#charlie weasley is the best

[thaniabb]

A lot with 15 minutes

- ‘15 minutes’ -

by sabrina carpenter

15 minutes with gryffindor’s ♡︎ (harry, ron, oliver, fred, george)

warnings : pure smut

AN : made some more hc’s with our favourite gryffindor’s. minors dni (ageless blogs will be blocked). please make more requests, i’m freaking out of inspiration.

Harry Potter

harry was always the kind of guy to help you ride out your own orgasm than his own, every time he absolutely demands you came first.

15 minutes in his sense of thoughts wasn’t enough for both, so he’d actually help you ride out your own high - nipping at your inner thighs. his tounge leaving small kitten licks on your clit, when he absolutely devours you.

face smudged with your juices and his own spit - his glasses in his hands, hair messy from your hands gripping it. he swore he came from your sweet sounds alone, moaning all caused by him.

Ron Weasley

to be exact, ron was never the one to dominate - but at these 15 minutes was exactly what gave his high.

arms tightly wrapped around your waist, pressing his body to your from behind as his hips snapped in you - hitting that g-spot over and over again.

huffing in your ear and holding in his whimpers he tried so hard to silence (because you just feel so damn good). you could swear he would’ve broken your hips from the amount pressure he was gripping you at.

he sadly, didn’t last those fifteen minutes - not his fault! when he felt your orgasm all over his cock, clamping down at him - the knot in him just snapped.

Oliver Wood

all the time he spent on the quidditch grass was to harsh to handle, barely even spending time with you - but he just needed to win that quidditch cup and basically shove a stick up malfoy’s ass.

so the position he was in is actually all he needed for his system, getting high of the feeling your pussy provided him. with you pushing him down a bench in the gryffindor’s lockers - riding his length with ease.

yet, even if he did try to let you dominate once - he couldn’t help but push his hips upwards, rutting back into you with eagerness - which immediately followed with your and his orgasm in sync.

Fred Weasley

always stirring trouble with his younger twin was indeed long job to intend to, but having you pressed up against the wall in his office above the joke shop was indeed what he thought of.

his twin busy with the customers downstairs, he had you pressed against the wall - slowly pushing his hips against yours - as a tease, while his hand was kept over your lips.

“don’t want my brother hearing my angel’s pretty moans now, do we?” he teased, going on for some time.

but he just couldn’t deny to pound into you even faster than earlier - just by seeing your hips trying to push back onto him moments ago.

George Weasley

sitting in the gryffindor’s common room with his friends after a long school day was calming, with his older twin joking ‘round, lee basically almost falling asleep next to the fire place and ron eating - like always.

he manspreaded across the couch alone, seeing you join his side on the couch - pulling a blanket over the both of them. it was just a silly little gesture. but going fat as to putting your thighs across his lap was a dangerous game.

his hands immediately went under the blanket, onto your inner thighs - tracing just the ends of your fucking shorts, which he immediately caught - getting worked up.

most of the guys were not even paying attention - so indeed his hand slipped right into your shorts under the blanket, grinning at your wide eyes and huff. as his two fingers dipped right into your tight, soaked hole - curling them right into the right spot while his thumb gave enough pressure to your delicate clit.

“butterfly, wouldn’t want for them to hear what only i can, no?” his lips grazing your ear, as he promised to make it up in his own bed.

“only gonna take two to make you finish”

[percyposting]

This has to be one of my favorite exchanges in the books. VERY BADLY.

[cherry-pop-elf]

Farmers Market

Bill Weasley x Reader

((Can be read as platonic because there needs to be more platonic fics :>))

Summary: You wanted to go to your local farmers market. Get some fresh foods, see interesting things, just have a nice day. That’s when you see a new stand pop up. How could you resist? Not every day you see a gaggle of red heads

You just LOVED visiting the farmers market. Once a week, you would visit. Given it was in such a close walking distance, it made life easier. Fresh food for good prices. How could anyone refuse such a thing? A favorite routine to enjoy.

With your basket on your arm, and outfit dusted off, you were off to the little slice of heaven. Just walking down the street. Giving a wave hello to your neighbors, and having pep. Was always so nice to just get some fresh air. Was a perfect day. Just the right amount of sun, and just enough breeze to keep the heat low. You just adored it.

When you arrived you visited your favorite farmers. Saying hi to them, and picking out your favorites. With how often you visited, they always made sure to set aside the best for you. Supporting local farmers is the best, and it’s appreciated after all.

As you did your routine, you noticed a new stand. The little pop up was quite eye catching. Bright colors that catch attention easy. Said bright colors being brilliant red hair on each person there. You had never seen hair of such a shade like that, unless dye counts. Can’t be dye, since the smallest of the children had that same wild shade. Had you invested quickly, and you were soon walking over.

“Well hey there-!” You assumed the oldest said, as he was having a little girl on his hip. Cute little pig tails, and snuggling her tightly. Protective of him, and clearly defensive of anyone who got too close. Must be the youngest, and the baby girl.

“Hey. I haven’t seen this little stand before. You knew here?” You asked, as you looked around. It just had so many things. Hand made paper, soaps, fruits and veggies, meats, and many different types of hand made things. Plenty being sweets.

“Yep. Names Bill. Bill Weasley. That guy over there is Charlie, that guy with the book is Percy, those two trouble makers are Fred and George, the one talking to mum is Ron, and this little girl is Ginny. Yeah uh. Mum has a lot of kids.” He chuckled, as the baby sister kept playing with his ponytail. Had you giggle, as she yanked on it. Making him squeak, and her giggle.

“What can we do ya for?” He asked, as he tickled his baby sister’s tummy. Made her squeal in delight, as she kicked her little bare feet. You adored how sweet he was to the little girl. So full of love.

“I was actually interested in those tins. With the sweets-“ You asked. That seemed to catch the twins attention, and they weee quick to be side by side with their eldest brother. Big, proud, smiles on their freckled cheeks.

“Those sweets were hand made by these two. Don’t worry, I made sure none of them will turn you into a newt.” He teases, as the twins have a pout. Regardless, they were quick to pick the tins up. Excited to share.

“This one tastes like grape! Grapes my favorite-!” “And this one tastes like oranges! Oranges are MY favorite-!” The twins would echo each other, as they explained what those candy’s were. The hard candy, the chewy kind, just such confidence.

“Percy is the one to make the hand made paper. He’s pretty proud of that. Ron and Ginny help with the soaps. That leather-? Me and Charlie. Charlie and I would hunt for a bit, and turn the leftovers into soaps and leather. No waste in this family.” Bill would explain, as he would hand Ginny off to Charlie. She gave a huff, but that second sibling was quick to entertain her.

“You are all quite talented. It’s admirable.” You would admit, as you were in awe that people so young were able to create candy. GOOD candy no less, as you were offered a sample. It was like heaven. You couldn’t compare it to any other candy you’ve had before. It was beyond words.

“We all have a talent for something in this family.” Bill would shrug, as if it wasn’t a big deal. You thought it was. You found your new favorite table now. You just had to. These kids deserved to know their hard work wasn’t for nothing.

“I’ll have this, and that, and that-“ You would pick out. Sure it was going to be a bit pricey, but this was your spending money for a reason. Besides, it went to a clearly well deserving family. The way those twins were beaming was just to much to handle.

“MUM MUM-! WE SOLD OUR CANDY-!” They were cheering, as Bill would chuckle. Hardly could count the change, as the twins were jumping for joy to their mother. The woman giving them a tired, but proud, smile.

“Means more than you know. Mum is uh….Complicated about the twins wanting to grow up to be inventors. Like I get it, but exactly a job that can be successful.” Bill would whisper to you, as he would place the items in your bag. You gave a nod, as you watched them bounce in pure joy. So proud, and happy. They deserved the support.

“Will you be here next week?” You asked, as he smirked. With a nod. “Yeah, for sure.” He winked, as you chuckled at the banter you shared.

“Hypothetically-“ “That’s a really bug word-“ “Yeah. Anyway, what would happen to be your favorite flavor?” The twins would ask you, with those big doe eyes. How could you resist? You told them, and they were quick to huddle to a corner to brain storm.

“Be careful. If they like you too much, you’ll be pranked to hell and back.” He warned you, as you brushed it off. What’s the worse they could do?

“Can’t wait to see you again. Those two are going to never shut up about you now. Their ‘first customer ever-!’ They’ll cheer.” He was sounding more proud than the twins were. You admired that greatly. He clearly wanted the twins to succeed at their dreams. Made your heart warm.

“See you soon-!” Ginny would wave, as Charlie would mimic her tiny wave. You would return the gesture, before taking your leave. Still able to hear those twins cheering and bragging to their siblings.

When you finally returned home, and unloaded your things, you noticed something odd with your items. Made you think.

For starters, you swore the candy you had bought had changed color. Somehow brighter than it originally was. The paper you got as well was off. You swore the black specks on it were moving. Made you worry they were bugs, but you touched it to feel nothing. Another odd trait was there was a little note.

“Come to Ottery St. Catchpole sometime. You can’t miss us. Hope to see you sometime. William.”

Suppose you made a bigger impression than you thought. Had you giggling with excitement, that you completely missed the fact that a runt of a gnome had climbed out of your still packed bag. Quick to make itself cozy in your backyard.

Guess that’s what you get for talking to strangers.

[m00neroni]

I don’t think Tonks was a lesbian but I do think they were extremely occupied with fucking Charlie Weasley into the mattress to even care about Remus Lupin or look twice in his direction, yknow

[pooks]

If someone were to ask Percy what his mental picture of a big sister figure was, he would answer with one name.

Cassidy Mercury.

He didn't meet her officially until he was in his second year, when Bill and Charlie introduced him to their friend. She was a new prefect, like Charlie, and she was probably the prettiest girl he had ever seen.

Her hair was styled in a short haircut with parted bangs and golden like sunshine. The eyes were green as ripe pears and her skin was fair, decorated with a calm yet reassuring smile.

There was just something about her that kept his nerves calm, as if she was telling him "everything will be alright because I am here" in a non-verbal way. And the first thing she had said when he told his name and his life ambitions in one go was...

"Sounds like you have your whole life planned out."

No teasing or mocking, like his brothers tended to do. No laughing at his extremely high standards of a successful life. No, she listened and respected him. That was the first thing that won him over.

Secondly, she proved to be an excellent and talented student. Cassidy was really good at academics and as he later found out, one of the best Chasers on the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

He had originally come to see Charlie, and his dorm mate Oliver Wood, play on the first Quidditch match of the year. He had already known that Charlie was a great Seeker and Oliver was a raw talent as a Keeper, but Cassidy...

She was magnificent in the air, flying on her Comet and stealing the Quaffle with ease, evading her opponents like how a fly avoids being hit by a slipper and making goals with a strong left arm. And how the stands filled with Gryffindors screamed in loud cheers for her.

Charlie may be the Quidditch Captain, but Cassidy Mercury was their star! Even when Oliver was down, getting hit in the head by a Bludger (and nearly gave him a heart attack!), Cassidy became their savior by making so many goals and with Charlie catching the Snitch, earning them 150 points more...they had saved the match.

It has been a long time since Percy believed in heroes. Yes, he knew there were war heroes from the War, but he didn't know them and in his simple opinion, heroes was something that belonged in fairy tales or fictional stories.

But when the school was in danger by the Cursed Vaults...when students and even school staff were being attack by these curses...when Rakepick proved to be a Dark witch and especially, when his life was at mortal danger...

Cassidy Mercury was there to save the day.

She was his hero.

[ididmywaiting12years]

Doing a reread of HP and can we take a moment to appreciate Charlie Weasley. Ron sends him a letter asking him for help with an illegal dragon and he's just totally cool and nonchalant about the whole thing. Sure thing lil bro but can you also make sure to sneak out at midnight and meet some friends of mine on the astronomy tower to do the hand off

[the-al-chemist]

One for each of them, one for both of them.

@drinkyoursoupbitch

[danceworshipper]

@hphm-ship-week Prompt 5: Second Wizarding War

Fun fact, none of my ocs directly participate in the war!

Ship: Gracie/Charlie 💚🐉

Date: late June, 1997 (been in Romania for 6 years)

Fuck, it was supposed to be a good day. There were new Norwegian Ridgeback eggs that were set to hatch sometime before noon, and the whole sanctuary was throwing a party after. Someone was making fresh pizza. Would it be considered a bad coping skill to just ignore what they'd learned until tomorrow?

...yeah, it would.

Bill had been attacked. A bunch of Death Eaters and Fenrir fucking Greyback had been set loose on Hogwarts, and while no one had died, it sounded like Bill had come close.

"It's bad," Arthur said through the Floo. "I almost didn't recognize him."

Gracie thought her fingers might fall off, but she wasn't about to ask Charlie to let go of her hand. Not now. He looked like he might faint, and while Gracie was a Healer, she'd really rather if he didn't collapse on their living room floor.

"But he's okay?" she asked.

Arthur sighed. "He should be, but we can't know for sure. It's close enough to the full moon that Remus is worried something could happen, but he doesn't think it'll be anything serious. We're just going to have to wait and see."

"Is he awake? Can I come talk to him?" Charlie begged.

"He's still asleep. And these fireplaces aren't set up for international travel," Arthur responded. "He was up for a little while last night, and he was talking fine and remembered everything. I think the worst bit is the scarring."

Bill had been scarred before - he was a cursebreaker, he'd gotten a lot worse than that - but werewolf gashes on his face was a whole other level.

Gracie felt ill just imagining it. For probably the millionth time, she cursed the general wizarding world's lack of research into werewolves. There was no fixing a scar left by a werewolf, even in human form. Someday someone who actually gave a shit would figure it out, but not while this war was turning more and more people against the idea of werewolf rights.

"I've got to get some rest," Arthur said after a long pause. "I'll call you again later, alright?"

Charlie didn't answer. Gracie took one look at his face and sighed. She knew that blank expression a little too well; he wasn't there anymore.

Arthur knew it too. "Take care of him, Gracie," he said. "Bill's fine, really. I promise."

"I will," Gracie said, and the flames went out. Charlie didn't react at all.

Even as broken as he was, there were some things that Gracie knew Charlie couldn't miss, and one of those things was a hatching. He'd be devastated if he didn't get to watch their little baby claws stomping around while they squeaked. Resigning herself to a long fucking day, Gracie steered Charlie toward the kitchen to get some breakfast in him.

(Bill was one of her first ever friends, dammit, why wasn't she allowed to break too?)

She got some toast in him, and that was probably as good as she was going to get, so she gave up on the idea of a big breakfast so that they could skip lunch.

"We're going to his wedding," Charlie said suddenly.

Gracie turned the sink off, dishes half washed, and sat down next to him at the table.

"I don't care what's going on here," he continued. "I don't care if they fire me. We're going to his wedding."

"They wouldn't fire you for that," Gracie said, taking his hand.

"Even if they did."

"Okay."

"Should we move back home?" Charlie asked, looking at her for the first time since Arthur called. "I hate that they're all fighting for their lives and we're just carrying on like nothing's happening."

Gracie wanted to say an immediate no, no fuckingway, she wasn't doing that shit again and he couldn't make her, but she forced herself to breathe. The answer was still going to be no, but she understood where he was coming from. This was his entire family at risk. Hers was far from the action, so of course it would be easier for her to choose self-preservation. Plus, Charlie was a dumbass Gryffindor, so it was in his nature to be bold and rash and get himself fucking killed -

"No!" she snapped, and then sighed, because she hadn't wanted to say it like that.

Charlie stared at her in surprise.

"We can send them money and supplies, or we can bring them over here, but I'm not risking you," she said. "I can't risk you."

Squeezing her hand, he nodded. "But we're going to the wedding."

"Of course we're going to the wedding," Gracie agreed. One wedding wouldn't kill anyone. "And right now, we're going to see the hatching."

Finally there was a small spark back in Charlie's eyes. "Yeah, okay, lets go."

Somehow, they managed to make it through the hatching and even the party with only a couple of people asking if everything was alright, but it was a close call. Gracie practically fell into her favorite armchair - the one Charlie had found in an antique shop that was the perfect shade of Slytherin green - and let her eyes close. She had a pounding headache, induced both by stress and a bit too much alcohol.

She could hear Charlie pacing by the fireplace, waiting for Arthur to call again. It had better be good news when he did.

"Love, wake up."

Gracie forced her eyes open. When the hell did she fall asleep?

Charlie had tears in his eyes, but he was smiling brightly. "Bill's on the Floo, if you want to talk to him."

Wide awake, she was wide awake. Gracie jumped out of the armchair and ran to the Floo, and there his image was: beaten, scarred, and clearly exhausted, but smiling.

"Don't I look badass?" Bill joked. "I'm thinking I should get another piercing, really lean into it. Maybe a lip ring?"

"Fuck off," Gracie said, and Bill laughed, and it was all okay.

[mizutoyama]

*smacks into your window screen*

•°��TIS I, DR. SOUP!!!☆°•

Like dr pepper but better

Your character is sitting outside a little restaurant by the sea. They are telling their most intimate friend about their beloved. They're drinking something delicious. What are they saying? What are they drinking?

Astraea

Seated on the terrace of a modest maritime establishment in Aberdaron, Astraea was engaged in intimate conversation with her dearest friend, Natty, both ladies partaking of afternoon tea.

"How are things between you and Sallow?" asked Natty.

“In truth, it is rather complex,” replied Astraea, her gaze traversing the vast seascape before her as she added sugar to her tea. “His propensity for rash actions does give me pause. His boundaries, I fear, are undefined... Yet, his presence agitates my heart in a most peculiar manner. His mere sight manifests joy within me. Still, I am aware of the inherent risk of emotional distress. Not that Sebastian would consciously inflict such, but his impulsive nature might lead him onto a path of inadvertent harm...”

"It does sound complicated."

"Poppy told me that love triumphs over all adversity. Imelda, on the other hand, vowed to send a bludger his way should he cause me any distress," said Astraea, distractingly adding more sugar to her tea.

“Poppy has been residing in a realm of romance since Garreth commenced his courtship. As for Imelda, her affection for her broom is such that she might as well take it as her spouse,” retorted Natty.

Astraea responded with laughter before indulging in a sip of her tea, only to recoil almost immediately. “Good heavens, why is it so overly sweet?!”

Alice

Alice was sitting at a restaurant on the Promenade des Anglais in Nice, sipping lemonade under the hot Mediterranean sun. Across from her was Andre, her long-time friend who had joined her for a month-long stay at her French grandparents' house. He only had one thing in mind: find out how her blossoming relationship with Charlie Weasley, the dashing seeker of the Gryffindor Quidditch team (his words, not hers), was going.

"You have to tell me everything!" he exclaimed.

"There's not much to say... we literally started dating at the end of our fifth year."

"Yes, but that kiss at the end of the Quidditch match..."

Alice's face grew hot. The spontaneous act was a constant source of embarrassment as her friends kept bringing it up. "Could you stop mentioning that kiss? It just happened... I didn't intend my first kiss to be so public."

"Awwww, that was your first kiss."

"Andre," said Alice through gritted teeth. If looks could kill, Andre would be as dead as if the killing curse had been cast on him.

"Fine, fine. I'll stop talking about the kiss of the century. But how has it been going since?"

Alice shrugged. "Fine, I suppose. He's adorable when he talks about dragons, and his eyes light up," she sighed softly. "We didn't get much time together, though, especially not romantic time. We had to study for our O.W.L.s, and then it was the end of the school year and the train ride home. We had to patrol the train, so it wasn't super romantic."

"Wait, you actually patrolled the train? We were all convinced you two had found some empty compartment and snogged the entire time."

Alice choked on her lemonade. "No, we did not! Anyway, we weren't even paired up together for the patrol."

"Who were you with?"

"Simon. So wasn't so bad. Kept trying to find him a date for our first trip to Hogsmeade next year."

"This reminds me... Didn't I overhear you in a corridor teasing him about you dating Charlie and not him?"

"Hmmm? What are you...? Oh! No, not like... So, he was all gloomy after that Quidditch match. So I asked him what was going on. Obviously, Selwood tried to lie to me, saying he was fine, but I knew better. So I asked him, point blank, if he was jealous of my new relationship with Charlie." It was now Andre's turn to choke on his iced tea, but Alice ignored it and continued. "You should have seen his face. Colours completely drained from it, pale as a ghost. So I told him not to worry and that I would help him find a girlfriend so that he wouldn't feel left out and be in a relationship as well. That seemed to relieve him. And then I joked that maybe he was actually jealous that I was the one dating Charlie and that maybe, deep down, he had a thing for the great Charlie Weasley. That's probably what you overheard. He actually laughed but said Charlie wasn't his type. Though he still won't tell me what his type is."

Andre smiled knowingly as he sipped his drink. "Oh, Alice," was all he said.

"What?"

[spiffy-sea-dragon]

Fanfic writers who write entire stories centred on Charlie Weasley, a character with like a paragraph of canon, are on a tier above the rest of us

[picrew-fanart]

Charlie & Lys!! Theyre both such foxes <3333 (picrew)

[thaniabb]

Have you ever tried this one?

- ‘Juno’ -

by sabrina carpenter

favourite juno positions of our favourite gryffindors ♡︎ (harry, ron, oliver, fred, george)

warnings : this is pure smut

AN : mdni!! this is simply my opinion in which i think the gryffindors would like the most. (nameless and ageless accounts will be blocked immediately)

Harry James Potter

a gentle freak, buries himself in your neck while slowly rutting into you with his hips. placing small pecks there and then on your jaw.

absolutely adores the sounds you make, but especially when your nails scratch his naked back.

prefers this position specifically because he can look at your pretty face.

Ron Weasley

kind of taking him like a sub, liking to have you on top of him and just moving your hips on his cock, struggling to take it all.

in that case, his hands come to help and guide you over his cock.

a moaning mess when he feels your velvet walls squeeze the hell out of him.

his orgasm always comes right after yours, being a gentleman he is - he refuses to come before you.

Oliver Wood

even though he always prefers your intimate details to be spent in bed, either your dorm or his - it just happens for him to have you against the lockers.

your panties dangling in his pocket, as he pushes you softly against his locker, keeping your leg up by his right hand while his other runs circles over your clit. liking this position and using it everytime - just to feel your g - spot scratch his cock.

being the quidditch captain he is, he memorised all the times someone comes to the lockers - and in this case no one is coming.

with that being said, he lets you wander with your moans and huffs - know no one is going to hear you. the sounds only he is to hear.

Fred Weasley

even though fred is mischievous the way he is, he absolutely hates public or even semi - public sex. why? cause he believes that only he should hear the moaning mess you are for him and being able to praise his girl on how much of a good job she is doing.

his dorm, or yours - doesn’t even matter. having you splayed on the bed with your back to his front. holding your leg up in the air as his hips pick up the pace, hitting that sweet spot over and over. loving the way your head turns around to look at him, absolutely obsessing over this position.

his voice hoarse and airy, chuckling there and then. telling you how much you squeeze him and how he might just come there and then. how much of a good girl you are for him. always telling you how he senses more of orgasms in you.

George Weasley

being able to hear your angelic sounds was just what george needed, over and over. so really, public sex wasn’t for him. always needing to let you know how much of a good girl you were and what good work you were doing, even if he insists you don’t even lift a finger. it was his responsibility to make you feel good.

having you laying on the bed, your both sweet legs flinged over his muscular, freckled shoulders - with your hair splayed on the several pillows. while he slowly pounds into you, letting you adjust to his size every damn time.

his soft, brown eyes looking down at your orbs that were looking up at him - making him smile and pick up his pace. enjoying the way your nails scratched his biceps.

“oh late at night i’m thinkin’ ‘bout you,ooh”

[cherry-pop-elf]

Weasley Siblings reacting to you wearing a Hijab

AN: Inspired by a dear friend of mine that wears one and gets so much bullshit for it. If you yell at people with Hijabs I better expect you to be yelling at Nun’s to buddy. Fucking fucks

Bill Aka William

He works in Egypt after all. He would really be the last person to have some weird beef with it. Like Sir 90% of Egypt is Muslim. Not to mention Hijabs and head wear like that is used to protect you from the sun. He’s a GINGER. He’s gonna need covering! Not to mention he has an absolute love for history. He understands the purpose and origins. He has enough brain cells to understand that people have a right to choose what they wear for whatever reason they want. He even knows the DIFFERENCE between hijabs. Like knowing that a a Shayla and Hijab are two separate headwear’s. He will also certainly make sure you have the best fabric and plenty of designs. He will even help you put it on. He knows how, and will make sure your pins never snap or pop off. He will find you just as beautiful with it as without (if you ever consent for him to see your hair of course. Your body your choice. Never forget that.)

Charlie

He’s a world traveler, a lot like his brother Bill, so he’s not one to judge either. He’s met a wide variety of faces from working with dragons. Having to explore the big wide world for missions and tasks. He’s not as extremely in depth as Bill, but that doesn’t mean he won’t sit down and learn. You are his partner/friend. Why wouldn’t he give a shit about something important to you? Oh if anyone gives you shit about wearing a cloth on your head you better expect that he’s feeding Norbert(a) that day. Oh he’s a temperamental man!

Percy

He will be interested to know why, and have a certain degree of need to learn more. He would be confused at first, but taking a few minutes to explain is all it takes. He’s got a stick in his ass, but he’s not a dumb ass. He might get annoying with wondering if certain colors mean anything, what textures there are, how many styles, just be curious. He’s gonna be annoying about it, and worry about insulting you, but he’s actually giving a shit and trying to honor and respect you. He’s just a dork that’s doing it in his dorky way. What more could you want from him?

Fred and George

They’ll be curious like Percy, and be fascinated by it. Do be warned you will need to make sure they know not to touch it, and mean it, because they WILL try and pull it off in a matter of doing so when someone wears a hat. It’s not to try and insult your practice. They can just be dumb. They do know who they respect and are loyal to. Once you explain it’s ’not just a scarf’ they’ll make sure to never touch it. It’ll also be a fun excuse to try out new inventions. Such as new fabrics for your cloths, special pins, different kind of mischief to style it with. They’ll find a way to give it as much personality as you do! They are the Weasley twins. They’ll have fun in any way they can. Hijabs included!

Ron

Yeah he’s gonna make sure to ask Hermione, and Bill, more about it. He knows he has a bad habit of being a bit blunt at the wrong time, but he understands that there are certain things you just don’t mess around with. He’s heard plenty of tales from Bill about people in Egypt. He knows it exists but not much else from it. Not his fault. You think Hogwarts has many people with Hijabs? It’s just something new. He will probably make a remark about recalling a Quidditch player who has one. His own way of trying to bond with you and just figure it out. You’ll certainly over hear him plenty worrying to Bill about how to handle it. Making it a bigger deal than it really is, but hey. That’s Ron for you. He’s trying to better himself and understands his emotions are a little wonky because Jesus Christ there’s a lot of trauma in that man so can you blame him? ANYWAY-! He will genuinely do his best to understand it. Like having Bill as a test dummy for him to practice putting them on. You can’t deny it but Ron puts effort in when it counts. And YOU count

Ginny

She can grasp it a-lot quicker than you would expect. It’s not that hard to grasp what headwear is and different types. She’s not a girly girl but she’s lived in dorms with plenty, so hearing about head scarves crossed her brain. Not to mention Bill of course. There is also the fact she’s a professional Quidditch player. Meaning she’s been to a good few countries. She’s broadened her views. Being told that a Hijab is important to you isn’t hard to grasp either. She’s gonna definitely bring you Hijabs from her travels, trying to be supportive. Unlike Bill she will confuse a Shayla and Hijab, but honestly that’s more of a fashion thing because she’s a tom boy. She’s never been one for fashion in general so it’s more like a case of ‘Wait what do you mean satin and silk are different?’ Regardless she will try and show her support in her own way. Like wearing hair clips and style her hair more often. A excuse for you both to ‘get ready in the morning’ together. To style yourself for the day. Be involved in what’s important to you!

[draconology]

Tag dump!

[handledwithgloves]

Ron Weasley (ageless), “I’ve come here in support of my best friend, and my older brother, Charlie. Though, I think my wife is a little bit too.”

[agreeeeeeeeeee]

Best Friends Brother pt. 2 | C.W. ⋆✮⋆˙

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

“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.

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.

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.

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.”

“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.”

Thank you so much for reading!! (and if you have anything you'd like to read for Charlie, my asks are open!)