#charlie weasly/reader

[fredgeorgegredfeorge]

Green-Eyed Monster | F.W.

For the first time ever, Fred Weasley finds himself jealous over the only person in the world he needn’t worry a bit about.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x f!reader

Word count: 8k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex, oral + fingering (f!receiving, (lots of) dirty talk, name calling, praise/degradation, dom/sub dynamic, some nipple play, touch of a breeding kink, possessiveness/jealousy, some toxic themes, established relationship, swearing, drinking, arguing, angst, fluff, sorry if miss any!

first hp fic in a very long time! what better to post than this mess (jealous, possessive, sexy mess). basically pwp—let me know what you think! (Barely edited at all lmao my apologies)

You sat quietly at George’s desk, eyes focused on a piece of parchment as you both tried to break down the recipe George had scribbled down. There was a hiccup, a hitch in the plan of brewing a batch of Euphoria Elixir for the joke shop, and it was pushing back your plans to place them on the shelves this week. After a few hours of quiet deliberation on his lonesome, George decided to seek your help in hopes of speeding up the process.

So, the two of you put your heads together and re-read the ingredient list a million times, wondering how the hell it turned out murky green instead of sunshine-y yellow. The cauldron sat smoldering across the room, a rain cloud above it as the bubbly mixture spilled over the sides. Upon first glance, you had stated the absolute obvious.

“Isn’t that supposed to be a rainbow?” You raised an eyebrow, looking at your brother-in-law as he collapsed in his chair.

“Yes, you git.” George rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. You shot him a sharp look, warning him to be nice if he wanted your help. You knew George didn’t mean any of the insults—he was simply frustrated and maybe even a little embarrassed that he could not figure it out by himself. “Sorry, Y/N.” He conceded, realizing he came on a bit too strong.

“S’alright.” You assured him, stepping towards the desk where he sat. “Where’s the ingredient list? We’ll start there.” You offered, knowing you would help no matter how poor of a mood he was in. You loved George almost as much as you loved Fred, if you had to compare. Even if it was in a different way, you had a hard time refusing him when he used the same charm tactics as his twin brother.

After spending so many years in a relationship with Fred, it would be obscure for you not to have a bond with the closest person to him. Over the years, he’d surpassed a friend and had grown into your own brother. You were certain that no matter where life took you and Fred, George would always hold a special place in your heart. When the two opened their shop in Diagon Alley, you volunteered most of your free time to help them in any way you could, and whether it was tweaking new products or doing some of the dirty work, you never really minded.

That evening in specific, Fred was off on some ‘official business’, which really just meant meeting with a potential product buyer at The Leaky Cauldron. Last month, George took the burden of doing so, and they decided it was only fair for him to do it this time. Unfortunately for you, as much as you loved supporting them, it did interfere with your evening plans with him. So, sulking and trying your best to swallow it down, you distracted yourself with stocking shelves downstairs to prepare for another busy day ahead.

You were actually near grateful when George emerged from the office, calling out to you in desperation. It gave you a break from the monotonous back and forth, and someone to talk to. If it could not be Fred, you decided George was the next best.

“So, what’d’ya think it could be?” George asked, peeking over the cauldron that was still spitting back at him. He dodged out of the way, trying his best not to get any of the splashback on his new jumper.

“Well, from what you’ve told me, seems like you put all the right stuff in.” You deducted, pursing your lips slightly as you read over the list for what seemed like the millionth time. “Sad as it sounds, I doubt we can save it now, even if we figure out what happened.” You said, recalling your potions knowledge that Snape had relayed over the years.

“Right, but I’d like to know what’s wrong before I try again.” He explained, taking a moment to look over your sad expression. His eyebrows furrowed, his head cocking to the side as he tried to figure out where it was coming from. “What’s got your knickers in a twist?” Your eyes flickered upwards to meet his, your cheeks tinged red from the heat of the room. Your lips dipped into a frown as you shrugged your shoulders, brushing him off so you did not need to explain yourself. “I know you better than that. Come on, now.” He urged, placing his palms flat against the desk as he leaned towards you, a challenging look in his eye.

You narrowed your brows, keeping a stony expression as you met his gaze. “What’s it to you, Weasley?” You shot back, unsure of where your defensive nature was coming from. Perhaps you weren’t willing to discuss your relationship problems with your boyfriend’s twin brother, or maybe it was because you felt foolish for being upset at all.

“Reckon we’re past that, hmm? Your problems are our problems, and all.” He responded, also unsure of why you were being so reserved with your thoughts. Usually, you were an open book, especially with the two of them.

“My problems aren’t your problems, Georgie.” You shook your head, shutting down the ridiculous notion. “Let’s get back to the real problem, yeah?”

“No, I don’t think so.” George disagreed, his concern now over something completely different. “Is it about Fred?” At that, the tips of your ears began to burn and you shifted uncomfortably in your seat. “Ah, I see.” A devious smile crossed his lips.

“It’s not a big deal.” You covered your tracks, tapping the ink-less quill against the worn parchment.

“I have a hard time believing you, considering you just lied to me.”

“Lied is a strong word,” you rolled your eyes, quickly realizing that there would be no escaping the conversation. “I didn’t lie about anything.”

“What’s he done?”

“Nothing!” You exclaimed, a dry laugh leaving your lips. “It’s just… I’m just being dramatic.” And it’s true, you were being dramatic. Well, maybe not fully, but that’s what you were trying to convince yourself of. “I just miss him, I suppose. I know you both have been busy, but I think maybe I underestimated how busy you would actually be.” You continued, knowing it was wrong to confide in his twin brother about your relationship issues. Still, it felt good to get it off your chest, to voice the concern and have someone shoot you down, just so you knew you were being irrational. “This is the third night in a row we’ve canceled our plans. I’ll get over it. It’s no big deal.”

“That’s a big deal.” He hummed, sympathizing with you to make you feel better. “Bloody inconsiderate, if you ask me.” But you weren’t asking him, and somehow his justification of your feelings only made you feel worse. “What? Not allowed to speak my mind?”

“No—“ you let out a defeated sigh, slumping down in your seat. “I know that, but I was hoping you would tell me I’ve gone mad, instead.”

“Blimey, Y/N, you’re allowed to be upset. We're busy, yeah, but you’re still his girlfriend.” George said, jumping slightly when the rain cloud above the cauldron let out a crack of thunder. “If you’d rather, we can forget the elixir and grab dinner instead. I’m not Fred, but I’m pretty damn close.” He gave you a cheeky smile, earning an honest laugh from you.

“S’alright, Georgie. Thank you, though.” You appreciated his kindness, but you were sure it would only make your predicament even worse, considering Fred’s recently acquired short-fuse when it came to you and George spending so much time together. It was odd for him to be so protective, so jealous of the one person in the world he needn’t worry about, but it seemed as though the new trait was permanent. Perhaps it came from the fact he was also missing you due to your busy schedules, and how it sometimes seemed you and George were most often left at the shop alone.

“You know, I have noticed that lately.” George continued, leaning against the desk as he reminisced over the last few weeks. “Always seems to be us stuck here together.”

“Mhm.” You mumbled, slowly realizing that you weren’t as insane as you previously thought if he was noticing all of the same things. “Let’s just figure this out so I can get home.”

So you did. A grueling hour spent recounting George’s every step in brewing the elixir left the two of you puzzled and even more frustrated. By that point in the night, you were hunched over the long list of his steps you had jotted down so you could (hopefully) discover what he missed.

“I dunno, Georgie.” You sighed. “Seems like you did everything—“ you cut yourself off, leaning closer to the page on the desk as you caught something you hadn’t seen before.

“What?” He asked, his head snapping towards you. “What is it?”

“You said when you let it simmer, it was turquoise.” You said, looking up at him.

“Yeah, so?” He replied, confused why it was such a big deal.

“It’s meant to be blue.” You explained, a grin on your face as you relayed the information to him.

“Turquoise… blue… same thing, innit?” He asked, standing and walking over to you.

“Maybe to you.” You giggled, pointing to the piece of paper where he missed the step. “After you add the shrivelfig, you have to stir it until it changes color.” He walked up behind you, placing one hand on your arm as he leaned over your opposite shoulder. He smelled of butterbeer, likely due to the one he’d been nursing the entire time you sat together. You immediately noticed the warmth of his body, how similar it felt to how Fred touched you, but how drastically different it was all the same.

“Blimey, you’re right!” He exclaimed, his voice still soft so he was not yelling in your ear. “What would I do without you?” He gave your arm a gentle squeeze, leaning closer and pressing the side of his face to yours in a makeshift hug. His hand dropped to your back, lingering there as the conversation continued.

“It’s nothing, really.” You smiled, closing your eyes to enjoy the warmth for a moment. “So now you know. You can do it again, but make sure to stir it until it’s blue. By tomorrow, we’ll have it bottled and on the shelves just like we planned.”

“Our number one girl, saving the day yet again.” He sighed in relief. “I better get to it—“

Before his thought could finish, the door to the office swung open, cutting him short. Your eyes turned upwards, landing on a slightly drunken version of the boyfriend who’d abandoned your evening plans. The gloss of his eyes and the goofy smile on his lips led you to believe so, and the redness on the apples of his cheeks only solidified it. Only his cheeky grin didn’t last too long when he processed the scene in front of him, how close the two of you were, how heavy George’s hand seemed on your back and how rosy your own cheeks were.

Quickly, his jaw tightened, his gaze narrowing as he tried to decipher the whole situation. His nostrils flared ever so slightly, and his arms raised to cross over his chest. Immediately, you knew what you’d be in for; a long, tiresome argument that changed absolutely nothing. Instead of fighting the silent accusations, defending yourself for no real reason at all, you watched him with the same intensity while you awaited a snide comment.

“So what’s all this, then?” Fred asked, his face clearly conveying all of his emotions.

“Helping Georgie make the elixir while you were off getting sloshed at The Leaky Cauldron.” You muttered, noticing George straighten himself up in hopes of avoiding any further damage.

“I was not getting sloshed, I was doing business.” He corrected, defensive over the fact. “S’pose you were hoping I’d take a little longer, yeah? Give you some more time to cozy up with my brother?”

“Blimey, Fred. If you took any longer, I’d imagine you’d have to move in with the lad.” George took your side on the matter. “At least she wouldn’t have to worry about you missing dinner again.” At that, Fred’s eyes cut to you, immediately understanding where the underlying tension was coming from.

“Is that right?” Fred’s voice was no louder than a whisper, all of the pieces clicking together in an instant. “I don’t suppose the two of you had dinner? Let him fill in for me while I was gone?”

“No, we did not.” You snipped, standing as you gathered the ingredients for George’s second attempt at the brew.

“Yeah, right. What else did he fill in for, sweetheart? Anything you think I should know?” At that, your eyes widened and your face turned red. Your entire body felt like it was engulfed in flames, appalled that he would even think such a thing.

“Piss off, Fred.” You muttered, stepping out from behind the desk as tears stung your eyes. George shot you a sympathetic look as you pushed past his brother and out into the stairwell. You trodded down to the main level, swiping fallen tears away from your cheeks as you rushed out the front entrance of the building.

The cool air of the night was nice, especially after spending so long cramped up in the tiny office space, but it was not as freeing as you might have hoped once you heard footsteps following behind you. Without acknowledging him, you pulled your keys from your pocket, hoping that maybe he forgot his own set and you wouldn’t have to deal with his drunken arguments tonight if you got inside before him.

Of course, you knew that was childish and cruel, because despite being upset with him, loving him was the only thing you knew how to do. You unlocked the front door, holding it open with your boot-clad foot as he stumbled his way behind you. As soon as he passed through the doorway, you continued on your journey to ignore him and tossed your keys on the counter.

“Hey,” Fred reached out, his warm hand landing on your arm, stopping you from running any further from him.

“What?” You snapped, immediately regretting the harshness of your tone. He recoiled at the sound, shocked that you spoke to him in such a way. Usually the two of you saw eye to eye on everything, and in your long standing relationship arguing had never been your thing. Until you left school, you were certain the two of you had never been angry at each other, ever.

“What the bloody hell was that about? I leave for a few hours, and the two of you get on like that? Does that happen every time I step out?” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes again, wondering why this became such a problem in the few short months you’d been graduated.

“Merlin, Fred. You’re acting like you caught us in a broom closet.” You tried again to make your way to the bedroom, unwilling to argue a point he knew was blasphemous anyhow. “We were working, not fucking.”

“Yeah, but I bet you would’ve let him, right?” He grabbed your hand, spinning you back around to face him. He pulled you into him, his athletic build never leaving him even after he stopped playing quidditch. “Bitching and moaning cause I couldn’t be home to take you to dinner… if you were so upset, why didn’t you come to me, princess? Tell me what was wrong?” You could smell fire whiskey on his breath, feeling his chest heaving with anger against your own. As angry as you were, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of arousal run through you. The slight sneer on his face, the fire in his eyes, and the protective hold he had on you was sending your head spinning with thoughts much less pertinent to the topic at hand.

“Maybe I would have if you spared me the time of day.” You argued, finding yourself short of breath as you realized just how much he towered over you. “But, as it seems, you’ve been too damn busy to spare me a second glance.”

“Christ, when did you get so needy?” His rebuttal came easy, like he’d been waiting to have this fight for weeks. “Weren’t satisfied at home, so you thought my brother could do it for you?”

“Are you daft?” You hissed, feeling his fingers tighten on your hips. You hated that the feeling made you forget about your troubles, urging you to push the argument to the side and settle it in a better, more pleasurable way. “If that’s what I wanted, you think I’d be up here arguing with you?”

“That depends, sweetheart. Were you planning on getting caught?” He raised an eyebrow, the thud of his heart against his chest letting you know just how worked up he was. There was no way he truly believed you would do that to him, especially after all you had been through together. You wondered if maybe the lack of time spent with each other was getting to him, souring his thoughts because he missed you just as much as you missed him. “We may be identical, Princess, but he could never give you what I can.”

You hated to admit it, but for some strange reason, jealousy looked really good on him.

“What, a headache and a poor mood?” You decided to play his game if he wasn’t willing to listen to reason. If he wanted to fight, you could do it too. “I’m sure he could manage. In fact, he could probably do a hell of a lot more.” That seemed to strike a nerve in him, pushing him over the edge in an instant and changing the entire mood hanging heavy in the room. He no longer wanted to talk, but rather prove a point.

He took a step backwards, never easing his hold as he pushed you towards the kitchen table. He didn’t stop until your ass hit the edge, a mischievous look in his eye replacing the earlier annoyance. He had you locked in place, no intent to back down as he stared down at you over the bridge of his nose. Then, a small smirk turned the corner of his lips, leading you to believe he was also thinking of a much more simple way to solve your problems.

“Maybe you just need a reminder of who you belong to, yeah?” He asked, his voice quieter than it was before. You felt your mouth run dry, your eyes never leaving his as a dull ache between your legs began to pester you.

That would make you feel better, but he had pissed you off enough that you wanted to refuse him the satisfaction.

“Maybe we should get Georgie up here. According to you, he’d be the one to set me straight.” There was a slight venom in your tone letting him know you wouldn’t be letting anything go so easily. A low chuckle shook his shoulders, his eyes gleaming with a sinister look you weren’t sure you’d ever seen from him before that night. He shook his head ever so slightly, playing into you as he reached one arm behind you.

Your heart raced as you awaited a response, wondering if maybe you pushed him too far and crossed a boundary you could not double back on. You didn’t have to wonder long, because without a second thought, he cleared all of the items littering the table with one swift move of his arm. Papers scattered everywhere, floating through the air and landing all over the floor. Broken products and half finished merchandise for the shop tumbled off the edge, falling less than gracefully onto the tile below. Without ever breaking eye contact, he raised an eyebrow, daring you to say it again.

“You think he can fuck you better than I can?” He asked, giving you the opportunity to change your mind.

“Right now? Yeah.” You spat, wondering if he’d ever drop the act and get on with his day. “Seems like all you want to do is get on my nerves.”

“Yeah?” He challenged, his face so close to yours you could feel his breath on your skin. The tip of his nose grazed your own, his normally warm and comforting irises engulfed by his lust-blown pupils. Or perhaps it was anger that gave him the new look—you weren’t quite sure. “You’d rather go home with him at night? Wake up next to him every morning? Is that really what you want, princess?” He taunted, knowing very well that your heart was his, even if he found himself caught up in a few moments of doubt.

Still neglecting to give him any gratification, you nodded your head despite the sickening feeling that washed over you at the thought. As if he called your bluff before you ever said it aloud, he laughed at the certainty in your action, which only seemed to anger you further.

“If that’s the case, seems like I’ve got my work cut out for me tonight.” He responded, brushing the comment off as if it were nothing. If there was one thing Fred couldn’t ever turn down, it was a challenge, and since coming upstairs with you, it was only further proven to him that’s all this was. “Maybe I’ve gotten too comfortable, sweetheart. After so long, you think you’d know that you’re mine, huh?” Before he continued his tyrant, he used his hands on your hips to lift you onto the table with ease. The ache between your legs had grown stronger, more intense and impossible to ignore. You could feel the wetness soaking through your panties, and the thought of his strong arms lifting you so carelessly only made you spiral further. “Maybe I expect too much of you.” He theorized, recognizing the gleam in your eyes because he’d seen it a thousand times before.

He let his hands trail under the hem of your jumper, settling on the button of your jeans as he undid it with ease. You never let your eyes trail from his face, realizing that no matter how upset you were, it could never take away from how much you loved him. He was beautiful, his fiery red hair and the freckles splattered across his cheeks and nose creating a perfect picture. The softness of his complexion and the gentleness hidden deep in his expression assured you that whatever the two of you were doing was nothing more than an act. He knew you were his just as well as you did, but he knew the only way to settle the (admittedly, misguided) fear was to hear you say it aloud.

You helped him pull the fabric from your legs, wrapping your arms around his neck as you lifted your hips from the table. He discarded the clothing on the floor, paying no mind to it as he returned his hands to your bare legs. His eyes searched your face, carefully looking for any sign of discomfort. Instead, he was met with a pleading expression that only seemed to fuel his too large ego even further.

“No matter,” he disregarded his earlier rant, his eyes growing heavy as his hand fell between your legs. His fingertips grazed the thin fabric separating him from your core, a shiver running down his spine as he noticed the arousal that had soaked straight through. “I don’t mind having to show you. Least I’ll get to have my fun too, yeah?” He applied slight pressure to your aching clit, watching to see your reaction. Your eyebrows knitted together, your lips parting slightly as your hips moved forward into his hand, your body betraying your mind and begging him for something more.

At that, a grin encased his face, happy to see that he hadn’t lost his touch, even if your lives were vastly different and ever-changing by the day. He knew exactly how to make you feel good, and he took pride in it.

“See, Princess? She’ll always tell me the truth.” He taunted, his voice quiet as his eyes trailed down to his hand. You swallowed hard, knowing he had you in a stalemate. “Tell me again, who do you think knows how to make you feel good? Who does it best?” He was on a power trip, unwilling to slow down until he heard you admit it. Still, you stood your ground, pressing your lips tightly together so not a single sound could pass through. His grin faded, slowly sinking into a scowl as your disobedience remained clear.

He removed his finger from you, tracing the hem of your panties as he hooked his finger through the side of the fabric resting on your hip. He awaited an answer, giving you the opportunity to change your mind. When you kept your stoicism, he gave one, hard tug on the lacy fabric until it snapped in two. He used his other hand to do it to the opposite side, giving himself easy access to you without hearing a complaint on your end.

“So you don’t care who’s between your legs?” He continued, unrelenting as you stared him down. “Doesn’t matter who, as long as there’s a cock in you? As long as someone’s taking care of your pretty pussy?” Your cheeks flushed, your chest burning as the filthy words washed over you. “Doesn’t matter, sweetheart. When I’m done with you, I’ll be the only person you can think of. Surely then you won’t be able to forget who you belong to.”

His hand connected with your bare cunt, his fingers trailing through your arousal and settling over your clit as he began to trace slow circles into the sensitive area. Your legs trembled at the contact, finally feeling some relief from the nagging sensation that had been taking over.

“Fuck. Fred.” You whispered, giving yourself away immediately. He let out a low hum, pleased with the sound and knowing he was the reason for it. He had you where he wanted you, and now he just had to keep up the pace. You could feel his hardening length against your leg, distracting you completely from the pent up anger and frustration.

“That’s it.” He encouraged, his middle finger sinking inside of you as he let his thumb take over on your clit. “That’s my girl.” He made sure to accentuate the claim, never once letting you forget it. “All you needed was a little help remembering.” Slowly, he pumped his finger into you, keeping time with his thumb as he began to work you towards a climax. “You want to say it for me? Tell me what I already know?” Instead of responding, you let out a whine, your hips bucking forward into his hand. Although it wasn’t what he was looking for, it was just enough for him to keep going.

He curled his fingers as he pumped them into you, begging for a reaction as your hand wrapped around his bicep for support. You felt the tense of his muscles as he worked at you, only pushing you closer to insanity. You were his, undoubtedly and wholeheartedly, and you would be crazy to ever want anyone else.

“Stubborn little thing tonight.” He remarked, his eyes focused on the point in which his hand met with you, never breaking his stare as he watched his fingers disappear into you. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Need more, Freddie.” You replied, your eyes squeezed shut as you felt the pleasure pulsing under your skin. It had been a long time since you felt him this way, and your impatience was quite clear.

“My little whore needs more?” He teased, applying a little more pressure with his thumb. A gasp fell from your lips, sending your upper half leaning forward until your forehead rested against his. “Asking a lot from someone you aren’t being very good for.” He chastised you for your behavior despite being the one that caused the problem in the first place.

“M’sorry, my love. S-so sorry.” You rushed out, his fingers brushing against the sweet spot inside you only he knew how to find.

“That’s not what I want to hear sweetheart, and you know it.” His tone was firm, unrelenting as he continued his torment. You let out a groan of frustration, wishing he’d quicken the pace and give you what you wanted, even though you refused to give in to him.

He leaned forward, closing the gap between your mouths as he grew tired of waiting for the words he wanted to hear. He tasted like the whiskey that had been fuelling his poor mood, sweet and bitter all at once as his tongue grazed your bottom lip. You hated how easy it was for him to turn you into a mess, hated how easy it was for him to make you forget you were angry at all. You pulled him closer to you, holding his arm tightly so he would not pull away. You were stubborn, but despite that, you were showing him everything he wanted to see through your actions alone.

You broke from the kiss as a particularly intense wave of euphoria pulled your stomach. Your forehead continued to rest on his, holding you upright as he continued to give you just enough to keep you satisfied.

“Say it, princess.” His voice was low, raspy and laced with desire as he watched you turn into a mess below him. “Tell me you’re all mine. Tell me I’m the only one who can make you feel like this.” Instead, you connected your mouths again, letting a desperate moan out at the same time. He drank in the sound, his cock throbbing as his hips jutted forward into nothing. He was almost more desperate than you were, which only allowed for you to take him less seriously.

“G-gonna have to try harder than that.” You found a peculiar pleasure in leaving him on edge, giving him a taste of his own medicine as he continued to torture both of you at once. “Show me why I should say it, Freddie. Seems like you’re all t-talk.” You stuttered, tripping over your words as you tried to keep your composure.

He withdrew his hand from you, making you cry out in frustration from the loss of pleasure. Your eyes met his, desperation written all over your face as you protested his actions. Silently, he sunk to his knees between your legs, pulling you to the edge of the table by your hips. He didn’t spare a single glance at your face before his tongue connected with your core, the warm wetness of his tongue even more pleasurable than the rough pad of his thumb.

You laid back on the table, your hands sinking downwards and tangling in the soft locks of hair. Although you were denying him of the statement he wanted to hear, you could not deny that your last argument was wholly untrue. Fred was determined to prove a point, and he was doing it well.

You weren’t far off from an orgasm, his tongue making quick work at pushing you to the edge. The sounds falling from your lips were telling of your current state, and as delirium began to set in, your defenses began to break down.

He suctioned his lips around your clit, adding his fingers to the mix and returning to his earlier pace to torture you further. Every nerve in your body was ablaze with desire, need seeping from every pore as you realized just how badly you needed the release. Sick of the game, you finally broke in fear he would leave you hanging yet again.

“Oh, god.” You gasped, your legs resting over his shoulders in attempt to stop the constant trembling of the lips. “I’m yours, Fred, fuck!” You exclaimed, a sheen layer of sweat forming over your forehead as the knot in your belly began to tighten. “Only you can make me feel this good. Nobody else.” You whined, your fingers tightening on the locks of hair as you began to tug at the strands. You could feel him smiling against you, happy to finally hear you admit the truth.

Pleased with your confessions, he curled his fingers against your g-spot one last time, generously giving you the very thing you’d been pleading for. In a mess, your entire body tensed as the pleasure took hold. The orgasm washed over you, leaving your heart racing against your chest and your head swirling with filthy thoughts for the boy between your legs. A hum of approval let you know he was more than happy with your performance, and he kept his pace until he felt you relax against the table below you.

Once he knew he’d gotten the most out of you, he rose to his feet, towering over you as you laid below him. In the dim moonlight, you could see your orgasm glistening on his chin, only furthering his cockiness as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip so he did not waste a drop of it.

“Always taste so sweet, princess.” He whispered, using one hand to free himself from his pants and his boxers. “And it’s all for me.” He continued, slipping his shirt from his head. He used it to wipe his face clean before tossing it on the floor to join the growing pile of clothes. With shaky hands, you lifted your upper half from the table and pulled your own jumper over your head. “Isn’t that right?” He stepped toward, settling between your legs as his hands ghosted over your bare thighs.

You let out a whimper, his grip landing on your already sore hips as his eyes raked over your entire frame. Your gaze flickered to his cock, hard and aching for relief as he continued to tease you. His fingers tickled your stomach as he trailed his touch upwards, his palm landing flat against your breast as he gave it a gentle squeeze. He let the pad of his thumb brush over your hardened nipple, sending another wave of pleasure through you.

“Answer me, sweetheart.” He wasn’t playing anymore; he wanted to hear the words, and he was done with your obstinacy. He pinched your nipple between his thumb and forefinger,

“Yes,” you huffed, already forgetting the pleasure from your first climax as a whole new wave of need began to take over. “I’m yours, Fred. All yours.” You reiterated your earlier statement, now willing to do whatever he wanted of you to prove the point.

“Tell me how bad you want it.” He shot you a twisted little smile, almost as if he was getting off just from the thought of you begging for him.

“I need it, baby. Need to feel you, please.” You whined, reaching for his arms and pulling him closer. “Want you so bad, Fred. Been waiting all night for it.” You felt the tip of his cock connect with your cunt, his expression faltering as soon as he felt the wetness.

“God, you make it so hard to be upset with you.” He hissed the words through his teeth, using his hand to guide himself through your folds as he sucked in a sharp breath. He settled himself just over your already sensitive clit, pushing his hips forward ever so slightly to apply pressure to the spot. “Sound so pretty when you’re begging to be fucked.”

Slowly, he let his tip run back through your arousal, settling the head just at your entrance. He pushed himself forward, but just barely. You whimpered as you braced yourself for the feeling, only to be let down when he stopped himself from going any further.

“Fred,” you warned, catching his eye so he could see your desperate face. You hoped that if he did, he would stop being such a tease. “Please fuck me.”

“What was that?” He smirked, turning his head slightly so his ear was closer to you. “Didn’t quite catch it.”

“Fred, stop—“ you cut yourself off, letting out a huff of annoyance. You knew chastising him for his actions would only make him less likely to give in, even if it was incredibly hard to hold it back. “I need you to fuck me.” You repeated, clearer and louder in hopes of swaying his decision. “Can’t wait any longer, baby. Please.”

At that, he pushed forward the rest of the way, sending your entire body raising with goosebumps. The stretch as he filled you was exactly what you craved, and as he reached the hilt, his tip brushed against your g-spot so delicately that it almost made you come undone right then and there. Your eyelids grew heavy with satisfaction, focusing on how full you felt with him inside of you, knowing that he for certain would always be the one for you.

“That good enough for you, Princess? This is what you wanted?” He asked, letting himself rest inside you for a moment. He felt your walls flutter around him, pulling him even further and making it harder for him to resist you.

“Mhm,” you hummed, giving him a tired nod of agreement. You could feel him throbbing inside of, desperate for a release just like you had been moments before, but he was still trying to prove his point.

“Nobody else gets to have you like this, sweetheart. You’re mine.” He whispered, now sober from the alcohol but intoxicated by an even stronger, deadlier force; you. “He couldn’t fuck you like this, and you know it.” As he spoke, he withdrew his hips and slammed them forward into you again. The action stole the breath from your lungs, twisting your stomach with pleasure as your nails scratched over his skin.

He began at a pace, slower than normal but the force behind his movements making your head spin. You moaned quietly, lost within the feeling of being so close to him. He never failed to take your breath away, never failed to amaze you with his every move. You were so in love with him it sometimes felt like there was no room within your heart for anyone or anything else.

“Tell me, Y/N.” He ordered, his stare never wavering as he fucked into you. As much as he wanted to succumb to the sensation of you wrapped around him, he found it hard to push the thoughts of your earlier arguments out of his head. “You think he’d fuck you like this? You think he could make you feel this good?”

“No, Freddie.” You gasped, feeling the strength of his thrusts increase, sending the legs of the table wobbling. His fingers tightened on your hips, likely leaving behind angry red marks that would fade into reminders of him for days to come.

“That’s it, Princess.” He panted, his chest heaving as he tried to resist the pull of pleasure. “Don’t you think, not even for a second, that anyone can give you half of what I can.” You both knew this to be fact; nobody in the entire world could ever compare to him. “And why do you think that is?”

“‘C-cause I’m yours,” you managed to stutter out the response, watching him as the statement washed over. He brought his hand to your thigh, your legs wrapped tightly around you as he pulled you back on him with every thrust. His head fell back on his shoulders, the dim light of the room casting a beautiful hue over his already breathtaking features.

“That’s right,” he grunted, slamming his hips forward again. There was a thin layer of sweat sheen on his chest, the toned muscles of his abdomen flexing every time he moved. The exposed columns of his neck made your mouth water, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed back his own groans of pleasure. “Was that why you were mouthing off? You just needed someone to take care of you? Just needed me to fuck you?”

“God, yes.” You moaned, feeling the pressure in your belly begin to reach a peak.

“You gonna cum for me, sweetheart? All over my cock?” He smiled, looking down at you so he could appreciate the view. “Come on now, making a fucking mess of it.”

“Fuck,” you whimpered, his words hitting you hard and causing the tightening knot in your belly to tense even further.

“That’s my pretty girl. Just like that.” He continued to encourage you, studying your expression as pleasure began to twist it.

It didn’t take much more for you to descend into another orgasm, your entire body quivering as you cried out for him, singing his name like a hymn and he was the god in which you prayed to. Your throat was raw, raspy from the constant string of moans passing your lips. You were tired, almost too fucked out to continue on, but he was having none of it. He didn’t slow his pace as you came down from the high, instead speeding up and ensuring that he pulled your entire body down on him as he fucked into you.

“Freddie, please.” You breathed, feeling the threat of overstimulation begin to creep in. He would have had sympathy had he known you couldn’t take it, but he was confident in your ability to keep up with him.

“What’s wrong, Princess? Wanted it so bad and now you can’t handle it?” He asked, his eyes glazed over with lust as he felt himself approaching his own orgasm. You frowned at his words, now on a quest to prove your own point as you tried to ignore the stinging beginning to set in.

“I can t-take it.” You huffed, a shiver running down your spine as he reached upwards and palmed your breast. He gave the supple flesh a gentle squeeze, his eyes closing in bliss as he let himself slip out of the persona he had created.

“Being so good for me—just a bit longer now.” He whispered, his voice far away as his eyes settled over your face once more. “Bloody hell, Y/N.” he groaned, his forehead creasing as his eyebrows furrowed together. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

He slipped his hand between your legs, his thumb landing atop your clit. He traced slow circles, knowing you were a bit further behind him and unwilling to climax without giving you at least one more. He could see how tired you were, but it did not deter him from his commitment to pleasing you.

“I love you, Fred.” You whispered, softened entirely by the sweet look in his eyes. All of his previous anger fled, leaving him just as the boy you’d fallen so hopelessly for.

“I love you, sweetheart.” He hummed, his hips stuttering and his stature faltering. “Give me one more, yeah? I know you can do it.” And he was right, your entire body was ablaze with another orgasm much more powerful than the last two.

“Together?” You gasped, reaching up and settling your palm on his cheek.

“Yeah? You want to cum with me?” He encouraged your train of thought. “Want me to fill that pretty cunt? Really show you who you belong to?”

“Fuck yes, please.” You cried, your fingertips tangling in the locks of hair hanging over his ears. Your walls clenched around him, drawing him in and effortlessly finishing what you had started.

You felt his hips stall, a low growl leaving his lips as he pulled you down on him one last time. He managed to whisper your name as he spilled his release into you, the feeling of him filling you completely sending you spiraling on your own accord. You let out a defeated sigh, the tail end of it turning into a whine as your body went rigid. Your nails scratched at the skin of his arm, your hand on him the only thing keeping you tied to earth instead of floating up and through the clouds.

The both of you rode the high together, euphoria infiltrating every nerve in both of your bodies as he leaned down towards you. Ever so gently, he laid his head on your chest, which was still heaving as you tried to catch up from the lack of oxygen. He placed a plethora of small kisses against the warm skin, his eyes fluttering closed as he appreciated the comfort that came with your company.

Silence hung heavy between you for a few moments, neither of you sure where to go from there. You were still strung out on bliss, barely remembering what got the two of you in the position until he spoke again.

“M’sorry, sweetheart.” His voice barely broke through the room, so timid and shy that you almost missed it completely. “I know you’d never do that. Just got in my head, I s’pose.”

“I… I get it.” You sighed, twisting a lock of his hair. “If I walked in on that, after us being so.. you know. I’d likely feel it too.” You confessed. “I was upset that we had to cancel dinner. I am upset, but not at you.” You tried your best to explain yourself despite exhaustion eating away at your mind. “I’m just upset because I miss you. You’re so busy now, and I’m happy for you, really, but I miss you too.”

“You think I was bloody happy about it?” Fred chuckled, the tip of his fingers tracing shapes into your skin. “I’d much rather be here, with you.” At that, you relaxed completely, understanding that you had gotten too far into your own head. “It’s my favorite place to be. Always has been.”

“Mine too, Fred.” You hummed, smiling softly at the thought.

“I reckon I was a bit jealous, ‘specially at the thought of you and George spending so much time with each other. Would rather it be me, you know, sitting at the shop and laughing with you all night… taking you out for dinner… loving you.” Another gentle kiss was placed to your chest, just before he looked up to meet your eyes. The soft, warm, familiar sight made you feel at ease. He was back to being your Fred, the one you missed all along.

“Darling, you have nothing to be jealous about.” You promised, smiling as he placed a quick peck on your lips. “Though, if it means we get to have brilliant sex like that, by all means do what you have to do.” You explained. “Bloody brilliant, at that.” Without any further words, the two of you descended into a fit of laughter and the clouds that previously hung above your head seemingly cleared in an instant, easily proving to him there was really never a need to worry at all.

[awriterinthenight]

a moment of silence for all the fics that were masterpieces but you'll never find them again

[meelusinee]

HOME IS A QUESTION MARK | C.W X READER

word count \ 2.8k | christmas fluff | slash / charlie weasley x reader

in which you find yourself at home dating charlie weasley author's note at the end!

FICMAS MASTERLIST

HOME IS A QUESTION MARK | CHARLIE WEASLEY X READER

You have been through many homes in your life.

Your mother had birthed you inside a home made to be warm and safe. You could tell whenever you walked through it as a young kid, feeling the warmth of love inside the woodwork of the door frames. Though that didn’t last long, your grandparents taking you out once she married a monster of a man.

Then there was the issue of your grandparents. Your grandmother was quick to blame you for all of your mother’s problems, and your grandfather was too much of a coward to stop it. The police officer who came to get you after a welfare call took you in for a week or two, which forced you to live with kids who were absolute menaces.

All of that faded once you were in foster care though. Anything horrid that you ever imagined in your nightmares seemed to be your reality now, a mix between constant anxiety and lack of energy to care running through you like the oxygen you needed to breathe.

Suffice to say, you never truly felt at home. No amount of porridge or pumpkin juice from Hogwarts could make you feel safe, nor any amount of butterbeer surfing itself down your throat.

Nothing ever felt like home.

Nothing felt like home until you met him.

You had been friends with the Weasley twins for a long while, having been adopted into their schemes ever since you stepped foot onto the platform of Hogwarts. They seemed to like you enough to keep you around without hurting you, and that was all you could ask for in the beginning.

Percy seemed a bit annoying to them, but you didn’t mind him that much. Ron and Ginny came after, along with Hermione and Harry. You and Harry seemed to bond well over your trauma, though you never truly knew with people.

Even with that in mind, it wasn’t perfect. The twins had a knack for the dangerous kind of trouble, and their younger siblings and their friends had a knack for the deadly kind. Fred and George’s pranks sometimes went too far, and there were times you debated ending the friendship because of that. You put in effort to communicate the issues with them, even if you regretted it internally sometimes.

But right now? Right now you were very glad that you had put in the effort.

“Charlie.” he had said, that smile flashing you like a blinding paparazzi light you had been wanting on you your whole life.

His eyes were warm, and his piercing along with other things helped his charm. He had a couple of scars across his arms and face, mainly burn marks. That and the freckles, his arms covered in those and lean muscles.

“Y/N.” you whispered, smiling softly at him. Your stomach felt like it was twisting itself into a cruel knot worthy of its place in books devoted to forms of olden time torture.

“So you’re the famous twin wrangler?” he asked, chuckling softly as he leaned forward. He knew you? That was a shock in it of itself, as was his new standing position.

“Twin wrangler?” you asked.

“You know, Fred and George,” he said, waving his hand. “I’ve heard that you’ve given ‘em one of many different lectures as of late.”

“Oh,” you said, smiling softly at his words. You weren’t sure who told him about you, but if you had to assume, it’d probably be either Ginny or Ron. “I suppose so, yes.”

“You’re rather adorable,” he muttered, tilting his head slightly to look at you. “Ron didn’t do me any justice explaining you.”

“No?” you asked, a small flush covering your cheeks.

Charlie smiled at you, his eyes looking you up and down with a small smile. “Yeah, not the tiniest bit.”

“Oh,” you breathed out, smiling dopily at him.

“I think you look pretty, Y/N.” he said slowly, and you noticed how his voice dropped a bit as he talked to you. “I think you look really pretty.”

You smiled at that, the flush on your cheeks spreading all across your face. You weren’t sure if he would notice it or not, though you definitely did with how hot your face felt. “Thank you.”

“It’s a basic fact of the world, I don’t need to be thanked.” he hummed, chuckling softly. “The dragons can sometimes breathe fire, Wizards can do magic, and you are absolutely beautiful. If it weren’t for the fact you were dating someone, I would probably ask you to be my wife.”

Your smile brightened a bit more at his first sentences, though his last one made your eyebrows furrow rather quickly. “Dating someone?”

“Fred said that you had a boyfriend?” Charlie said, his eyebrows furrowing back. “No, I don’t.” you muttered, looking at where Fred was standing. It was their grand opening night for their shop in Hogsmeade, and their family had dragged them both out to celebrate at the Three Broomsticks. That, by association, led to you being dragged and sat in the corner. “I’m not sure why he said that.”

“Maybe he knew I’d try to flirt with you if I thought you were single.” Charlie said, tapping his now empty glass of butterbeer. “Do you want another drink?”

“Oh,” you muttered, looking down at the glass you had practically downed when you got it. “Yeah, another one would be nice.”

“Maybe a date afterwards?” he asked hopefully, a sparkle in his eyes you’d never really seen in a man before.

You blinked in confusion at the sight of it, not sure what to think. On one hand, you weren’t sure whether you could trust him. You already felt like you were betraying yourself by being attracted to someone in the first place, and you felt yourself questioning whether he was even a good guy based on your previous types of men. But there just seemed something about him that you couldn’t ignore.

You supposed that you would find out later if you’d regret that.

“I’m glad that you said yes.” Charlie whispered, his voice calm as he spoke to you.

You were both in a small patch of grass, laying down on your backs as you looked at the moon and the stars. The past three dates that you had with him were absolutely perfect. Charlie asked about your interests, didn’t talk over you, and was a generally respectful guy. He brought you flowers on the second date after you mentioned what your favorite ones were. You later found out that he kept one of them to make sure he knew when yours were dying, in which case he sent you another bouquet with a different type.

Overall, he seemed like a really, genuinely, good guy.

“Yes to what?” you asked, looking over at him. Your face flushed again as you realized he’d been looking at you the entire night, a small smile appearing on both of your faces. “What?”

“The first date.” he whispered, chuckling as he turned on his side completely to face you. “You said yes to go out with me. I think asking you was the best decision I’d ever made.”

“I don’t think you mean that.” you chuckled, though both of you knew that it was dull.

“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked, gently tilting your head back to face him. His eyebrows furrowed as he looked into your eyes, and for a moment, you felt like he was looking directly into your soul. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

“I don’t,” you mumbled, before sighing. You knew it would come up sooner or later if this went any further. And as much as you wanted to keep him and cherish what you thought was the perfect guy for as long as you could, you also felt guilty for trapping him into something with someone he might think as normal. “I’m not normal.”

“Nobody’s normal.” he hummed gently. “But that just,”

“No, Charlie.” you said, sitting up. You cleared your throat as you watched him sit up with you, trying your best to speak. “I had a really bad life so far. My, my mom had this really bad boyfriend, and my grandma was really religious. Like, dangerously. And all the foster homes and bad friendships I’ve had, and everything is just,”

“Y.N.” he said, hand holding yours again. “You had a bad childhood. I’m assuming really bad by the amount of people you threw around, but that doesn’t mean anything.” he whispered. “And it certainly doesn’t mean you have to spill on the third date, okay?”

“You,” you mumbled, unsure of what else to say. Could he get any more perfect?

“Yes, me.” he smiled softly. “If you really want to tell me, then you can. I’m not saying you can’t. But I don’t want you to feel like you need to just because you’re interested in me. That’ll come with time, we can learn together.”

“You’re perfect.” you whispered softly, sniffling.

“Let’s not go that far.” he smiled, pulling you in a hug to try and prevent your tears.

“Charlie?” Fred asked, walking up behind you dramatically. “Really, Y/N?”

“What?” you asked confusedly, not sure what he meant. You hadn’t even caught the first word that he said.

“Charlie!” George said, popping up on your other side. “You’re going out with our brother!”

Your face made an ‘o’ shape before you nodded, not sure what they were going to say next. In all honesty though, you didn’t care.

Charlie had asked you out about two months ago, after around three months of seeing each other. You originally asked whether he wanted to date you after your fourth date, to which he quickly stated that he wanted to earn your hand in dating. That alone would’ve been enough to make you say yes, much less the next three months after.

And although you’ve had your mishaps, he’s still listened and learned. He was a genuinely good guy, one which sometimes made you doubt or reconsider everything about yourself. Even still, he reassured you whenever that happened, and made sure to communicate with you as well.

“What about me and Charlie?” you asked, your eyebrows furrowed. You weren’t sure what they were going to say, but you knew that you were ready to defend it with your life.

“We mean that if he tries to do something, then mum will get mad at us for beating him up!” Fred complained, George throwing his hands in the air. “You’ve kept us out of trouble one too many times, now you’re setting us up for it!”

“Well, I don’t think you’d have to worry about that.” you mumbled. “Charlie’s a good guy.”

“Good guy?” Fred said, shaking his head at that. George shook his head too, hands wrapping you up in a hug. “You’ll think that until he starts pranking you when you move in together.”

“Maybe he only pranked you two out of retaliation.” you suggested, chuckling softly at them both.

George gasped at that, looking over at Fred. “You’re right!”

“We should prank him back!” Fred said.

“How about we don’t?” you suggested, chuckling as they both deflated like dying balloons.

“Well, on the plus side,” Fred said, his eyebrows wiggling much like a worm trying to crawl out of the dirt. “When you two get married, you’ll officially be our sister!”

“I don’t think Ginny’ll be too happy you’re replacing her.” you said.

“It’s not a replacement, it’s an upgrade!” George joked, smiling as Fred clapped along to that thought. Both of them quickly hushed though as a pillow was thrown their way, Ginny running them both out of the room with her wand in hand.

“The nerve of those two.” she muttered, rolling her eyes as she faced you. “Can you believe them?”

“I’ve dealt with it for about seven years.” you sighed, shaking your head as you looked down to the ground. “I deserve compensation.”

“Don’t we both?” she chuckled, bumping you with her arm. “In all seriousness though, I’d like to have you as my sister.”

“Really?” you asked, smiling softly at her.

“Really!” she said before chuckling. “I mean, I’m sure Harry would too. Ron said that he’s planning on proposing sometime soon, and he’s always viewed you as a sister. Plus, you’re probably the best sisterI’ve ever had myself, and you’re not even my real sister! I mean, there’s only so much that my brothers really do, and I rarely feel comfortable talking to mum about my issues.”

“You don’t?” you asked, not sure whether that was a cause for concern or not.

“She’s just,” Ginny muttered, shrugging. “Old. I don’t know if that’s a mean thing to say, but it’s true! Like a culture shock kind of thing?”

“I get it.” you smiled, nodding at her words.

“Yeah.” she smiled, before patting your shoulder. “Make sure to take care of Charlie too. Those dragons really do a number on him, I’ll tell you!”

You nodded, before swallowing another sip of your drink. Ginny walked off after that, sitting down on the couch with Harry and Hermione. You were still stuck in the corner, as usual, though a part of you felt more willing to get out than before.

Maybe Charlie really was changing you.

“Do you want to deal with my family for Christmas?”

Charlie and you had moved into a small flat together recently, and the days had been complete bliss. The only thing that really separated you was work, though you always managed to find a way back into each other's arms again.

“Why wouldn’t I?” you asked him.

“They’re loud.” he shrugged back, placing the letter that his mother had sent him down in front of you. She had sent you one separate, since only the twins, Ginny, and Harry knew you were dating him. “Plus, mum is really touchy.”

“I’ve dealt with it for years.” you shrugged simply. The twins had always invited you over for Christmas every year, and she was just as physically loving as one could get.

“Doesn’t mean you have to.” he reminded you, his face just as gentle as ever.

You looked up at him with a small but grateful smile, feeling a part of yourself healing with every time you two talked or touched. “I know.”

“So you’d want to?” he asked, taking a small bite of his yogurt. “I can buy you those noise cancelling headphones as a gag gift, you pretend to put them on. Or just some charmed earplugs that only zone in on someone talking to you.”

“I think those earplugs sound nice.” you smiled, leaning forward a bit as you looked at him with all the heart eyes you could ever muster.

“Perfect, earplugs it is!” he smiled brightly, standing up a bit straighter once he finished his yogurt.

Christmas at the Weasleys was always a loud event. Everyone was busy hauling packages left and right, the tree absolutely stoked to the brim. Mrs. Weasley was the loudest of them all, the seasonal stress making her absolutely panic over everything that she could.

Even with the earplugs that Charlie had made for you, you still eventually found yourself sitting on the back porch. Everyone had been enthralled in dinner, enjoying the meal as you expertly sneaked off to get some fresh air. The scents and the sounds were always overstimulating, just as much as the constant rubbing against your skin from ugly sweaters and sweaty bodies.

You probably shouldn’t have expected to stay out there for long though, you realized, since Charlie seemed to always notice whenever you went away.

“You okay?” he asked, sitting down on the porch step next to you.

“Just too much.” you mumbled, resting your head on his shoulder.

“That’s okay.” he whispered, wrapping his arm around you. You nuzzled into his grasp closer, feeling comforted by any form of contact you could muster. “You wanna go home?”

“I don’t know.” you whispered, rubbing your hands together.

“That’s okay.” he repeated, kissing your forehead. “You ate something at least, right?”

“Mhm.” you nodded. “Made sure of it.”

“Good.” he said, his hand caressing your waist.

You both sat in silence for a while, his arm resting around your body as your head leaned itself onto his shoulder. Even with the freezing cold weather outside, you still felt rather warm yourself. Your eyes closed themselves as you both nuzzled closer, the moon rising higher in the sky the longer that you both sat outside.

It was then that you truly knew what Charlie meant to you.

Not only was he your boyfriend, the love of your life that you never knew you would even find on the Earth that you once hated, but he was also home. He was the lifeline you found yourself always able to rely on, just as you were his. Being with him felt safe and loving, a home that you had been missing out on for years.

And while you were sad you didn’t have it before, you were certainly glad you had it now.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

HELLOOOOO EVERYONE thank u guys so much for reading this, it's a lot longer than my usual fics but i just felt that it felt a little unfinished you know? i might maybe do a second part where molly finds out about y/n and charlie, who knows?

AS ALWAYS, please like, comment, reblog, and all that jazz! i thank everyone who does VERY dearly, very very dearly even. HAVE A GOOD DAY LOVELIES BYEEEEEE

[syymplypotter]

၄⋆၃ Ron Weasley as your boyfriend

Pairings - Ron Weasley x Fem!Reader

a/n - if there are any spelling mistakes feel free to tell me!!

ꕥ• His love language is words of affirmation. He loves the way you blush and start fidgeting with your fingers when he compliments you.

ꕥ• He taught you how to play chess so he could play with you.

ꕥ• He loves to take you out on walks near the lake. he finds your presence so comforting to him

ꕥ• He introduced you to all his siblings and they all love you, especially ginny as she loves having another girl around.

ꕥ• His mum knitted you and Ron matching sweaters and he loves wearing them out as it shows everyone that you’re his.

ꕥ• He loves when you kiss him and leave lipstick marks on his body.

ꕥ• He knows your interest in dragons so he gets Charlie to teach you more about them and have you meet some.

ꕥ• He loves when you play with his hair, it makes him feel so comfortable.

ꕥ• He makes you tutor him outside of school because he just can’t seem to focus in class.

ꕥ• He has spare clothes just for you in his dorm because you go over there so often.

ꕥ• He loves to bake with you, whether it’s bread or cookies he just loves the smell of freshly baked goods, and he just enjoys doing it with you.

ꕥ• Molly is already planning yous guy’s wedding, she can help it she just loves you so much.

thank you for reading!!

comments and reblogs are appreciated

[sativariddle]

hii ! i love your writing, would you consider writing something for George Weasley ? fluff from preference ? i don’t know if you take requests, sorry if not ! thanks for your time xx 💋

i’m so happy you enjoy my writing, mwahhh!!

summary; even on your darkest days, your boyfriend george always knows how to brighten them.

today was shaping up to be one of the worst mornings ever.

it started bright and early, nestled within the supposed safety of your gryffindor dormitory.

you woke with a relaxing stretch, a yawn escaping your slightly pouty lips.

the peaceful morning abruptly ended as you glanced at your clock, realizing with a sinking feeling that you were already late.

the potions class had begun halfway through the lesson, and professor snape's disapproving glare was likely already fixed upon the empty seat where you should be sitting.

you hurriedly dressed, but your hair seemed to have a mind of its own.

it stood up in every which direction, a wild, untamed mess that refused to be tamed, even as you frantically tried to smooth it down with your hands.

you were certain your brush was on the verge of breaking under the force of your tugging, but in the end, you gave up and resorted to magic.

with a swift incantation, you managed to soothe your locks, though they still looked like they had been styled by a hurricane.

the halls were somewhat empty, as most wizards and witches were already seated in their lessons.

dragging yourself into the classroom, your lungs burned from the dash across hogwarts' seemingly endless corridors.

every pair of eyes— including professor snape's cold, piercing stare— snapped towards you as the door slammed shut behind you, announcing your dramatic entrance more loudly than you'd intended.

your hufflepuff friend caught your eye, her seat empty beside her, a small, reassuring smile playing at her lips.

you weaved through the sea of stares, swallowing thickly, and collapsed into the seat beside her.

"must i remind you that punctuality is key to proper learning in my class," snape's dark eyes narrowed dangerously, his voice dripping with contempt. "or do gryffindors simply not bother with such trivial matters?"

"i’m sorry, professor snape. it won't happen again." you whispered the apology, staring down at your scuffed shoes, hating how the weight of his cold gaze and the whispered comments from your classmates made your cheeks burn with humiliation.

"mark my words, i do hope you're telling the truth this time. and consider detention tomorrow evening.”

great.

exactly what you needed, honestly.

you scribbled furiously, trying to catch up on the notes you'd missed due to your tardiness. as soon as professor snape dismissed the class, you grabbed your things and bolted for the door, eager to escape the dungeons and the lingering disapproval in his eyes.

as you hurried through the cold stone corridors, your eyes locked onto a familiar fiery mop of red hair up ahead.

your boyfriend, along with his identical twin brother, were laughing and talking animatedly.

their towering figures were impossible to miss, with twin heads of bright red hair that caught the light streaming through the tower windows.

the younger students seemed to part like water around their presence, making it even easier for you to spot them from down the hallway.

george spotted you first, his usual boyish grin creeping across his handsome features as he caught sight of his stunning girlfriend.

however, your clear frown didn't go unnoticed, causing his eyebrows to furrow slightly in concern.

fred watched his twin brother hurry off towards you, his expression remaining neutral as he continued on to their next lesson without him.

george quickly caught up to you, his long legs eating up the distance between you, and placed a gentle hand on your arm to halt your progress.

even through your grumpy mood, you couldn't help but feel the familiar warmth spreading through you as he approached. that signature boyish grin of his seemed to brighten the dark hogwarts hallway, and despite your foul disposition, you felt yourself weakening.

"you alright, darlin'?" was the first thing your boyfriend said once you were right in front of him, giving you a quick kiss on the lips.

he knew how much you hated showing affection in a crowded place, and the hallway was bustling with witches and wizards hurrying to their next lesson.

you were about to lie through your teeth and say ‘everything's fine,’ but something in his warm, caring gaze made you pause. he was standing right there, the person who could make any problem seem small, any burden feel lighter. "spill it,"

you sighed. "i'm not alright. none of my friends woke me up for class, so i was late to potions. you know how snape is, so i got detention. my hair feels greasy and dirty, and since i woke up so late, i missed breakfast. my stomach rumbling during the lesson didn't help the embarrassment of already bursting in there..."

as you continued rambling, the usually loud corridor grew quieter as students rushed to their classes. george remained, completely focused on you, gently twirling a strand of your hair between his fingers to soothe you while keeping his other hand tucked safely in his robes pocket.

"—and for fuck's sake, i can’t even stay mad when my ridiculously handsome boyfriend looks at me like i’m the only girl in the world while i’m ranting about everything that went wrong today." as the words left your mouth, george let out a soft chuckle. even with your brows furrowed and frustration etched across your face, he still thought you were the most captivating witch he'd ever seen.

“oh, my grumpy girl,” he murmured, his voice soft and teasing. his fingers continued to toy with the ends of your hair before drifting to rest gently at the back of your neck.

george glanced around the nearly empty hallway, ensuring privacy.

seeing only a couple of students hurrying by, he turned his attention back to you.

without hesitation, he leaned down and captured your lips in a gentle, yet passionate kiss.

oh, how he adored the feeling of your soft, plump lips pressed against his own, a sensation that never failed to leave him breathless.

as the kiss deepened, george tilted his head slightly, his nose brushing tenderly against your cheek. his hand at the back of your neck tightened ever so gently, drawing a soft gasp from you as your lips stayed parted against his.

seizing the moment, george slipped his tongue past your parted lips, deepening the kiss with a hungry urgency. his previously idle hand left his pocket and snaked around your waist, pulling you closer as the hallway grew increasingly empty.

as he began to pull away, his teeth grazed your bottom lip, biting down gently before releasing it, letting it spring back to its soft, plump shape.

"my beautiful girl," george whispered, his blue eyes dilating with affection as he gazed at you.

the gentle endearment and the loving intensity in his eyes made your heart flutter, and you couldn't help but smile widely, the bad morning instantly forgotten as you drank in the warmth of his gaze.

merlin, he was absolutely everything.

request are open!

[enweasley]

would it be a good idea to write a fanfiction about my own character in hogwarts legacy? He's a weasley (duh doi) - Finn Weasley. i think it would be cool to write a reader insert about him (cuz holy smokes im falling for him) and base imagines off the hogwarts legacy plot but i dont wanna do it if people arent gonna be interested

lmk :)

ps - i have a bunch of gif ideas for him omg

[cherry-pop-elf]

Weasley Siblings Reacting To Your Muscle Spasms ♿️

William ‘Bill’

He can relate.

He has his own issue with them, from his attack by Greyback.

It’s more subtle, and tend to get triggered by stress, but he can be in your shoes.

They DO get worse when the full moon is closer/here. Since a curse breaker, he was able to prevent himself from being turned. But still has side effects.

He doesn’t get startled when you have a bad day, and they get triggered. Nor does it bother him when you both sleep together.

He’s someone who can get it, and often forgets you even have them. When he notices, it’s just another day. He GETS it, and you can have someone to confide in

Charlie

He has them. He has them BAD.

Given he works with dragon’s, and all the time, he has suffered some nerve damage. Amongst just a million other health issues.

He’s turned it into a straight up game on who twitches the most sometimes. Weasleys. You knew what you were signing up for

Since he has his owns, you have a taste of your own medicine of what it’s like to fall asleep with someone who has them.

He genuinely knows what it’s like, and it’s nice to be with someone who gets it. Doesn’t freak out every single time it happens. It’s healing. You two are buddies in this world of muscle tension

Percy

He’s…..anxious. To put it lightly. He’s always been a man that startles easy, which the twins took advantage of, so it’s a lot to get used to.

But, since his older siblings have similar issues, he isn’t going in blind either. He’s the type to be quick to try and learn whatever his partner enjoys/suffers with.

He does get very frustrated, at the start, such as when you have an incident when your knee bumped against the table while he was working. Spilling ink everywhere. He was about to yell, but he recalled a time when Charlie did the same thing. How guilty he felt, and self conscious he was. So, he forced himself to breath, and cleaned up

It’s stressful, but he’s wanting to learn and help any way he can. He finds something like that not a deal breaker. You can’t help it, and neither can his brothers

Sleeping with him is a struggle, and doesn’t happen for a while. Not until you are both deeper in the relationship

Over all, it’s a struggle. He’s an able bodied man dating a disabled partner. But, he grew up with siblings having those similar issues. So, in a morbid sense, seeing and feeling them reminds him of home

Fred

As stated, he has siblings who have similar issues. So he isn’t phased by it nearly. Not to mention he’s most certainly developed some of his own, with being a man that has tested so many wild things on himself for the sake of WWW. Also, ya know, Fireworksexual

He’s the type that teases and would often call you “Jitterbug” or stuff like that. If you weren’t into that, he would be quick to correct himself. Jokes are to make people laugh after all, and tease those that had it coming. You were born/in an incident. Never had it coming

Given his whole aesthetic being a man of chaos, he doesn’t get bothered by you having flare ups at all. Just another day. But he would be always concerned when you have a bad day. Seeing how intense they can get. Even secretly trying to invent something to help

Given how close him and George are, they would often sneak into bed with each other when having nightmares. So having someone who’s spacing in their sleep doesn’t bother him a lick. But he will have his worries

It’s just part of who you are. And it’s part of who he is. Just one of the flaws that make you so beautiful to him

George

Rather similar to Fred, to many degrees, but he is still an independent person. And is a bit more sensitive to it all

He worries about you a bit more, and can’t help but wonder if they ever hurt. Charlie and Bill say they don’t. Unless they hit something, but still. He’s gonna worry about you when he sees the flares

When he loses his ear, after the war, he developed his own spasms from the trauma it did to his muscles and blood vessels. So he has some, and jokes that you two are twinning now. He immediately cried after saying that

Whenever you have a bad flare up in your sleep, expect to have him hold you closer. Kissing your head, in the hopes it some how. It doesn’t work like that, but he’s a wizard. Maybe it does

He’s going to worry, a lot. But it’s all in good faith, and because he cares. He’s going to try and help somehow whenever he can. And you can’t stop him

Ron

Expect to hear good ole “Bloody Hell-“ Whenever you have a bad one. He gets startled easy, like Percy, but is more audible about it. Over the years he gets better, but expect a lot of it

Growing up with siblings have similar, he doesn’t really get bothered. Just startled. Especially since he hasn’t been around his siblings along growing up, due to the age gap.

He secretly has a talent of reading spasm writing though. Since Bill and Charlie write to the family often. And since it’s ink, you can’t really fix it. So you never have to feel self conscious about your flare ups when writing

He will get startled awake, now and again, when you start sharing a bed. But he refuses to ever tell you that. Knowing how brave you are to attempt it. It’s the least he can do to try and make it work in return

When more of his siblings develop spasm, he feels a weird relief. Like if he never dated you, he couldn’t help them like he could with you

It’s new, but he’s a Weasley. Chaos is in their DNA. It’s just something you can’t control, like he can’t control his nervous ticks. It takes a while to adjust, but that’s kinda basic human nature. To adjust to new things. And you are a new thing here wants to keep

Ginny

Given her Qudditch career and lifestyle, she gets muscle fatigue often. So she can relate to having twitches. Course, having them twenty four seven is a whole other ball game for her

Given her experience, she is happy to help massage your joints and muscles. Using every trick in the book to see if they can help you in any way at all

Given she’s the baby, she didn’t really grow up around her eldest brothers, so she isn’t quite used to the concept of another person having them. Even with her team mates, they are far more subtle and they don’t exactly spend twenty four seven together

She sleeps like a damn brick. So you never have to worry about waking her up. But expect her own leg kicks when it’s been a long day on the field

She’s going to care for you deeply, and use all her special tricks to help you. Even though it doesn’t really work like that, the mental health boost it gives you still does numbers. She is trying because she CAN and WANTS to, and that’s all that matters

[rae-pottah]

omgomgomg ok we all know that fred teases and stuff all the time and it’s in every fic ever and a lot of the time he’s like mean (or.. in some cases.. well you know) but i’ve literally never seen him like that.. anyway all that to say can you please do a fic (no smut) where he’s just an absolute sweetie and absolutely so whipped for reader (but like not in a cringe way LMAO)

Fandom: Harry Potter

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Warnings: She/her pronouns, fluff, golden retriever!fred, established relationship

Summary: You have Fred trained well

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

*Y/n's POV*

Soon it will be Christmas, and I will be going home with my boyfriend to meet his family for the first time. It's exciting and scary at the same time, but for now, we live like normal. I had just gotten to breakfast when I realized I was missing my potions text book, we had potions first. I let out a frustrated groan.

"What's wrong m'dear?" Fred asked worriedly

"Nothing, just left my text book in the common room, I'll have to eat quickly then go grab it" I breath out

"Ah, no love, I'll go get it! You eat, I've been down here for a while"

"Oh will you Fred?! Thank you m'love!" I kiss him on his cheek before sitting down tiredly. If I had turned around I would have seen his blush and the way he touched his cheek with a soft smile before he went to go get the book

"Whipped" I hear Ginny say under her breath, I look toward the girl with a smile

--meeting the family--

I had been anxious to meet his family, I don't know what they're like. That's why I brought a deck of muggle cards to maybe teach Mr. Weasley a couple games.

I obviously had already met, Percy, George, Ron and Ginny. But the others I had never met. The door gets thrown open

"OH! HOW WONDERFUL! Y/n, we've heard so much about you!" I get pulled into a hug from Mrs. Weasley.

"And I, you! It's a pleasure to meet you Mrs. Weasley" I suddenly felt calm in her embrace

"Oh please, please darling call me Molly" she starts "We've already started dinner, I hope you don't mind"

"Of course not! please lead the way" I follow her right in through the living room to the kitchen and table area "lovely home you have" I say as I looked around with wide eyes, adoring the wood, adoring the homeliness

"Oh thank you dear, such a sweetheart" she mumbles the last part, hand on her heart

"Oh! Dar-mling! Hw ar ya-" Fred says, while chewing his food, I simply tap my finger to my lips and he lets out a sound of recognition, he chews his food quickly (with his mouth shut), swallows and stands up

"Sorry about that love, How are you?" he asked kindly

"I'm great, darling" I look over to his family who, other than Percy, George, Ron and Ginny, looked shocked

"Bloody hell, that's a brilliant witch!" a tall, muscled, red head, with scars all over any area showing, approached me "I'm Charlie, Charlie Weasley, whatever you're doing, keep doing it."

"Haha, He's trained well" Molly approached with a huge hug

"You are my new daughter in-law, I will accept no one else"

"Oh-Pfft" I let out a giggle as I turn back to Fred, he looks toward the floor with a shy smile and light blush, I grab his hand and sit at the table with my new in-laws

As the night continued I had played 4 or 5 hands of poker with Mr. Weasley and Fred, who was sulking because we were going to play without him

--The common room--

"Darling, hand me that" I pointed at the book to the left of the chair I was on, that was on a stand nearly connected to the couch

"of course Love" he said quickly while playing with a fire cracker he found in one of their old trunks

"Thank you love"

Ginny looks at Ron who looks at George, they all then break into laughter

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

That's all I got folks

[mrsstruggle]

All The Good Girls Go To Hell Masterlist // Harry Potter AU // ONGOING

Summary: It's been a year since the war ended. Cedric Diggory is found dead and in debt to The Damnation. His sister, Y/N Diggory, offers to take her brother's place in The Damnation to pay off his debt, but things become complicated when she starts to develop feelings for the two handsome leaders.

[Also on Wattpad]

Pairings: Y/N Diggory x Fred Weasley, Y/N Diggory x George Weasley (separately, not together because I will not write that)

Warnings: Language, Mentions of Death/Injury/Grief/Torture, Possible Grammar Mistakes (please let me know if there is anything else), and A Lot of Smut!!

Posting Schedule: New Chapters every Tuesday and Friday at 7PM CT!

Note: This is a Harry Potter AU. This is set after the war.

Another Note: Cedric was not killed during the Triwizard Tournament, but he was tortured at the cemetery.

***I do not own Harry Potter or any related characters. This is a work of fanfiction and is meant for entertainment purposes only.***

---

Prologue

[dovesdreaming]

I probably have 15 fics that need very little editing to post but I can’t bring myself to do it!! Please give me requests!! Im so bored that I will probably post some of them today if you send any!

[jennapancake]

~Requests open~

However, I usually only write x Reader unless requested otherwise and usually Reader is female. Please send in requests. ❤️

ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕀 𝕨𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕖 𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕦𝕥 ↓

|Percy Jackson|

•Luke Castellan

-Love Made me Crazy Part 1

-Love Made me Crazy Part 2

|Jujutsu Kaisen|

•Satoru Gojo

•Suguru Geto

•Yuji Itadori

•Megumi Fushiguro

•Kento Nanami

•Sukuna

|Mashle Magic and Muscles|

•Rayne Ames

•Orter Madl

|Harry Potter|

•Fred Weasley

•George Weasley

•Harry Potter

•Pansy Parkinson

•Draco Malfoy

•Mattheo Riddle

•Theodore Nott

•Tom Riddle

•Blaise Zabini

•Lorenzo Berkshire

•Cedric Diggory

•Oliver Wood

•Charlie Weasley

•Bill Weasley

|Marauders Era|

•James Potter

•Sirius Black

-I want you to want me

•Remus Lupin

•Regulus Black

•Barty Crouch Jr

-The Diner (Stalker Headcannon)

•Evan Rosier

|Maze Runner|

•Thomas

•Newt

•Minho

- The Monsters Creator

•Frypan

•Gally

|Teen Wolf|

•Stiles Stilinski

•Void Stiles

•Derek Hale

|Windbreaker|

•Haruka Sakura

•Hajime Umemiya

-The Dreamcatcher

-Wontons

•Hayato Suo

•Jo Togame

|Stranger Things|

•Steve Harrington

•Eddie Munson

•Billy Hargrove

•Robin Buckley

|Outer Banks|

•JJ Maybank

•Rafe Cameron

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

-More to be added-

[awriterinthenight]

I have writers block, so if anyone has any requests please send them, I need inspiration. Anything helps, I do blurbs, sometimes small series, and headcannons.

[vulncrables]

hey    ,    all    !    just    going    to    creep    in    here    &    just    ,    hello    !    i’m    dizzy    &    i’ve    recently    been    writing    on    wattpad    under    @vulncrables    &    i’ve    finally    decided    to    absolutely    throw    myself    into    more    writing    now    that    my    lifes    gone    a    little    pear    shaped    !    i    write    for    all    this    harry    potter    ,    stranger    things        ,    heartbreak    high        &    possibly    more    ,    i’d    love    some    requests    ,    you    can    check    out    my    writing    on    wattpad    but    i    don’t    know    where    to    start    here    ,    so    i    thought    i’d    throw    out    the    offer    of    requests    !    this    blog    will    be    for    mature    audiences    (    with    canons    aged    up    )    ,    so    smut    requests    are    always    welcome    !

[masivechaos]

Put Your Head On My Shoulder✧˖*°࿐ fred weasley x fem! reader

Warning/content: kissing, first time writing for fred be aware, my English

w/c: 0.4k

masterlist/ golden masterlist / navigation / taglist 

Everyone was excited about the Yule Ball and Fred Weasley wasn’t an exception. As much as he tried to seem relaxed about it, he was freaking out. Asking you out by throwing you a paper at the other side of the table was easy but actually spending the evening with you was stressing him a bit.

But he didn’t have time to think anymore because, at this exact moment, you were in front of him, wearing the most beautiful dress he had ever seen. “You look stunning,” he said, not able to keep the information to himself.

You looked up at him and smiled “Thank you. Could say the same about you” 

Fred let out a laugh before taking your hand in his, leading you to the dancefloor. You both danced for so long that your legs felt sore. Thus, you were more than relieved when Fred invited you to take a break, taking you to an empty corridor far from the other students.

You sat down on the cold stone floor with your back against the wall. Instinctively, you got closer to Fred, who had sat next to you, letting his arm slide around your waist. Fred’s heart missed a beat when you put your head on his shoulder. You both stayed in silence, comfortable with each other’s calm presence.

Fred wished you could kiss him, pressing your lips against his. He wanted this for so long and hoped tonight was finally the moment. He wanted both of you to just fall in love, stay with each other, happy.

And as if you could read his mind, you lifted your head, looking into his eyes with a smile on your lips. You checked for any sign of resistance and leaned in, drawing your hand to the back of his neck and finally pulled him into a kiss. You were a little surprised that you were the one making the first move tonight.

Without even thinking, he kissed you back, cupping your face with his hands. He forgot about everything else, his stomach was all butterflies and fireworks. You kept kissing him, the muffled music mixed with the dim light and the moonlight was making you feel like you were alone. You and Fred against the world, together and in love.

One of his hands came to your waist, slightly pinching the skin there, making you gasp so he was able to deepen the kiss. He let out a small laugh at your surprise and you pulled away “You really are an idiot,” you said but your large grin was betraying you.

“You love me,” he replied. And Merlin, he had never been more right.

⋆ ★ fred weasley taglist: @ell0ra-br3kk3r @cauliflowertree @madison-rebel @moonlitmeeks @loveeharrington @elenatries2write @juneberrie @f4iry-blush  @gilmore-angel  @sparklenarniawizard @songs4themoon @moondemon123 @siriusblackstwin @goodoldfashionedluvergirl @kidcuisinesvcks @percy-the-hufflepuff @innerloverpainter @vancitycharlie @nyxxxxxxxx @venussflytraps @badsmellyboy @oncasette @locke-writes @dori-and-gray

[a-araiguma-a]

Between the serving and Her smile

Chapter 2. From Muggles to Wizards: Between Studies and Dreams

Fandom: Harry Potter Pairing: Oliver Wood x fem!OC, Charlie Weasley x f!OC, <?> Warning: fluff, mutual pining, friends-to-lovers drama, first love, jealous

Summary: He was the captain and keeper of the Gryffindor team, and his quest to win the Quidditch Cup became an obsessive goal. All his thoughts revolved around tactics, training and strategies, but sometimes his own heart reminded him of another, equally important side of life. He believed that love and Quidditch could coexist in his life. He swore to himself that he would do everything possible to preserve these two treasures, even if it required the impossible from him.

Start - Prolog (Episode 1 - Episode 2 - Episode 3 - Episode 4 - Episode 5) - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8

Everyday life at Hogwarts quickly settled into a familiar routine. Each day was filled with lessons, new knowledge, and magical discoveries. Gradually, Margaret began to feel more confident. She became better at understanding magical subjects and spells. She often thought back with gratitude to her lessons with her grandfather, which were now paying off. Thanks to their practice sessions, she found Charms and Potions classes much easier. She quickly mastered many basic spells and even helped her friends with their assignments.

“How do you manage so well?” Emma asked in surprise when Margaret once again effortlessly performed a spell in Professor Flitwick’s class.

“My grandfather helped me prepare,” Margaret replied, slightly embarrassed. “We practiced a lot before I came here.”

“Lucky you,” Sophie said with a smile. “I’m finding this all a bit more difficult.”

Her favorite class turned out to be Transfiguration, where she learned to turn matchsticks into needles, and she couldn’t believe that her own hands could perform such magic. She would hold the needle in her hands, marveling at the magic she could feel at her fingertips.

In Potions, she was particularly amazed by the ingredients, which seemed incredible compared to the ordinary spices and herbs used by Muggles. For example, the first time she used unicorn horn in a potion, she felt a deep reverence for magical creatures. Over time, she learned to handle these ingredients, understanding how they interacted with each other. One of the highlights was when she brewed a Sleeping Draught for the first time, and her partner, after trying it, immediately fell asleep for a few minutes, causing everyone to laugh and feel relieved.

In Charms class, it was an incredible feeling—realizing that words could bring magic to life.

Hogwarts itself was one big mystery for Margaret. Her Muggle fairy tales gradually faded into the background, giving way to real magic. One day, she accidentally stumbled upon a secret passage in one of the castle corridors. The passage led her to an abandoned wing where she found ancient paintings, books, and even some magical objects that, as she later discovered, had belonged to students from a century ago.

In the evenings, Margaret often talked with Charlie Weasley in the common room. He was older than her but always found time to chat about life at Hogwarts and his large family.

“I have six brothers and sisters,” he once said with a laugh one evening. “A big family is pure chaos, but it’s fun. Speaking of brothers, one of them, Percy, is studying with you. He’s a bit of a stickler, but only at first glance. Maybe you’ll become friends? I think you’d like our family.”

“That sounds amazing,” Margaret smiled. “I’ve always wanted a big family.”

Thus, six months passed at Hogwarts. Margaret had grown accustomed to her new rhythm of life, finding joy in each day spent among friends and books. Studying came easily to her, and Hogwarts felt more and more like home. But despite everything, by Christmas, she started to miss home deeply.

Christmas at Hogwarts was a magical time. The castle was decorated with hundreds of garlands, a giant tree towered in the Great Hall, and the air was filled with the scent of pine and gingerbread. But Margaret knew that soon she would be going home to see her family, something she had been dreaming of for weeks.

Mr. and Mrs. Denning, Bennett’s parents, also promised to visit for the holidays. The magical heritage was hidden from them, and Margaret couldn’t wait to finally return home and spend time with those she cared about.

On the last night before her departure, Margaret stood by the window of her room, gazing at the snow-covered slopes and the castle glowing in the moonlight. Her heart was filled with warmth at the thought of returning home, but she knew that Hogwarts would always be a special place for her, a place she would gladly return to after the holidays.

After spending long months at Hogwarts, Margaret finally returned home for Christmas, eagerly anticipating her reunion with her parents. Platform 9¾ was once again bustling with activity as students said their goodbyes to friends and prepared for their journey home. Margaret, having gathered her belongings, hurried to the station, where her mom and dad were already waiting for her. Seeing them, she couldn’t hold back her smile and ran toward them.

“Mom! Dad!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around their necks.

“Margaret, darling, we’ve missed you so much,” Miranda said, hugging her daughter tightly.

“You’ve grown up so much,” Bennett added, looking at her with pride. “How’s school? Is everything going well?”

“Everything is wonderful,” Margaret replied, beaming with happiness. “I have so much to tell you!”

When they returned home, Margaret savored the familiar, comforting atmosphere. The house was decorated for the holiday, and it smelled of pine branches and freshly baked goods. That evening, at the festive table, they were joined by her grandparents, Mr. and Mrs. Denning, who had also missed their granddaughter dearly. They believed she was studying at a school for young ladies, only returning home during the winter and summer holidays. They were strict but kind-hearted people.

“Margaret, dear, you’ve grown so much,” her grandfather said with a smile as he hugged her.

“We’re so glad you’re home,” her grandmother added, her eyes sparkling with joy.

During the holiday dinner, decorated with Christmas ornaments and a sparkling tree, Margaret shared her academic achievements.

She also began to open up more to Miranda, telling her how much her grandfather’s lessons had helped her before the school year started and how they had made her assignments easier. Many of the spells and potions were already familiar, making her studies much more manageable. Sometimes, she was even asked to help with homework. She talked about her new friends and funny situations. Perhaps her heart softened toward Miranda, and she began to reciprocate her feelings.

“You’re doing great,” Miranda praised her, proud of her daughter’s achievements. “We knew you would succeed.”

The Christmas holidays passed quickly, and soon it was time to return to Hogwarts. Margaret spent the last few days at home relaxing and enjoying the warmth of her family.

Returning to her studies went smoothly, and she continued to excel. In the Gryffindor common room, Margaret spent more time talking with Charlie Weasley, who shared funny and awkward stories about his younger siblings and his love for magical creatures, especially dragons.

One day, she found Oliver Wood in the common room, reading a book about Quidditch, and he told her about his dream of joining the Quidditch team.

“I really want to try out for Quidditch,” he said, his eyes shining with enthusiasm. “But unfortunately, they only accept second-years. I can’t wait to give it a shot.”

“I’m sure you’ll do great,” Margaret replied with a smile, encouraging him.

Spring passed quickly, and soon it was time for the summer holidays. Margaret said goodbye to Hogwarts with a hint of sadness but comforted herself with the promise of staying in touch with Emma and Sophie through letters. That summer, she resumed her lessons with her grandfather, studying literature and the origins of magic. Now, with her newfound knowledge, she could engage in discussions with him.

“You’ve become a real witch,” her grandfather once said, looking at her with pride as they discussed ancient spells. “I never thought I’d be discussing such complex topics with you so soon.”

“I’m really interested in this,” Margaret replied, feeling her confidence grow with each passing day.

However, her grandmother insisted that Margaret spend more time relaxing.

“Once you return to Hogwarts, you won’t have as much free time,” she reminded her. “Enjoy the summer while you can.”

The family supported this idea, and one day they even went to an amusement park. It was Margaret’s first time in such a place and the first time she had spent so much time with her father. She rode the rides, ate cotton candy, and enjoyed every moment.

Autumn arrived, and Margaret once again found herself on Platform 9¾. She looked around for familiar faces and soon spotted Emma and Sophie, who were waving at her excitedly. They met and hugged, not hiding their joy.

“I missed you so much!” Margaret exclaimed with a smile. “How were your holidays?”

“We missed you too,” Sophie replied. “The holidays were great, but I’m glad to be back—there will be even more adventures this year!”

The second year at Hogwarts began with the usual hustle and bustle: classes, homework, and discussions of upcoming events. One of the most exciting moments of the year was the Quidditch team tryouts. Oliver Wood, with whom Margaret had become friends the previous year, was obsessed with the idea of making the team. Quidditch wasn’t just a game for him; it was a true passion.

Charlie Weasley, the Gryffindor team captain, was also eagerly awaiting the event. The excitement within the team was building, and as captain, he was eager to see who would join their ranks.

On the day of the tryouts, Margaret, Emma, and Sophie decided to head to the stands to watch the trials. Grabbing their scarves and cloaks, they made their way to the stadium, where students were already gathering. The field was bathed in light, the stands gradually filled with spectators, and the air was thick with anticipation.

“I think Oliver is definitely going to make the team,” Emma said as she settled onto a bench, glancing around. “He trained so much over the summer.”

“He’s got a good chance,” Margaret agreed. “I’ve seen him fly. He’s a natural-born Quidditch player.”

As the trials began, the spectators in the stands watched the action on the field closely. The players demonstrated their agility, speed, and broom-handling skills. Oliver, as always, was focused and determined, trying to showcase everything he could do.

“He’s relentless,” Sophie marveled, watching as Oliver skillfully maneuvered on his broom, dodging Bludgers. “He’d be perfect for the team.”

After a while, as the trials quieted down a bit, Sophie suddenly turned to Margaret with a mischievous smile.

“Why don’t you give it a try?” she suggested, her eyes gleaming with sudden inspiration. “You’re a great flyer! I saw you fly last year.”

Margaret thought about it for a moment. The idea of participating in the tryouts had crossed her mind, but she quickly realized it wasn’t for her.

“I love flying,” she replied, smiling slightly. “But chasing after balls is a whole different story. Quidditch requires a special kind of concentration and strategy. I enjoy the freedom of flying, the feeling of being in the air. I don’t think being on the team is for me.”

Sophie pondered this for a moment, then nodded, agreeing with her reasoning.

“You’re right,” she said. “Flying for fun is one thing, but playing Quidditch is something else entirely. But still, it would’ve been interesting to see you on the field.”

Margaret smiled, feeling that she had made the right choice. She knew that Quidditch wasn’t her calling, but it was nice to think that her flying skills had been noticed by her friends. Together, they continued to watch the trials, cheering on their friends.

When the tryouts were over, Oliver, exhausted but satisfied, climbed up to the stands to join Margaret, Emma, and Sophie.

“How’d I do?” he asked, catching his breath and wiping the sweat from his brow.

“You were amazing!” Emma exclaimed, genuinely impressed by his determination.

“Charlie is sure to pick you,” Sophie added with a smile.

Margaret, offering him a reassuring smile, said, “You did everything you could. Now it’s up to the captain.”

Oliver nodded, his eyes gleaming with excitement. He had dreamed of becoming part of the team, and now, finally, he had a chance to make that dream a reality. The results didn’t take long to arrive—Oliver was finally accepted into the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Just as Margaret had predicted, Charlie chose him as the team’s Keeper, and Oliver couldn’t have been happier. Now he could proudly wear the team uniform and participate in the matches he had longed for.

The second year flew by unnoticed. Margaret focused on her studies and continued to excel. Potions classes took place in the cold dungeons of Hogwarts. The stone walls, low ceilings, and flickering candlelight created an atmosphere of mystery. The students sat at long wooden tables, on which cauldrons, flasks, and jars of various ingredients were arranged. Professor Snape, dressed in a black robe, glided between the rows like a shadow, watching every move of the students.

“Today, you will be brewing the Polyjuice Potion,” Snape announced in a cold voice that carried a hint of menace. “If any of you feel the urge to mess up, be warned: the consequences will be most unpleasant.”

Margaret, like the others, held her breath. She knew that Potions required concentration and precision, and under Snape’s watchful gaze, any mistake could be fatal. He was a strict and demanding teacher who tolerated no negligence.

Each lesson began with an explanation of the theory and a description of the ingredients, followed by the practical part. Snape rarely praised the students, but his silent approval was often the highest reward.

“Margaret,” Emma whispered beside her as they began adding mandrake root to their cauldron. “Are you sure we need to do this slowly?”

“Yes,” Margaret nodded, carefully monitoring the process. “If you add it too quickly, the potion might explode.” She had barely finished the sentence when a loud bang shattered the silence of the dungeon, like thunder on a clear day. Margaret and Emma simultaneously jumped back as the explosive wave swept through the room, engulfing them in heat and showering them with tiny drops of potion. Several students screamed, and others quickly backed away from their cauldrons, fearing their mixtures might also spiral out of control.

“Silence!” Snape’s commanding voice cut through the noise in the class. His dark eyes narrowed as he swiftly assessed the situation. He strode toward the source of the explosion, and the students hurriedly made way for him.

Margaret watched the scene, her heart pounding in her chest. Where there had been a whole cauldron just moments ago, now there was a wreck. Snape silently bent over the shattered cauldron, then his cold gaze turned to the culprit. His face remained impassive, but tension hung in the air, as if the entire room was holding its breath, waiting for his reaction.

“Perhaps, Mr. Howard,” he began in a quiet but menacing tone, “you should pay more attention to instructions before attempting to prove you can improvise.”

Eric Howard, shocked and bewildered, could only nod, not daring to protest.

“The rest of you,” Snape continued, slowly surveying the class, “take note of this lesson. Alchemy does not forgive mistakes and carelessness. One wrong move can lead to catastrophic consequences.”

Margaret felt her hands tremble slightly from the tension. She knew how dangerous potion-making could be, but now it felt even more real. Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced at Emma, who stood beside her, equally shaken by what had just happened.

“You were right,” Emma whispered, afraid to attract the professor’s attention. “We need to be even more careful.”

Margaret nodded, trying to regain her composure. They returned to their cauldron, even more cautious and slow in adding the mandrake root. Snape’s eyes remained watchful, scrutinizing every move, but eventually, he returned to his desk, leaving the students to stew in their thoughts.

When the lesson finally ended, Margaret allowed herself to relax. She looked at her potion—the thick mixture in the cauldron was slowly bubbling, its color even and stable.

“You’ve done well,” a low voice suddenly said behind her. Margaret turned and saw Snape standing right next to her table. He nodded slightly, which for him was almost a sign of approval. “Next time, be even more attentive, Miss Denning.”

Margaret felt her heart skip a beat. It wasn’t exactly praise, but it was close. She nodded quietly, feeling both relieved and slightly apprehensive.

As Snape walked away, Emma quietly exhaled, “Well, if that wasn’t praise, I don’t know what is…”

Margaret smiled, feeling the tension gradually fade. This lesson had been a real test for her, but she had passed it, and the moment had bolstered her confidence—if she could endure Snape’s silent approval, she could handle much more.

Professor Snape often assigned complex homework that required not only theoretical knowledge but also the ability to apply it in practice. Essays spanning several feet of parchment on the use of rare ingredients, research on the history of potion-making, and detailed reports on experiments became an integral part of the learning process. These assignments demanded perseverance and attention to detail, and Margaret, like her friends, strove to complete them with the utmost responsibility.

Sometimes, she was asked to help with homework, and she was always happy to share her knowledge with those who needed assistance. Her successes at Hogwarts brought her great satisfaction.

The Hogwarts library was one of Margaret’s favorite places. Time in the library flew by unnoticed. The spacious halls with high ceilings and rows of bookshelves filled with ancient tomes and modern textbooks created an atmosphere of comfort and peace. Here, among thousands of books, one could find answers to any questions and delve into the study of the magical world.

In this library, among ancient tomes and mysterious books, she felt truly at home, as if her soul had found what it had been searching for—a place to explore, learn, and grow stronger, seeing how the knowledge they acquired began to come together into a complete picture.

Margaret smiled, bending over her notebook, where she carefully wrote down her thoughts on what she had read.

“I found something interesting about protective spells,” Sophie said, pulling a thick book from the shelf and sitting down at the table.

“Let’s take a look,” Margaret responded, sitting down next to her and opening her notebook.

Emma, sitting across from them, was rummaging through her notes, trying to figure out the structure of the essay they had been assigned for Potions.

“Snape certainly doesn’t go easy on us,” she sighed as she scanned the text. “But it’s interesting. I had no idea such complex potions existed.”

“He demands a lot,” Margaret agreed, looking up at Emma. “But maybe that’s how we’ll truly learn to understand potions. If Snape can teach us anything, it’s how to be precise and attentive.”

Emma nodded, setting her notes aside. “Yeah, you’re right. Sometimes it feels like he makes the assignments harder just to test us.”

Sophie, still flipping through the pages of the book she had just pulled out, raised her eyebrows.

“Have you seen this?” she asked, drawing her friends’ attention. “It talks about protective spells that were used during the First Wizarding War. Some of them are so complex that they require incredible concentration and willpower.”

Margaret and Emma leaned in closer to get a better look at the page. Before them was an entire chapter dedicated to rare and ancient protective spells, many of which had long been forgotten or replaced by more modern versions. Margaret felt her curiosity growing.

“This could be useful,” Margaret noted, quickly scanning the text. “You never know when knowledge like this might come in handy. Especially in a world where things are constantly happening.”

Sophie nodded, noticing the spark of interest in her friend’s eyes.

“I thought it might be worth delving deeper into this topic. Maybe we can find something truly unique that could be useful in Defense Against the Dark Arts or just expand our horizons.”

“I’m with you,” Margaret replied, already thinking about how this information could be used. “Let’s try to understand these spells and how they work. If we can figure them out, it will be a serious advantage.”

Emma, lifting her head from her notes, looked at her friends with newfound interest.

“You know, maybe this could even help us with our Potions essay. Some protective potions have properties that could be compared to spells. If we can link the two, Snape will definitely be impressed.”

“Good idea,” Margaret agreed, feeling her inspiration grow with every new thought. “Let’s analyze these spells and then try to find parallels with potions. It could be both interesting and useful.”

They once again immersed themselves in their reading, flipping through pages and discussing the complex spells, their applications, and possible consequences.

Classes, homework, time spent in the library, and conversations with friends filled Margaret’s days. But, as Charlie had suggested, she decided to try and find common ground with his younger brother. As she walked through the corridors of Hogwarts, Margaret began to notice Percy Weasley more often, but unlike Charlie, Percy was a very different kind of person. He was diligent, hardworking, and extremely serious about his studies and the school rules. He always had his nose in a book during his free time, his robes were always spotless, and his tie was always knotted precisely according to the rules.

Percy was tall and slender, with bright red hair and glasses perched on his nose, which gave him an even more serious and responsible appearance. He constantly carried a stack of books, always meticulously prepared for classes, and followed the school’s regulations to the letter.

“Percy?” Margaret had said in surprise when Charlie first mentioned his brother. “He’s always so serious. I’m not sure I can find common ground with him.” “Yes, he’s strict with himself and others,” Charlie admitted with a slight smile. “But he has a kind heart. If you can connect with him, he’ll be a good friend. Try talking to him about something you both care about—like studies. He’s a real workaholic.”

At first, it wasn’t easy for Margaret to establish contact with Percy. Her attempts were met with cold indifference. He was focused on his studies and didn’t like to be distracted by conversations that he considered pointless.

“It seems like he doesn’t want to talk at all,” Margaret complained to Emma and Sophie during one of their meetings in the library.

“That’s just how he is,” Emma noted with a shrug. “Percy is always serious and focused on results. It’s hard for him to relax.”

“Maybe he just hasn’t gotten used to you yet,” Sophie suggested.

One evening, after they had finished their tasks in the library, they noticed Percy sitting at a distant table, deeply engrossed in a book on magical history. Margaret gathered her courage and approached him.

“Hi, Percy,” she said quietly, careful not to disturb the library’s silence.

Percy looked up from his book, his eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to recall who was in front of him.

“Hello, Margaret,” he replied with a brief nod. “What can I help you with?”

“I’ve noticed that you’re very serious about your studies,” she began, her voice trembling slightly with nervousness. “I try to be diligent too, and I’m curious about how you manage all your work. Do you have any tips?”

Percy seemed to relax a bit, intrigued by her question. He put his book down and looked at her more attentively.

“Well, I just try to organize my time as efficiently as possible,” he replied. “The key is not to procrastinate and not to let yourself get distracted. I always plan my day in advance and stick to the plan. That helps me stay on top of everything and keep focused.”

Margaret smiled, feeling that the ice had begun to break. They continued talking, discussing different study approaches, memory techniques, and effective ways to prepare for exams. Percy turned out not to be as distant and cold as he initially seemed. His passion for learning was contagious, and soon they found they had a lot in common.

One day after class, when everyone else had already left, Margaret approached Percy, who was meticulously rewriting his notes.

“Hi, Percy,” she began, coming up to his desk. “I was wondering if you’d like to study together for the next Potions class? Snape’s program is tough, and I’ve heard you’re really good with ingredients.”

Percy looked up from his notes and considered her offer. He was known for his love of order and precision, and Margaret knew that this approach might catch his attention.

“It’s important,” she continued. “I try not to miss any details myself. Maybe if we combine our efforts, we can achieve even better results.”

This time, Percy thought more seriously. He clearly appreciated her diligence and eagerness to learn.

“Alright,” he finally agreed. “Let’s meet in the library after dinner. I have some ideas for the essay Snape assigned. We can discuss them together.”

Margaret smiled, feeling that this was a chance to get closer to Percy. They arranged to meet in the evening, and Margaret eagerly anticipated the meeting.

That evening in the library, Margaret and Percy met at one of the back tables, secluded from the rest of the hall. Books, parchment, and ink were spread out in front of them. Percy, as always, was deeply focused on his work, but now he was more willing to share his thoughts.

“I think the key difficulty with the potion lies in getting the proportions of the ingredients just right,” Percy said, carefully reviewing the textbook. “Many mistakes can be avoided by preparing the components in advance and strictly following the recipe. Snape emphasized that in the last lesson.”

“I agree,” Margaret nodded, jotting down his words in her notebook. “And it’s also important to maintain the correct temperature. If it’s not kept at the right level, the potion could lose its properties. I have some ideas, but I’m not sure if I’ve explained them correctly.”

Percy looked at her thoughtfully, then put down his quill and took her notebook, carefully reading what she had written.

“You’ve done well, but this could be refined a bit,” he said. “For example, when discussing the process of adding mandrake root to the potion, it’s crucial to understand the reaction of the ingredients.”

Margaret listened to his explanations with interest. His knowledge and attention to detail were truly impressive. They dove into the discussion, making notes and comparing their ideas. This marked the beginning of their collaboration. Margaret and Percy often met in the library, discussing various topics and helping each other with their studies. Gradually, they began to find common ground. Margaret grew to appreciate his love for order and pursuit of perfection, while Percy valued her ability to simplify complex ideas and get to the heart of any subject.

Their interactions, at first, were somewhat formal, but slowly, a genuine friendship began to develop between them, built on mutual respect and a shared interest in learning.

One day, as they were working on an essay for Professor Rakepick, Percy suddenly said, “You know, Margaret, I’m glad we started talking. I usually prefer working alone, but with you, it feels… easier. You help me see things from a different perspective.”

Margaret smiled, sensing their friendship growing.

“I’m glad too, Percy. You’re really smart and dedicated. I think we can learn a lot from each other.”

Over time, their conversations became more personal. Percy opened up to Margaret about his family, how seriously he took his responsibilities toward them, especially his younger brothers and sister, and how hard he tried to live up to the high expectations he set for himself. He was ambitious and wanted to achieve great things in the magical world, but he also felt a strong sense of responsibility toward his siblings.

“I feel like it’s important to be the best at whatever you do,” Percy confided one day, setting his quill aside. “I want people to be able to rely on me. It’s my duty to do things right and set an example.”

Margaret saw in Percy not just a strict and reserved student, but a person driven by deep internal motivation. He was devoted to his ideals and worked hard to achieve perfection in everything, which required great effort from him.

Margaret felt that their collaboration not only benefited her studies but also gave her the chance to understand Percy better as a person. They discussed not only school assignments but also the broader questions that concerned them, both within and outside of Hogwarts.

“Sometimes I think I’m too hard on myself,” Percy admitted one evening when they were talking about their future plans. “But I just want to make my family proud and be a role model for my brothers and sister.”

“I’m sure you’ll succeed,” Margaret said with a smile. “You’re already a role model for many here at Hogwarts. I believe that discipline and perseverance will lead you to great achievements.”

Percy nodded, feeling grateful for her words. Their friendship gradually strengthened, and Margaret was glad she had found common ground with him. They continued to support each other in their studies, helping each other understand complex topics and sharing their thoughts.

Margaret saw how Percy slowly began to trust her more and even smiled when they solved a problem together.

This friendship became important to both of them. Percy learned to relax a bit and see the world beyond rules and regulations, while Margaret grew to appreciate the discipline and pursuit of excellence that were so important to Percy.

Margaret, Emma, Sophie, and Percy often spent their evenings in the library, discussing lessons and working on homework together. They became a team that could always rely on each other, making their school life even more enriching and enjoyable.

[cassieb1617]

EXPECTO PATRONUM🦢

NAVIGATION || MASTERLIST

KEY: f {fluff}, s {smut}, a {angst}, h/c {hurt/comfort}

FRED WEASLEY

Dramatic f

Sirius found out about his daughter’s boyfriend, Fred Weasley.

A snake in disguise f, h/c

you and Fred broke up when he left Hogwarts and something happened between you and Draco, but love always finds its way.

Taking a lover’s pain a

Fred Weasley was a natural flirt, he flirted with girls, guys, strangers even teachers. Why was it a surprise to you though?

GEORGE WEASLEY

Headcannons: George Weasley falling in love with shy!gn!reader f

CHARLIE WEASLEY

Always dragons f, h/c

Charlie introduced his girlfriend to his family and they don’t seem to like her very much.

HERMIONE GRANGER

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GINNY WEASLEY 

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