting off his hands before reaching one out for you.
You merely stare at him, your smile flattening slightly, only to grow wider as you chuckle. Both of your hands held a tray of cake, and it was quite a weighty cake at that, "I-"
"Right," he brushes his hands on his trousers, "right. Sorry, let me help you with that."
He takes the cake from you and ushers you deeper into the store. You gasp when a small child runs across him, unfortunately bumping into his side. Thankfully, George manages to lift the cake, evading the collision. The girl who bumped into him looks up, eyes wide, hands clutched, looking rather guilty, "s-sorry, Mr. Weasley."
The tall man's brows furrow as he looks down. He whines, "s'not Mr. Weasley, it's George."
The girl stares at him for a moment.
"Say it with me: George."
She clutches her chest and mutters, "Georgie?"
George purses his lips together in a soft smile and nods, "Georgie it is then."
Your hand comes to your mouth as you chuckle and follow after the red haired man. He leads you into the back office and you gasp yet again, this time, because of the photograph on the wall. It was a family portrait of a myriad of other red heads breaking into a wide grin.
"There's two of you!" you point.
George sets the cake down on his desk and crosses his arms once he's besides you, "nah. There's only one person in the family as good looking as me," he turns to the photograph, "that's my twin brother, Fred."
"Oh," you turn to him, taken off guard by how close he was, "is..." you casually take a step back, "he around?"
"Yeah," he shrugs, "probably showing the customers how to use the thingamabobs."
You chuckle and nod, "well," you motion vaguely, "I know you're very busy, so I won't take any more of your time."
The man tilts his head, lips curled into an soft grin as he shrugs, "you don't hear me complaining, love."
You aimlessly look off to steel away the giggle that threatened to leave your lips, "right," you clear your throat, "ehhh, do tell me if the cake is to you—"
Before you can even finish your thought, George is back at his desk. He swipes a dollop of frosting and tastes it.
"—r... liking."
He raises his brows as he nods, "it's to my liking."
The both of you just stand there for a moment, staring at each other. You're now rather painfully aware of your breathing.
You start when the office door bangs open and a near exact replica of George comes walking in, "you would not believe what just—"
George's eyes are on you as you turn to his twin. You raise your hand, "hi... I'm-" you point to nowhere, "-the baker next door."
He turns to George, then back to you, reaching out his left hand, "Fred Weasley."
You smile and shake his hand, speaking your name in return.
"Hey!" George walks over, reaching out a hand, "I didn't get a handshake!"
You turn to George and his outstretched left hand, about to shake it, but Fred does not release you, and only turns to his twin.
"Fred-"
"I'm not done."
George watches Fred shake your hand, "well that's more than enough."
"Not really," Fred shrugs.
You chuckle softly, making them turn to you. You then offer your other hand to George, crossing your arm over the other, "here."
George looks at it and takes it with his right one. The three of your shake each other's hands for a questionably long time.
When you're finally released, you hold back a laugh and rub your palms on the side of your hips, "right... it was a pleasure to meet you both."
They nod in sync, "the pleasure is ours."
You giggle and raise a hand in regard, "come by my shop sometimes."
They wave back at you as you head for the door.
"I'll make you both a cuppa."
They smile as you exit their office. Once you were gone, the brothers instantly turn to each other.
Fred says, "she's cute."
"Yeah, I saw her first," George counters.
"Pfft, so what?"
"So, everything."
Meeting them was so... notable, that you thought about it the entire day. You found yourself giggling about the handshake for the nth time as you closed up, and right after you heard the door click, you whip your head back in realization that you'd left your bag in the counter, along with your keys.
You shake the doorknob, trying to will the door open, though you knew it was pointless, "no, no, no, NO!"
You step back and stare at the windows of your shop. You ruffle your hair and huff as you debate how bad the idea of breaking the glass with the rock would be.
You stare that your sign that read Sweets & Sweeties, feeling taunted by it so suddenly, and then you remember you forgot another thing. The window on the rooftop was surely open from when you opened it to let out some steam. What's more, it looked like it was about to rain!
"Oh," you groan and wrap your arms around yourself, "thank goodness I left my brolly too."
You crouch in front of your unlit shop, feeling rather helpless.
You hear a bell ring and turn to the shop next door. Out comes George and Fred, much wiser than you, with their brollies and suitcases in hand. They call your name in unison and you sigh as you come to stand.
"What's wrong, sweetie?" one of them says.
You freeze at the pet name, and he seems to catch on. He points upward, "sweetie."
You turn to your sign and feel bashful. You awkwardly chuckle, "right, I-"
"You alright?" another asks.
You look between them, "yeah," and shake your head, "no, ehhh, sorry... I... which is," you point in confusion, "which?"
"George," the one to your right raises a hand.
"Fred," the one to your left raises a hand.
"Right," you lower your head as you shake it, "sorry, I don't-"
"You'll get used to it," they say in unison.
You huff as you look back at them, both of their lips are pursed, "right..." you turn to your shop and point, "I, eh... locked myself out."
They turn to where you did.
"And I left my bag..."
They turn back to you.
"And my keys."
They make a face.
"And my brolly," you turn to you feet for a moment, "and the window in my roof open."
"Oooh," they say at once. George bares his teeth, "bad luck."
"And," Fred adds, looking up, "it looks like it's about to rain."
"I know!" you gasp, placing your hands on both sides of your head.
For a moment, the three of you stand there, soaking in your misfortune. A moment later, George turns to his brother and says, "hang on."
Fred turns to him.
"Don't we have a window in the roof, Fred?"
Fred turns to you, "that we do, George."
George turns to you too, "how are you with heights?"
"Ehhh..." your lips part, "....fine?"
With that, the twins head to the entrance of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, beckoning you over. They reopen the lights, leave their things by the door, and lead you upstairs.
"Now," George (you think) says, "I'd like to think our roof's pretty sturdy, but," he pulls out wand from his coat jacket, "I can always do a good ol' Levioso if anything goes awry."
You are comforted by the thought and nod as you make your way up. When you get to the top, you see a singular tiny window by the side of the roof and you momentarily wonder if this was a good idea.
"D'ya know what," George (you think) says, turning to his brother, "you should go down and watch her as she crosses, so in case anything happens," he points, "you can make sure she doesn't fall."
Fred (you think) shakes his head, "why me?"
"Because it was my idea to cast Levioso, Fred," George (you were right) retorts.
"Then you go down!" Fred whines.
"I'm not going down," he crosses his arms, "I just got here."
"Yeah, so did I—"
"SCISSORS, PAPER, ROCK!"
You watch to the instant match the twins have, finding one rock and scissors at hand. George grins, raising his winning fist. Fred rolls his eyes and sighs. He turns to you before going down.
George smiles and motions with his head, "come on then, I'll help you up."
He drags a box towards the window and reaches a hand out to you. You take his hand and step up, then reach for the sides of the window, pulling yourself up to get on the roof. You are glad their window was right in front of yours and that it wasn't a far walk at all.
Fred, who just got outside, catches his breath before cupping the sides of his mouth, "careful!"
You turn to him from below and call back, "trying!"
George watches you closely as you cross to the other side. He probably shouldn't think the wobble of your limbs endearing, but he does. The moment reach your window, he claps, "aye!"
You are quick to jump down, grunting as you do so. You turn around and smile at George who was already smiling back at you. He raises his hands, "you did it, sweetie!"
"I did, wheezing wizard!"
"Well," he tilts his head, "it's Wizard Wheezes but..." he shrugs, "you can just call me Georgie."
You raise your brows.
"I- I mean George."
You chuckle and purse your lips as you shake your head, "too late, Georgie."
"Now, hold on-"
"See you downstairs, Georgie!" you give a toothy grin as you close your window. You bite your lip and giggle to yourself for a moment, "cutie."
Georgie clenches his jaw as he stares the window. He sighs and kicks the box away before closing it, "damn."
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mastermindmiko · 5 months ago
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The Ear that wasn't
pairing: George Weasley + reader
word count: 1,312
warning: injuries, death and it's a bit angst
Summary: After the battle of the seven (eight) Potters, George becomes distant, and you decide to find out why
masterlist
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After moving to the Burrow, things have changed. Everyone’s more sombre, and the world seems a little darker. The impending doom of Voldemort’s terror a bit more real. Madeye died and Hedwig as well when we were attacked while moving from Privet Drive to here. It was fun pretending to be Harry for a bit, the polyjuice potion wreaked and tasted awful, but looking like someone else was amusing, that was before death eaters started throwing spells left and right at least. 
The most noticeable change in my life was the distance that George has been placing between us for a month since we came here. The first two days I stayed by his side while he was recovering from becoming ‘holey’. We couldn’t bring any medics to the Burrow, so we all had to make due with our collective medical knowledge; finding spells to ease the pain, recalling how to put on a proper bandaid, and how to stop the blood from gushing. 
Fred and I were riding together, and went to the Burrow via another route along with the others in order to confuse the death eaters as to who was Harry while George was getting hit with a sectumsempra. We arrived at the Burrow and there seeing Hermione’s sad expression looking at me and Fred made my heart lurch to my throat. I couldn’t recall a time I’d run faster inside to find George lying on the sofa. 
I spent the first few days tending to him, and spending as much time near him as possible, mostly due to the nature of our relationship and also to take care of him. We’d only gotten news about his ear when we finally reached madame pomfrey (a trustworthy person) who told us that George wouldn’t be able to get his ear back. I’d expected it, but George seemed heartbroken. 
I stayed behind after dinner, tidying up the table at a slower pace than usual, watching as George cleared the cups too. His movement is precise but never without a little whimsy. The bandage is still wrapped around his head, and he starts shoving cups between the crook of his elbow to hold more in one go. I clear my throat, “How do you feel?” 
“Well.” 
I sigh, knowing how curt all his replies have been. He heads into the kitchen and I continue to stack the rest of the plates before waving my wand, sending them into the kitchen. I walk behind them and point my wand into the sink, allowing them to gracefully pile up inside. The magical tools get to work and start rinsing. 
I look into the living room first looking for George, and I see him sitting on the couch twirling around his wand, and staring off deep in thought. Madame Pomfrey had informed us that his (additional) lack of focus could occur due to the concussion and spell, as well as some loss of balance. I gulped, “Do you need anything?” 
“No.” He grumbles, and leans back sinking into the sofa. I walk closer to him and take a seat beside him. He doesn’t bother to spare me a glance. I bit my lip and hesitantly said, “We can go take a nap for a bit in the room if you’d like?” 
“I don’t need you fussing over me.” George snaps, and I purse my lips, used to this attitude from him over the past month. I shuffled closer to him, and confessed, “I’m not fussing over you, I just want to spend time with you.” 
He sets his wand aside and sighs. He puts his head in his hands, hunching over his thighs. The fire crackles and fills up the silence between us. I place a comforting hand on his back, stroking his skin, feeling the soft material of his shirt and his vertebrae. He sighs once more, and deep in thought he whispers, “Why?” 
“Because you’re my boyfriend.” I chuckle at the absurd question, even when he wasn’t I loved spending time with him. He looks at me, palm holding his cheek, and my amusement dies down from seeing his miserable eyes, and wrinkled eyebrows. My hand lifts from his back and moves to his hand. I ask, “What’s going on, George?” 
“I-” he stutters, and looks away. I squeeze his hand supportively, and he closes his eyes. I let all the thoughts that have been jumping around in my head stay for a second of all the things he could say, the most prominent being: I don’t love you anymore. He sucks in a breath and turns back to lock into my eyes. He mused, “I’m not good-looking anymore, and I don’t want you to not want me.” 
I blink, and process. George, the ever confident, forever handsome, cocky and funny George Weasley doesn’t think he’s good-looking anymore. What would even make him think- oh…the accident. I say, “Is this about your ear?” 
He looks away once more and I know that it’s the truth. I start rubbing comforting shapes over the back of his hand, and I reach over to grab his other hand. I protested, “I don’t think you’ll ever stop being good-looking, not to me.” 
He scoffs, not believing my words. I could see his eyes begin to have a slight shine to them. I pout at his expression, and I drop his hand to reach over and cup his cheek. I turn his head towards me, and brush my thumb over his cheekbones. He let out a bitter chuckle before he smiled, sputtering, “I’m practically deformed.” 
I smile at him, and give him a look. I lean into him, smelling his familiar scent that I haven’t been able to smell in a while. The wood and biscuits engulf my senses. I kiss his lips, and his eyes flutter momentarily to a close. I let my lips linger near his before pulling away and watching his closed eyes as he sighs before looking back at me. I whisper, pulling his face to mine, “Even if you were a troll, I’d still love you George.” 
He gulps and checks my eyes for any glimmer of a lie. He leans into my hand, and pouts. He relaxes looking at my face before slowly turning his head to press a kiss to my inner palm. His lips linger and he cups my hand with both of his. He kisses it again before adding, “I don’t want you to not be attracted to me.” 
“You’re plenty attractive George with or without two ears.” I commented. He squeezes my hand, the warmth of his fingers spreading to mine, providing a comforting head during the dead of winter. I convince, “And I believe that there’s more to our relationship than just your looks, George. There’s your wit, and your kindness, and your humour- and I could go on for so long, so you’ll have to stop me, and your smile and laugh, your courage-” 
“I get it, I get it.” George chuckles, and pulls our intertwined hands back up to his lips to press a kiss on each of my knuckles, feeling his warm breath on my hand and the softness of his lips on each of my knuckles. He gazes at me sincerely and says, “Thank you.” 
“It’s only the truth.” I state, and he pulls me into a long and deep hug, resting his head into the crook of my shoulder, giving me kisses whenever he sees fit. My arms still reach after him when he pulls away to say, “I’d also still love you even if you were a troll.” 
“Thank you, that’s good to know.” I laugh, and I finally see that wonderful humorous grin of his. He stands up and encases my hand to pull me up beside him. He presses his lips to mine then suggests, “How about that nap?” 
a/n: I really wanted the gif to be the scene when Harry and Ginny are kissing and he goes "Good morningg", but alas I couldn't find one, so this will have to make do. Hope you liked this one.
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toorumlk · 1 month ago
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molly’s girls!
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agreeeeeeeeeee · 2 months ago
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Best Friends Brother ⊹ . + °
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| Charlie Weasley x fem!reader
summary: You are Fred & George’s best friend, and meet their mysterious older brother, Charlie, at a product launch at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.
cw: MDNI 18+ smut with basically zero plot. charlie has an absolutely filthy mouth. no war (or light war? idk, everyone is alive)
an: this was supposed to be a casual hook up when I initally planned it, but the dick was so good they fell in love ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
part two | masterlist
+ ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . +
Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes had a line around the building, hopeful witches and wizards desperate to get a glimpse of the Weasley twin’s newest product. You strolled past them in your mini dress and tights, more than a little chuffed by their jealous glares.
The doors were locked, blocked off with enchanted rope, but when Fred spotted you through the window, he ran to unlock the doors.
“Y/n! I’m so glad you could make it. Georgie, looks who’s here!” Fred slung an arm over your shoulders and ushered you into the store. It was the cleanest you’d ever seen it, with streamers and lights strung everywhere, and a long table loaded with food and drink.
“Y/n!” George shouted, popping up from behind the register. Both of them were dressed in freshly pressed brown suits, looking exceptionally dapper. He came aroud the counter and pulled you into a hug. “Thanks for coming out.”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” you grinned up at them, pride filling your chest. You’d been close with the twins for years, a friendship that started in school and only grew in adulthood, since you worked a few doors down at Honeydukes.
“Come, you have to meet our family!” They ushered you upstairs, where a dozen or so people waited, several faces were familiar, some were not.
“You remember Harry, Ron, and Ginny,” George said, and you greeted them all with a wave.
“And our parents, Molly and Arthur,” Fred continued.
“Oh, y/n! How lovely to see you!” Molly cooed, pulling you into a rib-cracking hug. “My, what a beautiful young lady you’ve grown into.” She pinched you cheek, and heat scorched your face.
“And this is our older brother’s Percy, Charlie, and Bill. And Bill’s wife, Fleur.”
You turned to the trio of men hovering by the bookcases, and nearly tripped over your heels. Percy, you remembered from school, Fleur as well, and Bill was too busy gazing down at her blonde head to glance your way. But Charlie. He stared straight through you, his dark eyes swallowing you whole.
“Pleasure,” Charlie said, his voice honeyed and deep. He was shorter that Percy beside him, but muscular enough that the maroon blazer he wore seemed a little stretched at the shoulders. His white button down shirt beneath it was tailored perfectly to fit across his wide chest and taper at his defined waist. Freckles kissed his cheeks and forehead, his skin a shade tanner than his siblings, though he shared their ginger hair, mid-length and wavy.
“Hello,” you managed, giving him a small smile. But before you could engage further, George whisked you away.
“It’s tiiiime!” Fred shouted, waving his wand, and the doors burst open.
+ ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . +
As the event raged on, you found yourself drawn to Charlie’s orbit, watching as he mingled with guests and chatted with his family. He seemed to draw a lot of attention, what with his rugged good looks and the fact that he was a dragon trainer. It seemed everyone wanted a sliver of Charlie Weasley’s attention.
So you admired him from a far, and tried to help Fred and George as best you could.
You chatted with customers, explaining the new product the best you could, but you kept feeling the tug of someone’s attention at the nape of your neck, distracting you. When the customer finally moved on, you glanced towards the direction of the feeling, and caught Charlie watching you over the rim of his fire whiskey, ignoring the gentleman attempting to talk to him entirely.
The air froze in your lungs, you heart tripping over itself. His gaze was scorching, and if looks could burn…you were certain your clothes would be rendered to ash.
Desire pooled in your lower belly, heating your blood to an uncomfortable degree. Your heart was pounding so loudly in your ears, you missed George approach.
“Hey, y/n, enjoying yourself?” He asked, offering you a glass of champagne with a candy snitch floating in it.
You accepted with a smile. “I am, thank you. You guys have done an incredible job.”
George beamed, clinking your glasses together before loping off to sell to another customer.
“So, how long have you known my brothers?” A low voice murmured in your ear, and you whirled around, nearly spilling champagne all over Charlie’s front. He caught your elbow with a steady hand, his grip firm but gentle. “Easy, love,” he said, the corner of his mouth lifting.
“Oh, uh, f-five years? I think,” you stuttered, looking anywhere but his smoldering eyes.
“Then how have we never met? I’d certainly remember you.”
You shrugged a shoulder, taking what you hoped was a casual sip of wine. “Seems you haven’t been paying much attention,” you teased, finally meeting his eyes.
His smirk grew into a soft smile. “What a grave error on my part.”
“Are you in town for the event, or…?” You could feel heat climbing up your neck, but you willed yourself to keep a level head. You knew how to flirt, had done so with plenty of blokes in your time, but none as handsome and disarming as Charlie.
“I thought so, but evidently the Gods had other ideas.”
You knees nearly buckled. “Like?” You coyly tilted your head, allowing your eyes to trail across his broad shoulders, down his chest. Was this guy seriously flirting with you? You knew you weren’t unattractive, but Charlie was…phew.
“Like…” He flushed a little, betraying his suave demeanor, and your heart slipped a little further into his hands. “Meeting the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
“Ever?” You teased, pulling your lower lip between your teeth.
“In this life and probably the next.” He took a sip of his whiskey, letting his eyes wander over you the same way yours did him. And based on the way they darkened, his pupils widening just a fraction, he liked what he saw as much as you did.
“Does that line always work for you?”
“Well, considering I’ve never tried it, why don’t you tell me?”
+ ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . +
Charlie slammed the door shut behind you before crowding you against it, his lips colliding with yours. He tasted like whiskey and pumpkin, with a tinge of cigarette smoke that went straight to your head, and you eagerly tangled your tongue with his, pushing his blazer off his shoulders.
“Colloportus,” he murmured against your mouth, and you heard the lock schick into place. He shrugged his blazer off, tossing it somewhere in the dark storage closet, and his hands were on you again, one sliding into your hair, the other on your lower back, drawing you closer.
“Charlie?” You gasped as his lips traveled down your neck, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin, his short beard a rough contrast to the suppleness of his kiss.
“Yeah, honey?” he panted, lifting his head to meet your eyes.
“I don’t usually…” you trailed off, nerves suddenly closing your throat.
His hand slid from your hair to cup your cheek, his callouses rough against your heated skin. “Me neither,” he murmured, resting his forehead against yours. “We can do whatever you want, love. I’ll take you to the nicest restaurant in London, or on Dragon-back to the Swiss Alps, or on a cruise ship to the Americas—”
You cut him off with a kiss, throwing your arms around his neck. “And if I want you to fuck me?” you said between pecks, tugging at the roots of his hair.
He smiled and scooped you up by the meat of your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist so your skirt pushed up over your hips. “Then I’ll fuck you as often as ya’ like.” He turned and dropped you onto some kind of work bench, sending the papers and junk flying with a sweep of his arm.
“The twin’s are going to be pissed,” you giggled, leaning back onto the wood so he could continue his previous assault on your neck.
“Fuck ‘em,” he muttered, nipping at your collarbones. His hands gripped your thighs with dizzying strength, the same hands that handled massive, fire-breathing beasts, and spread you open for his hungry gaze. “Seven fucking hells,” he breathed, running his hands down your inner thighs. “You’re perfect.”
In a swift motion, he ripped your tights at the seam, the sound sending a pulse of arousal to your already dripping pussy, a sharp gasp forcing it’s way from your throat. His fingers glided over your wet panties, so delicate compared to the force he’d used heartbeat before.
Your hips lifted slightly, chasing his gentle touch. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been this desperate for someone to touch you, your entire body tuned to his every breath, every twitch of his muscles. He looked so fucking good leaning over you, his previously tidy shirt rumpled, his hair in copper waves around his face, his lips a little red from your fevered kisses.
With his ring finger, her drew your panties to the side, his middle fingers gliding through your slit and circling your clit twice. “Already so wet for me, honey. What did I do to deserve such a warm welcome?” he purred, leaning down to press a sweet kiss to your forehead.
Your brain couldn’t formulate a response, his touch mind-numbing. Pleasure radiated form his fingers, syrupy and languid, with none of the frenetic energy from before. A moan slipped past your lips, your eyes fluttering closed as he coaxed your pussy to bloom for him.
“And such pretty sounds.” He rolled up his shirt sleeve with his free hand, exposing the muscles and veins along his thick forearm. Slowly, he slipped his middle finger inside of you, large enough to stretch you slightly.
“Fuck, Charlie,” you whined, raising yourself onto your elbows so you could watch him play with you.
“I suppose I shouldn’t stretch this out too long, someone might come looking for us,” he mused. “But I could spend a fucking eternity spoiling this greedy little pussy.” He slipped another finger into you channel, pumping them a few times just to feel your cunt suck him back in. “Would you like that, love?” He tilted your chin up with his free hand, an unspoken request for an answer.
“Y-yes, Charlie. Please,” you panted, stretching up to steal a quick peck. He deepened the kiss, shifting his weight to press you back down onto the desk as his tongue flirted with yours. His hand picked up the pace, fucking you steadily as he devoured your mouth, teeth skating along your swollen flesh before sucking lightly on your tongue.
You don’t know what God blessed him with such a skilled tongue, but you needed to make an offering in thanks stat.
But since you couldn’t do that…
“Charlie?” You asked, reaching around to touch his wrist between your legs.
He immediately stopped, withdrawing his hand completely. “What’s wrong?” He searched your face for signs of discomfort, his brows drawn together.
You pressed a kiss to his bearded cheek before sliding off the desk. He watched you, confused and concerned, then you lowered yourself to your knees and his jaw went slack.
“Honey, you don’t have to—”
“Please, Charlie?” You batted your lashes up at him, tugging lightly on his belt.
“Merlin’s fucking—I can’t say no to you when you look at me like that, sweetheart.”
“Then don’t,” you teased, undoing his belt and zipper. You could see the outline of his cock against his black boxers, thick and throbbing as you glided your fingers over it.
He sucked in a breath, gripping the edge of the table with one of his hands. Encouraged, you dragged the flat of your tongue over the fabric, feeling the heat of him, the wetness collecting by the swollen head.
“I must have died in the dragon pit and gone to heaven. My god, woman,” he rasped, running his fingers through his hair to keep it from blocking the sight.
You giggled, licking a few more stripes before reaching up to free him. His cock sprung out, veiny and flushed pink. And, to your absolute shock and delight, even his cock was freckled.
“You have the prettiest cock I’ve ever seen,” you praised, and his cheeks flushed pink. You laved your tongue along the thickest vein, earning a throaty groan. You sucked the head into your mouth, lapping up the precum pearling from his slit.
Charlie’s head fell back, one of his hands sliding into your hair. He didn’t add any pressure, just held you as you started to suck him, moving a little further down each time. You wrapped your hand around the base, there was no way you’d fit the entire thing in your mouth, and started pumping him, matching the motions with your mouth. His skin was like velvet, soft and smooth, and you loved feeling him pulse against your tongue with every dip of your head.
“You are too damn good at that. So fucking pretty swallowing my cock.” His thumb stroked your cheek while he gazed down at you, stars in his eyes. “You like sucking me off, honey?”
You nodded as best you could, flicking your tongue at the groove just beneath the head. His hips lurched forward, a grunt escaping through his teeth.
“Fuck, sorry, love. I’m trying to stay still for ya’, but feels so fucking good.”
You reached up and guided his hand into your hair, then used it to push your head down, giving him the best puppy dog eyes you could muster.
He smirked, his hand fisting in your hair. “Whatever you say, gorgeous.” He started moving your head along his shaft, rocking his hips in time with the movements. He went easy at first, but as drool began to track down your chin, your eyes rolling back in bliss, he picked up the pace. But he only fucked your mouth for a few, punishing strokes before lifting you off of him. He slammed his mouth to yours, a harsh, hungry kiss that had you seeing stars.
You whined in protest, but he shushed you by lifting you into the air and setting you on the table once more.
“If you thought I wasn’t going to fuck you, you’re mad,” he gruffed, dragging the hot head of his cock through your pussy lips. “That is, if you still want me to?”
“Yes, fuck, now, Charlie. Please.” You spread your legs a little wider for him,
“Anything for you, love.” He leaned down and kissed you again, sliding his cock into your depths at the same time. The feeling of being filled by him bordered on divine, silken and hot. He was stretching you just enough to leave you with that delicious ache between your legs. You moaned into each other’s mouths, the sounds caught up by his tongue parting your lips and caressing yours.
He drew his hips back, agonizingly slow, letting you feel every inch of one another, before he slammed back in, knocking the air from your lungs. It seemed he was at the end of his control, his grip on your hips bruising as he fucked you hard, jostling the desk beneath you and making the shelves along the walls rock.
“Fuck, Charlie. Feels so good,” you cried, trying and failing to keep yourself quiet as he railed you, every thrust like a lightning strike of pleasure through your body.
“Yeah? You take my cock so well, baby. Wet little pussy squeezing the life outta’ me,” he groaned, his hair tickling your face. “So good f’me, honey. Like you were made for me.”
Your muscles tightened, veering closer and closer to your peak, his praise sending little pulses of bliss your clit.
“You like being praised, baby? Hearing how perfect you are for me? Fuck, I can feel how much you like that, squeezing me so hard.” His hand slipped between you, the rough pads of his fingers rubbing tight circles over you puffy clit. “Come for me, y/n. I know you can. I want to feel you fall apart around me. That’s a good girl—”
Your cry drowned out his praise as your peak crashed over you, visceral and exquisite. The world vanished, blown apart by the burst of starlight in your chest as you came for him. Pulses of pleasure made your body shake and buck, your eyes squeezing shut as he fucked you through it.
“That’s it, honey. Such a good fucking girl. Merlin, you’re gonna make me come.” He rested on his forearms, braced on either side of your head, hitting an entirely new angle as you came back into your body.
“Charlie,” you whimpered, clinging to him. ”I’ve got ya’, love. Don’t worry. Just a little longer—fuck.” A strangled groan broke from his throat and you felt his cock swell, then kick against your walls, the first hot stream of release painting your insides.
He rested his head on your shoulder as he muscles trembled, his hips pressed flush to yours. You wrapped you arms around his shoulders, still weak from that soul-shaking orgasm. His lips passed over your shoulder, your clavicle, up your neck, before finally ghosting of your lips, soft and breathless.
You remained like that for longer than you probably should have, enraptured with one another. You'd been complete strangers a few hours ago, but this wasn't a hook up akin to a one night stand. This was the reunification of two beings, the re-raveling of a soul tie.
“Y/n,” he murmured, kissing your forehead, your temple. “Y/n, y/n, y/n…” He held you like he'd die if he let go.
“Charlie,” you exhaled, nuzzling behind his ear.
“Can I take you to Romania with me?” He whispered, a joke, you presumed, but there was no humor in his voice.
“I've never seen a dragon before—”
The door knob jiggled, and someone pressed against it, the wood groaning.
“Shit.” Charlie jumped backwards, scrambling to right your dress and smooth your hair.
“Hey, Freddie! This doors locked for some reason.”
“Charlie, your dick,” you snickered while he wiped away a smudge of your lipstick.
“Fuck, right.”
“Alohamor—”
“COLLOPORTUS,” Charlie barked out, snatching his wand from his boot.
“Charlie?” George called, knocking on the door.
Charlie tucked you behind him and undid the spell, peeking the door open. “If you say another word, you're dragon food,” he growled, and you had to clap a hand over your mouth to keep from laughing.
“You got a girl in there, mate?” George asked, and you could hear the shit-eating grin on his face.
“George,” Charlie warned.
“Fine, fine. You've got ten minutes before I actually need to get in there.” George knocked once more then strode away, his footsteps disappearing down the hall.
Charlie sagged against the door, exhaling. “I'm sorry, love,” he said, turning to you.
You pecked his cheek. “Don't be sorry, that was the best lay of my life.” You tried to reassure him, despite the curdling sadness in your chest.
A shy smile broke through his serious expression. “Yeah?”
You nodded. “I can only imagine how good it would be when we had all the time in the world,” you murmured against his ear, a shiver rolling down his spine. It was better to leave it like this, flirty, casual, than with whatever…that was.
“I mean, we’ve got ten minutes…”
You patted his chest and slipped out of the door, finding George waiting at the end of the hall, arms crossed.
His jaw dropped. “Y/n!”
Charlie ran out behind you. “I swear to God, George—”
“Are all Weasley's this dramatic?” You closed George's mouth with a finger under his chin.
“Where did—when did—how?” George stuttered, looking back and forth between the two of you.
Charlie smirked, shrugging back on his blazer. “I'll explain when you're older,” Charlie teased. “Would you like a drink, y/n?”
“I'd love one.“ You threaded your arm through his, and together returned to the party.
> Part Two
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Thanks for reading!
If you enjoyed, please check out my published work here.
Much love,
Allie
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lovegoodlane · 2 months ago
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Pursuing the Prefect - 5
4.5k words
18+ only
Warnings: smut, oral sex [female receiving], face sitting, vaginal sex, teasing
Summary: Fred and his prefect take their relationship to a new level (soft Fred, dom Fred, soft top Fred)
A/N: The moment you have all been waiting for....I'll probably write one last part to finish everything off. My requests are open, so let me know what to write next!
Link to part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4
—— Fred held your hand the entire way up to his dormitory. Neither of you spoke. A comfortable silence rested between you as you hustled up the final staircase that led to his room.
Fred opened the door for you, muttering "lumos" to light a lamp on a desk that was pushed in the corner. He turned to you, taking your other hand. 
"You're absolutely cracking, you know that?" he said, a smile on his lips. You returned the smile, placing a kiss on his cheek.
"I am actually aware of that, thank you," you replied, teasing him.
"You put Pucey in his place," he said. "Remind me to not get on your bad side."
"You've been on my bad side before, and I think you actually quite enjoyed it," you joked, shoving at his chest. 
"You are bloody hot when you're angry," Fred replied, raising his eyebrows and pursing his lips at you in mock consideration.
"Oh, shove off," you laughed, heading toward his bed and throwing yourself onto it. "After that big scene, I think I need a nap."
Fred walked over to where you were face down in his pillows. He spanked your butt lightly.
"Come on, birdie, you can't take up the whole bed," he complained, running a hand down your butt and onto the backs of your thighs.
"Fine," you grumbled in fake frustration, rolling over to make room for Fred in his own bed.
Fred joined you in the bed, rolling you onto your side so you could cuddle into his chest. He stroked your hair, giving you a kiss on the forehead.
"Can I tell you something?" he asked, still stroking your hair.
"Anything," you replied, nuzzling your head into his chest.
"I really like you," he said, suddenly sounding very serious.
Your hand played with the neckline of his t shirt as you considered your response. Now didn't feel like the best moment to crack a joke.
"I like you too, Fred," you answered. 
"No, I mean..." Fred stumbled over his words. He rolled onto his side so he could look you in the eye. "I know what my reputation is like with girls. I don't date anyone very seriously and I just like hooking up. But that's not what this is, birdie. I feel serious about you."
"Oh," was all you could think to say as he continued to stare into your eyes. This was giving you flashbacks to conversations with Adrian where he was insistent on planning your future together. 
"You told me that Pucey wanted to get serious too quickly, and that's not what I'm trying to do," he said, seeming to read your mind and sense your worries. "We have all the time in the world. But I need you to know that I feel that way."
"Fred...." you were still having a hard time finding the right thing to say. Nothing came to mind. 
"I realized today that going even just a day without speaking to you feels like torture," he admitted. "I'm sorry for reacting that way, and I'm sorry for how it made you feel. You're my favorite person to talk to and spend time with. I won't ever ignore you like that again."
You reached your hand up to cup his cheek. Your mind went back to the conversation that you had with Beatrice at the Three Broomsticks, admitting to how deep your feelings went for Fred. He was spilling his feelings, but it still felt so difficult to admit to your own.
Fred's hand found your waist, rubbing his thumb against the fabric of your shirt. It's almost like he was trying to beckon the words out of you.
"I...Godric, Freddie, I'm not good at this," you said, letting out an awkward chuckle. 
"Take your time, darling," he soothed, squeezing your waist in reassurance.
"I really like you too," you finally said. "I think....I think that you're really good for me. You tease me about being the perfect prefect, but that's what I have been ever since I got to Hogwarts. And being that way is actually quite boring."
Both you and Fred chuckled at that admission.
"But you make me try new things. And I feel spontaneous for the first time. Instead of being controlled by getting good marks and being the best student, you have helped me take initiative of my own life," you said. "I adore you and I am learning to adore the person that I am when I'm with you."
Fred's eyes were still locked on yours. The sentimental softness that you loved returned to his eyes, and he leaned forward to kiss you on the lips.
It was sweet and gentle. Only a few kisses before he pulled away. 
"You inspire me to want to do my homework," Fred teased, tickling your side.
You laughed, grabbing at his hand. "You improve me, I improve you."
You pushed him over onto his back and nuzzled into his chest, his hand snaking around your back to pull you in closer. You laid like this for a while, listening to each other's quiet heartbeats and enjoying each other's touch. 
"Freddie?" you said quietly.
"Yes, birdie?" he replied, rubbing your back with his hand.
"I'm ready," you said, sounding shy.
"Ready for what?" he asked, somewhat confused.
"I'm...I'm ready to have sex. Whenever you are, of course," you fumbled over your words a bit awkwardly, feeling heat rise to your cheeks.
You tried to bury your face into Fred's neck, but he refused to let you. He knew that you were flustered.
"Darling, you don't have to feel embarrassed," he said, grabbing your jaw to turn you to look at him. "Thank you for telling me."
He placed a light kiss on the tip of your nose before releasing your jaw. 
"I'm going to put on pajamas, I can't lay in bed with jeans on. Feels like a crime," Fred said, getting up from the bed.
He crossed the room to his dresser, pulling open the bottom drawer and grabbing pajamas from it before closing it. You were still turned onto your side on the bed, giving you a perfect view of Fred across the room.
He pulled his t shirt over his head, throwing it onto the floor next to him. You had never seen him shirtless before.
In the dim light of the dormitory, you could make out his chiseled figure. Years of quidditch had made him strong and lean, and your cheeks flushed as you realized that you were checking him out.
"Enjoying the show, birdie?" he teased, picking up his abandoned shirt from the floor and tossing it at you.
This made you blush even harder. You sat up on the bed, pondering your next move.
You watched as he undid his belt and trousers, throwing his trousers into a laundry bin before reaching for the pair of pajama pants that he had retrieved from the drawer. He pulled them on, turning to where you were sat on the bed. 
"Everything alright, darling?" he asked, confused by your silence and empty expression.
You had been chewing on your lower lip, trying to muster up the courage for what you were about to do. You scooted to the edge of the bed, putting your feet on the floor. 
You crossed the room to where Fred was still standing. You kissed him on the lips only once, leaving him even more confused.
You pulled your own t shirt up and off, tossing it away. Fred's eyebrows raised as he took in the sight of you before him.
This time, you came prepared. You were wearing a deep blue bra with black lacing along the straps. It was the sexiest thing that you owned, and you had a feeling that Fred was going to see it tonight.
"House colors, how appropriate," Fred teased, ghosting his fingers along your sides and up your back. 
Your heart was already racing and he had barely even touched you. You were nervous, but you were ready. You wanted this. 
You dared to reach out to touch him, running your nails down his sides. You stopped at the waistband of his pajama pants, gripping them and tugging him closer to you.
He chuckled, enjoying your boldness. You kissed him again, your hands trailing back up his sides and to his muscular shoulders. 
He let you take control, keeping his hands politely at the middle of your back as yours roamed around his bare shoulders. You pushed him back, pulling away once again.
You fumbled with the button of your jeans. "Want to borrow a pair of pajamas?" Fred teased, watching you struggle.
"No, Fred," you replied, rolling your eyes at him. You had finally gotten the button free, undoing the zipper and starting to pull your jeans down your legs. "I want you."
Fred waited patiently for you to step out of your jeans before he picked you up. You giggled, wrapping your legs around his middle while he carried you back to the bed.
He held you for a moment, planting wet kisses along your jawline before setting you onto the bed. He attacked your lips next, his teeth biting at your lower lip while his hands ran along your thighs.
You dug your nails into his back, trailing down toward his waistband once again. You pulled at it, signaling to him that he should take the pajamas off. Fred paused his mission for a moment to take off his pants, immediately returning to your mouth. 
You pulled away, grabbing at Fred's shoulders. "Lay down," you commanded.
Fred listened, laying down on the bed. You positioned yourself over him, one thigh on either side of his middle. 
He was loving this view. You had been intimate before, but not quite like this. You were in only your bra and knickers, a smirk on your mouth as you loomed over him. He couldn't think of anything in the whole world that could be sexier.
You left hot kisses along his jaw and down his neck, bringing up one hand to grip the other side of his neck. Your kisses continued down to his collarbones where you sucked a number of love bites into his skin. It was payback for what he usually did to you.
Fred's hands ran up and down your back, playing with the clasp of your bra as he decided whether or not to take it off. He didn't want to rush you, but he had been dying to get a bra off of you for a long time.
You finally gripped one of his hands that was on your back, stopping it. "You can take it off," you whispered, reassuring him.
You released his hand, allowing him to undo the clasp. He reached for the straps, pulling them down your arms as he removed your bra.
Fred bit his lip. He ran his thumbs underneath your breasts, gripping your ribcage with his hands. He sat up, giving you a kiss on the lips before kissing along the tops of your breasts.
It took only moments for him to suck one of your nipples into his mouth. Your nails dug into his shoulders in response, a whimper falling from your lips. 
He bit and sucked at one nipple and used his fingers to play with the other. All you could do was run your nails up and down his back while you moaned out his name.
"Mmm...so beautiful," he spoke into your skin as he switched his mouth to your other nipple.
Your hands found their way into his hair, pulling at it to distract yourself from what Fred was doing to you. You began to grind your hips into his, becoming desperate for more friction.
"So needy, huh?" Fred commented, releasing your nipple from his mouth and kissing along your ribs. 
Your hips ground down even harder, begging for contact. You could feel how hard he was through his underwear, and you knew he wanted this too. But Fred was playing the long game.
His fingers danced down to your knickers. "Can I make you feel good, darling?" he asked, looking up into your eyes.
You nodded at him, your words caught in your throat. Fred lifted you off of him for a moment so he could remove your knickers. He laid back down on the bed, a grin on his face.
"Why don't you come sit on my face?" he said, his thumbs rubbing circles into your hips. 
Your cheeks flushed. This was something you had never done before. It seemed impractical and potentially even dangerous.
"I don't know, Fred," you said, feeling shy. "I don't want to hurt you."
Fred moved one hand up to your cheek. "Darling, I promise that it won't hurt me. Now that I think about it, suffocating between your thighs wouldn't be the worst way to go."
He smirked at you. You slapped at his chest. "Get off it, Fred," you chastised, a small smile playing at your own mouth.
"How about we give it a try and you can stop if you don't like it?" Fred proposed, squeezing your hip. 
"Okay," you agreed hesitantly, feeling deeply self conscious.
You placed your hands on his chest, slowly moving yourself up his middle. You weren't exactly sure how to do this.
"How do I—" you began to ask before Fred gripped your hips, picking you up and settling you over his face.
"I guess that'll do it," you chuckled nervously, your hands finding the headboard of Fred's bed.
"Tell me if you want to stop," Fred said. You could feel him breathing on your core, making you shiver.
He pulled your hips down, your core meeting his mouth. You were holding your breath. His tongue darted out, immediately finding your clit. It seemed like he already had your body memorized, knowing exactly how to make you feel good. 
Your hands gripped at the headboard as Fred's tongue increased its pace. Your entire body felt hot, and you tried to keep yourself from grinding your hips down into his mouth. 
Fred angled your hips forward, allowing him to drag his tongue down to your entrance. His fingers dug into your hips as he fucked you with his tongue, making you feel like you were going to scream.
"Just like that, Freddie," you encouraged, finally finding your voice.
You allowed yourself to grind your hips down ever so slightly, and Fred responded with a groan. He squeezed your hips tighter, encouraging you to continue.
Fred's mouth found its way back up to your clit, sucking it into his mouth as you ground your hips into him. You were so close to your release.
"Fred—ahh, don't stop," you cried out, holding onto the headboard for dear life. 
You only needed a few more moments before you reached your orgasm, whimpering out Fred's name as your hips trembled. He pulled you from his mouth, laying you onto the bed on your back as he hovered above you. 
"That wasn't so bad, was it?" he said, kissing up your jaw and to your lips.
You stayed like this for a few minutes, kissing Fred as you were still feeling the glow of your orgasm. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him in as close as you could.
You pulled out of the kiss, bringing a hand up to ruffle his hair. You smirked at him.
"I think it's your turn now," you said, using your other hand to ghost down his chest toward his boxers. You reached the waistband and pulled at it, letting it slap back against his skin.
"Birdie, tonight is about you," Fred said, placing kisses along your neck.
The hand you had at his waistband continued down, your thumb teasing him over his boxers. If you thought he was hard before, he was definitely hard now. You imagined that it almost had to be painful. 
You suddenly felt bold, gripping Fred over the fabric of his boxers. His breath stuttered.
"I want you, Freddie," you whispered, trying to play up your innocence. He stopped kissing your neck, reeling back to look you in the eye.
"Are you absolutely certain?" Fred asked, his eyes soft. He was more than willing to wait. You were worth it.
"One hundred percent," you answered, pecking him on the lips. You felt a nervous pit in your stomach, but it wasn't the bad kind. It felt more like anticipation. 
"If you ever want to stop—" Fred started, but you brought a finger up his lips to shush him. 
"Freddie, I won't want you to stop," you said, your eyes intense. 
That was all the permission he needed before he started kissing your lips again, this time seeming more desperate. He reached for one of the pillows behind your head, breaking the kiss as he pulled you up off of the bed and put the pillow under your hips.
You looked at him, a bit confused. He smirked. "Darling, I know a thing or two," he answered, placing a kiss on your knee.
He pulled his boxers off, tossing them to the side before he found his place between your legs again. Your hands were folded on your bare stomach as you waited for him to do something.
He reached for your hands, holding them in his. He noticed that you were shaking just slightly.
"We don't have to do this," he whispered, reassuring you.
"Fred, I want to," you insisted. "It's just nerves. It's been a while."
You chuckled, trying to dispel any anxiety you had.
"Okay," he said, placing a kiss on each of your wrists. "Stop me if it hurts."
You nodded. Fred released your hands, using his own to trace a path up your outer thighs. He gripped the backs of your knees, pulling your legs up just slightly.
You felt his tip as he aligned himself with your entrance. Your heart was pounding in your chest. Fred eased himself in slowly, releasing a breath that you didn't realize he was holding. 
You felt a familiar burn as he got deeper, stretching you to accommodate his size. Fred grabbed your hands, placing them up next to your head. 
He held your hands as he rocked into you slowly, kissing gently along your collarbone. He pulled back to look you in the eye.
"Alright, birdie?" he asked, his words sounding strained. You knew that he was holding himself back for your sake. Everything he did was for your benefit. 
You nodded. "Keep going," you said.
He kissed you on the forehead. He met your eyes again as he pushed into you, this time all the way. Fred choked out a groan, feeling the pleasure of finally bottoming out into you.
Fred kissed you on the lips before releasing your hands. He traced a path down your sides and back to your thighs, pushing your knees closer to your chest.
He was still moving slowly, trying not to hurt you. But you didn't care if you were sore in the morning, you wanted more.
"Fred?" you said quietly.
He stopped moving. "Yes, darling?" he answered, concern laced in his voice.
"Harder," you said, bringing your hands to his back. You traced his muscles with your nails.
He smirked at you, not expecting this response. "Careful what you wish for," he muttered, gripping your thighs even harder.
Fred picked up his pace, pushing into you harder than he had before. Your nails dug into his back, begging him for more.
"More, Freddie, more," you whined.
Fred pulled almost all the way out of you before slamming back into you again. You cried out, arching your back off of the bed.
Fred was fucking you even faster now, hitting the deepest spot in you each time. You were basically clawing at his back now, and you knew that there would be marks left behind.
"You feel so good, birdie," he said, pounding into you. "So tight. Such a good girl."
You whimpered at his words, feeling another orgasm building. Fred brought his thumb to your clit, rubbing it as he continued to fuck you mercilessly.
"Are you going to finish again for me darling?" he asked. "Come on gorgeous, finish for me. Right on my cock. Be a good girl."
As if his actions weren't enough, Fred's words sent you over the edge. You orgasmed for the second time that night, crying out as Fred continued to hit the perfect spot inside of you.
He slowed down, grabbing your hand and kissing the back of it. He worked you down from your high, slowly pulling out of you.
"So perfect," he commented, kissing your hand again before putting it back down on the bed.
You laid there for a moment in a daze, feeling like you were unable to move after that second orgasm. Fred knew exactly what to do to make you finish, and it blew your mind every time. 
You finally got your wits about you. "Fred, you didn't finish," you said, sounding a tad offended.
He chuckled. "Not your fault. I could go all night, darling."
You gripped his arms. "Then keep going," you said, looking at him.
"I don't want to hurt you," he said, stroking the outside of your thigh with his hand.
"Fred, it doesn't hurt. I want you to keep going," you insisted.
"It might not hurt now, but you're going to be sore tomorrow morning," he replied, meeting your gaze. "I can finish myself off. I already told you that tonight is about you."
You huffed. "If tonight was really about me, you would keep fucking me," you asserted, narrowing your eyes at him.
He smirked at you for what felt like the millionth time that night. "Okay, bossy. I guess I have to listen to the prefect when she orders me around," he teased. 
"Less talking, more fucking," you shot back at him. 
He chuckled. "My lips are sealed," he replied.
Fred turned you over onto your side, pulling your knees up so they were close to your chest. He slid into you again, this time finding less resistance. 
He worked in and out of you slowly, driving you absolutely insane. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he was enjoying your impatience.
"Frederick Weasley, you can do better than that," you said, your voice snippy.
He shrugged in response. Apparently he was taking his vow of silence seriously. 
He increased his pace ever so slightly, pushing your knees up even higher to hit a better angle. You cried out as he hit the perfect spot, desperate for him to do it again.
But that was part of his game. He pushed into you just barely deep enough, not hitting the spot again. He smirked at himself, proud of his work.
"Fred, I will curse you into next week if you don't knock it off," you said, becoming irritated.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Fred replied, feigning innocence.
"Do I really need to do everything myself?" you shot back.
"All you have to do is ask nicely," Fred said, still thrusting into you slowly. 
"Fuck off," you said, determined not to give in to what he wanted. 
"If you insist," he said, pulling out of you. 
It was a battle of the wills. Both of you were stubborn. But he wanted to make you give in.
"Fine," you huffed, exasperated. "Please?"
Fred chuckled. "You can do better than that."
You bit your lip, trying to step past your pride. "Please, Freddie. I want you," you said, sounding much more sincere this time.
"See birdie, it's not that difficult," Fred said, turning you over onto your stomach. He pushed your chest down and your bottom up, forcing you to arch your back.
He lined himself up behind you, his tip at your entrance. His hands squeezed at your sides.
"Are you going to beg for it?" he muttered into your ear.
He had you right where he wanted you. Desperate. Frustrated. He loved making the prefect beg.
"Please," you said once again, sounding even more desperate this time.
"Mmmm....not convincing enough," Fred replied, his hands roving down your sides and to your bottom. 
"Fred, please," you basically whined, trying to push your hips back onto him. If he wasn't going to take care of you, you were going to do it yourself.
"So desperate," Fred chided. "I'm not sure that you really are a good girl after all."
He finally pushed into you, taking you by surprise. He worked in and out of you, picking up speed quicker than he had before. 
"You're a bad girl, huh?" Fred commented, reaching around to grip your throat lightly. "The prefect is a bad, bad girl."
He thrusted into you even harder, finally hitting that spot that drove you crazy. You felt like a mess. You knew that your hair was wild and that you were likely covered in love bites. But you were loving it. 
You whined at Fred, pushing your hips back into him to meet his brutal pace. Fred was starting to lose control as he got closer to his own release, both hands now gripping your hips. There would definitely be bruises there in the morning.
"So close," you cried, gripping at the comforter on Fred's bed.
"Finish for me again, birdie. You can do it, love," Fred encouraged. "Merlin, you feel so good. Made just for me."
You were so sensitive after two orgasms that a third felt like it might kill you. Your vision began to get spotty, and you knew that you were going to finish any second now.
You finally reached your third high of the night, arching your back even harder and pushing back towards Fred. He continued fucking you, moments from his own release.
"Fuck, birdie, so perfect," Fred breathed out. "You're going to make me bust."
It seemed like he was almost asking for permission. How polite. 
"Inside of me," you demanded, sounding exhausted from your third orgasm.
Fred groaned, keeping up his pace as he finally reached his release. He finished inside of you, his hips slowing down and stuttering. 
He massaged your hips, pushing into you a few more times before pulling out. "Sorry, darling, didn't mean to hurt you," he said, referring to the bruises that were already starting to form where he had dug his hands into your hips. 
He flopped onto his back, pulling you into his chest. You felt paralyzed once more, your body still coming down from the adrenaline rush of another orgasm.
Fred kissed your forehead, snuggling you in even closer to him. "Was that too much?" he asked, sounding concerned.
You laid there in silence, still speechless. You nuzzled your head into his neck, giving him a kiss. "It was perfect," you finally said.
He chuckled. "I'm glad," he answered, rubbing your back.
"Same time next week?" you teased, running your nails up and down his abs.
"Whenever you want," he replied, squeezing you in tight. 
----
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rainydayathogwarts · 12 days ago
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Bloody quills and teary eyes - George weasley x potter!reader
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summary: george comforts you after your first detention with umbridge wc: 0.7k+
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George tapped his foot on the floor in front of him tirelessly, his homework lain untouched on the table. Fred and Ron played a quiet game of chess, with the occasional comment thrown, and Hermione’s face was dug in a book. You and Harry? Well, the Potter siblings just always seemed to be in detention, and today was no different. The portrait to the common room swung open and Harry walked in, quick footsteps beelining him straight to his dorm giving away his poor mood. George looked back and forth between the closing portrait and your brother, wondering where you had to be. 
Ginny trudged down the stairs, footsteps attracting Ron’s attention. While Ron was turning away from her and back to the game, he caught sight of George, eyebrows furrowing slightly.
“You alright George?” He asked, pulling Fred’s attention from the game. “Yeah. She said she’d meet me back here after detention but Harry just came back alone.” Ginny plopped down on the couch next to him, offering him a candy. He declined. “She being the missus?” Ginny asked, chewing slowly. George nodded. “She’s by the Black Lake. I could see her from the window in my dorm.” She explained, watching her brother’s reaction carefully. The Black Lake was never a positive place to be on a cold, dark afternoon, and especially not after a detention. George stood up, ready to come find you when the portrait swung open once more.
Your focus was solely on that awful Umbridge woman’s face. If you could turn around right now, you’d go and beat her up, but unfortunately your stronger hand seemed to be injured. You thought sitting by the Black Lake would help you calm down, and momentarily, it had, allowing you to shed a few silent tears. But the second you began your trek back to the common room, your blood boiled with anger once more. Through teary eyes, you found your path up to your dorm, slamming the door shut behind you before slumping down on the floor against your bed. You brought your hands to your face, and immediately, your chest wracked with a painful sob.
George stared at the corner you disappeared behind from where he was stood, hearing the loud slam of your door all the way down to the common room. “How awful was that detention?” Questioned Hermione, a concerned look on her face. George ignored her, following you up to your dorm. He gently knocked on your door three times, listening for your call to come in, but it never came. Instead, he received a “Go away!” and he felt his heart break on the spot, hearing the pain in your voice.
“My love? You sound hurt, please let me comfort you.” George begged softly, resting his head against the door. He didn’t get a response, only hearing more sobs from the other side of the door, and he let himself in. “Oh sweetheart…” He started, immediately sitting down next to you and bringing you into a hug. You let George hold you close to his chest, and you cradled your hand close to yours, feeling the painful throb left by the evil witch’s blood quill. “I didn’t even check on Harry.” You cried when your sobs began to subside, wiping your tears away. “Why do you need to check on him, what happened?” You pulled away from George’s hug, meeting his eyes for the first time that night. You almost didn’t have the courage to tell him. You swallowed harshly, putting your hand up to show him the dried blood on your hand spelling out ‘I must not question authority.’ George gasped, carefully bringing your hand in his. He hand his thumb over a patch of skin where you’d desperately tried wiping your blood off, leaving a red tint to your skin.
“That bitch. I’ll tell Professor McGonagall tomorrow, she’ll do something.” He said, bringing you in a hug again. “Don’t listen to that bitch anyway. Questioning authority is what makes you stand out. Everyone just goes along with what people tell them to do, but you? You make rules of your own.” He told you. “Is that why you like me? Because I’m a rule breaker?” But you suppose you shouldn’t have asked that question because George went off telling you about all the reasons he loved you, and the last thing you heard before you fell asleep was “And one day I’m going to marry you for those reasons.”
taglist: @ravisinghs-wife, @starry-remus, @pain-in-the-ashe
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