#fred Weasley hurt comfort

[itstopplingdomino]

confident | weasley twins x reader

A/N: i made a promise to write something after my test based on how i feel afterwards. so here we are...

pairing: fred weasley x reader (if you squint), george weasley x reader summary: Fred carries the essence of confidence like it weighs nothing; academic, friendship, quidditch and even love life - he is sure he's set for life. So when he finds out about your little crush on him and how it had been like that for years, he does absolutely nothing. And that teaches him a lesson that he'll remember for the rest of his life. tags: hurt/no comfort, idiots in love, no usage of y/n, gn!reader (usage of 'you' instead of specific pronouns), usage of pet/nicknames, mild cursing, false hope, leading on, jealousy, no war alternative universe ───────── "I don't understand," Lee states. He is sitting on the armrest of the sofa, the afternoon light shines briefly across his eyes as he tries to block it with a book. "If you like Daisy too then why.." Fred shrugs. "Well if Daisy maintains a secret crush on me for five years, then waiting for another two- you know until after graduation- won't hurt."

Lee looks at Angelina, hoping that she'll have a better explanation for this. Unfortunately she returned his confused look with her own.

"How are you sure Daisy won't give up? What if tomorrow your little admirer wakes up and decides to like someone else?" Angelina probes.

"Please, I have a plan." Fred says, with his usual air of mock-arrogance. "Trust me, it'll work."

Lee and Angeline exchanges a resign look. "Well, it's gonna be your lost anyway.." Lee says in which Angelina nods to.

Fred shrugs, again, then leaves to find you.

He knows where you are. Five years in Hogwarts together, causing ruckus in all forms with the promise of detention almost every time, he can understand you in ways you sometimes don't.

Which is why your crush on him is not a surprise to him at all. In fact it was almost hilarious that everyone else think of it as such a big deal. You two are attached to the hips most of the times; if he's not there to bring trouble, you'll find him - and it's been like this ever since you set foot in Hogwarts.

George, of course, joins in the fun. Though Fred notices that he's slowly been opting out over the years, preferring to prank with just the older twin. Fred considers this an act of jealousy yet he never brings it up as George's blatant avoidance never seems to bother you. He's seen his twin interacts with you alone just yesterday, the day before, and Merlin even before that. He thinks that George simply want a little separation as michievenous activities are always a two-person activity until you came.

That is exactly why, right now, Fred waits for you just outside Arithmancy classroom for a planned pranking session; target for the day is Filch.

Not too long after he arrived, students emerge from the classroom, all looking like the boredom has threatened their life. You, in all your glory, comes out looking like you defeated boredom. Laughing beside your classmate who Fred sure he was introduced to before yet he can't remember her name. It didn't matter though, he's only here for you.

"My Daisy," Fred greets you with a playful smile on his face, bowing like a gentleman from the victorian era, lowering a pretend-tophat.

You rolled your eyes. "Please stop calling me by something I'm deathly allergic to. Even Lee and Angie started using it too."

"If you say so, Peanuts."

You playfully smack him across his back. He knows you're not deathly allergic to Peanuts, only mildly.

"Ready?" He asks, offering you his hand.

The brief shy look that passes your face did not escape him as you joins hands. "Ready!"

Fred smirks knowingly. With usual flirtatious remarks in his repertoire, physical touch is a newly added part in his friendship with you. He loves it when you look away nervously whenever your faces are a little too close, or when you jolts and become a stuttering mess every time he whispers right next to your ears, or moments like this - hand holding, plus short hugs and arm across your shoulder that's he's planning to include in the future.

With what he knows about your feelings, he revels in this reactions without ever needing to confess. - - -

You doubled over the grass just outside Hogwarts grounds, laughing at the wrath Fred and you invoke in Filch from the prank. This time you calculated for sure that the caretaker of Hogwarts will not find out who the pranksters are. A red herring steering towards obnoxious Slytherins is placed perfectly for him to think it's not the two of you.

"That was brilliant!" Fred shouted, he dips to lift you up and spins you around. "Bloody smart, you are!"

You cackles loudly, just enjoying his grip on your body. You're not thinking of anything inappropriate but Good Godric if you could just kiss that lips, you'll be content eternally.

He must've realise that you're staring at his lips as an unreadable expression crosses his face, he sets you down as his eyes flicks between your eyes and your lips.

It can't be.. can't it?

You think again.

I mean.. he's been sweet these days.. more so than usual.

If that's not a sign, then you don't know what is. So you fight your doubts and tiptoe to reach his lips. Your eyes closes as it nears his face yet what stops you is not the innocent peck you've been dreaming of, it is his hands on your shoulder.

Confusion evident on your face as you open your eyes and lower yourself. You search for answer in his face but all you could find is a torn look. The kind of look you've seen him give to other students who had asked him out. The kind of look that you desperately wish against yourself every single night.

And now you're at the receiving end of it.

A thick lump forms in your throat and all you say is, "Why..?"

Fred clears his throat as he looks away, clearly uncomfortable in this situation, his hand still on your shoulder now caressing in consolation.

You don't need consolation. You need explanation.

"Freddie, why?" Tone firmer than before as you shake off his hands.

"Well, its just.. I mean.." He took a deep breath before he continue. "Let's just have fun, you know. We only have two years left. Surely you don't want to spend the majority of it with- with this." He gestured between you and him.

If nature is a little quieter, you're sure the sound of your heartbreak can be heard.

"Is that what this- all this has been about..? You having fun?" You hissed, taking a few steps back which he closes just easily in a single move.

"I mean, you like me for five years, certainly you can wait a few more.."

The icing on the cake. He knew.

He knew and he still did that.

Play with your heart, push and pull it like a tug of war.

"You are the absolute worst."

Without sparing a single glance, you turn on your heels and apparated away. - - - The rest of the year passes in a blink of an eye.

To everyone else, it seems. Lee had been whining non-stop at Fred and George's decision to leave Hogwarts early. NEWTs is irrelevant to the path the Weasley twins has set for themselves, after all.

To Fred, the year drags on painfully slow as if he's aware of every single second that ticks by. He's just glad the day for them to leave is finally nearing.

After what happens between Fred and you, he notices that he almost never see you anymore. The one time he did was when you came looking for Angelina to pass her notes you had borrowed. You greeted him with your usual cheeriness but the smile didn't quite reach your eyes. He thought you'll warm back to him, forgive him, but how can you forgive when he can't even find you to apologise.

He realises that you know him better than he does himself. Otherwise how else can you avoid for so long.

At one point, he even asks Angelina if you had ever mention anything about your little crush on him anymore.

"Hm, no actually. I mean, it's pretty clear that Daisy's focusing on NEWTs, we all are anyway, so boys talk never really come up. It just adds to the stress."

Her answer disappointed him but he has an image to uphold so he act nonchalant about it.

"What? Are you finally going to pursue Daisy?" Angelina teased.

"Why are you asking? Afraid of the competition?" Fred in his usual manner put on a smirk, albeit a fake one. And the way Angelina rolled her eyes and smacked him meant that he successfully fooled her.

How he wished it was you who's rolling her eyes and smacking then, instead of her.

He made a fool out of you.

- - - Fred enters the apartment after a long negotiation with the accountant at the bank. He just couldn't figure out why the numbers are not adding up and the son of a bitch he hired is as unhelpful as a broken wand. Three years they've been doing business and this accountant is the first one to be so incompetent. Fred regretted making a rushed hiring decision as the last one had to resigned immediately from chronic health issues. A breach in one year contract would cost them quite a lot so he just puts up him. Two more months and he'll fire that bastard.

He searches for the bottle of wine in the cupboard, typically reserved for celebratory occasions and not punching the accountant in a very public space counts as a win, but the wine is not there. He looks at other cupboards too, but the bottle is still nowhere to be found.

George must've taken it.

No one else lives here, and unless the bottle of wine grew a pair of legs, it simply do not move from it's designated place.

The older twin drags his feet to his brother's room when George's door opens.

And there you are.

You, in all your glory, comes out looking like you defeated boredom. Laughing hysterically at what George says as your hands wrapped delicately around his twin's arm.

He had seen this sight before. Often when you went out from your favourite classes like Arithmancy or Ancient Runes.

But never with George. Never to George.

He whispers your name in a hopeless attempt to make you direct that smile to him, but your light dims as soon as you heard him.

George and you stop, taken aback by Fred's early arrival. The younger twin isn't expecting his brother to return until an hour from now.

"I know you two know each other." George chuckles, which you smiled at. The sweet smile that once had been directed to Fred. "But I'd like to introduce Daisy again.."

His eyes practically sparkling at this point. "as my Fiance."

George didn't falter and your smitten look unwavering. There isn't a single mischief or malice in his demeanour, nor yours. This isn't some sick, twist prank the two of you are pulling. Fred had never told anyone about what happens between the two of you, but he had assume you had ignored George all the same. What, being identical twins and all. Just looking at George should've brought pain to you.

Apparently looking at George seems to make you smile even brighter.

"Uh.. S-since when..?" Fred force out a cough. "I mean, I didn't know you two kept in contact, let alone are seeing each other.."

"We didn't." You answer, though your eyes chose to look at his general direction and not his eyes. "We met around two years ago by coincidence."

"Merlin, a lucky guy I am." George chimes in. "It started with a simple catch up over tea. Then it became a monthly thing. Before we know it, we were meeting almost every other day for half a year."

How did he missed it. "Daisy here is still a tough one. Took me a year and half to convince her to date me. Another half year to convince marrying me!"

Seriously, how did he missed it? Fred remembers when George comes home late, snickering to himself, sometime last year. Then the next day he was so high spirited that he gave out discount to everyone the first opening hour. He was so high on cloud nine that whenever Fred tried to pry out details of joyous mood, George simply kept evading the question. Saying he doesn't want to jinx it. "Oh, while we're on the subject.. Will you be my bestman?"

Fred looks between you and his brother. Your eyes refusing to meet his. Hesitantly he replies, "Y-yeah! Of course Georgie! I'll be honoured!"

He hope his emotions didn't betray his tone. His younger twin is engaged, no foul play is coming from you as far as he could tell. Well, of course he could tell. However you're behaving with George right now was how you acted when you had a crush on Fred. He knew that love-adorn smile, that twinkle in your eyes, the pitched giggles in between. He knew that all too well, though you're definitely less shy and hesitant about it with George.

You lean against his brother wearing a specific form of confidence Fred had only seen once in you.

The same air of confidence that he had shattered when he pushed you away as you tried to kiss him. Fucking Fantastic. It is his lost.

[miryum]

Trust (Mattheo Riddle x Reader) Southern Regency AU

Warnings: Reader is a bit of a brat/empty-minded at first but it gets so much better, 10-ish age difference, Reader is in love with Harry Potter at first (or thinks she is), set in the South (of the US), inspired by Gone With the Wind

Y/n L/n was the belle of the South. She had the Weasley twins running after her every weekend and at the weekly balls, their older brother, Charlie, had to have the first dance with her. Her father had rejected numerous suitors, but that didn’t mean they stopped trying. The Diggory family had made a large offer, but their estate was too small for the L/n family.

The L/n’s consisted of the patriarch, William, and the matriarch, Peggy. While William ran the fields, Peggy ran his heart and household. Their oldest was their pride and joy, Y/n, followed by Odessa. Odessa hated being in her sister’s shadow. It meant her infatuation for George Weasley was seen as childish and unwanted. The L/n’s had one last daughter, Della, who was ten years younger than Y/n. Della was a sweetheart who trailed after her mother, following every step religiously.

The family had many acres of fields stretching around their mansion, as did everyone else in the county. Their fields were rich with grains that shipped out to the rest of the state. William had built up an empire that was now run smoothly by his wife. So, no, not a Weasley or Diggory was good enough for their daughter. She was much too young and had years ahead of her before she was considered an old spinster.

Many boys trailed after Y/n, begging for a chance to court her, and she was happy to flirt with them. The boys, after years of growing up around the same children their entire lives, soon learned how to gain Y/n’s attention. They had to catch her when her father was busy, otherwise she would turn into his perfect, sweet little girl who could do no wrong. If her sisters were around, the younger girls would try to steal the attention and Y/n would revert to her cool, unimpressed self that none of the boys could crack. However, if the girl was at a ball or they rode over to her house to catch her reading on the porch, that’s when she would flirt and touch their arm lightly with her coy smile.

But it was not the Weasley twins or the Diggory boy that Y/n wanted. It was Harry Potter. The boy was so oblivious, it was tantalising. He had a mature air around him that no other boy did. He would ride up to her house every Sunday on his majestic white horse, Hedwig, and speak to her like no one else did. He read her poems and took her riding and was just so pretty. He talked a lot about politics and the different families of the South, and that Y/n didn’t like, but he made it up with the little gifts he brought her. There was that lace fan he brought her after his Grand Tour and even some pressed flowers in a thick book. She tried to read the book to show Harry that she cared, but it had such tiny print and was about boring law that she gave up after the first couple of paragraphs.

It was a cool June evening and the windows were open at the L/n villa. The soft breeze ruffled the curtains when the neighbour’s gossip finally reached the ladies in the house. A new engagement in the state! The four females sat at the dining table, William at the head, seemingly bored. Odessa asked excitedly who would be going to the engagement party, thinking of her dear George Weasley.

“It seems like everyone in the county,” Peggy commented, regurgitating what she had learned from the women in her cross-stitch group. “The Weasleys, the Longbottoms, the Malfoys.”

William scoffed and rattled off, “the Weasleys? Their entire brood? And the Longbottoms? They’re hardly in high society. Why invite them? And must we engage with the Malfoys? You know how they get, dear Peggy.”

“William,” Peggy reprimanded, clicking her tongue. “It’s Ginerva’s engagement. Do be kind.”

Y/n raised her head from her plate and asked, “Ginny’s getting married? The little one? To whom? Wasn’t that boy Dean Thomas pursuing her?”

“No, no,” Peggy waved her daughter off. “He was a nice young lad, but they never got along.” She took a bite of food as if she wasn’t about to deliver earth-shattering news to her unsuspecting daughter. “She’s getting married to Harry Potter.”

Y/n didn’t think she heard the rest of the conversation. Small Ginny Weasley, the girl with the choppy red hair and ugly dresses, was marrying her Harry? The Harry that had the most beautiful eyes and lovely lilting words and understanding conversations? Yes, their families were close and Harry was best friends with Ginny’s older brother, but he loved Y/n. She knew it. The way he lit up when he saw her and the way his smile slowly stretched over his lips until he was laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe. All of that was her Harry.

“Y/n?” Della asked from the other side of the table, always aware of her elder sister. “Are you alright?” But the girl couldn’t say anything. For if she did, then her whole family would know her secret. And then her mother would be embarrassed and aghast. Her father would think of her as yet still a child, brushing away her affection. Lousy Odessa would gossip to George Weasley and his twin, wanting to win over their favour, and the twins would surely tell their engaged sister. Della wouldn’t understand, the poor girl just an infant in Y/n’s eyes.

“Yes, yes, I’m alright,” Y/n muttered. “Father, I’m feeling a bit faint. I think something with the salad didn’t sit right with me. I’m to lie down.”

William muttered permission, waving his daughter away. Y/n tried not to run to her room, for fear it would give her emotions away. But the moment her door was locked safely behind her, she fell onto her bed, sobbing. How could Harry do this to her?

Oh, what was her life coming to?

Y/n had a plan. If only she could get Harry alone at his engagement party and confess her true feelings, he would see they were meant to be together. The problem was that Ginny stuck to his side like annoying glue. It seemed as if the two were off in their own little world, gazing into each other's eyes. Well, Y/n huffed to herself, two can play that game. That’s how she found herself surrounded by beaus from all over the county.

Cedric Diggory sat on the bench next to her and the Weasley twins sat at her feet on the grass. Fred Weasley went even farther and laid his head on her skirts dramatically whenever he wanted her attention. Neville Longbottom stood beside them all, looking nervously back at his Gran, who was determined to get her grandson connected to the L/n’s. Even Dean Thomas, still getting over his loss of Ginny Weasley, was there, trying to talk to an anxious Neville.

Batting her eyes and fanning herself playfully under the pretence of the hot sun, Y/n walked the line of flirtatious and bashful perfectly. She could feel the glares of all the other girls at the party, but she ignored them. She was talking to George Weasley when she spotted another boy to catch in her web. “Oh, Georgie, the Malfoy’s are here,” she commented smoothly.

This caught the rest of the suitor’s attention. “Oh, joy,” Fred said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “Come, Y/n, let me whisk you heroically away before that greased boy tries to woo you.”

“You mean Draco?” Y/n laughed melodically, which made Neville blush deeply. “Oh, he’s no harm. A bit rude and uppity, but just a boy when it all comes down to it.”

“Yes, but a boy,” Fred confirmed. “You, love, need a man.” At that, he took her hand and kissed her knuckles.

Y/n opened her fan and hid her face behind it teasingly. “Oh, Mr. Fred, you charmer,” she chastised.

“Oh, my,” Cedric breathed out, which made Y/n’s attention turn from Fred, who pouted, to the Diggory boy. Did the Malfoy’s bring a girl that captured Cedric’s eye? Oh, that would be horrid for her plan. But, no. Following Cedric’s stare, Y/n saw another man emerge with Mr. Lucious Malfoy.

“Who is that?” she asked without thinking, placing a hand on Cedric’s arm.

“What on earth is he doing here?” Dean Thomas demanded, back stiffening and hands clasping behind his back. His voice was just loud enough for Y/n and her suitors to hear. But he didn’t answer her question.

Y/n huffed slightly and turned to Neville. He would always be at her beck and call. “Neville, who is that man?” she asked again, tone firm.

Neville tore his eyes away from the mysterious man and stuttered, “uh, well, Miss Y/n, that’s Mattheo Riddle.” He slowly sat down next to her, as if testing the waters.

“Mattheo Riddle?” Y/n repeated, the name feeling heavy on her tongue. “Why, I’ve never heard of him.”

“Then your father did a good job,” Fred glowered. It seemed as if he wasn’t the only one shooting dirty looks at the new man.

Dean Thomas agreed, “yes, no respectable lady should have heard of him. An absolute abomination of a gentleman.”

Y/n’s eyes widen in the presence of new gossip and scandal, something all ladies of the county grasped for. None were above whispering to their friends behind their hands whenever they heard something enticing. “Whatever did he do?” she asked desperately.

Cedric was the one to inform her that Mr. Mattheo Riddle was the infamous bastard child of Tom Riddle and Bellatrix Lestrange. That made him the nephew of Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy. Allegedly, Mr. Riddle’s father had left him and his mother at a young age, only making visits when he felt it necessary to shape Mr. Riddle into a harsh young man. Mr. Riddle had left to join the military, but was dishonourably discharged when he shot and killed another man for speaking ill of his family and upbringing. He then followed in his father’s footsteps of backalley trading and illicit affairs. With his father and mother’s separate fortunes, along with the one he earned, he had amassed large wealth.

Y/n couldn’t help but watch Mattheo Riddle. Neville tried to hold a conversation with the girl, and she tried to entertain him, she really did, but the way Mr. Riddle held himself on the outskirts of the party captivated her. With a drink swirling in one hand and the other tucked smartly behind his back, he looked… perfunctorily debonair.

For a man a decade older than her, he was incredibly handsome. He was easily the best dressed man at the party, even better than Lucius Malfoy himself. And his hair was most unusual. Rather than the slicked back style that most young boys wore, his had more volume, showing his curls. Y/n could see his striking and calculative eyes from across the yard. They took one sweep around the party, yet glazed over her.

It took everything within Y/n not to march over to the newcomer and demand his attention. Why were his eyes not on her? But then Neville placed a concerned hand on her back and asked if she was okay. He really is a sweet boy, Y/n thought to herself. “Yes, I’m alright,” she assured him. “I just may go lie down with the rest of the ladies.”

“Oh! Of course!” Neville scrambled to his feet and helped her up. Fred Weasley let out a whine when his headrest disappeared, but understood how a delicate lady needed her rest.

“Thank you, Neville,” Y/n said sincerely. She patted his hand and whispered theatrically, “you know… you didn’t hear this from me, but I think Miss Luna Lovegood fancies you.” Neville turned a dark shade of red as Y/n made her way to the house.

But she wasn’t going to nap. With the rest of the girls also laying down, including Ginny, this was her chance to speak to Harry. She would confess her love and he would tell her he always reciprocated and then he would break off his engagement and perhaps Ginny would be sad, but Y/n’s parents couldn’t get mad once they saw how happy their daughter was.

Once inside, Y/n saw Harry bid a loving goodbye to Ginny, the latter who went upstairs to nap. Her future fiancé then turned around and noticed her. “Y/n,” he greeted with a grin. He leaned down to press a chaste kiss to her cheek. “How are you? You’ve been so busy all party, I didn’t have the chance to talk to you!” Ah, so he had seen her with her suitors. Pride filled her. This was going perfectly.

“Harry, could we talk in the library?” Y/n asked, smiling up at him, an intoxication of love filling her veins. Harry raised a curious brow, but agreed. He followed her into the library where he asked if everything was alright. “Yes, I’m fine,” she told him. “I only need to tell you something, Harry.”

“And what is that?” Harry replied with a grin, thinking it was all some lighthearted joke.

Y/n pressed a hand to her chest and looked up at him, eyes wide and pleading. “Oh, Harry,” she began. “I must say something now before you go on with this whole affair! I mean, it is truly noble of you to sacrifice yourself for the poor girl, but I couldn’t let you go on with it! Especially when I know your feelings, Harry,” she said. The boy’s expression slowly changed to one of merriment to one of guarded concern. “I’m in love with you, Harry!” Y/n exclaimed, reaching forward to clasp his hands. “I have been all my life and I know you feel the same! So why marry Ginerva when you could marry me?”

Harry didn’t say anything for a moment before he slowly retracted his hands from her gloved grip. “Y/n,” he said slowly. “I’m utterly flattered. But I’m marrying Ginny. I can’t… I can’t love you, you know that, yes?”

Confusion showed on Y/n’s face, but a small smile still managed to quirk up on her lips. “But you do, don’t you?” she asked. “Love me, I mean. I know you do, Harry.” After a moment of hesitance, she added, “right?”

“Dear,” Harry said, taking her hands in his and patting them reassuringly. “I’ve always been fond of you. You’re very witty and brave. But that’s not… that’s not who I need. I need Ginny,” he stated, looking uncomfortable. “You’re a lovely girl. Any man would be lucky to have you. But… I’m not that man for you.”

Y/n didn’t remember the rest of the conversation. She was sure Harry said some more nice things, all very awkwardly, and she remembered that he kissed her lightly on the cheek, but then she was left alone. She let herself fall onto a nearby settee, face flushed and hand on her stomach. She felt sick. But she also felt mad. Terribly mad. And yet, depressed. Too many emotions were swirling around her that she wasn’t herself when, with a yell, she picked up a vase and hurled it across the room. With a satisfying smash, it crackled and split onto the floor, just like her poor heart.

A low, amused chuckle filled the room and Y/n whirled around to see Mattheo Riddle sitting up on a couch. “What- who- what are you doing here?!” Y/n cried.

“Why, I was just taking a nap when I got disturbed by an unrequited declaration of love and a splintered vase. Whose is that anyways?” Mr. Riddle asked smoothly, shoulders still shaking from his laughter. “Whom will your father have to pay off?”

“Don’t you dare tell my father!” Y/n said, somewhere between desperate and demanding. “Oh, you sordid man! You have no right to listen in on a private conversation.”

“A rather amusing conversation,” Mr. Riddle chuckled, a wry smile stretching his lips. “I never thought you the type to lust after Mr. Potter.”

Y/n’s skirts swirled around her as she turned away from him in anger but then rounded on him again. “You don’t know a thing about me, sir! Why, I’ve never seen you before in my life.”

“And yet by the way you court all those other men, them begging after you like dogs, gives me a glimpse into your character.” It was then that Mr. Riddle took her hand in the most gentle way possible and laid a kiss upon her knuckles. The girl stilled. “Mattheo Riddle, at your service only, dear.”

“My service only?” is what Y/n could think to reply, not even giving her name like a proper lady would.

Mattheo inclined his head in a coy manner. “Yes.”

After a beat, Y/n grumped, “is that all you’re going to say?”

“I have nothing else to say.” Mattheo shrugged. One of his brows raised innocently. But Y/n got the feeling he was anything but. “Other than to ask for your name,” he added.

“Miss Y/n L/n and you will address me as such,” Y/n declared. “None of that ‘dear’ sobriquet.”

“Well, Miss Y/n L/n,” Mattheo began. “You best be hurrying along. The other women will wake from their rest soon and you wouldn’t want to be caught in the library with me, a sordid man.” He repeated her words back, but mockery laced his tone.

Y/n’s face grew hot and she spluttered a bit, looking very flustered and angered. Mr. Riddle watched on in amusement. “And how do I know you’ll keep your mouth shut about what you heard?” she asked finally.

At that, Mattheo Riddle smirked. “You don’t. You’ll just have to trust me.”

A week later was Harry and Ginny’s wedding. Y/n wore a deep blue dress, bordering on black. Yet she smiled and cheered along with the rest of the guests, even as her joy slipped away. She had half a mind to propose to Neville just to pull some attention onto her.

Mr. Mattheo Riddle was not there. Not that Y/n noticed.

She was sitting on the porch about three days later, pitying herself as she worked on her embroidery. She was trying to stitch a lovely sunrise, but she just couldn’t get a cloud right. She hardly heard the sounds of horse hooves clopping down the drive. “Miss Y/n L/n,” a gratingly familiar voice called out.

She sighed and her hands fell to her lap in exasperation. “I’m doing my embroidery!” she called back. “I don’t have time for eavesdropping men who dub me frustrating monikers.”

“You sure know plenty of synonyms for nicknames,” Mattheo commented, swinging his leg over his horse to dismount.

“Father keeps me well read.”

Mattheo bounded up the porch steps to reach her, but then realised that looked too childish, no matter how much he wanted to see her. He quickly composed himself. “And what is the lovely lady sewing?” he asked, settling into the rocking chair near her.

“I don’t recall inviting you up for a chat,” she said snarkily. After a moment where he just smirked at her, she replied, “and it’s a sunset. Or a sunrise. I’m not entirely sure yet. Whatever it is, it’s mightily frustrating.” She pricked her finger with the needle and exclaimed out.

Mr. Riddle’s brows furrowed and he took the cross-stitch away, not wanting her to get any more hurt. “Don’t you have a maid to stitch this for you?”

“Mother thinks every proper lady should know how to wield a needle and thread,” Y/n said, her back straightening. She then scowled. “Of course, Odessa has already perfected hers.”

It was then that the girl noticed Mr. Mattheo Riddle carefully stitching her embroidery, his nimble fingers tugging and looping the needle perfectly. Noticing her shocked face, Mattheo explained, “my grandmother taught me how. It was one of her favourite pastimes. I pricked myself many times — just like you. Of course, my father found it too feminine, but I just liked spending time with my grandmother. Perhaps that’s why my grandmother taught me her craft: so I could spare you some trouble and pain. I will gladly do so, darling.”

The air settled around them. Her father’s hounds were barking in the field and she could hear the servants singing from behind the house, doing laundry. She shifted in her seat. “What was her name?” Y/n asked cautiously, still not trusting this man.

“Merope,” Mattheo answered softly. “The poor thing had memory loss, you know. She couldn’t remember my name, much less what we had stitched last time I had visited. But she loved me. And so she taught me how to embroider over and over again.”

Y/n swallowed thickly. She could almost envision Mattheo as a child, climbing onto his grandma's lap to watch her sew out a work of art. Maybe they had sat on a rocking chair on a porch, just like she and Mattheo did now. She watched him finish the cloud she had been working on before handing her back the hoop. “Why are you here?” she wondered, staring down at the cloud, which was done much better than her own.

“To convince you that you can trust me.” And with that, he stood and kissed her forehead before straightening his suit and walking back to his horse. As he gripped the reins in his hands, he yelled back, “oh, and to inform you that I’ll be competing for your hand!”

She saw him next about two months later, at another county party. But this party was special. It was all for Y/n.

William L/n had gone all out for his eldest daughter. This was the day when all the formal suitors presented themselves. Yes, Fred and George Weasley had been courting her for years, but it would now be official. Not only were two of the Weasleys there, but Cedric Diggory, Oliver Wood, Ernie Macmillan, and Dean Thomas and his close friend, Seamus Finnigan. Neville Longbottom was now happily engaged to Luna Lovegood.

As much as Y/n put on a front, being surrounded by men, some of which were years older, was intimidating. She flirted and blushed and acted like a lady, but when Seamus Finnigan talked to Cedric Diggory about the growth of their family’s crops, talking around Y/n as Oliver Wood tried to entertain her with polo facts, she felt useless. Bored. Like a prop to be placed on someone’s arm.

That’s when Mattheo Riddle walked in. He stayed on the outskirts of the party for a long while, observing. He didn’t hide the fact that he was watching Y/n’s attention be snapped up by suitor after suitor. His eyes were already on hers whenever she glanced up to him. It was a dangerous game he was playing, but one he didn’t want to quit. Maybe this was what had drawn him to this little county in the countryside. Maybe Draco’s letter of invitation wasn’t all for naught. It couldn’t be, not when her eyes made him feel more alive than ever before. Mattheo Riddle made a promise to himself, then and there, as he watched the seven suitors surrounding Y/n. He would marry that girl.

Only a few minutes later did Ernie Macmillan chuckle in disbelief. “Is that Mattheo Riddle?” he asked. Y/n let the other men answer, for fear of sounding as if she had been gazing at the forbidden man. Which, if her father asked, she had not.

“Sir!” Seamus Finnigan called out from where he was lounging on the couch. His arm hung over the back of Y/n’s chair, something he found courage to do with the whiskey flowing through his veins. “Come join us, I beg you.”

Mattheo quirked a brow but strode over from where he was leaning against the wall. “Gentlemen,” he greeted smoothly. “How are you all this fine day?” He shook hands with each man. It was only then he allowed his eyes to settle on Y/n. “Ah, my dear Miss Y/n.” Her eyes watched the way his lip curved into a smile. “It’s lovely to see you here.” He took her hand in his and brushed her knuckles to his lips. It took all of Y/n’s restraint not to take in a shaky breath.

“Why, this is her party, after all,” Fred Weasley said, smirking. “Why wouldn’t she be here?”

“Mr. Weasley.” Mattheo turned to the man. “Perhaps if you had paid attention to my words, I never said I was surprised to see her, only delighted. And I can assure you, I am very delighted.” George Weasley snickered and clapped his twin on the shoulder. Fred just glared at the Riddle heir.

Mattheo sat down on the ottoman by Y/n’s feet, posture straight and perfect. An electrifying shiver ran down his spine as Y/n asked how he was. “Splendid,” he told her. “After all, I am in your presence. Darling, if any of these men told you they were less than splendid, I’ll offer to kick them to the street at your command.” The suitors chuckled at the joke, but Mattheo just held his future wife’s gaze. They both knew he meant every word.

Oliver Wood shook his head. “I still can’t believe I have the honour to meet the Mattheo Riddle. From all the rumours, I thought you were surely a ghost story.”

“I hate to disappoint,” came the easy reply.

“No, no disappointment here.” Oliver held up his hands. “Just surprise. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Mattheo stared down the man. “Why wouldn’t I be here?”

Oliver stammered out, “well, because people see you as- as well, good sir, I needn’t offend, but-”

��Cruel?” Mattheo supplied. After the awkward glances were exchanged between the suitors, he continued, “Unwanted? Cynical, unfeeling, only out for himself and his riches? Well, I can’t say you’re wrong,” he said simply. “I’ve done unhonourable things and I’ve lived my life for my own gain. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have feelings. Or that I can’t love,” he finished, eyes on Y/n.

She shifted under his stare and opened her fan to hide her blush. “I may go lay down,” she whispered out. The seven men around her began to protest, but Mr. Riddle simply held his hand out for her to take. He helped her stand and then bid her farewell. He settled back onto the ottoman to which the other men glared at him.

“Why can’t you corrupt some other girl?” Ernie Macmillan grumbled into his whiskey glass that he took a long swallow of. The other suitors seemed to deflate as well, now calling for more alcohol, slouching in their seats, and using more vulgar language. It was only Mattheo Riddle that kept his posture, his little cup of whiskey, and preserved tone. But even he felt a flare of anger at Mr. Macmillan’s words. “Take another girl for your wife. But leave this one for the rest of us. Why do you suddenly have a claim over her?”

“Another girl, you say?” Mattheo repeated, voice low and protective. “Take another one for my wife and leave her for the rest of you? Is that what you think I want? To just take any girl as my wife? No,” he stated, plain and simple, “I want her and only her. And why do I have a sudden claim over her? I don’t. And do not mistake her for a girl, Macmillan. She is a fierce woman, one none of you boys could handle. But perhaps… Perhaps I have fallen in love with her. Against all reason and sanity,” he added in a mutter, taking a swig of whiskey.

“But it’s foolish!” Fred Weasley exclaimed as all other men were stunned to silence. “You- you’ve only met the girl – pardon, woman – once. More than two months ago. And serving my memory, you never even talked to the Miss.” Fred’s memory didn’t have all the facts, as Mr. Riddle had met Y/n twice and had talked to her on both occasions.

Mattheo shot back, “love often makes us do foolish things, does it not? And I’m willing to be a fool for her, if that’s what it takes.”

Cedric Diggory studied Mattheo for a moment before musing, “you’re an admirable man, Mr. Riddle. But you must know I, along with the rest of these men, will still fight for her hand. And we have an advantage: her father’s approval.”

“What does her father’s approval mean if you don’t have her heart?” Mattheo asked. “If she doesn’t love you, what good does it do?”

“Well, does she love you?” Seamus Finnigan implored, trying to turn the tables on the man.

At that, Mr. Riddle rested his weight on the palm of his hand, leaning back. Even though his face was collected, a brush of pain swept over his heart, knowing the answer was uncertain. “Does she love me?” he echoed, tone soft. “I hope so.” He knew when it was best to shut up, so he didn’t say what he really wanted to; she hasn’t said the words, but I see it in her eyes. I see the fire in her, the same fire that burns within me. “You may think it hopeless,” he observed, looking at the other men. “That it’s foolish, believing she could return my love. Call me a fool, then. But I know what I feel, and I won’t give up on her, no matter how hopeless it may seem.”

Y/n had made it a habit of sitting outside, in case Mattheo Riddle came riding by again. Her efforts weren’t in vain, for a couple days later, his horse trotted up.

The coy look on his face showed he was feeling sly and quick-witted that day. He would make Y/n vie for his affections, no doubt in her mind. He dismounted with a flourish and a smirk, his coattails flipping out behind him. “Ah, my dear Miss L/n,” he called out, his voice carrying mischief. “I hope I find you well today!”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you call me by my last name,” Y/n replied, setting her book down. “‘Miss Y/n’, or perchance ‘dear’ or ‘darling’, but never Miss L/n.”

“Hmm, my apologies, my dear,” he said as he strode up towards her, mock formality in his voice. “I suppose I’ve become accustomed to calling you by your given name. But I do like the sound of ‘Miss L/n’ as well. It has a certain… ring to it.” He took a seat on the rocking chair next to her and studied her book. “Never thought you the type to read Hunchback of Notre Dame.”

“It’s a love story,” Y/n defended.

“It most certainly is not,” Mattheo chuckled. “You’ve read it before, I assume?”

Y/n huffed. Why she continued to entertain Mr. Riddle was beyond her. “His devotion is clear. And yes, I have. Anyway, before you so very rudely interrupted me, I was going to say I thought you would detest my last name.”

Mattheo clicked his tongue and leaned back in his chair. “There isn’t much I could detest when it comes to you,” he admitted, glancing over slyly at her.

“How sweet.” Y/n rolled her eyes sardonically, but couldn’t help but smile. She added after a moment, “though I still thought you would dislike it.”

He shot her a lazy smile. He hadn’t felt this relaxed in a long time, looking out over her family’s lands. “And why would I dislike it, my darling?”

Y/n let out a soft, mischievous laugh. “Well, I thought surely you’d want to change it.”

“Change it, darling?” Mattheo raised a brow. “Pray tell, what would I change it to?”

Her eyes travelled to the sky, for if Y/n was to look at Mr. Riddle, her gaze would be transfixed on his lips. She swallowed and said slowly, “something that sounds like yours?”

Mattheo’s stare snapped towards her. “Are you suggesting what I think you are?” he murmured in a soft tone.

Ever playing coquettish, the woman responded, “what do you think I’m suggesting?”

Mattheo leaned in a bit closer, his heart beating faster at the notion he was about to say. “I think you’re suggesting you’d like to carry the Riddle surname, my darling,” he replied. “Is that what you’re implying?”

“Perhaps,” Y/n forced out after a short silence.

“And here I thought you thought me brutish and sordid.” When Y/n didn’t answer, an embarrassed flush on her cheek, he said in a quiet voice, “you know, if you enjoy Hunchback, you should see Notre Dame in person. Paris is lovely. We should go sometime.” He crossed one leg over the other and turned his attention back towards the horizon.

Y/n’s lips curved into a small smile. “I would like that.”

“Of course,” Mattheo added, clearing his throat, “if you’re still hung up on Mr. Potter, then you should probably go with him.”

Why, Y/n hadn’t thought about Harry once in the past weeks. How peculiar. And based on the little smirk on Mattheo’s face, he knew it. “I don’t think Harry and I were the right fit,” she said eventually.

“Oh?”

“No,” she mused. “It’s frustrating, yes? You think you have your whole life planned ahead and then… it gets ripped away from you.”

“Or maybe it’s just getting started,” Mattheo muttered. “Your life, I mean. You’re young, Y/n. And Harry Potter shouldn’t dictate whether or not your life has started or ended.”

“I’m not getting any younger,” Y/n complained. “Father wants to marry me off to a good, wealthy man before I turn twenty-five. I thought with Harry, I could get some love out of it as well.”

Mattheo asked honestly, “would it matter if you loved your husband if your husband loved you with everything in him?”

Y/n’s fingers fiddled with the pages of her book. “I think if someone loved me that much,” she whispered, “it would be impossible not to love him back.”

Mattheo felt his hand twitch as he looked down at her fingers. Slowly, he reached out to encircle her palm in his. His warm hand held hers loosely, so that Y/n could pull away if she wished, but just firmly enough that she could sense his devotion.

“Why… why are you doing this?” Y/n asked.

“The truth?” Once Y/n nodded, he continued, “I see the fire in you… The same fire that burns in me. Well, that used to burn in me.” Mattheo paused. “I’m sure you know of my father. I hated the man, and am ashamed to call him a father. But, even so, after he died, I’ve felt… stuck, Y/n. If we’re to keep with the fire analogy, I fizzled out. Yet with you…” he chuckled and shook his head. “Well, I’m sure you know where I’m going with this.”

“So what do you want me to do?” Y/n whispered. “Is this you proposing marriage, Mr. Riddle?” She smirked, even though her heart began beating a bit more quickly.

When Mattheo shook his head, she couldn't help but feel just a little bit disappointed. “No, that’s much too soon for you. Maybe in two or three years. But…” he threw her a wry grin, squeezing her hand lightly. “This is me proposing I begin courting you.”

“What?” Her hand flexed around his. “Really?”

“You can trust me.”

Four years later, because Y/n was notoriously stubborn when it came to her beau, Mattheo Riddle got down on one knee. “My darling dear,” he teased, using the nicknames he knew she hated. Y/n rolled her eyes in response. “You have made me wait what seems like millennia to finally officially call you mine. Of course, I’d wait aeons more, but I’m hoping that today, you’ll put me out of my misery and give me the honour of being your husband.”

“You’ll take me to Paris for the honeymoon?” Y/n asked, despite the tears shining in her eyes.

Mattheo let out a loud, joyful laugh. “Yes, yes I will.” And as he slid the ring on her finger, he murmured, “you can trust me.”

“I always have.”

[cherry-pop-elf]

hello! 🌷 is it okay to request weasley twins x hufflepuff reader that was tortured by umbridge, but didn't give away the prank / bad thing that the twins did? out of loyalty for them

maybe comfort too, since they're thankful to reader and also feel guilty for what umbridge done to her. could be pre-dating or already dating them !!

have a lovely day 🎀

As a Hufflepuff who would have 100% been forced to not use their wheelchair because Umbridge would think I was faking my disability for attention, yeah we gonna get some Whump in this shit. ((Lowkey having some rough shit going on mentally so some vent fic like this will be hella. Thanks anon! Perfect timing!

—————————————————

Honey Wounds

Warning: Violence, Umbridge in general, blood, torture, whump, hurt/comfort 🎆🐝🎇

“Where’s little bumble bee-?” The twins would worry, as they had wondered why you didn’t show up to the secret little defense class Harry started up. Where could their little Hufflepuff be? Had them a little worried. By little, it was a lot. Things have been getting a lot more tense recently. Umbridge was really hammering down, and she was making her mission to find a way to get those two into Azkaban. By any means possible. The only reason she hasn’t was probably because of Percy somehow. As they worried, someone was quick to grab them.

“Fred, George, something bad happened. Something really bad happened-!” The first year was crying, and the duo were on red alert now. The poor kid was in to many tears to really speak, so they figured there was no need to. George was quick to pick the first year up, as the child was just pointing. Fred was in the running lead, as George was trying to comfort the child. The poor kid was hiccuping, and seeming so scared. Something bad happened, and they had to figure out what it was. That’s when they saw it. Blood on the barrels, like someone was slapping bloody hand’s desperately to get into the Hufflepuff dorm.

“Shit shit shit, what did she do now-?” Fred hissed, as he tried to focus on entering the dorm. Having to get literal blood on his hands, in order to get inside. With the pattern played, the duo were able to run inside. Left to see the Hufflepuff dorm full of noise. So many students all busy and around someone. When Hannah Abbott noticed the twins, she stepped away. Pulling away fellow students, and the horror was on display.

“Fred, George…..?” It was you, and you were not looking hot. Not looking hot at all. You were horribly pale, and your hands looked as if they had been through a chopping block. The fellow Puff’s had done their best to try and help, but it was like they wouldn’t stop bleeding. George had instantly covered the first years eyes, despite the fact the child had long seen it. It was just habit after all.

“WHAT HAPPENED-?!” Fred was soon by your side, while George was quick to hand the child off to someone. Now he was on your other side. You were just to tired to really process it all, given the blood loss. If it wasn’t for their brilliant hair, you would have assumed it was just more worried Hufflepuff’s. Just trying so hard to help. It’s rather scary. Sure, it’s Hogwarts. Things get violent, but this wasn’t just a random accident. Nor some run in with a beast. This was a woman who wanted to hurt.

“I didn’t tell her. I didn’t tell her-“ You managed to say, with a smile. The twins looked at each other, wondering what you were blabbering about, before they were quick to take over. The Puff’s made sure to stay out of their way, as the twins were able to move in ever perfect unison. Not needing to speak, to move. Fred was quick to start emptying their bags, as George was taking care in trying to wash the wounds on your hands.

“I know it’s in here, come on out you bastard-“ Fred hissed, as he sorted through the assortment of old tins they had collected. Each with its own experiment, as George tried to not freak out. Seeing you hurt like this. It was making him feel so many emotions. Anger at Umbridge, fear for what that woman will do next, sadness for your pain, anxiety on it Ron and Ginny would be next. It was all so loud in his eyes, as he tried not to let the tears spill.

“Found it-!” Fred sighed, as he was quick to start lathering a strange substance on your hands. It felt rather strange. As if he was lathering your open wounds with pudding. You expected it to hurt, but it was rather nice. Very cooling to your burning wounds. It would soon seem to harden on your fingers and palms. As if stopping you from bleeding, and absorbing the blood. Forcing it to stay inside. If you weren’t so dizzy, you would praise them for being so smart.

“Bumble Bee….What happened?” Fred asked, as George was busy with someone. Quick to get some water from one of the prefects, and try and nurse it into your body. George was gentle, and you needed it. You choked on it, but he knew you had to drink some. You lost alot of blood, and you had to stay hydrated. He would keep your head against his chest, as you managed to get some down. Enough to satisfy him, and calm his nerves. You could feel how sweaty his hands were, with worry, as he stroked your hair. With a few minutes to breath, you spoke.

“She brought me to her office. Asked me who had broken in it last night. I said I didn’t know. She didn’t like that, but I didn’t give up.” You smiled, as the twins were staring in horror. They broke into her office, last night. They swore they didn’t leave behind a trace. They had to break in. She confiscated Ginny’s bracelet. Said she fiddled with it too much. It was made just for her, by Bill. Ever since the incident in the chamber of secrets, she was more susceptible to dark magic. So, a Curse breaker made her something to help. Umbridge was actively putting her in danger. How could they not protect their little sister?

“It was a trap…..She did that on purpose-“ Fred realized, as it made sense. Of course they would break in to get it back. That horrid woman. “Can’t believe she dragged you into this. I mean, I can, but you get the point I’m making here! We’re so sorry Honey Bee-“ George would soon echo, as he kissed your head. Feeling so guilty. You didn’t blame them, of course, but they sure didn’t stop feeling guilty.

“It’s ok. Im ok. Ginny needed it. Like I would ever rat you two out.” You tried to reassure them, but their minds were made up. They had to do something about Umbridge. This woman was going insane. The twins swore she wasn’t aware that you three were in a relationship of sorts. They were magical twins. Not fair to compare them to muggle ones. They shared a partner, no big deal. Communication makes the dream work. Seems like maybe you three communicated in the wrong hallway one to many times, and she put two and two together.

“We are going to fix this. We promise.” The twins spoke, as they comforted you. George with keeping your head to his chest, as Fred was between your legs. Hugging your stomach, and nuzzling into your thigh. Just needing to hold onto you. As if you would disintegrate into his hands then and there. You would have comforted him, but it didn’t seem like your hands wanted to exist at the moment.

“Looks like we can’t wait for that down payment any longer. Now or never.” George said, as Fred gave a defeated sigh. He was right. If they stayed at Hogwarts any longer, Merlin knows who else she will drag into their mess. George was right, it was now or never. Because never means they’ll be in Azkaban for murdering her at this point.

“Say, Bumble bee….Think you can handle living in a rundown hollowed building for a while?” Fred asked, as you tried to focus your eyes. You didn’t really understand half of what they were saying, but you knew this. Wherever they went, you would follow. “What makes it any different from a dungeon?” You tried to joke, and that seemed to solidify the deal. Look out world, the Weasley Twins were about to show off their latest invention.

The WhizBang

[thestorycomesalive]

Nothing's Gonna Hurt You, Baby

George Weasley x Reader

Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

Summary: You had been suffering from nightmares for a while now. This was nothing new to you. But when you have a nightmare that wakes you up in tears, you find yourself instinctively in front of George's dorm, seeking his comfort.

AKA: George is a softie. Two idiots in love, oblivious pining. Fred and Lee will not stop teasing the two dummies.

Lyrics included from the song: Nothing's Gonna Hurt You, Baby by Cigarettes After Sex

.....

You were not a stranger to nightmares. These terrifying dreams had haunted you since you were very little. But you mostly suffered through them alone. You never wanted to wake anyone else or concern them with your deepest fears and troubles. You guessed a part of you didn’t want to accept that you had these fears at all. So, one cold, autumn night, you found yourself sneaking up to the Astronomy Tower, hoping not to be seen, but daring to do so anyways. For another haunting dream had plagued your sleep just moments ago. These days, they seemed to be getting worse, and your first instinct tonight was to escape and get some fresh air.

As you walked through the entrance of the tower, you felt the breeze flow in through the open walls, chilling your skin and, ever so slightly, whipping your hair. You wrapped your arms around yourself as you approached the opening of the tower. The frigid wind woke you from your sleepiness and seemed to remind your body that you were here. That you were okay. You overlooked the black skyline and closed your eyes, breathing in the burning atmosphere. You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that. It wasn’t until you heard the sound of the railing creak next to you that you awoke from your hypnotic state. Your eyes opened and you turned to look to where you had just heard the weight of the metal bar on your right, moments before. There stood a tall and sleepy George, adorned in a knitted sweater and sweatpants, arms crossed, as he leaned against the railing next to you. He looked out at the skyline. His expression mirrored the one you had sported before, but his eyes were open as he saw you turn to him in his peripheral vision.

“I honestly thought you might’ve been sleepwalking,” he chuckled as he stared at the darkness ahead of him.

“What are you doing here, Georgie?” you asked, puzzled.

“I could ask you the same thing, love,” he said with a small smile on his face. He turned his head to bring his eyes to meet yours.

You smiled back at him lightly. “I meant, more so, how did you know I’d be here?”

He dramatically placed his hand on his chest and faked shock and offense, his mouth wide. “Who said I knew? Maybe I just needed some fresh air too,” he tested, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Well then it seems great minds think alike,” you laughed at your best friend.

George quickly dropped his act, a mischievous grin on his face. “I’m only kidding. Fred and I borrowed the Marauder’s Map from Harry last night. I couldn’t sleep and gave it a look. I saw you wandering,” he said with a shy grin on his face.

“Bad dream?” you asked him, softly, your eyes slightly become distant at the memory of your own nightmare.

“Nah,” he said. “I had the coffee cake at dinner tonight. I ate so much of it, I could’ve run the entire quidditch field twenty times over,” he chuckled. He took in your slightly distant eyes as you laughed slightly at his response. “You?” he asked, concerned.

“Yeah. It was stupid. I just needed a change of scenery,” you sighed.

“I’m sorry,” he said gently as he wrapped his arm around your shivering form, pulling you into him. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“It’s okay. It was nothing,” you lied. You leaned your head into George’s shoulder, your heart doing cartwheels at the unexpected contact from him. You, the twins, and Lee had been best friends since your first year, but it didn’t take long for your friendship with George to quickly blossom into more, in your heart. You had fallen for him completely, but you knew you would never utter a word about it out of fear of losing your best friend in the whole entire world.

Oblivious to you, George felt the same exact way. He loved everything about you. The way your hair bounced when you walked, the glisten in your eyes when you looked at him, the way you tilted your head slightly when you laughed, the sound of your voice. Everything. He had entirely fallen for you over the years. What started as a simple crush in his first year, never subsided. Rather it took his body and soul by storm. He felt warm whenever you were near. His heart skipped in his chest and his knees weakened. But how could he ever tell his best friend that he was completely and entirely in love with her? He thought that you would likely feel obligated to awkwardly thank him, never to talk to him again. And to him, a world in pining and longing with you in it, was better than one in relief without you there.

He felt his heart rate patter as you reciprocated his touch and rested your head on his shoulder.

“Aren’t you cold out here?” he asked quietly.

“A little bit,” you smiled up at him. “But I don’t mind it.”

George hesitated. He wanted to just take you completely into his arms and hold you through the cold, sharp wind. But he didn’t want to scare you away. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable. He settled upon simply draping his other arm over you gently rubbing up and down your arm to generate some heat to you.

Your legs nearly gave out from the feeling of his touch. You and George had hugged many times before, but this time, he was so close to actually holding you. You wanted nothing more. You loved the feeling of George’s strong arms around you and his large hand running along your arm. You decided to be a little bit brave as you tucked into him a little bit more, wrapping your arms around his waist, your cheek in his sweater.

George’s arms froze in surprise as you curled yourself into him. He felt his cheeks flush red with warmth as he tried his best to bring himself back to reality. He moved his frigid arms to gently wrap around you, squeezing you to him. “Is… is that a little bit warmer?” he asked, hesitantly.

“Much. Thank you,” you smiled up at him as your own face flushed red with longing and bashfulness.

The two of you stayed that way for another half an hour or so, neither wanting to let go of the other. But when you let out a yawn, George looked down at you, a gentle smile on his face.

“We should probably get you to bed,” he rubbed your arm gently, in his embrace.

“You too,” you said, looking up at him with a sleepy smile.

The two of you walked back to the Common Room where George walked you up to the door of your dorm. George stood there awkwardly, his arms at his side as he bid you goodnight. Everything in him wanted to pull you into him again, to hug you. His arms felt so empty without you. Hell, he wanted so badly to kiss you. To feel your lips against his gently as you parted ways for the night, but his mind convinced him against it. What he didn’t expect was for you to take a step closer to him and to move up on your tiptoes. He didn’t expect you to wrap your arms around his neck and whisper in his ear. But you did.

“Goodnight, Georgie. Thank you for everything,” you said sweetly as you hugged the boy you loved so dearly. You wished you could ask him to stay. You wanted him to hold you all night, but you convinced yourself that you had to let him go. He wrapped his arms around you in return, his eyes wide in surprise as he spoke, “N…No problem, goodnight.”

And you parted ways.

******

In the coming days, neither George nor you brought up that night to anyone. Not to your friends, not to each other. To you, it was a beautiful memory that you would cherish forever. You didn’t want to share it with anyone else. You didn’t want it to belong to anyone but you. You wanted it all to yourself… and to him. You survived on small, happy moments like that with George. Moments where you allowed yourself to feel all of the love you had for the boy fully and completely. You knew you would never be able to confess your feelings to him, so this is how you would live. Off of every happy and soft moment you could possibly get with the gentle, ginger boy. And although you two never spoke of that wonderful, simple night, you always found your place next to him, and he always found his next to you.

Fred and Lee had constantly teased the two of you on the subject. Anytime you had to choose partners for a project in Potions, Fred would utter an “Oi, ten galleons I can tell you where George is headed as soon as Snape lets us up." This would earn him a glare and an eye roll from George and a snort from Lee. Another time, at the end of a long, random day, you were writing in the Common Room with your friends, and your legs found themselves draped over George’s. You sat horizontally on one side of the sofa, and he sat facing forward, his hand mindlessly holding your ankle in place, in his lap.

This wasn’t something unnormal for the two of you. George and you had a sort of magnetic force and you always seemed to be engaged in the smallest motions of physical touch in some way. You were never as close as you had been that night in the astronomy tower, but you were nearly always touching, none the less. The domestic picture of you and George instinctively sitting together on the couch, had Fred rolling on the floor laughing. Lee was trying to shush him, not wanting to embarrass either of you, however this seemed to be a fruitless prospect. The two boys couldn’t understand how oblivious you and George both were. It was obvious to your best friends that you liked each other, but no matter how many times they tried to convince each one of you, you never seemed to believe that it could be remotely possible. They could’ve given both of you Veritaserum and forced you to confess your love plain and simple, and both of you would probably still be too blind to see it.

“A little bit comfortable, are we there, Y/N?” Fred asked you, eyebrows wiggling in a teasing manner.

Your face flushed completely red, giving away your thoughts on the matter right away, to everyone but George.

“Don’t worry, I think our Georgie likes it,” Fred said, shooting a wink to George.

It was George’s turn to flush red with embarrassment. He took a pillow from next to him on the sofa and launched it at Fred’s face, causing him to roll back, holding his stomach as he laughed uncontrollably. Lee joined in on the chuckle and playfully slapped Fred’s arm.

“I think it’s sweet,” Lee said, laughing still.

George and you said nothing as you both found your hands to suddenly become increasingly interesting, trying to diffuse the situation in your minds.

*****

The next day, you had dropped your books all over the stairs as you were walking with Fred, Lee, and George from Transfiguration. A first year Hufflepuff had accidentally bumped into you as it was clear she was running late to her next class, and she wasn’t looking where she was going. As your books tumbled down the stairs, she apologetically called out to you.

“I’m so sorry!” She automatically turned down the stairs to head back down to help you retrieve the books she had thrown from your hand, disregarding her rush. But you gently smiled at her and stopped her in her tracks.

“It’s okay, darling. Go on, I’ve got it,” you said as gave her a reassuring wave onwards and a bright smile.

She thanked you quickly and nodded, as she returned to rushing up the stairs. As you turned back to look down at the books you had dropped, you saw that George was already bent down collecting them. He had a smile on his face as he had just watched the interaction you had had with the little Hufflepuff girl. You bent down too, collecting the last two books, as George placed the remainder of them into your hands.

“Here you go,” he said.

“Thanks, Georgie,” you smiled at him. His hand brushed against yours as he placed the books into your possession. He let them linger there, as you both stared at each other for a fraction of a moment.

“Good grief!” You were pulled out of your trance by Fred who had his arms crossed and eyebrow raised. Lee was next to him as they had turned to see what had kept you two from following them down the stairs. “Get a room, you two!” he shouted up at you as other students passed by.

You both immediately shot up from the ground, your faces heated, and your vision slightly blurred from embarrassment.

As the two of you headed down the stairs to catch up with Fred and Lee, Lee elbowed you playfully and whispered, “Your hero to the rescue.”

You lightly, and playfully slapped him on the shoulder with one of the smaller books in your arms as you exclaimed, “At least he helped me! You lot just stood there and watched.”

Lee laughed as he tried to dodge your whacks to his shoulder. “It’s more fun that way! Besides, it looked like George was eager to help. You didn’t need us.”

*****

The teasing never did stop and your feelings for George only grew and grew. You weren’t sure how it was possible to be so enamored with anyone. But here you were,  living proof that it was not only possible, but real.

After a particularly stressful day, you curled up in your bed and tried to think of pleasant thoughts to lull you to sleep. Most of the thoughts consisted of George. You eventually found yourself counting each individual thing you loved most about him, which could honestly take you forever. You figured it was like counting sheep. You weren’t intent on ever finishing your count, but rather falling asleep in the middle of it. Today had been a day of rarity. Everything seemed to go wrong. You failed your Potions exam, and you had gotten scolded by Professor McGonagall because you had slept in too late, missed breakfast and nearly missed the first half of her class. You were usually a pretty decent student, but your nightmares had been keeping you up at night, making it hard for you to focus and stay awake in class. Which, of course, now that you actually wanted to go to sleep, your body had to make it as difficult as possible for you to do.

You had drifted off into a deep sleep at some point, somewhere between recounting the sound of George’s laugh and the deep color of his eyes. But your sleep didn’t last long as you began tossing and turning, shooting up in a cold sweat. You were shaking and… crying? You reached up to touch your cheeks. You were definitely crying. Quiet sobs wracked from your body, as you covered your mouth, trying your best not to wake your dorm mates. You had to leave. You had to escape. But there was only one place you wanted to go. The Astronomy Tower hadn’t even crossed your mind this time.

In a daze, your feet subconsciously carried you down the stairs, up another set, and stopped in front of a large, brown, wooden door. Normally, your brain would’ve told you that it was wrong to enter people’s rooms uninvited. Your brain would’ve reminded you that you were crossing a boundary and that you were completely disregarding other peoples’ privacy. But tonight, there was only one thought playing over and over in your mind. You creaked the door open and quietly shut it behind you. It was like you were on autopilot as you made your way to the side of a bed, George’s beautiful, sleeping frame facing you.

Tears were still flowing down your face, but your sobs had stopped now that you could see him here. You gently, nervously brought your hand to his shoulder and shook it softly. “Georgie…” you squeaked out.

George’s eyes fluttered open in a confused daze. He took in his surroundings for a moment and when he saw you standing there, his heart pounded in his chest, adrenaline coursing through him. He thought for sure, he must be dreaming. There was no way that you were actually here, right in front of his bed, in the quiet of the night.

“Y/N/N…” he called out, brows furrowed in confusion. As the moonlight shone in from the window, he finally caught a glimpse of the tears that stained your face and the sadness in your eyes. He sat up immediately, his hand reaching for your cheek as he wiped your tears away.

“Oh, love. What’s wrong?” he murmured to you. “Another bad dream?” he asked, softly.

Concern filled his eyes. It split his heart into two seeing you this sad and frightened. You simply nodded your head in response, like a petrified doe in headlights.

“Do you wanna take a walk? We can go to the Astronomy Tower.” he offered gently, pushing his blankets off of him.

You didn’t want to be anywhere but right here, with him. You mustered up the courage, or rather cowardly gave in to the urge that was telling you to ask George a question that could quite possibly put your friendship on the line. You shook your head.

“Can…” you took a deep, unhelpful breath, “can I stay with you?” you looked up at him with defeated eyes, searching his for any sign that you had just crossed a line.

His eyes went wide. He couldn’t believe this was happening. He couldn’t believe that you were here, and he really couldn’t believe what you were asking him. He nodded his head quickly.

“Of course,” he whispered hurriedly. Without hesitation, he moved over to make room in his bed for you, lifting the covers as an invitation for you.

You sighed out in relief and disbelief. He had actually said yes. You hadn’t ruined anything. You gently laid yourself down as George sat there awkwardly next to you, afraid to touch you as if the act would send you running. He didn’t want to do anything to scare you off or make you feel like you had to leave him. But he wanted to move. He wanted to hold you, to run his hands through your hair and tell you that everything would be okay. That he would keep you safe.

But you couldn’t hold back. You had no sense of logic tonight. You only knew that you need to see George, to feel him. You needed to hear his heartbeat and know that he was there. You moved your head to rest on his chest, curling your legs closer to your stomach. You could feel him tense up and you hoped that you didn’t make him uncomfortable. Your own body tensed when you felt his apprehension.

George was feeling an immense number of emotions. He was in complete shock at the close proximity you had placed yourself into him, but he also felt his entire body melt at the sensation. Now was his chance. He could finally give into all of the urges he had felt pile up inside him just moments ago. Well, at least a select few of them. He allowed his arm to curl underneath you, pushing you closer to him, bringing his other arm around you, over your side, completely enveloping you in his embrace.

“It’s okay, I’m right here,” he whispered as he held you in his strong arms.

You had been holding your breath, waiting to see George’s reaction to your embrace. When he didn’t respond right away, you felt your heart drop and your eyes begin to water once more, but when he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into him, you breathed out and snuggled in closer to him, as he whispered to you. You listened carefully to the pattern of his heartbeat, as if it was your lifeline keeping you tied to reality. He felt you sigh into him and whispered to you once more.

“Nothing’s going to hurt you. As long as you’re with me you’ll be just fine.”

And you truly believed that. As long as George was here, you would always be okay. Which is why losing him felt like the most frightening thing in the world to you.

“Thank you, Georgie,” you whispered, as you felt yourself creeping into a deep sleep, listening to his heartbeat, feeling your lifeline in the arms of the man that you loved so dearly.

He tossed the idea of kissing the top of your head around in his mind. It was a big risk and normally he would turn the thought away, but tonight was a night full of new progressions and big chances. So, he did it. He gently kissed the top of your head and waited with bated breath to see how you would react.

Your mouth turned up into a gentle smile that you pressed into his chest. You took one of your legs and curled it around his, entangling the two of you together. He couldn’t hide the huge smile that grew on his face and the rapid increase of his heartbeat that you had been listening intently to. He didn’t sleep much that night, going in and out, in the awe of having you curled into him. He wanted to soak up every minute that you were entangled with him, in his arms.

******

When the morning arrived, George had finally fallen asleep, arms still wrapped around your body. He awoke quickly to a loud shout from Fred.

“BLOODY HELL!” Fred shouted as his face was mere inches away from George’s own.

George startled awake, nearly jolting from the image of his brother’s shocked face so close to his.

“George, I think you have a visitor!” Lee said from across the room, grinning widely at the scene before him.

“Your ‘best friend’ is sleeping in your bed, ole’ Georgie!” Fred shouted at him, rolling his eyes sarcastically at his own use of the term best friend, taunting George who had always insisted your relationship was platonic. “Better yet! She’s laying on top of you! Do you treat all of your friends like that? Because I assure you, Lee and I want no part of that!” Fred teased George loudly, still in shock from the scene in front of him. He was nearly bouncing up and down with excitement at the prospect of his brother and his best friend finally owning up to their feelings for each other. George quickly looked down at you, hoping Fred hadn’t awoken you. But you had been so tired from your nights of missed sleep, that you were still as a rock, breathing shallow as you continued into your unconsciousness.

“Will. You. Quit. It?!” George whispered furiously as he launched the pillow next to him straight into Fred’s face.

Fred rolled back off of his bed as the pillow met his face, laughing maniacally as he did so.

“It’s not what it looks like,” he whispered stubbornly. “She had a bad dream.”

“And so she had to come find her sweet, heroic Georgie to comfort her?” Fred taunted as he crossed his arms in front of himself.

“Come on, George. Why won’t you accept that she likes you too?” Lee asked George, supportively.

“Aren’t you two late for breakfast?” George shot back.

“Oooo, I see. Georgie wants alone time with his lady,” Fred teased as he gave George a big wink.

“Come on, Fred. Let her sleep. We’ll meet you two down there,” laughed Lee playfully.

George nodded and Lee and Fred began to exit the dorm room. However, Fred purposefully slammed the door shut on the way out trying to wake you , making George glare sharply at the other side of the door. George could hear Fred’s evil laugh fade as he raced down the stairs. Fred’s plot had worked. The jolt of the door jostled you awake. Your eyes shot open as you took in your surroundings for a moment. You lifted your head, your face flushing red as the memories of the night before came rushing back to you. You sat up and turned to George. He smiled at you.

“George…I’m so sorry,” you started. “I shouldn’t have let myself in last night.”

George felt his heart drop. Did you regret coming to see him? Staying with him?

“Oh,” George said. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for. I really don’t mind,” he tested.

You smiled, a bit relieved. “Thank you for everything. You don’t know how much I needed that.” You weighed your words carefully.

George felt his heart lift back up, at your words. Hope filled his chest. “Of course, love. I will always be here for you. Anytime you need me.”

Your smile burned brighter. Did he really mean that? Anytime? If you could have it your way, you would always be curled into the tall boy. And although you didn’t know it, he wished for exactly the same thing.

“Thank you, Georgie. You know, I’m always here for you too,” you said softly as you placed your hand gently on top of his.

He smiled at you in pure adoration. “Do you wanna talk about it?” he asked, his brows furrowing as his eyes searched yours.

You realized he was referring to your nightmare that you had encountered the night before. You had previously turned down the opportunity to talk about your nightmares to him before, so he was surprised when you released a sigh and spoke up. You felt he deserved an explanation.

“It was the worst dream I think I’ve ever had. It felt so real… so terrifying.” Your eyes became distant as you recalled your dream that had frightened you to your deepest core.

“What was it?” he whispered, as he brushed his hand against your cheek in an attempt to comfort you.

You leaned into his touch. “It was you, Georgie. I dreamt I lost you. It was like my whole world fell apart. That’s why…” you started and sighed, “I had to know you were okay. That you were here.”

He felt his chest twist and his brows furrow as his he began to open his mouth to speak, but stopped, speechless. You had dreamt about him. Your most terrifying dream was losing him. He knew just how much you mattered to him, but was it possible he meant just as much to you? “I’m here,” he said. “I will always be here for you. Nothing could ever keep me from you, Y/N.”

You wrapped your arms around his waist and pressed your cheek into his chest as you hugged him. You then pulled away and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

“Thank you, Georgie,” you simply murmured.

His face turned bright red in shock and love. Your own face flushed at the realization of what you had just done. It had come so naturally, in the moment, that you hadn’t even thought twice about it. You cleared your throat gently, as a smile creeped up onto George’s face.

“I should apologize to Fred and Lee for crashing their room without asking,” you laughed, embarrassed.

“It’s my room too,” he said. “And in my opinion, you are perfectly welcome whenever you want.”

The two of you decided that even though you were significantly late to breakfast, you would still make your way to the Great Hall. You had run off to your dorm to change into your clothes for the day and planned to meet up with George near the Portrait of the Common Room. Eventually, when you came down the stairs and found George waiting for you, you gave him a small smile as you skipped to his side. He watched you walk to his side with a look of awe on his face. You looked so beautiful, as always.

You made your way to the Great Hall, the two of you mentally preparing for Fred’s teasing. But, Merlin, was it worth it. You had planned to apologize to Fred and Lee for crashing in their dorm, but as you and George walked side by side into the Great Hall, the wide, goofy grins on their faces when they made eye contact with you, told you they would take your apology just fine. It also told you that you were in for a rough day of pestering and flustered faces. Hell, the way they were looking at you two this time, this one would probably last weeks.

[artytaeh]

Hello! Could you please write about weasley twins (separately if it's possible) x muggle! reader who had to take exams on her birthday, but she received poor results because of the rating scale (there is no retake). Recently I took my final exams and it so happened that I took one of them on my birthday. The grading scale for this subject this year is very cruel: one mistake is equal to minus six points. I scored 68 out of 100 (~85%). This is a passing score for the university to which I am applying, but the most offensive thing is that my friends from the neighboring (central) region received 89 or more points (some of them did not prepare at all, when I found out about this, I cried hours). I hope my request is not too much. Please don't bother yourself writing it if you don't like it. Have a good day🌺

fred weasley x muggle!reader && george weasley x muggle!reader : where the twins, separately, comfort you.

hey anon! tysm for requesting to my blog 🌷 ; about what happened, i'm so sorry :( i hope that you're aware that that grade doesn't define how capable / smart you are— sometimes we're very lucky or terribly unlucky with exams; cut yourself some slack, okay? and make sure that you celebrate your birthday! 🗯️

FRED WEASLEY:

⋆ vaguely remembering that you had the misfortune of having such a fun day like your birthday to happen on the same day as a stressing exam, fred weasley dedicated most of his thoughts to you: what he could do to guarantee that this birthday, this year, this day that celebrates your birth, is the most fun for you.

⋆ with picked out wildflowers nearby the burrow, fred had his mother, molly weasley, baking a cake to your taste; convincing ginny to be a dear and helping him decorate, since truthfully, fred doesn't trust george to help him, much less himself to ruin the cake he's giving you. the twins, however, participated by joining efforts, creating a special magic candle for you— a harmless joke product, he swears! it's meant to produce little fireworks, nothing more!

⋆ fred weasley had everything ready: he awaited you to come home, sat on your bedroom with a few decorations, the cake, wildflowers at hand and a prepared treasure hunt (one that is meant to take only half a hour, really, a little thing to give you a fun challenge to find the gift he made for you).

⋆ his wide grin, spreading on fred's lips as soon as he heard your bedroom's door opening— too excited and proud of his surprise too soon, fades almost comically at the sight of you: sad, frowning, crying. and all of this on your birthday, which feels like a crime!

'hey hey hey,' fred starts, almost panicking a little bit; surely, it's not something he's done, right?

'what got you so upset, sunshine? why are you crying?' he asks, hands hovering over your form, unsure whether to hug, caress your arms, or squeeze your shoulders gently.

fred weasley expected to make you smile and laugh today, not to see you cry with such a sad expression!

⋆ soon, you explain to fred what's wrong, after he guided you to sit with him on your bed; that's when his hands find yours, thumbs caressing the back of your hands soothingly.

⋆ you see, fred weasley is a simple man— even at hogwarts, as long as he was able to pass an exam or test, then everything's fine. it didn't matter that percy weasley was the role model of a student, or that his mother sang praises to him. fred only didn't want to receive a howler for failing another subject.

⋆ so, really, as much as he sympathizes, fred weasley fails to understand what's the problem. the big deal.

f : but isn't 85% a good grade?

🗯️ : well, yeah, but still— i've only scored 68 out of 100...

f : so?! that's more than half of it! like, bloody three-quarters! darling, i'd only be able to score that much if i copied from someone. you're a bloody genius dating a bloke!

⋆ to cheer you up, fred doesn't mind to make some jokes at his own expense; fred had always been confident about it, anyways: what he lacks of academic achievements, he overcompensates for being a good clown, fun company and bloody creative. being careless and dumber at studying is, well, a bless of a flaw to compensate his good traits.

⋆ that's how he makes you laugh. fred suddenly gasps, hands on your cheeks: 'oh no, darling! i think that my stupidity is contagious— i got inside your brain and failed those questions for you. bloody hell, now i have to take you on a few dates to make up for it...'

⋆ you realize that he's joking, taking only a few seconds to notice his plan; fred knows that you know that he's doing these theatrics to put a smile on your face. and you see, years of experience as the classes' clown (self-proclaiming himself to be the funniest weasley) paid off to make you laugh with ease.

⋆ that's his plan, mostly: making you laugh at the same time that he reassures you how smart you are. telling you with a mock seriousness how he has to take a few classes, or do this and that, to make sure that he can keep up with his capable, hard-working, incredible girlfriend whose tears become little laughs.

⋆ and if you mention how it feels so, so unfair that some friends of yours got a better score, without preparing as hard as you did— fred weasley calls it bullshit immediately. hermione granger is a bloody genius; fred knows that much, since the girl had been a close friend of his younger brother, and now his sister-in-law. even hermione granger herself wouldn't be able to score so high without studying, and oh boy, was she a good student. so, you see! nobody would be able to get such a grade out of luck! they must have cheated, for sure!

⋆ as soon as fred gets you to stop crying, he comes to comfort you with physical affection; the words of reassurance and playful remarks seemed to have worked their deal, so now, fred can wipe away those tears from your damp cheeks, fingers brushing them away adamantly. then, he kisses each cheek with such a gentle kiss, that seemed to be a magical seal to the faucet in your eyes— no more tears! no more sorrows today! not on his watch!

⋆ for the rest of the day, fred makes sure that nothing else can distress you. he's taking you to dinner, to some fun wizarding restaurant that serves your favorite food. fred is taking you out of your house— no closed places!

⋆ sneakily, fred will take you on a stroll to diagon alley, showing you each corner: this place where he bought his wand; his favorite shop; the spot where ron fell in front of everyone; fred's preferred shop for joke stuff or sweets— and finally, where fred and george would like to open his shop.

⋆ for a muggle, diagon alley might be a little overwhelming; there's so many things to see, too much information to process, which becomes a constant distraction that doesn't leave space for distressing thoughts. exams, university, your friends? that fades into thin air, since fred keeps up conversation with you. after all, he doesn't want you to dwell on thoughts over your friends, or an unlucky exam score.

⋆ in conclusion: fred would priorize cheering you up and maintaining you in a good mood for the rest of your birthday, doing his best to make you laugh and distract your thoughts from what went wrong on that day. besides, he'd only let you return home, as soon as he's 100% sure that he swished all of your sadness away!

GEORGE WEASLEY:

⋆ beforehand, george had planned two things for your birthday: one, somehow managing to bake a cake for you with the help of his mother, molly weasley, or request the blissful advice of his girl friends from hogwarts, such as alicia and angelina, to teach his chaotic self how to bake a cake for you— the draft of a cute smiley cake (simple enough for him to decorate; george weasley can only be so talented in a few things, okay?!); and two, be there as soon as you leave your exam, to give you the biggest birthday kiss any muggle has ever seen.

⋆ opposite to his twin, george would keep in mind that today is a stressful day for you; he'd been there at your bedroom sometimes, keeping you company as you studied on your desk, while he layed on your bed, reading through some books of yours or even working on his joke-product drafts while you were busy. that being said, well, george was terribly considerate towards this supposed muggle exam that seemed so important for you.

⋆ so, arriving earlier to the muggle side of your town, george took almost twenty minutes to properly make his way there— god, george wonders why floo flames aren't a thing for muggles! cheap and simple! — to then wait patiently for you in front of the gates. cake at hand, a bit smaller than a proper birthday cake to not weight too much on his hands, george keeps looking around for you, amongst other people of your age that gradually leave the building.

⋆ as if you stand out in the crowd like a shining star amongst darkness, george smiles immediately at the sight of you; a smile that fades in less than a second, noticing how you look too gloomy for his taste.

cake in one hand, george walks to you; his height being easy to identify amongst other students, easily making his way through them. soon, george is walking by your side; the cake secure in one hand, the other sliding his arm over your shoulders.

'what got my pretty girl all lonesome and sad on her birthday, hm?' he asks, caressing your shoulder, even though george had a major idea of what went wrong.

⋆ george wouldn't take offense if you don't notice the cake he made for you; if it wasn't on his hand, george wouldn't pay it any mind either, too worried over your melancholic expression. he guides you to a nearby bench, gaze shifting between you and some people passing by, that seemed curious about a cake and a sad girl crying there.

⋆ guides your head to rest on his shoulder, being gentle as he takes turns between caressing your shoulder, and bringing his hand to clumsily wipe away the tears rolling down your cheeks. george listens silently, and if it makes you feel better, he tries to both listen to your worries and storytelling over what went wrong today, and feed you another piece of cake. hoping that the sweet taste subsides the emotional pain weighting your heart.

⋆ he concludes that whatever plans he had arranged could take a delay. your comfort is the most important thing for george, so even if it takes the whole afternoon, he'll stick by your side, making his way back to your house with you; knowing that the privacy and comfort of your home would help.

⋆ wearing more comfortable clothes, george lays with you on top of him, finding comfort on the weight of your body resting on his chest. his fingers are long, yet so careful and gentle, while he brushes your hair away from your damp face, should you cry more to him over the exam.

⋆ george believes in fairness, but believes even more that there's nothing that screams justice more than guaranteeing the happiness of a pretty girl. his impulsive thought was getting fred to, somehow, sneak in your school or whatever the hell he needed to do, and change your grade to something that benefits you. believe me, he would! george was only fourteen when he and fred stole their parents' car to get a younger harry potter from a barred window!

⋆ so really, george wpuld spend the rest of the day cuddling you, he'd massage your back too; george knows himself that sometimes, when we're feeling at our lowest, we need some silence for the pain to gradually dissipate. so george gives you this silence; paired with loving kisses on your forehead.

g : you're really smart, did you know that? you did your best— i know it sucks to not have things going the way you wanted, but that doesn't take away how responsible and hardworking you were; that has more value than a stupid grade that got you so sad, pretty girl.

🗯️ : yeah, but—

g : but you're so smart and hardworking, and i couldn't be more proud of you. even my mother keeps telling me how lovely you are, don't let a stupid exam convince you otherwise.

⋆ would also sympathize with you, more than fred, if not totally showing empathy towards your situation; george felt like a shadow of fred sometimes, and if that wasn't enough, george was surrounded by two successful older brothers, to whom their parents sing praises about, among a beloved younger sister; as much as george genuinely tried to get a good score back at hogwarts, well— he felt like he was doomed to be a bit of a failure in his mother's eyes.

⋆ and even though this is a topic that george weasley hates with a passion, having its surface only shown to his identical twin, he finds himself sharing these bottled up insecure thoughts with you. for the first time, george lets go of these feelings on something else other than forcefully throwing bludgers to each corner of the quidditch pitch.

⋆ it helps; surprisingly or not, those minutes you've spent cuddling, having a heart to heart to each other over academic pressure, hidden insecurities, even anxious thoughts about yourselves have deepened the bond between the two of you. there's something intimate about having george massaging your scalp, while you lay on his chest and he listens, with all of his attention, to how you heartbreakingly explain your tears.

⋆ now that the topic has died down to a more lighthearted conversation, exchanging little smiles and affectionate small caresses, george suggests a movie session— immediately suggesting either your favorite movies, or some romcom, even comedy, that you were interested on watching for the first time or showing it to him. truthfully, george always had some curiosity over how muggles perceive romantic situations.

⋆ stays for the night. no way in hell will george leave your side, letting you fall asleep on his arms; hands and fingers working to soothe your body into sleep, with scalp and back massages, muttering reassuring words to you. george would also make sure that you had good laughs today, even if it meant sharing some embarrassing stories of his and fred's, like the time they've drank a potion to get older, only to have overgrown white beard like dumbledore's.

⋆ if you didn't really enjoy your birthday, george would change your initial plans for the following day; he slept there anyways, he might as well help you with breakfast, take a shower with you and make sure that you celebrate being a year older— even if twenty-four hours later.

⋆ and if you're wondering about his gift, well: george swallowed his shyness and buried it deep in his stomach, handing you a handwritten letter (one that took him a few days to write), along with a crocheted sweater, matching the one his mother made for him and fred. to george, you're part of the weasley family— you ought to have a matching sweater with him!

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🍁 ’

౨ৎ darling, you're glowing— if you're ♡ ͡

lonely, come be lonely with me . . .

🪻 ; . . . fandom : harry potter.

— i'm so sorry for taking so long to write your request! i hope it suited your taste and that, somehow, managed to comfort you a little bit. ♡

the headers + gifs + icons aren't mine. credits to the respective creators ! 🌷

[grangerhater]

WHO DID THIS TO YOU

pairing: George weasley x reader

warnings: violence

synopsis: he loved her but he masked it with hatred well until he had to make his hands bloody to protect her

hurt/comfort , enemies to lovers

In the bustling halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, George Weasley, one-half of the famous mischievous duo, sat with his twin brother, Fred, at the Gryffindor table. They chatted animatedly about their latest pranks as the students filed in for the start of another year. However, George's attention was momentarily diverted when he noticed his younger brother Ron entering the Great Hall, accompanied by a close friend he had known since their first year - Y/N.

As George watched the pair, his eyes narrowed with an inexplicable dislike. There was something about Y/N, who had always been Ron's best friend, that irritated him. Maybe it was their unwavering loyalty, or the way they effortlessly fit into Ron's life, but there was something about them that just didn't fit right. For some reason, George has never been able to shake his dislike of Y/N, even from their first meeting.

Throughout their years at Hogwarts, George made it his mission to torment Y/N at every opportunity. He took pleasure in watching them squirm under his pranks and jabs, fueled by an irrational animosity he couldn't shake. Y/N, however, seemed unfazed by George's antics and always had a witty retort ready. Despite their constant clashes, Y/N's smile never faded.

As the years passed, George's disdain for Y/N grew stronger. His friends and family grew increasingly concerned and Ron couldn't understand George's behavior. He had often confronted his brother about it, but George dismissed it as harmless banter. Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't quite right. Why was he so fixated on Y/N? And why couldn't he let go of a simple grudge?

Ron watched with concern as his brother grew more consumed with his grudge against Y/N. He tried to talk sense into George, but to no avail. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't understand what was eating away at his brother.

Meanwhile, George couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing something. What did he have against Y/N, really? What drove him to make it his mission to torment them at every opportunity? It couldn't be as simple as a grudge. He was certain there was more to it than that.

But what?

George tried to ignore the feeling that he was forgetting something important, but it kept nagging at him. He knew there was more to it than just a grudge. What was it that he was missing? As he struggled to recall, he couldn't shake the sensation that he was overlooking something right in front of him.

Was it something Y/N had done? Something they'd said? Or was it something he had done? Nothing seemed to fit right. The answer seemed to be just outside his reach, but he couldn't quite grasp it. It was infuriating!

George's memory of first meeting Y/N came rushing back to him in a flash, and the pieces fell into place. He had spent so long hating Y/N, masking his true feelings with resentment and animosity. But on that first day, something Y/N had said had struck a chord in him. Could it be true, that deep down he was hiding a secret crush on them?

Y/N looked up from their book with a smile, seemingly unbothered by George's constant teasing. The sight of them made George's heart flutter, and he suddenly realized he didn't want to see them hurt.

George's heart fluttered as he watched Y/N, suddenly realizing how much he cared for them. All of his teasing and jabs suddenly seemed petty and insignificant, and he would do whatever it took to protect Y/N. As George looked on, Y/N's smile never faded, and he quickly realized that they had grown accustomed to his antics.

The more George watched Y/N, the more drawn to them he felt. Their laughter rang through the halls as they chatted with their classmates, oblivious to everything around them. George couldn't tear his eyes away, mesmerized by their smile and graceful movements.

The feelings began to overwhelm George, and he felt his heart thudding in his chest as he watched Y/N. The way they laughed with their friends, the way they moved with such effortless grace, it all made George feel a certain way. He realized that what he was feeling was more than just a crush. It was love.

And then, one night, after curfew as he was aimlessly walking around the castle deep in thought, George came across a shocking sight. Y/N was lying on the ground, injured and bleeding.

George was filled with rage. Who had hurt his Y/N? George's heart was pounding as he knelt down next to Y/N, taking in their bloody face and bruised body. How could anyone hurt them like this? And why?

George turned to the group of students, filled with righteous anger. "Who did this?" he roared, his voice echoing through the hall. The students who had gathered around Y/N scattered quickly, afraid of his wrath.

George turned back to Y/N, determined to take care of them. "What happened?" he asked, his voice gentle despite his rage. "Who hurt you?"

George gently examined Y/N's wounds, searching for clues as to who had attacked them. George's mind raced as he wondered who could be behind the attack. He had to figure it out fast, before Y/N was hurt again.

George turned to Y/N, his expression dark and determined. "I swear, I will find out who did this to you," he said, his voice resolute. "And when I do, they will pay for what they have done."

Y/N coughed and opened their eyes, and for a moment they didn't seem to register who was standing over them. But as they slowly came to their senses, they saw George and felt the fury in his eyes.

"It was a Slytherin," Y/N said quietly, coughing up a bit of blood. "They-they had a knife."

George felt his heart drop as Y/N told him what happened. He felt his anger bubble up again, and he knew he would make the Slytherin who had hurt them pay.

George gently helped Y/N to their feet, supporting them as they walked to his dorm. Y/N was still weak from their injuries, and they leaned heavily on George for support.

George's heart was racing as he led Y/N into his dorm, eager to get them somewhere safe. Once inside, he helped them onto his bed and made sure they were comfortable before leaving the room to find the Slytherin who had hurt them.

George burst out of his dorm, scanning the halls for the student who had tried to kill Y/N. He was determined to make them pay.

George searched frantically for the Slytherin who had attacked Y/N. He burst into the Slytherin common room and combed through the crowd of students, looking for anyone who matched the description Y/N had given him.

After frantically searching for a while, he finally spotted the student. They were standing alone near one of the large windows, staring out at the grounds below.

George knew what he had to do, and he didn't hesitate. He stormed over to the Slytherin and grabbed them by the collar, shoving them up against the wall.

George's hands were trembling with rage as he pressed the Slytherin up against the wall. They were the person who had attacked Y/N, and now they would pay for it.

The Slytherin tried to fight back, but George was too strong. He held them up, squeezing their collar with one hand

...and punching them in the face with the other. The Slytherin's eyes widened as they felt George's fist connect with their face, and for a moment they were helpless to fight back. Then, they lashed out at George, trying to free themselves from his grasp.

But George was too angry to let go. He hit the Slytherin again and again, determined to make them feel the pain they had inflicted on Y/N. The Slytherin was bruised and bloody by the time George was done, but he didn't stop.

George's rage had consumed him and he had lost all sense of reason. He continued to pummel the Slytherin with his fists, not caring about the damage he was inflicting. Blood spattered across the ground as he landed blow after blow and the Slytherin's face was quickly turning into a bloody mess

The Slytherin tried to fight back but George was too strong. He had a fierce determination in his eyes that made him seem almost inhuman. He didn't stop until the Slytherin was lying on the ground barely conscious and covered in bruises

George stood over the Slytherin's prone form, breathing heavily. He felt a sense of satisfaction wash over him as he looked down at the broken body beneath him. He had made sure that the Slytherin would never forget the lesson he had learned today.

"You disgust me," he spat, before turning on his heel and walking away. The Slytherin lay there for a few moments before slowly getting up and stumbling away, humiliated and defeated.

As George walked away, he couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. He knew he might had gone too far but he had avenged Y/N's honor, and made sure that the Slytherin would never mess with them again.

George finally ceased his attack, leaving the Slytherin a bloody mess on the ground. He took a deep breath and tried to calm down, feeling a surge of guilt washing over him.

Then he thought of Y/N, and the guilt vanished. That Slytherin had tried to hurt the person he cared about, and they deserved every bit of the punishment they had received.

He made his way back to his dorm room, entering to find Y/N still lying on his bed, looking very pale and shaky. He rushed over to their side and knelt down next to them.

Y/N looked up at George with weary eyes, their face still covered in blood. They tried to push themselves up, but they were too weak, and George helped them back onto the bed.

Y/N's face was bruised and swollen from their attack, and their eyes were clouded with tears. George felt his heart break as they started to cry, realizing how badly he had failed to protect them.

George's guilt came flooding back as he took Y/N's hand in his own and tried to comfort them. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice trembling.

Y/N looked up through their tears, and George could see the fear in their eyes. They had been attacked, and now they felt powerless and afraid. George felt his heart break for them, realizing the pain they must be feeling.

George caressed Y/N's cheek with a tender hand and leaned down to kiss them gently on the forehead. His lips brushed against their skin, and for a moment he was lost in their warmth. Y/N closed their eyes, their breaths trembling as they savored the comfort of George's touch.

George could feel Y/N's heart beating rapidly as he continued to caress their cheek with a gentle hand. He wanted to give them everything he had. To heal the wounds inflicted on their body and their soul. And with a determination that he didn't know he had, he softly brushed his lips against their own.

Y/N's heart fluttered in their chest as they tasted George's love for the first time. A wave of heat rushed through their body and they pulled George close, finally giving in to the feelings they had been hiding for so long.

George couldn't believe it. Y/N was kissing him back, sharing the same feelings he had been carrying in his heart for so long. And as they continued to kiss, it was like a dam breaking. All the love he had kept hidden inside finally came rushing out and he poured every ounce of himself into the kiss.

As they pulled away, they both gasped for breath and stared at each other. It was as if the entire world had disappeared and there was only Y/N and George. His eyes locked on theirs and he felt the whole Universe within their gaze.

As George and Y/N stared into each other's eyes, all their repressed emotions came rushing forward and they kissed again, this time with even more passion than before. They couldn't get enough of each other, and as they kissed, the walls between them crumbled into dust.

Their hearts were beating in sync, their breath mingling in the air. George felt the weight of the world lift off his shoulders and he knew at that moment that he had found his soulmate. Y/N was the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, and he would never let anyone hurt her ever again.

[screamingoverfiction]

Quiet Girl

Just an angsty/fluffy one-shot. Pairing: Fred Weasley x !f-reader, no mentioned house, some use of Y/n.

Not requested, but I've wanted to finish this draft for a while.

Non-Cannon. Everyone is 17+

First Person and a little Third

Word count: 2.7k

Y/n-

Fred Weasley. Why was he so perfect? How could he sit there, without a care in the world, with that cheeky smirk, and simply exist?

It's unfair. I'm so perfectly average, while he's just- perfect. His eyes are such a rich pretty brown, and his hair is fiery, just like his personality. His funny, witty, and so fucking annoying, but for some reason, I don't care.

But he doesn't notice me. I'm just the quiet girl he sits next to in DADA. He copies off me sometimes, engages in small talk, and cracks jokes about the professor. But after class is over, I don't exist to him anymore.

It's difficult to like him, not because he's unlikable, that's the problem, he's too likable, so I'm basically every other girl. We all want him. He knows he's attractive, always flirting and sticking his tongue down a different girl's throat each week. George is also heavily fought after. The twins are the hottest guys in our year.

I wish he wanted more than my DADA answers. Hell, I study for the class just so we have something to converse about. I couldn't have cared less about that class until this year.

I'm currently in DADA, sitting alone since Fred is probably skipping, much to my dismay. This is the only time I can take to him. In the other classes we have together, he doesn't sit near me.

I frown down at my work, scribbling away at the warm-up Lupin has assigned. He's a great teacher, but I've just never been interested in DADA.

Suddenly, the door to the class opens, all heads turn, and two redheads stumble inside, laughing their asses off.

Internally, I shout with joy, but externally I just roll my eyes when Fred sits in the seat next to me.

"Psst, L/n, think you could spare the answers to the warm-up?" Fred asks hopefully, sending me his infamous cheeky smirk.

I roll my eyes with a sigh and slide the paper across the desk, watching him copy my answers and biting back my small smile.

Fred finished writing and slid the paper back, giving me a grateful nod and a smile. He clapped his hand on my shoulder, making my eyes go wide and my head reel back.

"Thanks, mate," He said with a smile.

He let go of my shoulder, and I slumped back in my seat, face in a grimace, cringing inwardly. He called me mate. Holy shit, I'm so far in the friend zone.

I blew air through my nose, and my face stayed in a frown the entire class. I didn't even snicker at any of his jokes. I was too grumpy. It's not like he'd like me anyway, but it still stung.

After we were dismissed, I picked up my bag and left without another word or glance at Fred. Even when he said bye to me, I just sent him a silent nod.

When I reached my dorm, I collapsed onto my bed, smashing my face into my pillow and screaming. I turned around, staring at my ceiling with a frown.

I'm his mate and not the good kind. Ugh, at least I'm better off than the other girls.

Fucking hell, I need to get over him. I know there's no point in that. He'll just loop you back in with his smile. He radiates happiness.

I hate it.

I sigh and stand up, pacing around my dorm with my arms crossed. I sit back on the edge of my bed and decide to start my homework, but not before the door bursts open.

My three roommates rush in, a blonde, and two brunettes, all giggling about something. I have friends, but I could never seem to click with my roommates.

"Oh hey, Y/n. You look deep in thought," A brunette says, glancing beside her at her friends and giggling like it was some inside joke I didn't get. Her name is Maya.

"Uh, yeah, I guess I am," I say back, feeling my face heat up. I clear my throat and shift my gaze away from them.

They continued chatting for a while. I ignored their conversation, sticking to my homework.

"Did you see Fred today? Merlin what I would do to get him in bed,"

My ears perk up at the mention of his name, and I look over at them, accidentally making eye contact with one of the girls- Amy, the blonde one, but I quickly look away.

"Y/n, do you fancy anyone?" Amy asks, authentic curiosity in her voice. Amy was always the nicest, and I knew she was being genuinely friendly, but Veronica and Maya? Not as much.

I lift my eyes, swallowing thickly before silently shaking my head, hoping they would drop the subject.

I hear a chorus of giggles, and I shift uncomfortably, suddenly insecure about myself in every way.

"I don't really believe you, L/n. Who is it? Diggory? Flint? Come on, we're your friends. You can trust us," Veronica- the second brunette reassures me, but I don't believe her.

"Uh, I'm good," I say, trying to move away from them, but Maya grabbed my arm, forcing me to stay seated.

"Is it Fred?"

My face visibly flushes, and their eyes go wide, identical grins breaking across each of their faces.

"W-What? No, I don't know what you're talking about," I stammered nervously, face still red with embarrassment. I glanced between them, my face desperate, but they didn't care.

Veronica smirked, looking at Maya and Amy. Amy's expression was confused. She cocked her head sideways.

"See you at dinner, L/n," Maya said sweetly, tugging on Amy's arm and pulling her toward the door, whispering something into her ear.

I watched them leave the room, frozen in my spot. I didn't know what they were planning, but it couldn't be good.

I shook it off, convincing myself they wouldn't do anything wrong to me. It's not like I've done anything to them. Why would they try and mess with me?

I sighed, picking up my bag and walking to the door. I hummed quietly to myself while walking to the great hall, staring at my feet and keeping my head low.

I entered the great hall, finally picking my head up and heading towards my house table, but I never made it there.

My eyes found Veronica, Maya, and Amy, but they were standing by Fred.

I froze in my tracks, my eyes widening as their conversation came into my earshot.

"Well, Y/n fancies you told us herself. She's practically obsessed," Maya said with a snarky laugh.

"Merlin, she wouldn't stop talking about how much she wants to-" I tuned out the rest of Veronica's words-lies.

My chest tightened, and my heart felt like it was about to explode. My eyes were wide with hurt, and I could feel tears stinging.

Suddenly, Amy's eyes found mine, her face paled, and her mouth hung slightly agape. She quickly grabbed Veronica's arm, nodding toward me.

Veronica, Maya, Amy, and Fred all stared at me. Fred's eyes held an unreadable emotion. I felt nauseous. Bile rose in my stomach, and I quickly took a step back, knocking into someone, but I didn't care. I needed to get away from them.

I turned on my heels and ran, no, sprinted out of the great hall, tears blurring my vision. I wanted nothing more, than for someone to shoot me between the eyes.

- About a half hour earlier.

Fred-

"You called her your mate?" George asked, bursting into laughter and falling back on his bed.

"I didn't know what else to say!" Fred fired back defensively, his cheeks tinting red.

"You don't call the girl you fancy, mate, you muppet," George stated, shaking his head with an eye roll.

"Well, it's not like she fancies me. She's completely disinterested in me and shows no sign of even tolerating me," Fred sighed, sitting on his bed and running a hand through his hair.

"It can be like that with some girls," George assures his twin. Fred shook his head, biting his cheek and crossing his arms.

"She doesn't laugh at my jokes, won't look at me, rolls her eyes at everything I do. I think she's smiled at me maybe once," Fred muttered, shaking his head again.

"L/n doesn't smile, ever. And I've seen her smile at you, so extra points for Freddie," George snickers, earning a pillow launched at him by Fred.

"Why don't you just grow a pair and ask her out?"

"I'm nervous, Georgie. I've never felt this way about a girl before. I don't want to lose her, and if she rejects me, I'll never even get to talk to her again," Fred says with an exasperated sigh, his face falling into his hands.

"Man, you're whipped," George spoke with a breathy laugh, clapping his brother on the shoulder.

"Fucking hell," Fred mumbled, continuing to vent and ask George for advice the whole way down to dinner.

Once the twins reached the great hall and started toward the Gryffindor table, Fred was corraled by three girls.

He vaguely recognized them, Veronica, Maya, and Amy. Maya and Veronica had tried to sleep with him many times.

"Hey, Freddie," Veronica said with a sweet smile, placing her hand on his arm.

Fred remained unphased, but he carefully removed his arm from her grasp.

"Do you know who Y/n L/n is?" Maya asked, smiling at him and totaling her head sideways.

Fred's heart skipped a beat at the mention of her name, he quickly cleared his throat, shifting on his feet and rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yeah, I sit next to her in Lupin's," Fred said, looking between the girls wearily. He'd never seen Y/n talking with them.

Amy tugged on Maya's sleeve, whispering something in her ear and trying to pull her away from Fred.

"Shove off, Amy!" Veronica hissed, making Amy stop, hanging her head low.

Fred furrowed his brows, about to defend Amy when Maya's words completely derailed him.

"Well, Y/n fancies you told us herself. She's practically obsessed," Maya said, laughing snarkily and glancing at Veronica, who had an equally sardonic expression.

"Merlin, she wouldn't stop talking about how much she wants to fuck you," Veronica added, making Fred's eyes go wide. His blood boiled in his veins. He angrily clenched his fists. He knew her words were lies made up to put Y/n down, and he hated it.

"Veronica!" Amy quietly hissed, nodding toward someone. Fred looked over, and his heart dropped.

There she was, standing with her bag over her shoulder, her eyes wide, a pained expression on her face. She looked as though she was about to be sick.

Fred didn't know what to say, his mouth was dry, and his head spun with anger.

He watched her back away, then spin on her heel and run.

"Y/n!" He called starting to go after her when someone caught his arm again.

"What are you doing? She's a weirdo! A loser-" Veronica started to say, but Fred harshly cut her off.

"Shut your fucking mouth before I rip out your tongue!" He almost shouted, ripping himself away from her and running out of the great hall, ignoring the whispers.

Fred ran as fast as he could, looking left and right down the hallway, trying to spot her. He cursed when he couldn't spot her. He was starting to panic.

"She's probably at the lake,"

Fred whipped around, scowling down at Amy, narrowing his eyes, and opening his mouth to start going off on her.

"I tried to stop them, I really did, but they're my only friends. I know that doesn't excuse anything. I'm sorry I couldn't do more to stop them, but Y/n goes there to read. I've seen it," Amy says, toying with her fingers and avoiding Fred's eyes.

Fred's expression softened slightly, and he sighed, rubbing his jaw. He didn't know why, but he believed her. Amy was just a lonely girl who made friends with the wrong people.

"Find new friends," Was all he said before he walked past Amy picking up his pace.

Amy sighed, rubbing up and down her arms. She looked at the floor and swallowed, starting to walk back inside when she bumped into George.

-

Y/n-

I couldn't breathe. The tears wouldn't stop. I heaved, gasping between broken sobs, my head in my hands as I cried my heart out.

I sobbed heavily, lifting my eyes momentarily to look out over the lake, sniffling before more sobs escaped my lips.

He'd never look at me the same. He thinks I'm some weird stalker and that I'm obsessed with him. Why would they tell him? What have I done to them?

I'll never show my face again. I'll dig myself a grave and fling myself off the astronomy tower. Hopefully, I'll land inside it.

I tucked my knees to my chest, resting my chin atop them, tears still pouring from my eyes.

"Y/n?"

I quickly turned, my eyes widened momentarily, but I just closed them, resting my head back on my knees.

-

Third Person-

"Go on, tell me how much of a fucking loser I am, that I'm weird, and you'd never fancy someone like me," She said through sobs, her voice cracking.

Fred's eyes went wide. He completely crumbled when he saw her cry. He wished he could take away her pain. Absorb it all just so he could see one of her rare smiles.

"No, no, Y/n, fuck Veronica and Maya are idiots, mongrels. They don't amount to even half of the person you are," Fred said, sitting next to Y/n, his hand going to her chin, tilting her face toward him.

Y/n's eyes went wide, and her head reeled back out of instinct and surprise. Fred swallowed, pulling his hand away.

Y/n blinked at him, reaching up to wipe her eyes. She cleared her throat, looking at the ground and sniffling.

"They were lying," She spoke quietly, running her hands over her arms comfortingly.

There was a pang in Fred's heart. He assumed they were lying, but it still hurt to know the truth. That she didn't fancy him as he did her.

"I thought so," He said, rubbing his neck anxiously.

"I'm not a weirdo. I didn't talk about how much I wanted to fuck you. I swear! I'm not-" Y/n started, but Fred cut her off.

"You shouldn't be defensive. They're the fuckers who should be apologizingly. It's fine that you don't fancy me," Fred said with a small pained smile, trying to hide his disappointment.

-

Y/n-

I turned my head to look at him, furrowing my brows and tilting my head. Was he this dense? It didn't matter anyway. He doesn't like me.

"Fred, they didn't lie about that part," I said quietly, clearing my throat and keeping my eyes on the ground. From the corner of my eye, I swear I saw his head shoot up and his eyes widen.

"I'm gonna go-" I started to say, wiping my eyes again and standing up, but Fred grabbed my wrist as I stood, keeping me from walking away.

Fred stood up, looking at me intensely, his mouth was open, but he said nothing.

"Fuck it," He finally muttered, leaning forward and pressing his lips against mine, briefly kissing me.

He pulled back, his adam's apple bobbing in his throat. He stepped away from me, probably because of the shocked expression on my face.

"Sorry, I-"

I didn't let him finish his sentence. I grabbed his tie, pulling him down and crashing our lips together. He didn't hesitate, kissing me back with equal, if not more passion.

He cupped my cheek, deepening the kiss. He tasted better than I'd dreamed, and his lips were so soft.

When we finally broke apart. I scoffed sarcastically, crossing my arms over my chest. Fred furrowed his brows.

"Why the hell would you call me your mate?"

Fred closed his eyes, sighing in what I think is relief.

"I thought you were about to slap me," He said with a laugh, smiling that cheeky smirk.

"I'm thinking about it,"

"Can I kiss you again?" He asks, eyes flickering to my lips. I smiled, stepping closer to him, keeping our eyes connected.

"Be my guest,"

[hkl0ver]

in my harry potter feels & hyperfixation again and i defo need y'all to recommend me some good fred weasley x reader 😭😭😭

[their-love]

Nightmare on the train

First chapter in a long story I'm working on over the summer (along with the requests)

For this chapter it's genderneutral!reader x Fred Weasley

Hurt/Comfort

Characters: Fred, George, Harry, Ron

Summary: Reader has a nightmare, freaks out, panic attack / anxiety attack, comfort from the Weasley's

Warning: use of "love" towards reader, nightmare, (short) mention of abuse, panic attack

Words: 1302

See end for A/N

“Get back here you useless little…” a man yelled at the top of his lungs. He had his arm raised above his head, ready to strike the second the young girl was within reach.

“Yes, father,” the young child said in a whisper. They stood tall and kept their face neutral even though they knew what awaited them. Without warning he struck their cheek, making them fall to the ground with sheer force.

“You useless little half-breed!” he yelled, standing above their small figure.

”All you had to do was follow my directions and this could had been avoided,” the man whispered in a creepy tone. Slowly he undid his belt, watching as his child's eyes widened in fear.

With one quick movement, they awoke and sat up. Their body shook with the intensity of their ragged breathing. The blood pounded in their ears. Their heart thudded too harshly in their chest, feet and hands tingled. They needed to get out of the compartment. They had to breathe.

“Are you alright?” a voice asked. Not having realised they weren't alone, they crawled into the corner of the room. Their breathing momentarily stopped.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” the young boy said raising his hands up, palms out in surrender. The young child, with dark coloured eyes, took a long, slow breath. They eyed the door and then the boy. Without a word, without taking another breath, they went for the door. As it slammed shut behind them, they rounded the corner out of sight. 

Left in the compartment were three concerned looking Gryffindors. Two young boys with red hair, obviously twins, shared a look. The last girl, with gorgeous black hair, stared at the door with a longing expression.

“Think it’s best to give them some space. If they're not back in ten, I’ll go check on them,” one of the twins said in a sombre tone, letting his head lean back against the wall. The others murmured in agreement before sitting back as well.

As the small bathroom door slammed shut behind them, they fell to the ground, still shaking as if soaking wet in the winter weather. Heart wrenching sobs escaped their body as they held their cramping stomach. They might as well had been drowning in the ocean with the feeling of being under water, rather than laying on the cold floor of the train towards another year at school. As their hands began to spasm and the walls seemed to close in on them, they hastily pushed themselves out of the bathroom and into the hallway.

The loud sound of the door slamming open and then shut caught the attention of students in the nearby compartments. One young boy with jet black hair stuck his head out and looked around. As his eyes caught the sight of the child sitting on the floor, clutching their abdomen, and wheezing he immediately walked towards them.

“Are you alright?” he asked, internally kicking himself for asking that when they were quite obviously not. The child only reacted by scrambling further away from him, their eyes blinded with unshed tears.

“Harry? What’s going… Y/N?” a young red head said as he walked out of the same compartment as the black haired boy. A liquorice wand fell out of his mouth as he realised what was going on.

“FRED! GEORGE!” he yelled in panic. Within seconds more curious heads looked out of the various compartments on the train. Two familiar red heads ran down the hallway at the mention of their names. Both stopped dead in their tracks at the horrid sound of shallow, frantic breaths.

“Right. Everyone back into your compartments. NOW!” George said in a tone of authority despite being a third-year student.

“You too, Ron,” he added spinning around to look at his younger brother. Most other students followed his orders and retreated, giving them some privacy. Ron took hold of Harry’s shirt and dragged him into the compartment without a word.

Fred had in the meantime kneeled next to his friend. In a gently tone he informed them of him putting his hand on their shoulder. At first, they recoiled, but soon after relaxed a bit, using his gentle touch as an anchor.

“Y/N, love. Listen to my voice, alright. You are on the train towards Hogwarts. You are not there, trust me,” Fred said as he watched them take in short rapid breaths while fidgeting with the jewellery around their neck.

“You are surrounded by me, your Fred - and George. You’ll be ‘right. Just take a deep breaths, please,” he said, trying his best to sound like his mother last time something similar had happened when they had visited the Burrows. 

Shortly after he took hold of their hand and placed it on his chest after explaining his actions. “Follow my breathing, love,” he whispered.

They let their hair fall out of the braid with shaky fingers. It shadowed over their face, hiding the pained expression and tears as they tried their best to follow his steady rhythm of breathing. In and out, in and out.

After a while, Fred felt their body shift all its weight onto him. He slumped against the wall and pulled them in for a hug. Y/N melted into his side and let the last few tears fall before closing their eyes.

“They're asleep,” Fred informed his brother, who was standing a few feet away, trying his best to be supportive without smothering any of them. George simply nodded, turned around and left. Fred let out a long shaky breath. His specialty was fun and pranks, not pain and sorrow. Befriending the young (YOUR HOUSE) in their second year had turned his world upside down. Not only did he have to deal with the bashing there came with a YOU HOUSE/Gryffindor friendship, but he also had to deal with the broken side of the young (BADGER/RAVEN/SNAKE/LION). All the good moments outweighed the bad, no doubt. The broken moments still left him hollow and sad on their behalf. 

A few minutes after the twin had left, he returned with a blanket and a water bottle. Without a word he draped the fuzzy red blanket around their young friend and left the bottle next to his brother. The twins shared a comforting look before George left them alone again. Fred rubbed his hands up and down the length of their arm in a soothing motion, feeling how even in their sleep they relaxed more.

They woke to someone nudging an elbow into their side. Annoyed, they groaned into the sweater of the boy holding them. The body shook as a gently laugh filled their ears. Slowly, looking up, they stared into the eyes of no other than their best friend. He smiled warmly down at them.

“We need to get our robes on, or Minnie will have our heads,” he said in his usual happy tone. Mumbling bad words, Y/N got up from the floor, stretched their aching body and extended a hand to their friend. Fred happily took the offered hand and once standing pulled them into a hug.

“Let’s have a good year, love,” he whispered into their hair as they rested their arms around his waist. To them, he had the perfect height. A head taller than them made him the perfect hugger as their head would fall to his chest. That way they could feel the steady beating of a healthy heart. Something that had always made them calmer.

“As long as the pranks don’t suffer, I wouldn’t mind a quit year,” they mumbled into his chest, causing him to laugh again.

“The pranks will never go away, my little one. George and I will make sure of it,” he said as he dragged them towards their compartment again.

A/N: This is actually chapter one of an old story I'm planning on continuing at some point this year (hopefully this summer). It's just been adapted to being genderneutral reader instead of a female as its originally intended.

SO, if I accidentally missed anything that makes it gendered, PLEASE, let me know and I'll immediately try to right the wrong!

Or any other mistakes. I LOVE to learn and won't get offended if explained nicely and in a useful way. Hate won't be tolerated here!

Let me know what you think?

[nancy-reads]

wake up

Pairing: Fred x Reader

CROSSPOSTED TO AO3

Words: 2.2k

Summary: Accidents are common in Quiddich. They happen nearly every game. But what happens when it's your boyfriend, Fred Weasley, and he might not make it out alive?

“First Quidditch game today!” You cheerfully bumped your boyfriend’s shoulder as you sat down for breakfast. “Are you nervous?”

“Not as long as a certain someone will be cheering for me,” Fred smirked. 

“Really?” you asked playfully. “And who could this ‘certain someone’ be?”

“Oh you know, just this devastatingly beautiful girl. She’s got the most gorgeous eyes in the world, and the prettiest hair…”

You couldn’t stop the smile from forming. “So you only like her for her looks then?”

Fred opened his mouth, but before he could answer, George and Lee began to make retching noises from across the table.

“In case you didn’t notice, there are other people here,” George said. “People who are trying to enjoy this lovely meal.”

“You mean you don’t enjoy hearing about how much I adore my-” Fred stopped as a piece of toast smacked him in the face. He swivelled to face Lee, jaw-dropping in mock anger. “How dare you!”

He grabbed his toast and prepared to toss it right back until you placed your hand on his shoulder. “Come on Freddie, let's walk to the pitch and get away from these poor, sad people who don’t know what it's like to be in love,” you said, sarcasm colouring your tone.

George stuck his tongue out at you as you grabbed Fred’s hand and dragged him away.

-

He held your hand the whole walk down to the pitch, claiming “I don’t want you to get cold!”

You hid your blush. “Freddie, it’s hot as Merlin’s balls out here.”

“Well if you want me to stop..”

“Shut up.”

“Sweetheart, I know you love me.”

“I’m supporting Ravenclaw.”

He placed his hand (the one that wasn’t holding yours) on his chest and gasped. “You wouldn’t dare!”

“Yeah yeah yeah,” you said, slowing down as you reached the locker room. Before he could head in, you raised yourself to your tip toes to kiss him on the cheek. “For luck.”

Fred pouted. “I can’t have a real kiss?”

“Win the game and we’ll see.”

-

It was a perfect day for Quidditch. Sunny skies, barely any wind, and warm enough that you didn’t need your Gryffindor scarf. The stands were full of people sporting red and gold colors and holding signs in support of your team. 

Even though the teams hadn’t even entered the pitch yet, both the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw sides were already chanting cheers and conjuring red and blue smoke. 

You tapped your foot impatiently as you waited for him to fly onto the field. Quidditch may not have been your favourite activity, but you came to support both Fred and your brother Oliver. 

“I wonder who’ll win this one,” your best friend asked. “I mean, Quidditch was cancelled last year, so we don’t really have a base for this one.”

Oliver had already given you an entire lecture on Gryffindors chances for the year, but you elected to be optimistic. 

“Come on, Fay. There's no way we don’t have this in the bag. Cho Chang versus Harry Potter? Ravenclaw doesn’t have a chance.”

“Don’t jinx it!” Fay paused for a moment, then smirked. “And aren’t you forgetting your favourite player?”

 “Shut up. Of course Fred has got this, easy. The Ravenclaw beaters are shit.”

-

The Ravenclaw beaters were, unfortunately, not shit. 

As Fred and the rest of the team flew onto the pitch, you cheered as loudly as you could, beaming as your favorite player blew you a kiss. Oliver and Flint did their typical handshake, and the match began. 

Your watched Fred for the majority of the game, occasionally pausing to watch Oliver block a goal or one of the chasers score. It didn’t look like either of the seekers had seen the snitch yet, so you settled in, expecting a long game. 

The Ravenclaw beaters were ruthless; it was clear they’d taken some inspiration from Slytherin’s typical strategy. They were hitting Blugers at everyone, even if the players weren’t anywhere near the Quaffle. You had no idea how they hadn’t gotten any fouls yet.

“And Samuels sends a Bludger hurtling toward Alicia-- but one of the Weasley twins is on his way!” Lee announced. “And it’s blocked by Fred Weasley, nice one and--”

It seemed to happen in slow motion. 

“And Inglebee sends another Bludger-- WATCH OUT!!”

Inglebee’s Bludger slammed into Fred’s skull, just above his right ear. Even from so far away, you could see the gush of red exploding from his head as the Bludger made contact. 

Someone was screaming. It might have been you.

Fred immediately went limp and began to slide off his broom. 

By this point, you’re running. Running faster than you ever have in your life, racing down the stairs of the stands, running, running, running.

The stands have never been so silent. You couldn’t hear a thing when you reached the field,

You reached Fred before even McGonagall. He’s lying on the ground, surrounded by the whole team, bleeding more than you’ve ever seen a person bleed. You never knew how much blood a person’s body held until this moment. 

No one spoke. You’d never seen George so silent or so pale.

You knelt next to him and took his hand. It was faint, but you could still feel the beat of his pulse. 

He’s alive.

He’s alive.

He’s alive.

You finally breathed.

After what felt like forever, the professors arrived.

“Move! All of you!” McGonagall called, flicking her wand and conjuring a stretcher. “Out of the way!”

Everyone moved, faces sober as they allowed McGonagall to work.

Everyone, except you and George. You made eye contact as you clutched Fred’s hand and he brushed Fred’s hair back. 

“Miss Wood, Mr Weasley, we need you to move, he needs to go to the hospital wing as soon as possible,” McGonagall said, fear creeping into her voice. 

Why won’t your body move? You know it's important. You know that he has to get treatment. 

Then why won’t your legs work?

You clutched his hand tighter.

“Both of you, move, please,” McGonagall asked again. “Or we will be forced to remove you.”

Merlin, if he could just open his eyes, just move a little bit so that you would know that he’s okay.

“C’mon Nancy,” your brother touched your shoulder. “You’ll see him in a second.”

As Oliver pulled you away, allowing the professors to work, Percy pulled George towards you. Neither of you spoke, simply watching as they loaded him onto a stretcher and rushed him to the hospital wing

As you followed the team and the rest of the Weasleys to the hospital wing, you barely noticed the tears flowing down your cheeks and the blood staining your pants. 

-

The next thing you remember is sitting in the hospital wing. You think Madam Pomfrey tried to throw the team out, but you couldn’t remember.

Still, it was silent as she worked, muttering healing charms and feeding him potions. Oliver’s hand never left your shoulder, and you squeezed George’s hand when it almost got to be too much. 

A few moments later, Lee appeared, eyes red, and held George’s other hand.

An hour or so later, Fred’s parents arrived. Molly was pale, her red hair standing out starkly against her skin. Her hands shook, and she held tightly onto her husband as she joined our vigil.

Arthur blinked back tears and stood tall as you all waited. His hands shook too, but he grabbed Molly’s to support himself.

You tried to push the thoughts away that increased with each passing moment. 

What if Fred died?

What if you never saw his smile or heard his laugh again?

What if you were never able to tell him that you loved him again?

Bludger wounds weren’t uncommon in Quidditch. They happened nearly once a game, foolish sport. But if it was taking this long to heal him…

Magic couldn’t solve everything.

And so, you waited. 

-

Hours later, Madam Pomfrey emerged. She started to pull Molly and Arther away, but they waved her away and she spoke to all of us.

After a deep breath, she said. “I’ve done everything I can. Head wounds are dangerous, even for a wizard, and there's no guarantee. Even if he wakes up, he may have altered memories, or be very different from how you remember him.”

Fuck.

Your laughing, prankster, stupid Fred could be gone? He could have forgotten everything? 

The Freddie you knew could be gone forever. 

Your voice cracked as you asked, “When will he wake up?”

Madam Pomfrey blinked very hard before she answered. “It impossible to know, however, I would estimate that if he doesn’t wake within the week then,” she cleared her throat. “Then, we may have to begin making alternate arrangements.”

Molly let out a sob, and Ginny moved to stroke her back, eyes shining with tears. George simply stood there, eyes wide. You squeezed his hand, and he seemed to come back to reality as he covered his face in his hands.

“I can’t believe it. Four hours ago we were joking about blowing up a few toilets tonight and now…”

You nodded. “I know. I didn’t even kiss him goodbye.”

He didn’t respond, and Lee and Oliver were silent as well.

For the first time today, you took in who was actually in the hospital wing. Harry sat with Ron a few feet away, whispering to each other. Alicia, Angelina, and Katie were sitting together as well, and all of their eyes were red and full of tears. Alicia had her head on Angelina’s shoulder, and Katie had placed her head on her lap. 

Molly and Arther were sat with Ginny and Percy, all of them looking grave. Molly was beside herself, her sobs echoing throughout the hospital wing. 

After a few moments, Angelina’s group rose. She sniffled before saying:

“We’re going to go update our house. I-I’m sure they all want news.”

The groups nodded, and Percy stood. “Yes, that's er,” he sniffed. “That's a great idea. As Head Boy, I’ll come with you to deliver the news.”

The four of them left, and your vigil continued. 

-

McGonagall forced everyone to go back to their dormitories that night. By some miracle, you weren’t bombarded with questions about your boyfriend, although you thought that was mostly due to Oliver threatening everyone.

Even Fay, who’s the nosiest person you knew, didn’t pry. All she did was give you a hug and order you into bed as soon as you got back, even going as far as to bring you warm milk from the kitchens. 

Still, you didn’t sleep. Not a wink. All you could think about was your Freddie, sitting in the hospital wing, possibly dead or worse. 

It was difficult enough, sleeping without his arms wrapped around you and your head tucked into his shoulder, but sleeping was a whole new level of difficulty when he could be dead and you wouldn’t know.

You may never be able to fall asleep with him again.

As soon as it was light enough outside, you got out of bed and immediately set out for the hospital wing. You weren’t surprised to see George sitting at Fred’s bedside when you arrived. 

He looked up at you as you pulled the chair toward Fred’s bed. 

“Anything?” you asked.

“Nothing.”

You nodded and grabbed Fred’s hand, holding it until Madam Pomfrey ordered you out.

-

That’s how your days went for the week. You woke up, visited Fred until Madam Pomfrey threw you out, went to class, visited Fred, went back to class, choked down dinner, and visited Fred. 

So, it wasn’t uncommon that you were the only person in the hospital wing, especially when George had class. Madam Pomfrey gave you a few glares, however, she let you stay for the most part.

It was on the last day of the week, the last day he had to wake up when it happened. You’d talked to him all week, telling him little anecdotes and keeping him up with classes, but this was different. 

“Yeah, and next week we’re going to be having our test on counter-jinxes, so you better wake up in time to take it, or you're going to be completely behind.” 

Obviously, he didn’t respond. For some reason, your eyes began to fill with tears.

“Please, Freddie. You need to wake up,” tears streamed down your face and you kissed his knuckle. “The team needs you to wake up. Your family needs you to wake up,” you paused. “I need you to wake up.”

Was it just your imagination, or did he twitch slightly when you said that?

“God, I wish I kissed you before the game. Then at least we would have had a proper goodbye,” you kissed him on the forehead. “I guess that will have to do.”

He stirred again.

“Freddie?”

You waited a moment, hoping and praying and wishing, that maybe, just maybe, he might wake up.

“Sweetheart?” he slurred. “Are you there?”

“Thank Merlin!” you sobbed. “Oh my god, Freddie I can’t believe it.” You grabbed his face and began to kiss him all over. “I thought you were dead! Madam Pomfrey said you might not wake up!”

He laughed weakly. “You thought some Bludger could take me out? Give me a break,” he paused for a moment, staring right at you. “I’d never leave you alone.”

You sniffed and blinked back tears. “Good. At least you got some sense knocked into you,” you paused. “Just please, never do that again.”

He squeezed your hand. “Sweetheart, I promise you that I’ll always wake up.”

-

[msmk11]

fred weasley masterlist

✱

-one shots-

✱ Sixth Love Language- 1.1k

-head cannons-

nothing here yet!

-series-

nothing here yet!

-blurbs-

nothing here yet!

[dreamcubed]

soon you’ll get better | george weasley x reader

song; soon you'll get better [taylor swift, the chicks] pairing; george weasley x gender neutral!reader genre; established relationship, heavy angst, hurt comfort, slight fluff word count; 1,4k timeline; post-second wizarding war warnings; talk of fred's death, grief summary; george was a broken man after the untimely death of his built-in best friend, and as his lover you were at a loss of how to help his grief

masterlist

"this won't go back to normal, if it ever was."

—————————————————

You could never forget the look in George's eyes when he realised his twin brother was dead. It was ingrained in your head like a tattooed memory.

The pain and the anguish. The tears and the sobs. The pure grief.

You were upset too, of course. You loved Fred like a best friend, like a brother, and to have him ripped away from you so soon was heartbreaking. But you also knew what George would be feeling would be ten times worse - they had been attached at the hip since they were in utero.

You were also scared: all throughout the funeral planning and the initial stage of mourning. With how badly this would affect George, what if it drove him to suicide? It didn't help that the state of depression he entered afterwards was beyond any you had ever witnessed before - but maybe this was your first time getting the brunt of it as George was your lover.

He switched between phases of constant sobbing and being emotionless a lot. It hurt, and you hated to admit how prepared you were to have to contact St Mungo's.

The both of you were engaged, as well, but the wedding plans had been put on hold ever since the Battle of Hogwarts. You hadn't even brought them up because you didn't know how suggesting such a happy event would go with George since his twin brother wouldn't be able to be there for it. Especially because Fred would have obviously been his best man.

"Darling?" you spoke when you heard the front door to your shared flat shut.

No reply, but that was how he usually was these days. Relatively non-verbal.

You turned your head from washing the dishes when you heard him enter the kitchen and stand still for a few moments, staring into space.

"Georgie?" you said more gently, your voice breaking. You had tried so hard to be strong for him through his grief, but you were reaching your limit.

His eyes met yours with furrowed eyebrows.

"Should we, uh, should we get a takeaway for dinner?" you asked, clearing your throat to re-stabilise your voice.

George gave the slightest of shrugs, moving further into the kitchen to get himself a glass of water. He brushed your shoulder as he reached the sink, which made you jolt instinctively. Truth was, you hadn't touched George since the first night after Fred's death, when he sobbed into your arms until sunrise. Ever since, he had leaned away from affection.

The closest you got anymore was sharing a bed.

He noticed your movement and stopped before he turned the tap on, looking down at you with terrifyingly blank eyes.

For a second, regret glinted in them.

"I'm sorry, darling, I'm sorry," he spoke, dropping the glass in the sink and quickly disappearing into the bedroom.

You followed him but stopped to stand outside of the door when you heard his crying. And then tears were flooding down your cheeks, in flood loads as you rarely let yourself cry, causing it to build up. You had taken to hiding your feelings for George, as you didn't want him to deal with your grief as well as his own. As his sobs grew more choked, you turned around and sank to the floor with your back pressed against the door.

This divide between you was getting too much, because you still loved him more than anything.

***

One thing was for sure: the atmosphere of your flat wasn't improving anyone's mood. Some brighter colours couldn't hurt, right? You were sick of staring at the pale beige walls and wishing you could turn back time.

So there you were, in a shop down the road from your flat in Diagon Alley, staring at the vast range of paints for you to choose from. The kitchen would be nice in golden yellow. The living room would be pleasant in a pastel blue - not a dark depressing blue, of course. Your bedroom? That could be green.

You made your choices and headed over to the till, where the shop owner greeted you with familiarity: all the shop owners knew each other in Diagon Alley, and as a co-owner of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, you were no exception.

"How's George?" he asked.

You stilled and chewed on your lips, "Getting there." You weren't sure if that was true.

The shop owner nodded with a kind smile, "See you again soon."

"Yeah, thanks," you gave him the happiest smile you could before turning around and leaving.

***

George entered the flat to the smell of fresh paint and the sight of linen cloths draped over the furniture.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like?" you turned around from where you stood holding your wand, using it to flawlessly guide the roller over the wall from a distance.

"It's bright," he stated.

"That's the point."

He hummed as you turned back around, and you didn't hear him approach before his arms were wrapped around your back and his head was on your shoulder.

You stiffened briefly, but then relaxed into the warmth that you had missed ever so dearly.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, "I've been such a bad fiancé."

"It's not your fault."

"Yes, it is," his voice broke slightly as he spoke, "I've been too focused on the person I've lost when I should be focused on the people I still have."

"He was your brother and best friend, you can't help but think about him."

He moved around to in front of you, "He was your best friend too. You've spent all this time comforting me but I've spent none of this time comforting you."

You remained silent as you stared up at him.

"And- I'm just- I'm sorry. You can't lie and say I haven't been a bad partner when you flinched yesterday when I touched you. That's how little affection I've showed you."

"I've missed you," you let yourself say.

"I know, I've missed you too," he embraced you again.

"I know this won't go back to normal, if it ever was," you said, "But I want us to live again-" you took a deep breath, "-and I know Fred would want that too."

George nodded.

"I also know I'll never understand the same level of grief you have, but there's not a day that I won't try."

He shook his head this time, "You've done too much for me, it's time that I help you instead." He picked up a paint brush. "What say we do this the muggle way?"

You cracked a smile.

***

"Merlin, Freddie, slow down!" you called, running after your son through the downstairs rooms.

"Catch me if you can!" he called back.

"What's all the ruckus?" your husband said as he opened the front door, "I can hear you from outside."

Your son squealed, "Daddy!" and ran over to greet the ginger man.

"Hey, little man, how's your day been?" George asked as he picked the boy up.

"So much fun!"

"For him, maybe, but I think my legs are gonna kill me from all this running around," you scoffed.

"No, did you give somebody a hard time, Freddie?"

The boy shook his head but couldn't hide the mischievous grin on his face.

"Like father, like son," you sighed.

George moved over to you to greet you with a peck on the lips, "How was your day, my love?"

"Fine, it was fine," you smiled, "Dinner's nearly ready."

"Ooh, lovely," he put his son down and took his shoes off, before heading into the bright yellow kitchen.

You had long since moved out of the flat above the shop and into a lovely big house, but you had kept the bright colour scheme as a reminder of your commitment to living again.

Your fridge had many newer moving photos of your small family pinned up by magnets, including photos of your wedding day - but it also had the odd photo of your Hogwarts days with both the twins. Fred Sr would never be forgotten, you had to live for him and his memory.

Little Freddie knew all too many stories about his amazing uncle of whom he was named after.

And as you watched your son attempt to help his father lay the table, you couldn't help but feel as if Fred was still with you all in the room, pleased to see that you were happier once again.

———————————————

masterlist

written; 17/02/2023 —> 26/02/2023 published; 27/02/2023 edited; —/—/——

taglist ; @workinatdapyramid @iluvweasleys

[sunflowerxthoughts]

B's Masterlist ⭐️

Requests are currently open! Remember you can send them in as long as you are +18!

Fics:

⭐️ Eddie Munson:

Just the two of us - Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Birthdays - Eddie Munson x GN! Reader

Here - Rockstar! Eddie Munson x Actress! Reader

⭐️ James Potter

⭐️ Remus Lupin

⭐️ Sirius Black

The one that got away - Sirius Black x Fem! Reader

⭐️ Poly! Marauders

⭐️ Fred Weasley

⭐️ Spencer Reid

Series:

Rockstar! Eddie Munson x Nepo!Reader

The Jukebox series (coming soon)

Thoughts and hcs:

Eddie fucking hates the Beatles

Wayne is very aware of the people around Eddie

Eddie is heartbroken after a hatefuck

First Valentine's with Eddie

Eddie Munson x Hispanic!Reader

James Potter will always flirt with you until you flirt back

First date with Jamie

Some things I think James would love

Dealer!Remus after a party

Poly!Marauders x Anxious Reader

"You're the best thing that has ever happened to me" with Rem

Spencer comforts reader after a long week

[cherry-pop-elf]

Hoof Race

Fred Weasley x Reader x George Weasley

Can be read as platonic

I’m going through ALOT because of a dickwad of a piano teacher. So imma just project and vent here. I love piano, but I don’t love the piano teacher. My own personal Umbridge. Bleck. So it’s gonna be sloppily written, projective, just. I’m going through a lot right now. A lot a lot.

Summary: Your first detention with Umbridge. Needless to say, very traumatizing. At least you have a pair of red heads to comfort you. Along with formed an escape plan to get you out of there. With some help

Warnings: Umbridge, scars, blood, depression, anxiety, stress, crying, trauma, Umbridge being Umbridge. Physical Violence against Reader from Umbridge, Humanism(Racism against other species) Surprise Guest Appearance for the Book Lovers from one of our favorite Divination Teachers

“Where is our little lab rat?” Fred huffed, as he was looking around for you. With George trailing behind. Looking in all the directions that Fred wasn’t looking. You had promised to meet them at Hagrid’s to test out a new product to help with calming animals. Something that was more so a Comission’s for Hagrid than anything else. Would be a nice little treat. Tea, fang, and laughter. Just one problem. Where are you?

“Should have never given Harry that map.” George would grumble, as he was getting worried now. Where were you? You aren’t one to break a promise. Especially to miss out on hanging with Hagrid. Who wants to purposely avoid a cozy evening with him? Especially since the twins had hoards of candy to share. If you missed a treat like that, it has to be beyond your control.

“Checked the dorm, checked Myrtle, checked the Requirement’s, checked the green house-“ The twins would finish each others sentences, as they walked. Trying so hard to think of where you could be. That’s when they stopped infront of the Defense Room Doors. They were open, but the office door was closed. They slowly looked to each other, before bolting inside.

“But Miss Umbridge, it hurts-!” They heard you shout, now that they were pressing their ears to the door. “It’s not suppose to feel good, darling. I should have expected such idiocy from someone who found it wise to speak out of turn-“ Umbridge would huff, as her heels could be heard pacing. A mixture of sharp clicks, and your hiccups.

“Mr. Firenze is not a THING-!” You snapped, only for a sharp smack to echo in the room. Made the twins wince, as you hiccuped again. “That beast is indeed that. Why defend that vile creature, when it even identifies itself as a beast-? Hm? Shouldn’t expect much from an idiotic child like yourself.” She lectured on.

“What do we do?” George whispered to Fred. What could they do? She was still a professor after all. Regardless, they had to do something. Anything. SOMETHING. They had to think fast, before you got even more hurt. Or worse. Expelled.

“Twins-?” A voice called itself, making the duo look over. The familiar blonde hair, and clips of hoof steps, made it clear who it was. Their newest teacher, given Umbridge very literally fired their old one. What a god send, as the twins were able to hatch a plan.

“Please please-“ They made praying hand gestures, as they pointed at her door. Making dramatic movements to try and convey they needed a distraction. Not wanting to get detention next. Never thought detention could be worse than anything Snape could offer.

The echo of another slap was what made the ever calm teacher connect the dots. Oh how he dispised such treatment. It was inhuman. That’s saying something from a man who used to live with trantulas the size of buildings. He would quickly motion for the red heads to quickly go hide under the stairs, before he cleared his throat.

“Mistress Umbridge? I need to speak with you about a matter at hand-!” He called, with a hoof stomp for added volume. The duo was quick to run under the stairs, and narrowly miss her gaze. An ever-plastered fake smile was on her lips, as she would walk down the stairs. A twitch to her eye was given, as she was now forced to speak to the centaur.

"Yes, Firenze? Whatever could you need at this late hour?" She asked, while the twins were quick to rush into the classroom. Left quite a sight. There you were, with bloody hands. To bloody to even make out what scars she had to make your write this time. Along with a firm bruise on your cheek, from her had no less. They were enraged, to put it lightly. This was the last time she would ever do this. That was their promise.

They were quick to your side, as you wrapped your arms around them. Your savior. "She just kept insulting him, and it wasn't right. He's a good teacher-" You would sniffle, as George would use his wand to try and clean your hands. He sneered at the words on your skin. Busy with tending to your immediate wounds, as Fred tried to calm you down and explain the plan.

"WAIT WAIT-I UH-I AM JUST A CENATUR! A WITCH LIKE YOURSELF KNOWS MORE THE I!" Firenze shouted, making the twins realize their time was running out. "Just be quiet, and follow our lead-" Fred just said, and you listened. Typical behavior, after all. They were always scheming, and you were happy to get into any mess they offered.

"Well....You are just a centaur. You aren't modern, or cultured, such as myself. I suppose i can remind you how we properly function here." Umbridge would smugly say, as Firenze tried so hard to not roll his eyes. Was worth it, as he was able to watch you be escorted back under the stairs. That firey red hair hidden away. Just in time, because even his calm soul can only take so much.

"Oh dear, Mar's is infront of Saturn. You know what that means, I better return to my classroom-!” She had no idea what that meant, no one did since it was a big lie. Least it sounded good enough to make her scoff. Feeling as though she wasted her time with him. Regardless, she gave a friendly smile. Now walking back towards her office.

The second her back was turned, the blonde stallion quickly motioned for the three of you to hurry to him. Fred and George basically carried you, as they did. Needing to work fast. Was just yanked around like a doll, but there was no choice. The moment Umbridge had gasped, noticing you were gone, you three were on his back.

“Where did-“ But it was faded, as you three were not having a horse ride of your life. Escaping her, this night. Quite the adrenaline rush. Riding the back of your teacher, as he tried to not trip down the stairs. Least you had Fred and George to comfort you. Holding on to the straps on their teachers body, for his supplies, and comforting you.

“Well clean you up, and make sure that this is the last time she ever hurts anyone.” Fred said, with a firm nod. You never thought the twins could look so angry before. Was scary, but also a morbid reassurance. Given Umbridge’s gaslighting was getting to you. Thinking you were a burden, failure, worthless, just horrible. Didn’t even noticed you were starting to cry. It was all too much. The boys would hold you close, and just hold.

“Dreadful woman. Dreadful dreadful just oh so dreadful-“ Firenze would keep on muttering, as he tried to not break an ankle on those ever moving stairs. Full of much spite as anyone else. Suppose that meant the twins had someone on their side, at least.

“You are gonna crash with us tonight.” Fred said to you, as Firenze took that as advice on where to go. Now heading to the Gryffindor common room. “Think of it as a big sleep over. Chilling in the common room’s living space.” George echoed. Childish, but there is joy in childhood. Had you smile in approval.

“Here, allow me to offer some assistance.” Firenze then spoke, as he rummaged in his bag. Still trotting along, as it was just a hallway roam now.

“This should help with your healing and recovery. Sometimes spells can not solve all problems.” And a small bag was offered to you three. Most likely a herbal of some kind. The kind textures were very reassuring. A reminder you weren’t crazy. That she was in the wrong. Not you. Still, made you tremble in fear.

“Gonna be ok. She’s not gonna hurt you anymore.” Fred reassured, with a kiss to your head. Followed by George hugging you tightly. Just helping ground you, as the centaur finally stopped at the painting. She didn’t even ask for the password. As if she wanted to delay much needed rest.

“Rest, if you can. When you join me for our class, tomorrow, you are permitted to not join. You may just relax, and star gaze. That often times relaxes myself.” Firenze offered, as he laid down at the open wall. Allowing you three to get off. He understood you were a victim, and offered sanctuary where he could.

“Thanks…” You sniffled, as to not be rude. He knows, he knows. He gave you a pat on your head, and a smile, before taking his escort away. Leaving you three with your thoughts. The twins mostly thought of how to make whatever happens to Umbridge look like an accident, while you were still shaking from the ordeal. Murder plots can be for another time. You were first.

Escorted to the common room couch, you were as pampered as you could be. Hands properly wrapped, the herbal deal brewed, helping clean up the blood stains, using their latest invention to help clean up your bruise. Just doing what they could, as you sniffled and hiccuped.

Once done, you were soon lying against Fred. With George semi on top of you. As if some kind of pressure therapy. A means to make sure no one could touch you, or sneak up on you. Was nice. What was nicer was the random fellow classmates who walked around. May it to get something to drink, unable to sleep, what have you.

They took notice of you, could quickly grasp it was Umbridge, and let you have your comfort. May it be making sure you three had a blanket, staying extra quiet to not disturb you, or asking if you needed anything. Just some humanity against the darkness.

The comfort of the twins, the easing calm of the tea, and the sound of the ever lit fireplace. It helped you come back to earth again. Just what you needed. Reassurance that you were the victim. Not the other way around. Just deep breaths of fire, cinnamon, and gun powder.

You’ll be ok. You’ll be ok, and the twins promised.

As if they ever would break a promise.

[fantsysquad-kinkylovely]

Spiders - Spiders (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/866118260-spiders?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_reading&wp_uname=FantsySquad Harry helps Ron calm down after a panic attack. (A teeny one shot while I brainstorm my current fics. Trigger warning for panic attacks/arachnophobia.) Cover art is by me

[tearingskies]

dead and gone (life goes on)

Read on AO3 or below the cut

George learns how to go on without Fred.

TW: spiralling and mentions of death

In the end, it’s not the body or the funeral or even the heart-wrenching, gutted cries of his mother, but rather the open-ended joke without a punchline that finally makes it sink in for George. 

He sits at the table unmoving, every muscle in his body constricting as he waits for a quip to fill the oppressive silence that has overtaken the Burrow. It extends, inflating limitlessly as a quiet ringing starts in his ears. It’s like something has burst in his chest. Something that now presses against his heart and squeezes it tightly in a cold lover’s embrace.

Seconds tick by and he faintly hears someone say something that doesn’t have an impact in this wretched alternative universe he must be living in. Because there’s always a punchline with Gred and Forge. 

The first time they truly pranked someone was Percy when they were three years old. The pompous git had been acting all high and mighty and confiscating some “unsafe” device from them, thus prompting the very levelheaded and mature response of having his fingers turn into rolls of sticky tape that unwinded and hit his face repeatedly. 

George remembers high-fiving Fred for the coordinated piece of accidental magic and running outside to pull garden gnomes’ ears as Percy went wailing to their mother. It was the beginning of their joint lives. Lives that were supposed to remain intertwined until the day their hearts stopped beating while they sat side by side in creaky rocking chairs. 

But now George is here and Fred is not and the punchline hangs in a vacuum. 

“He’s dead,” he whispers. “He’s gone.”

Locks pop open and he breaks. Swirling, tumbling, rocketing through memories, possibilities, and countless what-ifs that would never happen. He’s a comet racing towards a black hole aiming to suck his very soul dry. 

And then there are arms curling around his shoulders, and a warm hand pressing solidly against his racing heart to ground him before he floats away. 

George swallows a shaky breath and becomes aware of the salty streams on his cheeks. 

“Yes, George. He’s gone.” 

It’s Ginny, because of course it is. His bulletproof, bold sister who has flown circles around the rest of them, jinxed Fred and him countless times for their silly jokes, and faced horrors beyond imagination yet carried on living. She’s the one who has never sugarcoated things for him, the one George can always count on to tell the hard truths when it’s time for them to be said. 

He leans against her, sobs breaking free from his throat like choked hiccups. Ginny’s fingers sooth through his hair while the hand on his chest begins tapping a small, steady beat on his heart. Tu-tum, tu-tum, tu-tum. 

Minutes, or maybe hours, pass. George starts to feel the pressure on his chest loosen. He draws in rapid breaths and clutches Ginny’s arm like a lifeline. 

“He- He didn’t finish the joke,” he mumbles out, words folding together in of-kilter syllables. 

He faintly hears his mother crying, sees the grim, grieving faces of his brothers, and feels his father’s palpable sadness radiating across the table. 

“Yes, he did,” Ginny says to his ear, voice firm and sure like it’s an irrevocable fact. “He’s just keeping the good stuff to himself for now.“

George wants to believe her. That there’s a place beyond where his twin has found peace and watches over him. A place where they will meet again one day. He misses the echo of another who shares his thoughts and finishes his sentences, those looks they shared and instinctively knew what the other was thinking. How the world just worked with them in it together. Now it feels like everywhere he looks, the colours are dimmer and he doesn’t know where he fits anymore. 

Fred was the self-assured one, the life of the party, who lit up every room he walked into. George doesn’t think he’s ever found quite the same yearning to live every day like there’s no tomorrow as Fred had. It feels like a waste that he’s not the one still breathing. 

George looks down at the two mismatched watches that wrap their leather bands around his right arm. One has a russet background and warping iron tendrils curling around the clock face, while the other is a deep forest green with cracked glass courtesy of a prank gone wrong in their seventh year. They tick away in harmony, like two heartbeats pulsing against his skin. He touches the crack on the clock closer to him and smiles ruefully at the memories it holds. He hasn’t removed it since he first put it on after the funeral. 

“I miss him.” 

“I know, George,” Ginny says. “I miss him too.”

And perhaps that, the knowledge that he’s not alone in his pain, is what kickstarts his mind again. He races past lacklustre trunks filled with memories of mischief and weaves between tall, swaying shelves full of half-completed ideas and concepts. His heart aches, but it beats the same steady rhythm as its twin somewhere beyond. 

What is life without Fred? For George, it seems like a bleak, faded existence that he already despises. But it’s a dishonour, a complete betrayal of all the things his better half stood for to wilt and wallow in grief and bitterness while the world awaits in bubbling colour and tittering sound. Three months is long enough — far too long if you’d ask Fred, he thinks — to merely exist when another can’t live. It’s the burden and responsibility of the living to go on and live. George wants to live for Fred, no matter how much the thought of it may hurt his soul. Because Fred Weasley deserves to live on in humour and strength and Skiving Snackboxes. 

So, here he is: “We…I need to reopen the shop.”

“Oh, George, do you think that’s a good idea, dear?” his mother worries. “Don’t you think it might be too overwhelming? And it’s so soon, you really ought to rest…”

“No. No, I-” George falters, his voice cracking with emotion. ”He’d want me, all of us, to go on and live like he’d have lived. With laughter and stupid pranks and ear jokes.”

Ron claps him on the shoulder, firm and comforting in a way that wouldn’t have ordinarily come to mind when thinking of him. At least compared to how George remembers seeing him before the war. “And we’ll help, George. Get things up and running like he would’ve wanted.”

George smiles wetly at the nods and sounds of agreement reverberating from his family. 

“I can have a look at the books, help out in the office,” Percy volunteers. 

“And I’m sure Verity would love to help – she knows all the everyday stuff,” Ginny pipes up with an encouraging grin. George nods a little. 

Harry shifts across the table and looks at Hermione and Ron before speaking up, “We’ve um, we’ve got some gold from the Ministry that needs a solid investment. I figured since the last one turned out so well, it’s a guaranteed thing, really.” He rustles his hair awkwardly while Hermione smiles softly. 

George chuckles with a half sob, “Lifetime’s worth of complimentary dungbombs for you three.” The trio wince abashed at that, and he laughs some more. 

Ron lifts his glass in a toast, “To Fred. And all the mischief his legacy will accomplish.”

George’s family raises their glasses, fond smiles and teary laughs accompanying the echoed words. He feels the cold ache in his chest deflate a bit. The grief lingers, as it always will, but there’s a warmth cocooning it now. He might not get to create memories as a “we” anymore, but he would cherish every “I” moment over the coming decades to share and laugh over when they would finally be reunited. 

“I love you, Forge,” he whispers as he raises his glass, and the warm presence pulses in acknowledgment. 

Life goes on with a little more pranks and mischief after that.