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allthesmutl0vers · 5 months ago

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Hi! I have a request if you accept.

George and the reader have been dating (sort of secretly) for a while now. The reader is someone who falls outside the typical, generic Slytherin image. She is kind and calm (well, mostly). Until some of her rude bully friends started messing with George, his family and this 'blood traitor' thing about the Weasley name. This is a definite turning point. The reader definitely proves to everyone that she is truly a Slytherin. She shows her scary and cruel side to those who deserve it. From now on, no one will mess with the ones she loves, she can do anything for the guy she loves. Possessive and protective. George's jaw drops... and after all this they may need to find some privacy.

Oo! I love this idea!!😃 Thank you so much for sending it to me 💗Let me see what I can do. Sorry this took me a day to get to, love.

MDNI, NSFW, 18+.

Requests: OPEN

Masterlist

Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. 🫶

Pairing: George Weasley x F!Reader

Word Count: 2,959

Summary: Nobody in Slytherin could ever imagine being caught dead with someone from another house, let alone from Gryffindor. Nobody but you, at least. You've always kept to yourself, especially when it comes to your relationship with a certain Weasley twin. Everyone, including even your friends, wonders how you ended up in Slytherin. When those same friends go too far with their deplorable insults, you decide to show them exactly why you were sorted into Slytherin.

TW: Bullying, Name calling, Violence, Smut (P! in V! -You're on birth control), Oral (F! Receiving), Praise, Possessive!George, Protective!George, Spanking, Hair Pulling, Breeding adjacent?- Not sure about this last tw, lmk in the comments if that's what it is.

Song Inspo: Click here (River: Bishop Briggs)

"I'm just saying, this school has gone to the dogs," Pansy huffs. "I mean, seriously, how could Dumbledore think having a werewolf as a professor is a good idea?"

"It was last year, Pansy. Get over it," I mutter as I try to focus on my book. She's nice enough, but I swear to Merlin, she can never just sit in silence. And when she can't think of anything to talk about, she somehow finds a way to talk shit about someone else.

"Didn't peg you for a half-breed sympathizer," pansy quips, leaning back on her hands as we sit in the courtyard.

I roll my eyes, cursing myself for saying anything at all. Because now I'm sucked into a conversation I never wanted to be a part of. "I could say the same thing to you. Isn't your family currently harboring Greyback?" I ask with a raised brow over my book.

"Hush up about that, will you?" Pansy asks as she looks around the courtyard in a panic. "Nobody is supposed to know."

I do my best to ignore her, trying to go back to my book. But when I see George Weasley come into the courtyard with his twins and a band of Gryffindors, and a mix of the other two houses, I can't pull my eyes away.

I watch as he pulls something out of his pocket. It lights up like a sparkler, and he begins to toss it back and forth with Fred while the others around them 'oo' and 'ahh.' Probably the Whiz-Bangs he was telling me about in our last little rendezvous in the room of requirement, a new invention that they've been working on. His eyes meet mine and he smiles, biting the corner of his lower lip as he catches it again.

I smile back, wishing more than anything that I could just go up and be with him publicly. George has mentioned wanting to go public with our relationship, but being a Slytherin princess makes it a little more than difficult.

Going back generations, all of my family has been sorted into Slytherin. And although my parents are a little more progressive than most Slytherin alumni, they've made it clear how they feel about me dating outside of my house.

"Ugh, look them over there. Tossing around that garbage," Pansy huffs, annoyed.

Before I can say anything, she's already up and walking over with Daphne Greengrass. Shit. I stand up, too, and walk behind them as we approach the small circle that has started to form around Fred and George. "Hey!" Pansy shouts, shoving her way through.

Fred and George look between me and Pansy with confused looks and a knot of nerves forms deep in my stomach. "What do you want, Parkinson?" Fred bites back.

"Surprised you managed to slither your way out of the dungeon," George adds with a smirk.

Pansy crosses her arms over her chest with a huff. "How dare you talk to me like that," she spits at them with a venom-laced tone. "I'm just shocked you managed to actually make something. Aren't you failing nearly everything? What's up? Weasley's can't afford a tutor?" She quips.

My fists clench at my sides. It's not fair to blame the children for parents not making more money. Especially when they're the kindest people in the world. I watch George's jaw tick with annoyance. "Better than sucking dick to get a good grade. Or were you on your knees in front of Snape for another reason?" George fires back.

I purse my lips to keep myself from smiling. Nobody is supposed to know that except for me, but the look on Pansy's face makes it well worth telling George about.

Pansy's face turns bright red as everyone around us gasps and starts whispering among themselves. "Shut up," she seethes with anger. She turns to me, and I see her nostrils flare. She knows I had to be the one who told him. "How fucking dare you?" She spits at me. "You promised not to tell anyone. And you tell that filthy fucking blood traitor?!" She practically screams.

Something inside of me snaps, and I look over at George, who is already drawing his wand. I shake my head softly before turning back to Pansy. "Actually, he just guessed. You just outed yourself," I quip, taking a step closer to her. "And don't fucking talk about him like that," I snap at her.

"You're defending him?!" She gasps, pointing to George. "You're a Slytherin, for Merlin's sake. Have some fucking class," she says with disgust. "Talking with blood traitors," she shakes her head. "What would your parents say?"

Everyone around us falls silent. I've never talked this much. Most of these people have probably never heard me talk at all. "You're one to talk about class, Parkinson," I step closer to her. "Your family is so fucking inbred it's a miracle you're even able to write your name."

Pansy begins to shake with anger as she draws her wand, and I draw mine, too, holding it at my side. "You disgust me. The fact you can call yourself a Slytherin with that filthy mud-blood of a mother is beyond me," she snaps. "And defending a blood traitor to top it off?" She scoffs with disgust.

I grip my wand tight. "Say blood traitor one more time, and I'll remind you just how much of a Slytherin I am."

Pansy clenches her jaw before she opens her mouth. "Blood-"

"Flipendo!" I flick my wand, throwing Pansy back five feet and making her land on her ass. Everyone laughs, including Fred and George.

Pansy stands up in a hurry, brushing off her skit as she aims her wand at me. "Locomotor Wibbly!" she flicks her wand at me, casting the jelly-legs jinx.

George steps in front of me, dodging the jinx with a wave of his wand. "That's enough!" He yells, making everyone fall silent again. Fred and George don't yell in anger, so it catches everyone, myself included by surprise.

"I got it, Georgie," I say without looking at him as I move to stand in front of him. "Levicorpus!" I jinx Pansy, holding her up in the air by her ankles with a dangle of my wand. She screams, frantically trying to cover herself with her skirt. "Had enough?" I ask her with a bite in my tone.

"Let me down!" She screams as everyone points and laughs at her granny panties. Don't try to jinx someone on laundry day.

"That doesn't sound like an apology," I taunt with a smirk as I turn, waving my wand and Pansy over the fountain, holding her a few inches above the water.

"I'm sorry!" Pansy screams as I feel George put a hand possessively on my waist.

"Don't apologize to me," I taunt, leaning into George's touch. Fuck what anyone says.

Pansy looks at George and Fred, who moves to stand at George's side. "I'm sorry!" She cries with tears falling as she hangs upside down over the fountain.

I smirk and pull my wand back, breaking the invisible rope that holds her upside down and she falls into the fountain with a splash. I walk over to the fountain, leaning over the side. "Don't ever let me hear you say shit about any of them again. Got it?" I spit at her as she drips with water.

Pansy nods without a word, sniffling back her tears. I let out a deep breath and turn to see the large crowd that gathered as I dueled with Pansy. "Show's over," I tell them all as I walk up to George.

"Damn, didn't know you had that in you," Fred jokes, running a hand through his red hair.

I huff a laugh. "You know what they say about the quiet ones," I smirk. "I couldn't let her stand there and talk shit about you guys or your family," I tell them both before turning to look up at George. "Let alone my boyfriend," I say softly, admitting what we are aloud for the first time.

George smiles wide and pulls me into his chest. "Finally ready to admit it, huh?" He chuckles, the vibration of it reverberating against my chest as I wrap my arms around his waist.

"Maybe," I shrug and smile looking up into his eyes.

George bites his lip and leans down to my ear, his breath sending pleasurable shivers down my spine as he speaks softly in my ear. "As much as I would love to show you off right now, I need you."

My thighs clench at his words as he pulls back to look into my eyes. "Room of requirement?" I tease.

"That or I take you right here, show everyone who you belong to. But better decide quick, angel."

I chuckle and roll my eyes. "Room of requirement it is."

George leads me through the castle with his hand wrapped tightly around mine, and for the first time, I don't mind giving people a glimpse into my personal life. All of the whispers about George Weasley being with a Slytherin girl roll right off of my back. They don't matter. All that matters right now is getting to where we're going and George blowing my back out.

The door to the room of requirement opens and we walk inside to see the usual lay it that it knows we need.

A bed along the wall, with the silkiest sheets I have ever felt in my life, a small bathroom to clean up in, and a table with a chair. Not really sex up for sex. It appears to be for a student who needs their own room for the night. But it's perfect for what we need it for.

George kisses me as he walks me backward to the bed. The back of my knees hit the bed, and he lifts me up by my thighs without missing a beat. George lays me back on the bed, my head landing on the pillow as he kneels between my thighs.

I moan as George kisses down my jaw, trailing kisses to the sweet spot behind my ear and down my neck, nipping and sucking the tender skin as the blood beneath his lips rushes through my veins.

George props himself up with one arm as his free hand slides up my thigh, gripping it tightly right at the apex. "I've waited so long to make you mine," he groans as my hands work to unbutton his pants between us.

"I was already yours," I breathe as I get his pants undone.

George's fingers slide my panties to the side as he runs his fingers through my folds, landing on my clit and eliciting a moan to leave my lips. "But now everyone knows you belong to me," he moans softly as I pull his pants and boxers down just enough to free his cock and pump it in my hand.

"My parents are going to lose their fucking minds," I moan when he inserts two fingers inside of me as his thumb works my clit.

George smirks and leans down to press a kiss to my lips. "Then you can stay with me and mine," he says like a promise. "Let them lose it, I'll be your shield."

I flip us over so I'm straddling his hips, grinding myself down on him. "Careful, Georgie. Or else I might start to think you're in love with me," I tease as I unbutton my shirt and toss it aside.

George sits up, his chest flush with mine as I straddle him. He reaches around me, kissing my chest as he removes my bra. "Would that be such a bad thing, angel?" George teases as he takes one of my nipples in his mouth and starts to suck, nipping the sensitive peak with his teeth.

My head falls back as my fingers run through his hair, pulling him back, and he releases my nipple with a 'pop.' "Only if you don't mean it," I moan softly.

George groans with pleasure. He removes the rest of our clothes with a flick of his wand and impales me on his hard, waiting cock, making me gasp loudly. "Does it feel like I mean it?" He growls, his hand wrapping around to the back of my hair and pulling my head back.

I lift myself up and thrust back down on him, taking him deep inside of me. "Fuck, yes," I moan.

George grips my hip with a bruising force as he works me on top of him. "Then say it. Say you love me," he demands in a husky voice.

"I love you," I moan as he releases his grip on my hair just enough for me to meet his gaze. "Fuck, I love you, George."

George moans as his hand moves from my hair to the back of my neck, pulling me down with him as he lays back and thrusts his hips into mine. "God, I love you, too," he moans. "Such a good girl for me," he groans as his free hand lands on my ass with a hard smack.

I gasp and moan as the sting slowly melts into pleasure, and he does it again. "Yes, George," I pant as he thrusts up into me with a brutal pace.

George flips us, removing his cock from me and diving between my thighs. He throws my legs over his shoulders, and he holds my hips down, and his tongue lands on my clit. "Fuck!" I cry out as my hands grip his hair. "George!"

George uses his fingers to hold my folds apart, opening me up more for him, lapping at my clit with his whole tongue, and shaking his head, threatening to send me right over the edge. My legs clamp around his face, and he moans right onto my clit, adding vibration to top everything else off. The overstimulation is too much, and my fingers tug at his hair, desperate to be free and also not wanting him to stop what he's doing.

"G-G-George!" I cry out with a whimper as my legs start to shake around his head. "Please!"

George grips my thighs from underneath and pushes them up to my chest. "Don't interrupt my meal," he warns me with a dark gaze. "Now keep those fucking legs up."

I hold the metal bedframe above my head with a white-knuckled grip, and George keeps my legs pushed up to my chest. "You wanna cum, angel?" George teases me as he flicks my clit with an annoying soft touch with his tongue.

"Yes, George, please," I beg helplessly as my back arches.

"Then do it. Cum on my face like the good girl you are for me," he taunts before his tongue laps at my clit again. His words and his tongue send me over the edge. My toes curl, and my back and neck arch so far I'm scared they'll break, but I can't bring myself to care if they do.

After George rides me through my orgasm, he leans over me, lines himself up with my entrance, and thrusts into me harshly. "Fuck!" I moan loudly as he leans down to nip at my neck.

"You look so beautiful with my cock buried inside of you," he moans as he holds my thighs. "Think you can cum for me again, angel?"

I shake my head. "I- I can't," I moan pathetically, already feeling another one build. I grips his wrists as his hands hold my thighs up to my chest.

"Mm, I think you can," he teases. He knows I can. He does this every time. It's a game to us, I tell him I can't cum again, and he drags another one out of me. He punctuates with another hard thrust, and I swear I can feel him in my guts with the angle he's fucking me. "Hands on the bedframe," he demands.

I reach above my head, gripping the metal bedframe again. "Such a good girl for me," George moans as he pulls my legs up to rest on his shoulders and leans down, forcing me to take him deeper. "Want me to fill you up, angel?" He teases.

"Yes, fuck, yes!" I moan loudly as he fucks me hard.

"Beg for it," George says sternly, slowing his thrusts to a teasing pace.

I whimper underneath him, keeping my hands above my head. "Please, Georgie. Please fill me with your cum," I beg pathetically, the way he can make me.

"Fuck, I love hearing you beg," George moans as his thrusts quicken again, slamming into me harder.

The tether inside of me begins to fray, ready to snap once again. "George, I'm gonna cum again," I pant with a moan as my eyes roll back.

One of George's hands grips the back of my neck. "Me too, angel. Eyes up, baby," he demands as his thrusts begin to stagger.

My hands leave the bedframe, gripping his arms as he thrusts into me again, and our orgasms hit at the same time. The room a symphony of moans, pants, and a mix of each other's names. Once we ride out our highs, George lays down next to me on the bed, letting out a heavy breath as he pulls me to his side, my head resting on his shoulder. Fuck the last class of the day, and fuck whatever consequences that come from us not being careful as we snuck in here together.

And a big 'fuck you' to my parents if they have anything negative to say when they hear about my relationship. They can get fucked, because I know I will be.

#george weasley smut #george weasly x reader #george weasley x reader #george weasley #harry potter smut

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libraryofgage · 2 years ago

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Steddie brainrot continues to worsen to a concerning degree but here's a crack idea that is absolutely sending me:

Famous Spicy Six in which Jonathon is a director who decides to work on a passion project: a Scooby-Doo movie. His ideal cast is as follows:

Nancy Wheeler (investigative journalist with a few special appearances on crime dramas) as Daphne Blake

Argyle (an actor with a habit of playing small parts; he acts only because he thinks it's fun, so he's not concerned with significant roles) as Shaggy Rogers

Robin Buckley (a well-known voice actor who is more well-known for her social media posts and clap-backs) as Velma Dinkley

Steve Harrington (basketball star who is also more well-known for his social media clap-backs and for being Corroded Coffin's number one fan) as Fred Jones

Eddie Munson (frontman for Corroded Coffin, an insanely popular metal/punk/rock band and "infamous" for unashamedly posting Steve Harrington thirst tweets) as the voice of Scooby-Doo

Corroded Coffin is also creating an entirely new, original soundtrack for the movie

And because I think it's funnier this way, this is also an AU where the Upside Down still happened, so Jonathon just calls his friends up and is like "Okay, so hear me out"

The absolute insanity that breaks out when both the movie and cast are announced because nobody can figure out how Jonathon managed to convince all these powerhouses to join his movie.

The further screaming online after one of the movie promo interviews where a reporter asks how they all agreed to the movie and Nancy hits them with, "Well, Jonathon asked, and he never asks for anything."

Which leads to the discovery that they all knew each other in high school, and the reporter jokingly asks if that means they've all dated each other, too, which leads to Eddie jumping in with absolute delight like, "Well, that's a funny story, there. See, Stevie here dated Nancy, who then dated Jonathon when they broke up, who then dated Argyle after they broke up. And I thought Stevie and Robin were dating, so I was very confused when I saw Robin and Nancy kissing. But then I found out that Robin was a true-blue lesbian, which meant Stevie here was open for the taking, and we've been banging ever since."

and Steve is just sitting there, head in his hands while Robin cackles and decides to tell the reporter all about Steve's "fuck I have a crush on Eddie" crisis

This interview, of course, leads to even more freaking out online and comments like "I know I asked for poly Scooby gang, but this is ridiculous," and "I can't believe that in this, the year of our lord 20xx, ScoobyXFreddy became a canon ship," and "if I had a nickel for every romantic relationship the Scooby gang actors have had with each other, I'd have five nickels, which is way more than any of us fucking expected to have," and "suddenly Eddie Munson's thirst tweets make a lot more sense, but can we talk about Steve Harrington's CC tweets now," and "everyone say thank you to Eddie Munson for revealing that mess of a relationship map," and "finally, the canon lesbian velma and daphne we deserve"

The movie is a box office hit, btw, and bloopers from filming roll with the credits, among which is Eddie Munson making Steve Harrington lose his shit laughing on set while dressed in a Scooby Doo onesie and singing Corroded Coffin songs with his Scooby Voice

#Steddie #Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #Jonathon Byers #argyle stranger things #Nancy Wheeler #Robin Buckley #scooby doo #Scooby Doo is my special interest btw #I know more Scooby lore than you could dream of babygirl #thoughts of this AU completely send me into absolute fits #please appreciate the sheer crack-value of it all I'm begging

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minlcna · 25 days ago

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mcgonagall's ball lessons | george. f. weasley

george weasley x muggle!fem!reader

note: i know it's been a while since i posted..tbh i lost my momentum in writing and posting and lost my inspo as well. i can't say that i love this but it's been in the drafts long enough. im thinking of starting to tkae requests but im not sure if yall want that lmk in the comments! otherwise enjoy this

synopsis: you dance with george once and all the of the sudden rumors zoom around faster than a snitch

warnings: one swear word, punching pansy and draco, mentions of having kids/contraceptives (?)

word count: 2.7k

୨୧‿‿‿ 𝜗𝜚 ‿‿‿୨୧

The Yule Ball was its utmost effort for arriving, and today was the day Professor McGonagall, in all her glory, was to teach all eligible Gryfidors how to dance.

"The Yule ball has been a tradition of..." she started, raiding her voice, warning Flich of his tampering with the gramophone.

"...the Triwizard tournament since its inception. On Christmas Eve night, our guests and we gather in the great hall for a night of well-mannered frivolity."

"As representation of the host school, I expect each and every one of you to put your best foot forward. And I mean this literally because the Yule is, first and foremost, a dance.

Chatter and grumbling broke out instantly. You exchanged knowing glances with Alicia next to you. This could go either two ways: really bad or just bad enough.

"Silence," she called with strictness.

"The house of Godric Gryffindor has commanded the respect of the Wizard World for nearly 10 centuries. I will not have you in the course of a

behaving like a babbling bumbling band of baboons," she continued.

You saw George lean over to Fred, and you saw the lips mimicking the shapes of McGonagall, treating her words like tongue twisters. You pursued your lips to hold in your smile.

"Now, to dance is to let the body breathe. Inside every girl is a secret sworn Slumbers longing to burst off and take flight, and inside every boy is a lordly lion prepared to prance," she trailed off as she noticed George and Fred mumbling.

"Mr. Weasley, it was so kind of you to volunteer. Now, from the ladies, who will it be?" she questioned as her eyes trailed face to face down the row.

You pretended to reach into your nonexistent pocket, trying to appear busy and unsuitable choice.

"Miss L/N, please make your way to the center." she smiled.

You inwardly grimaced, which also showed outwardly, as evidenced by your friends' giggles and teasing eyes. You slowly stood up and made your way to the center before George.

You weren't sure whether it had been the pressure of everyone watching and quite possibly waiting to make fun of any little thing or the fact that George Weasley looked exceptionally pretty up close. Like really pretty, really close.

"Now, Mr. Weasley, grab L/N's waist with your right hand. No—that's your left hand—your right hand, yes." She directed patiently as the two of you awkwardly followed the directions.

Your right hand had met with his left, and you had to slightly get on your tip toes for your left arm to grasp his shoulder comfortably. Giggles and whispers erupted as soon as your heels lifted on the ground. Your face flushed red in embarrassment. You knew your friends and the entire house of Godric wouldn't let you forget this. You were not short by any means; the Weasley twin was just too tall.

As if the giggles and uncomfortable position of standing on your toes weren't enough to infuriate you, George smirked at your attempts to match his height and pace. You had been caught off guard when the music suddenly started playing, and rather than swaying, you had been being pulled and jerked from your position.

Unfortunately, Godric's heavy pride coursed through you, and your determination flooded to prove yourself to the already full-on snickers and cackles, the loudest recognizably being Alicia's.

"Relax a bit, will ya, love? My hands fall off," he whispered discreetly in your ears, and your face flushed darker than George's hair.

Thankfully, Professor Mcgonallal ceased your embarrassment by stopping you halfway and pairing everyone to learn. Each second felt excruciating, as it was the very first time you held hands with a guy—a handsome guy.

You swore you heard Professor Mcgognall join in the giggles when you walked beside your friends, noting her eyes follow George with Fred right behind. You wondered if she knew.

୨୧‿‿‿ 𝜗𝜚 ‿‿‿୨୧

By the time the period had ended, the entire castle had heard how the Gryffindor dance lessons proceeded. Probably record time, probably faster than anyone could ever say Merlin's saggy left bollock.

You were already tired of Alicia and Angelina trying to match you with George despite your neverending denials of being passionately in love with him until death from just dancing with him. Now, the entire school had joined in on it. You could only grumble and protest under your breath as you became the castle's favorite gossip pastime.

Of course, the Slytherins took a rumor and ran with it. They had found a new way to taunt the Weasleys and a new toy to torment them. Any other nemesis of the twins also took part.

One instance was when you had been rushing off to grab breakfast leftovers when you heard, "Running to meet Weasley, eh? Should've gotten up earlier to snog him in time for breakfast!"

Your first strategy was to ignore and flip people off. That hadn't been enough because the sneers got worse. You avoided any signs of ginger hear throughout the castle. The scarce accounts of you locking eyes with Geroge, and he had just given a curt nod with his permanent smirk.

You couldn't help but scoff. Fred had helped defend you once or twice, but that was it. It's all his fault, and all he does is laugh.

You couldn't help but direct your anger towards George. You knew it was heavily misplaced, but you couldn't do anything. No amount of insults, swearing, or mummy/daddy abuses ceased the talks. If only they made it worse.

You wanted to confront the redhead, but the words refused to form in your mind. Just the thought of speaking to him made your tongue feel heavy, and your cheeks flush with heat. Your fingers itched to intertwine with his warm ones, and your whole body yearned to be close to him. But as soon as those urges surfaced, you shook your head vigorously, side to side, until the world spun around you. Being dizzy was easier to endure than the whirlwind of those forbidden thoughts.

୨୧‿‿‿ 𝜗𝜚 ‿‿‿୨୧

You were standing in the courtyard during one of the breaks, waiting for lunch, when a sharp pain exploded at the side of your forehead. A heavy glass vial had struck you, clattering to the ground after impact.

"Hey, L/N," a taunting voice drawled. "Might wanna grab some contraceptive potions before you sleep with Weasley, or you'll end up breeding more than gnomes."

You bent to pick up the vial, your fingers curling around the cool glass as your brows furrowed in confusion. Then the realization hit, and your expression hardened into a sharp glare. The vial contained an actual contraception potion from an apothecary. Spinning on your heel, you locked eyes with the culprit: a blonde smirking devilishly, flanked by his entourage, their snickers biting at your ears.

"I'd shut your mouth if I were you," you said through gritted teeth, voice low and deadly. "Unless you want that ugly goblin shit you call a nose smashed into your skull." Your grip on the vial tightened, your knuckles blanching.

Goyle erupted in a guttural laugh but quickly silenced himself when Malfoy shot him a glare. Around you, the crowd stirred—murmurs of excitement spreading like wildfire. More students trickled into the courtyard, drawn by the rising tension, their curiosity adding weight to the charged atmosphere.

"Oh yeah?" Malfoy sneered, his lips curling in mockery. "What are you going to do? Call your filthy blood traitor lapdog to defend you?"

Pansy Parkinson's shrill giggle cut through the air. "Draco's just trying to help, you stupid Mudblood. But it looks like you'll happily pop out another Quidditch team full of losers."

The words hit like a slap to the face, and before you realized it, the vial slipped from your fingers, and your fists were flying.

The first punch landed solidly against Malfoy's jaw, snapping his head to the side. The collective gasp of the crowd barely registered in your ears as rage overtook you, a red-hot wave that blurred the edges of your vision. He stumbled back, but you weren't finished. You swung again, this time catching, hitting Pansy's nose, and then again, letting every ounce of frustration and fury you'd bottled up over the past few weeks pour into each strike.

The courtyard erupted into chaos. Malfoy's lackeys tried to pull you off, but you shoved them away. His smug smirk was gone, replaced with a wide-eyed expression of fear and pain as he weakly raised an arm to shield himself.

The crowd surged, students yelling and cheering, their voices blending into a cacophony. You didn't care. All you could see was green—your vision clouded with pure, unrelenting anger. You kept swinging, your fists aching, but it didn'tmatter. The satisfaction of each hit was the only thing grounding you.

Finally, strong hands grabbed your arms, hauling you backward. You kicked and struggled, breath coming in ragged gasps as the adrenaline coursing through you demanded you keep fighting.

"As much as I'd love for you to beat him to a pulp, love, I don't want to see you expelled." the captor of your arms whispered. Your body froze instantly, and you tried to catch a glimpse of the speaker. You noticed red hair peeking through the corners of your eyes.

"What in Godric's name is going on here?" the demanding voice asked, her sharp gaze cutting through the chaos. The crowd instantly silenced, students shrinking back under her scrutiny. Even Malfoy's friends, who had been so vocal moments ago, averted their eyes.

You froze, chest heaving, trying to catch your breath. The adrenaline still buzzed under your skin, but McGonagall's presence was like a cold bucket of water poured over you. Slowly, your fists unclenched, and you realized your knuckles were bruised and raw, faint smears of blood marking your fingers.

Professor McGonagall's lips thinned into a hard line. "Enough. Everyone—back to your business! This is not a spectator sport!" She turned her gaze back to you and Malfoy, her expression unrelenting. "The rest of you, to the Headmaster's office. Now."

Malfoy groaned as he struggled to his feet, favoring his side. "She attacked me!" he protested, his voice nasally and strained, no doubt from the blow you'd landed on his nose.

"And I have no doubt there's more to the story," McGonagall snapped, her tone brooking no argument. "But we'll deal with that where it's appropriate. Move along, Mr. Malfoy."

୨୧‿‿‿ 𝜗𝜚 ‿‿‿୨୧

The altercation between Malfoy and his gang and you had been carefully investigated and justly judged. Professor McGonagall, despite her strict nature, was surprisingly in your favor. George had also vouched for you, following you into the rotating staircase despite your attempts to elbow him off. He called the harassment ruthless bullying.

Parents were summoned, but despite them coming so, your highly modest and conservative mother refused to let the Parkinsons and Malfoys get a word out. To her, a lady's womanly issues were not to be discussed in the open nor ridiculed.

With two strong defenders, your mother and your professor, you got away with just detention and could still participate in the ball.

୨୧‿‿‿ 𝜗𝜚 ‿‿‿୨୧

It was the first snow of the year, and you were trapped in the Hogwarts kitchen. You had detention every Saturday morning, wehre your task was to scrub cauldrons. You needed to buy the last bits of accessories for the ball but had asked Alicia to pick them up since you were busy scrubbing.

Your fingers were numb from the rigor. As you brought the sponge towards you before pushing it forward, it shifted away from your hand. A frown accompanied by a tilted brow; you expected it to fall into the pot. Yet it continued to scrub and shell the cauldron—just like magic.

The second the thought crossed your mind, your head swung in all directions. Your eyes met the fellow leaning on the door frame with crossed arms and wand out—the ever so familiar missions glint in eyes and smug smirk.

"Hello, m'lady," he said as he went right before you. You tilted your head slightly to the side with a questioning look.

"What?" he asked incredulously.

"Why are you helping me? This is detention, you know," you replied, trying to gauge his purpose in visiting.

"Yes, this is. As a man, I must, however, take responsibility for my lady's actions. You are, in fact, here because of me; is that not correct?" he replied more boisterously.

Your cheeks burned, a combination of frustration and embarrassment.

“First of all, I’m not ‘your lady,’ and second, no one asked you to play knight in shining armor. I can scrub cauldrons perfectly fine on my own.”

George's grin widened, unfazed by your tone. “Oh, I can see that, love. You’re scrubbing so well, you’ve almost got that cauldron to sparkle like new.” He gestured to the pot that was now gleaming under the enchanted sponge’s tireless efforts.

“But wouldn’t you rather spend your Saturday doing something less…” He paused, twirling his wand lazily, “…soul-crushing?”

You crossed your arms, glaring up at him. “And why would you care how I spend my Saturday?”

He shrugged, still smirking. “Call it a guilty conscience. Or maybe I just missed your company. You’ve been avoiding me ever since our little dance lesson, haven’t you?”

Your jaw tightened, the memory of that mortifying class flashing in your mind. “I haven’t been avoiding you,” you said stiffly.

“Oh no?” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur that sent an unwelcome shiver down your spine.

“So it’s purely coincidence that every time I walk into a room, you suddenly remember an urgent errand in the opposite direction?”

You scowled, willing your heart to stop fluttering like a caged snidget. “Maybe I just don’t enjoy being the subject of every stupid joke in the castle, thanks to you.”

George’s expression softened, his smirk fading into something more genuine. “That wasn’t my intention, you know,” he said quietly.

“I mean, I like a good laugh as much as the next bloke, but not at your expense.”

Your resolve faltered slightly, but you kept your arms crossed. “You didn’t exactly stop it, though, did you? All those rumors, all those stupid comments…”

“I didn’t stop it because I thought you could handle yourself,” George admitted, his gaze locking with yours. “You’re clever, tough, and brilliant. But maybe I underestimated how far people would take it.”

For a moment, you didn’t know what to say. The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, and the warmth spreading through your chest was both comforting and infuriating.

“Well,” you said finally, your tone softer than you intended, “maybe next time, don’t underestimate how annoying people can be.”

George chuckled, his usual mischief returning. “Duly noted. So, what do you say? Truce?” He extended his hand, his lopsided grin making your stomach flip.

You hesitated, eyeing his outstretched hand suspiciously. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” he said, his grin widening. “Just a chance to make it up to you. Starting with getting you out of this dungeon and into the Three Broomsticks for a butterbeer. My treat.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I’m still in detention, Weasley.”

“Details,” he said with a dismissive wave of his wand. “I’m a master of mischief, remember? If anyone asks, I’ll say I kidnapped you.”

Despite yourself, a small smile tugged at your lips. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously charming,” he quipped, holding his hand out again.

This time, you took it—his hand warm and steady in yours. It was the second time you’d ever held a boy’s hand, and somehow, it felt like the first time it truly mattered.

Professor McGonagall watched from a shadowed corner of the kitchen, arms crossed, her lips twitching upward in an uncharacteristic smile.

"Ridiculously charming, indeed," she muttered softly to herself, adjusting her spectacles. "I always knew those two would find their way to each other."

With a final glance at the pair sneaking out of the dungeon, hand in hand, she turned briskly on her heel. Her work was done—for now. After all, guiding her Gryffindors, even in matters of the heart, was just another part of the job.

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley drabble #george weasley imagine #george weasley blurb #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x you #george weasley x fem!reader #george weasley x female reader #george weasley fanfic #george weasley fic #george weasley fanfiction #gryffindor boys

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yearsbecomingcool · 1 month ago

Text

call me, beep me | simon kalivoda

donate to gaza here | masterlist

pairing | simon kalivoda x f!reader

synopsis | you were an attempted overachiever, but alas your knowledge could only get you so far. your weak attention span was your enemy, the doctors refused to believe it was possible for a girl to have adhd so in an attempt to at least end up salutatorian you had to turn to drastic measures. the solution to your problems was 5’7 with a crooked smile and he just so happened to sit next to you in english.

warnings | drug usage/dealing, mentions of sexual harassment, f!reader, possibly ooc!simon, probably inaccurate drug prices, reader has adhd.

word count | just shy of 2k

a/n | i saw gladiator ii and instantly fell back in love with fred hechinger just like everyone else. i know the fear street fandom is dead but that won't stop me writing for one of my favorite characters in horror. the fear street films meant a lot to me when they first came out and i'm having a lot of fun revisiting them. i haven't written for men in so long it feels so weird lol. i didn't edit this because i got sleepy, sorry. requests are open btw <3

You were an attempted overachiever at best. You were vice president of nearly every club, you were on the debate team, you volunteered in the library during your free periods, but your grades just weren’t up to par. During elementary and middle school you had soared above the rest, finishing assignments with ease, blowing through tests like they were nothing. But along came high school and you had begun to struggle. You had never learned to study, you never had a need for it, that overlooked area of school had suddenly snuck up on you and knocked you to your knees. Kate Schmidt had begun to surpass you in…well everything. She was top of the class and you were barely scraping by with low A’s and high B’s. To anyone else it seemed like you were doing alright but to you and your parents it wasn’t enough. You’d be first in the family to attend college and they would only settle for the best.

You were envious of her, cheer captain, valedictorian, president of every club in the goddamned school. You wondered how she had the time and hated how she didn’t struggle to study like you did. Despite your jealousy she had never been unkind to you, she was just perfect like that. She was for everyone in every clique, her best friends being a band geek and the school’s mascot. You had never really interacted with Deena, but Simon you were more familiar with. Every year without fail he had managed to end up in one of your classes and was always sitting near you. You had become friendly with one another, he’d go to you for homework answers every now and then and you hated to admit that it boosted your ego a bit that he’d come to you instead of Kate.

He had this boy next door charm that made him so lovable to you and a majority of the school. He always greeted you so kindly when you’d see him at the grocery store, flashing you a crooked smile and asking if you had come just to see him. You’d play along, playfully flirting with him till he had finished ringing up your items. Every now and then when you knew you’d be staying up late to try and focus on your studying you’d head to the supermarket. You’d grab two energy drinks and a couple snacks and head to Simon’s register. You didn’t care if there were others open, you would go to him every time. After you paid you’d slide him one of the cans and tell him to pick his choice from your snacks. The first time you did it he refused bashfully and you decided to pick for him, leaving him a can and a bag of skittles on his register and rushing out the door with a smile on your face as you heard him call after you. After that he knew to just accept your gifts, he really needed them during his doubles.

To many students he was known as the school's resident dealer, everyone from football players to the D&D club buying weed and pills off him at parties. Once you had even kept watch while your friends bought some weed off him, later that night when you toked up they had joked they should’ve had you buy. You rolled your eyes as they told you how he stared at you in your mini skirt and crop top as you stood in the doorway. You would never believe you’d be his type, he was kind and sociable enough to be popular in your mind, you doubted your debate skills would have him dropping to his knees.

This year he sat next to you in English, you’d look the other way and scoot your paper over whenever you noticed him trying to glance at your answers. He had taken notice and would accidentally apply his employee discount to a few of your purchases. He was your best bet at actually getting the medication your doctor had refused to prescribe.

You had woken up early that morning to get ready, you wanted to give yourself the best chance at a discount. You slipped on a v-neck black t-shirt and tucked it into your most school appropriate mini skirt, the silky material just barely resting below your fingertips. You had thrown a black cardigan over it and added a pair of sheer plaid tights and your favorite pair of combat boots. You even recreated the makeup you’d worn to the party he had allegedly stared at you at. Soft shimmery silver eyeshadow adorned your lids, thick eyeliner going right over it. You worked to create a cat eye look before applying mascara and a dark burgundy lip gloss. It was much different than how you usually showed up to school but it would be worth it, at least that’s what you told yourself.

You felt eyes on you as you got onto the bus that morning, you took your usual seat towards the back and pulled out a book, Crash by J. G. Ballard, and read it in an attempt to distract yourself from the stares and shitty comments. A few boys whistled at you jokingly, another asking when you decided to be hot. You ignored them, you just had to get through the rest of the day. Finally English rolled around and you walked to your seat, Simon already sat in this. His notebook covered in messy doodles sat on his desk, his elbow next to it as he rested his head in his hand. When he noticed you walk in, his eyes lit up, going from your face down to your short skirt. You sat next to him, sitting your bag on your lap as you retrieved your notebook and pencil case. He’s staring at you shamelessly. As you sit your bag down beneath your desk you turn your attention towards him, “Could we talk after class?” You ask, giving him a sweet smile.

“Uh, yeah, of course. I-I’ll see you then,” Simon answers, flustered. He mentally face palms, what the fuck does he mean he’ll see you then? He feels so stupid for saying that. He tries to distract himself by digging through his bag for a pencil, he realizes he definitely left it in his last period. He bites his lip and turns towards you almost bashfully. He scratches the back of his neck, “Hey, could I borrow a pencil? I lost mine.”

You smile and nod, “Of course.” You unzip your pencil case and hand him one of your pre sharpened pencils, your fingers brushing against his as he grabs it. You see his cheeks turn red and you smile to yourself. Simon has a hard time trying to focus for the rest of class, his eyes always wandering back to you and your short skirt. When the bell rings he breathes a sigh of relief, gathering his things and waiting for you to do the same. You stand and lean in to whisper to him, “You’ve got pills right?” When you pull away he’s smiling wide. He nods and grabs your wrist, leading you out of the classroom and down the hall. He looks around before pushing you into the out of order girls restroom.

“Never thought I’d see the day you’d be looking to buy,” He laughs, going into one of the stalls and opening a vent. He retrieves his box, his candy store as he calls it. He comes back out and flips the top off, giving you a look at his supplies.

“I can never focus long enough to study right, I just need some adderall to help. You have adderall right?” I ask, sounding a little more desperate than I meant to. I lean back against the sink counter as his eyes scan through the box.

“How much do you need? He asks, retrieving a bottle out of the box before shutting it and setting it on the sink next to you.

“I don’t really know yet…I guess like a week's worth for now? I need to make sure it helps me before I go all in, y’know?” You reply, you eye the bottle nervously, tiny blue capsules filling it to the brim. “How much would that cost me? I don’t have a lot of money to blow, but-”

“How much do you have?” Simon asks, cutting you off.

“Uhh $15…I know it’s nowhere near enough but-”

Simon cuts you off again, “It’ll do.”

You furrow your brows, “Really? You don’t have to give me a discount just because-”

He cuts you off a third time and you feel annoyance bubble up in your chest, “I want to give you a discount and you should really take it, I don’t do this for many other people y’know.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?” You ask. Sure, you had hoped for a discount but this big of a discount is the last thing you were expecting.

Simon nervously scratches at the back of his neck as he answers you, “You always buy me snacks when you know I’m working, you share your answers with me during English even if you’d never admit it…and you’re pretty so that helps too,” he chuckles.

“So I’m getting the pretty girl discount then?”

“That’s the one thing you got out of that?” He laughs and shakes his head, “Y’know what, yeah sure, you’re getting the pretty girl discount.”

You run your tongue across your bottom lip and cross your arms over your chest, taking a step towards him. “Would I get even more of a discount if I gave you my number?” His compliments have boosted your confidence much further than you’d expected.

He looks down at you, having a great view of your tits in your v-neck. “I could take another $5 bucks off.”

“My number’s only worth $5 to you?” You joke, taking another step towards him, toe to toe with him now. You can smell his cologne from where you stand, it makes you want to bury your face in his chest.

“You’re lucky I’m giving you that, I could always look you up in the phone book, y’know.”

Your cheeks heat up with embarrassment, “I’ll take that $5 off then.”

He laughs, “I’m sure you will.”

You grab your notebook from your backpack and rip out a paper, scribbling your phone number across it as Simon slips seven of the pills into a bag for you. You hand him the paper and he hands you the bag.

“Did you wear that hoping to get a discount?” He asks, pocketing the paper.

“I might’ve…did it help?”

“You could’ve showed up in a sweater and sweatpants and I would’ve given you that discount anyway.” He reaches forward, grabbing the hem of your skirt, rubbing the soft material between his fingers. “This skirt’s cute though, you should wear it more often,” He looks back up at you, hand going to your thigh, “Do you really need to go to next period? We could always skip the phone call and just-”

You sigh, looking down at his hand and biting your lip. “I probably should, unfortunately. Call me after work, we’ll pick up where we left off…promise.” You say as you look back into his eyes.

He smiles and nods, “I’ll call you, I’ll be off late. Will you be awake after midnight?”

“I will, just for you, Simon.”

Before he can respond the bell rings. “Oh fuck, we’re late!” You exclaim, grabbing your backpack off the sink. Simon kisses your cheek and runs back into the stall to hide the box back in the vent. Your hand goes up to where he kissed you and you speed walk towards the door, “I’ll be waiting for your call!” You yell before running off to class, starting to think up an excuse that’ll sound believable and keep your perfect attendance record untouched.

#divider by cafekitsune #fred hechinger #fear street 1994 #simon kalivoda #simon kalivoda x reader #simon kalivoda imagine #simon kalivoda/reader #simon kalivoda/you

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isaacarellanesismyhusband · 5 months ago

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i know

pair: Fred Weasley x reader requested by anonymous

could you do a Fred x reader? where the reader is Sirius daughter. And it shows not just in her looks, but how she acts? She’s very rebellious and is her own person. But is so much like her dad. They have very similar style in music and clothes. And she’s very close to him. And Fred never met her until the order of the phoenix. She had been ‘homeschooled’ and was ahead of many others that were at hogworts and she had went to muggle school and was very popular. She was going to hogworts that year and had caught Fred’s eye that summer the moment he walked in the door to grimuald place. They became great friends almost immediately. She would say anything and everything that came to mind. One time asking, “what if we made out like right now?” With a complete straight face and Fred was caught off guard. But that’s what he liked about her. She was herself no matter how much it killed others especially molly, who couldn’t stand Sirius and definitely couldn’t stand her. But Fred loved her anyway. and she knew the whole time Fred liked her but she acted dumb. So when he finally told her she was like, “I know” and went on to tell him every time he showed that he liked her and stuff. But she did feel the same and Sirius giving Fred a very hard time about it at Christmas

masterlist | navigation | p2

❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿

The familiar sound of Grimmauld Place’s heavy front door creaking open filled the silent house. Fred Weasley stepped inside, taking in the dusty, dimly lit interior. He’d been to the Black family home plenty of times that summer, but there was something different today. His eyes scanned the room, and then he saw her.

Leaning casually against the doorframe, a smirk tugging at her lips, was someone who was unmistakably Sirius Black’s daughter. The resemblance was uncanny — the same rebellious glint in her eyes, the same unruly dark hair. Her clothes were a perfect match for her father’s eccentric style: a ripped band tee under a leather jacket, combat boots, and fingerless gloves. Everything about her screamed trouble in the most alluring way possible.

Fred’s breath hitched. He hadn’t met her until now. She’d been ‘homeschooled,’ as Sirius had put it, which meant she was well ahead of most witches and wizards her age. She'd spent her teenage years in both worlds, excelling in magic while becoming a popular face at her muggle school. He’d heard rumors about her — that she was bright, sharp-tongued, and a force to be reckoned with — but seeing her now, he was captivated.

“Oi,” she said, snapping him out of his thoughts. “You gonna stand there all day or are you gonna help me with this?”

Fred blinked, realizing she was holding a box that looked heavy enough to contain half of the Black family’s cursed heirlooms. He quickly moved forward, taking the other end.

“I’m Y/N,” she introduced herself with a wicked grin. “You must be the fun Weasley twin.”

“I’m Fred,” he said, managing a grin back. “The one and only.”

From that moment, Fred and Y/N became inseparable. She was the kind of person who spoke whatever came to her mind, no matter how off-the-wall or inappropriate. It was something that Fred found thrilling. It was clear she wasn’t trying to impress anyone — she was just herself. Completely unapologetic.

One evening, the two were sitting in the living room of Grimmauld Place, the fire crackling softly as they talked about everything from Quidditch to muggle bands they both liked.

“You know,” Y/N said, a playful glint in her eyes, “what if we made out right now?”

Fred choked on the pumpkin juice he had been drinking, his eyes widening as he looked at her. Her face was completely serious.

“W-what?” Fred stammered, caught off guard by her boldness.

Y/N shrugged casually. “Just a thought. You looked like you were thinking about it anyway.”

Fred laughed, his heart racing. That was just her. She could drop bombs like that with the straightest face, leaving him scrambling to keep up. But that’s what he liked about her. She didn’t care what anyone thought, not even Molly Weasley, who clearly had a hard time handling the daughter of Sirius Black.

Fred couldn’t help but notice the way Molly’s lips tightened every time Y/N walked into a room, her rebellious nature clearly rubbing the older witch the wrong way. It was as if Y/N's very existence was a challenge to everything Molly believed in — and Fred found himself loving her for it all the more.

It was Christmas Eve when everything changed.

Grimmauld Place was filled with warmth for once, thanks to the holidays. The smell of Molly’s cooking wafted through the air, and the Order had gathered for a brief respite from the war. Fred had been sneaking glances at Y/N all evening. She had donned a jacket with patches of various bands and had opted to wear muggle boots with chains.

As the night wound down, Fred finally gathered the courage to pull her aside, the soft glow of fairy lights illuminating the hallway where they stood.

“I… I like you,” Fred confessed, running a hand through his messy hair. “I’ve liked you since the moment I walked through that door and saw you standing there.”

Y/N blinked up at him, her expression unreadable for a moment. Then she broke into a mischievous smile.

“I know.”

Fred raised his eyebrows. “Wait, what?”

Y/N laughed, leaning against the wall with a smirk. “I knew. From the way you looked at me that first day, the way you’d always offer to help me with stuff, the way you’d try to act all cool whenever I said something insane.”

Fred’s face flushed. “And you didn’t say anything?”

“I wanted to see how long it would take you to actually say it,” she teased. “But for the record, I like you too, you know. Even if you’re a bit slow on the uptake.”

Fred let out a relieved laugh, stepping closer. “Well, good. I was starting to think maybe I’d imagined all those looks.”

Y/N smirked, leaning up on her tiptoes to press a quick, teasing kiss to his lips before pulling away. “Nope. You were right on the money.”

Christmas morning was… interesting.

Fred and Y/N had shared a few stolen kisses the night before, and when Sirius caught wind of it, he wasted no time in giving Fred a hard time.

“So, Weasley,” Sirius drawled over breakfast, a mischievous grin on his face. “I hear you’ve taken a liking to my daughter.”

Fred flushed red, glancing over at Y/N, who was stifling a laugh behind her cup of tea.

“She’s… er… well, yeah, I suppose,” Fred stammered, scratching the back of his neck.

Sirius leaned back in his chair, his grin widening. “I’ll give you one thing, Fred. You’ve got guts. But let me just remind you — break her heart, and you’ll have to deal with me.”

Fred paled slightly, but Sirius’s laughter told him he wasn’t entirely serious. Still, the warning was clear.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Dad, stop scaring him. It’s fine.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m not scaring him. Just giving him a little fatherly advice.”

Fred chuckled nervously, but as he glanced over at Y/N, who was smiling at him with that same rebellious spark in her eyes, he knew it was worth every bit of Sirius’s teasing.

After all, he had fallen for her — Sirius’s daughter, with her sharp wit, bold spirit, and the heart of a true rebel. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

#isaacismyhusbandeventhohedoesntknowityet #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #fred x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley #fred #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley x reader fluff #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you #fluff #fred Weasley x Sirius's daughter

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bellwood-qudditch · 5 months ago

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Next Gen jobs

Teddy: Goblin liaison turned Stay at home dad

Victorie: Healer, turned Hogwarts school counsellor after 25 years at St. Mungo’s

Dominique: Record and archives keeper at the French ministry of magic + former bartender + former band member

Louis: St. Gringott’s desk job and then wizarding world equivalent engineer

Molly ii: Journalist for the ‘New York Ghost’ (American version of the daily prophet)

Lucy: Ministry secretary, specialising in PR.

Fred ii: Worker for his father’s business and eventual owner.

Roxanne: apprentice for Madam Malkin’s robes turned huge fashion designer

Rose: Professional quidditch player

Hugo: Paralegal turned Lawyer within the ministry of magic

James Sirius: Professional quidditch player

Albus: Worked in an apothecary in Diagon Alley, then became a potioneer for St. Mungo’s. And eventually became the Hogwarts potions teacher.

Lily Luna: Entrepreneur for her own skincare line within the wizarding world and eventually the Transfiguration professor at Hogwarts.

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briarberrythornedhart · 1 month ago

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Trust me

Contains: Post Season 4, Hurt/comfort, implied sex, Eddie Munson X You, no Y/N, roommates to lovers.

🦇 🛋️ 🦇 😴 🦇

Eddie lived.

And now he lives with you. You invited him to stay with you in your apartment and lie low while the Sheriff’s dept and the FBI completed the investigation of the murders (and exonerated Eddie, obviously).

There is some damage to his tattoos and a half destroyed nipple but otherwise he was unharmed physically by the events in Hawkins.

Mentally, he struggles.

He is uneasy and anxious.

Extremely Jumpy.

You’ve taken to wearing an ankle bracelet that jingles so he’ll hear you coming and not panic.

He doesn’t sleep well. He’s always tired and can’t even nap. He’s not even cranky about it, he’s just listless.

Dustin says he’s very different from the Eddie he knew in High School. Almost the opposite. Revved Down.

Eddie tells you he can’t sleep anymore because when he closes his eyes he sees the murders. Even Fred’s, which he didn’t witness in person, his brain cruelly recreates on a loop of guilt with the other deaths. It does no good to tell him he shouldn’t feel guilty, he can’t turn off the feeling that if he’d done something differently… he could have saved them. Like he personally could have taken Vecna out if he knew the solution. Like he picked the wrong CYOA path. It’s ridiculous and he knows it but he can’t seem to change that feeling, especially at night.

In the time you’ve chosen to take him in as your own personal project— sorry… as your roommate and good friend - You have barely seen him close his eyes at all.

The chocolate orbs are usually on you, meeting your gaze, watching your movements. Curious as a cat.

Right now it’s breakfast and he’s watching you make cinnamon toast.

Your way. Which is a very specific way. Exactly how you like it.

He looks like he’s taking mental notes but his head is heavy on his hand and his shoulders are curved like he could almost fall over from fatigue.

The black eyeliner he let you decorate his eyes with is smeared over the dark circles under his eyes. The black nail polish on each short nail bed on each long skilled (guitarist) finger is chipped. You will offer to repaint it later.

Even bone tired in rumpled sweatpants and an old tshirt that has holes in the armpits and at the collar… he is still unbelievably hot.

Without a doubt, if you weren’t certain-sure he was not into you in the slightest, you’d have tried something already.

Probably. You have a type and it is this guy.

“Smells good.” Eddie suddenly says. Perking up slightly.

“Do you want some toast?” You ask.

“Yes, please, princess.” He uses his trademark terms of endearment with everyone. It isn’t condescending or anything. After all he calls Steve Harrington and ‘Coffin-Jeff’ from his band and Nancy Wheeler ‘Princess’, too. So you think it doesn’t mean much of anything.

He licks his lips in anticipation.

The man would live on foods that are nutritionally-void vessels for butter if you didn’t insist on the occasional salad or omelette.

“You can have as much as you like if you’ll take a nap for me after.” You promise, handing him a triangle of toast.

“With you?” Eddie raises his eyebrows in a twist of confusion.

“Yeah. I mean…At the same time.” You Disambiguate. He slumps slightly and nibbles on the crusts. “You could take the couch and I could take the loveseat… Unless…”

“Unless???” His eyebrows are back up, way up, hidden in the curly brunette fringe.

“Well….I’ve heard that weighted blankets help with uneasy sleep, nightmares, anxiety and stuff. We don’t have anything heavy bedding wise but…I could be your weighted sorta blanket…if you trust me.”

“You’d do that for me?” Eddie smiles softly. “Even knowing I usually wake up yelling and screaming about scary shit?”

You did not know that. “Of course. Let’s try something new, you need sleep and I want to help if I can.”

He finished the cinnamon toast in 2 bites.

You lead him to the big thrift store find monstrosity of a chesterfield that he had helped you heft into the apartment.

It was wide and deep and cozy.

“Will I fit?” Eddie looked skeptical. “I usually curl up on my side on couches, these darn legs are longer than they look…”

You pressed gently on his shoulders. “Trust me. Get comfy.” You insisted. “Bend one knee up against the sofa back.”

He flopped down on his back, hands behind head, legs slightly spread and gone boneless. “Climb aboard.” He said wryly.

You crawled from his bare feet up between his spread legs to ease yourself onto his body. You tried not to feel some kind a messy way about how he body-rolled against you as you both tried to find the most comfortable position. Eventually your head was resting on his broad chest.

You shifted and felt like you were gonna roll off him, off the couch, but he said “whoa, princess.” And wrapped an arm around you to keep you there.

You were held and warm and not a little bit well….to be honest you were just completely massively turned on by the perfect scent of him and being pressed against his body.

“You good?” You asked.

“Yea, sweetheart. How bout You?” Eddie whispered.

“I feel safe.” You lied. Because what you felt was more complex than safe could ever be.

“Good. When I get… uh…if you notice that I am…” Eddie cleared his throat. “Just know I’d never do anything. I promise.”

You peered up at him. Your turn to be very confused.

He stammered and his face reddened. “I mean if you feel uh… ‘little Eddie’ getting ideas down there, don’t worry, I’m in control. Just because you feel so nice… perfect even… know I’m at the helm, right? And I value our friendship and would never…”

“I thought I didn’t do it for you?? Like at all?” You stammered back.

“I mean, obviously you do. You Do all of it for little Eddie.” He gestured at his crotch which was pitching a size large (OMG is that real?) tent in the sweats. “You are hot and sweet and funny and whip-smart and you’ve got this ass that I… ::fuck:: I’m sorry, forget I said… I mean, I wouldn’t ever do anything about it, not ever.”

“Why the hell not??” You got up on your elbows and sat on his belly. You looked down at his gorgeous flushed face. He bit his lips hard.

“Princess, You mean too much to me. When I think about losing you…”

“Why would you lose me? I’m very hard to just…misplace.” You stuck out your tongue at him.

He gave you a small chuckle and his hands found your hips. Squeezed you there. One hand stroked down your leg to run a finger over your jingling ankle bracelet. Then he frowned and then his hands dropped away.

He took a deep shuddery breath. “I usually lose when I love… one way or another, it’s inevitable… I have extraordinarily bad luck.”

“Eddie, nothing is totally inevitable.” You touched his cheek. Rubbed his lower lip with your thumb. “Can you trust me just a little bit more than you fear bad luck?”

Perhaps a smile teased one corner of his mouth. Almost a smile. Nearly one. “I trust you, Princess.”

You dismounted Eddie and took his hand to lead him to your room. Soon to be his room too.

He did yell that night but not in an unhappy way.

#eddie munson x reader #stranger things #smut adjacent #fluff #comfort #eddie munson #boyfriend shaped #bisexual eddie munson #Eddie Munson should wear eyeliner and nail polish #reader wears anklet #cw canon Vecna murders

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unofficialwriting · 2 months ago

Text

She calls me Freddie (Pt.4)

Pairing: Fred Weasley x F!Gryffindor!reader

Warnings: Just fluff! A little corny but it’s Christmas and that’s Fred. This is arguably one of the most important chapters of the series

Summary: Winter break had finally arrived and it would turn out to be one of your favorites

Word count: 5.1k

(Part 4 - find all other parts here)

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The days following the first task crawled by slowly. And despite what had happened that night, nothing else followed. Once again, everything seemed to go back to normal between you and Fred. At least, as much as it could. You were able to go about your days as usual, but after admitting to yourself your feelings for him, you found it more and more difficult as time passed. It would only be so long before you slipped.

On that morning, the first snow of the season fell. It reminded you how close you were to the holidays. The early classes had been replaced with a gathering of each house with their head, Gryffindor with McGonagall. You found yourself in a wide corridor, boys and girls seated on either side and the professor at the center. Most students were on a long bench, some standing behind. You were one of them, leaning casually against the stone wall. Fred, who you attempted to avoid repeated eye contact with, had a similar stance across the room.

“The Yule ball has been a tradition of the Tri-wizard tournament since its inception,” McGonagall explained, turning across the room to speak to everyone. “On Christmas Eve night, we and our guests gather in the great hall for a night of well-mannered frivolity. As representatives of the host school, I expect each and every one of you to put your best foot forward. And I mean this literally because the Yule Ball is first and foremost a dance.”

The moment she uttered the words, the room erupted into noise; especially from your side. Most of the girls around you, including yourself, dove into enthusiastic chatter. Just the brief idea of going with Fred brought upon you a fresh wave of excitement and you couldn’t help but glance in his direction. To your surprise, his gaze had found you first. You sent him an exaggerated wink and watched his body shake with a laugh in return, not managing to completely avoid a prolonged stare.

“Silence!” McGonagall called, bringing the talking to a quick end. “The house of Godric Gryffindor has commanded the respect of the wizard world for nearly ten centuries. I will not have you, in the course of a single evening, besmirching that name by behaving like a babbling bumbling band of baboons.”

The twins caught your eyes again, seeing them whisper together with two poorly hidden smiles. The professor continued, having not heard them. “Now, to dance is to let the body breathe. Inside every girl a secret swan slumbers, longing to burst forth and take flight.”

Ron made an attempt at whispering as well, but he was far worse at it. Laughing came from his direction, taking the attention of McGonagall. “Inside every boy, a lordly lion prepared to prance. Mr. Weasley.

She strode over to the boy, standing before him. “Yes?” Ron asked with dread, sinking lower into his seat.

“Will you join me please?” She answered simply, not letting him reply before taking ahold of a bit of the fabric on his clothed shoulder. She dragged him out to the center of the room, every student behind him bursting into laughter. “Now place your right hand on my waist.”

“Where?”

“My waist.” She instructed firmly. Fred whistled a catcall to tease his brother, earning a glare instantly. The boy hesitantly did as his professor asked. “Mr. Filch, if you’d please.” Filch quickly began the music, which came out more as static while the machine started up. McGonagall pulled Ron around the room, demonstrating the waltz to everyone. Fred and George swayed as well to mock him.

“Everybody come together! Boys on your feet!” Most of the younger ones were in no hurry. Of all of them, Neville Longbottom was the first to stand, the rest following behind him and filing in to find partners.

You remained at your spot against the wall, not in a huge hurry to jump into the crowd of students. Besides, you had a feeling your partner would find you.

In mere seconds, Fred appeared and slid behind the benches to where you stood. He gazed down at you with a bright smile, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it. “Would I be lucky enough to dance with the Y/n L/n?” His voice sounded silky smooth in your ears, despite the edge of playfulness.

You copied his tone with a raised brow. “Hm, would you?” He let out an exaggerated scoff, still holding your hand in his.

“I would.” He twirled you in front of him, Little butterflies flitting about in your stomach and any ounce of stubbornness leaving your body. “Shall we, my love?”

“Your love?” You questioned him as he led you out from behind the seats.

“Mhm,” Fred responded as if it was a casual thing to say, not bothering to explain himself further. You took the stance McGonagall had instructed, a hand holding his and the other on his shoulder. Confidently, he set a hand on your waist, pulling you in to close the space between you. How could you only be friends when he did things like that? He was usually flirty with you and had been for years, but what he was so blissfully unaware of was how hard it had become for you to keep your composure. Although, a part of you could admit that he likely knew fully.

The both of you attempted to dance through your poor excuse for the waltz. At first, you quite literally stepped on each others’ feet. One could argue that his were the victim far more than yours, but he didn’t care to admit it to you. Regardless of who was correct, It did not go unnoticed by you that Fred was much better at this.

“Have you done this before?” You questioned, watching a smile tug at his face. You tried to pause your dance, but he continued on, not missing a beat. “You have, haven’t you?”

His lips formed a smirk, having a slightly more difficult time keeping up with the music now that you were distracted. “I have,” he said casually, gazing down at you.

“Who was the lucky girl?” You meant it to tease him, although the question twisted at you. You preferred not to try and visualize the thought.

Fred twirled you again, catching you off guard since you weren’t paying attention. “Ginny,” The reply earned a snort of laughter from you. “Now would you focus? We’re going to get good at this before the dance.”

You only laughed more at his determination. Fred shook his head, fighting back his own smile. “I’m so sorry.” You giggled, bringing your attention back to the dance.

“That’s alright, I can forgive you.” He joked with you, leading you through the dance once more. After a while you had actually started to improve. And eventually you were successful enough that even McGonagall praised you.

After you had wordlessly deemed you’d had enough practice, your dance turned into something less and less formal. Fred would twirl you and then pull you back into his arms, swaying you to the music. The rest of the room left you as you made your little space; spinning, tripping, and laughing. You didn’t think it possible, but somehow you were even more head over heels for him than before.

By the time everyone had finished and McGonagall had regathered the room, the seating arrangements were abandoned and traded for simply standing around her. You and Fred stood toward the back of the group, him using your shoulder as an armrest.

“Now one more thing, everyone.” Your professor announced. “Since the ball will be held on Christmas, you all will be given the week in advance to return home. But spend this time wisely. I expect all of you to keep up on your studies.” McGonagall had to know that very few of the students in the room would willingly spend their break studying, especially when this year we would be given two.

“You all may go!” She dismissed us, letting everyone file out of the room. “And practice your dancing!” You exited the room with Fred, who finally let go of you. George came out of the large doors with Angelina. You hadn’t even noticed they were dancing together since you were so focused on your own partner.

“How on earth are you two not together yet?” She asked with a smile. You knew she meant nothing but well by the question but it was currently a touchy subject to talk about.

“Angelina,” you replied quietly, in hopes that she would take your hint. She was oblivious to it and spoke on.

“I’m just saying,” She continued playfully. You shook your head, unable to help having a little amusement at how clueless the girl was in that moment. “When you do start dating we won’t be able to tell; you already act married—” George suddenly cut her off by gently taking her arm.

“I had a question to ask you, Angelina.” He spoke simply and led the confused girl away to prevent her from talking further. The way he said it wasn’t very convincing, but you were grateful for him regardless.

You glanced up at Fred, who returned your gaze with both a puzzled and slightly nervous expression. It wasn’t often you saw him look nervous. He stood there Frozen for a moment, trying to form the correct words. But once he had finally made up his mind and opened his mouth, he was interrupted by Hermione and Ginny’s poor timing.

“Can you believe it?” Ginny asked, taking your arm. She and Hermione both wore a wide grin. “What are we going to wear?”

“I’m sure we’ll have plenty of chances to figure that out, Gin.” Hermione responded, noticing the situation quickly. She glanced from Fred to you, taking on a little guilt in her expression.

“I’ll see you later, Y/n.” Fred told you, giving you a little smile and walking off in the direction of the common room. You sighed, every part of you wishing he’d had the chance to say what was on his mind.

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The first of two breaks approached quicker than expected and soon you found yourself on the train home to the Weasley’s. You sat by the window, admiring the land as it passed by. Though it hadn’t snowed in a while, it had been cold enough that there were still patches of white here and there; the rest had already melted away. Fred’s eyes drifted to you, his expression softening at the sight. Oh, how beautiful you looked to him there, staring out the small train window. He took your hand and squeezed it affectionately, pulling your gaze toward his. A short look was shared and little smiles were exchanged before you looked back through the glass.

The sun had already fallen by the time you arrived to the burrow. Every single one of you stood at the door: You, Fred, George, Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny. Before George could even knock, Molly was at the door to greet you. “There you all are!” She welcomed you cheerfully, only letting you in after each one of you had a hug. She had always treated you, Harry, and Hermione as one of her own children.

Inside became busy quickly after your group’s arrival. Percy, Bill, and Charlie had already arrived and came to greet you when you entered. “Bill!” You exclaimed as you spotted him, giving him a quick hug. You had known Bill for less time, but he had become your older brother just the same as Charlie had.

“Have you gotten taller since last I saw you?” He questioned. You gave him a rather sarcastic expression in return. The last time you saw him was the summer before last and it was very likely you had grown since then.

Charlie greeted you the same way, except he was far more nosy. He gave you a big hug and another remark about the status of you and Fred. “Any updates?” You rolled your eyes at the question. God, it was getting so old.

“For the last time, Charlie.” You whispered, glancing back to see if Fred was anywhere near you. “We aren’t dating and we won’t be anytime soon, so give it a rest.” He shrugged playfully at your response, not quite believing your words. Up until then, you had meant it every time you said it. But this time you weren’t so sure. Either way, you wanted to change the subject. This wasn’t difficult to do with Charlie. All you had to do was ask him about his dragons and he completely forgot about any situation between you and Fred.

That night had been deemed an honorary Christmas Eve since actual Christmas would be spent at Hogwarts. Molly had prepared a wonderful dinner for everyone, which was loud and chaotic with so many people fitting into one table. You made it work just fine. The sound of laughter, stories, and cheerful conversation filled your ears and kept a smile to your face. This was truly your favorite place to be.

After dinner had concluded and the noise had begun to die out, Molly hurried you out of the room. It was Christmas Eve and she had more she wanted to accomplish before morning. You offered your help, but it was declined “You enjoy the rest of your night, dear.” She told you. So once everyone else had departed for their rooms, you climbed the stairs with Fred following behind.

“So, Ginny’s room then?” Fred started, waiting for you to make a questioning face to continue. “Unless, you know, you want to share my bed.” The slightest bit of heat burned in your cheeks at the notion and when you looked back, he wore an exaggerated smirk.

“Nice try, Weasley.” You replied, crossing your arms. You had made it to Ginny’s room but he had more sets of stairs to climb. “I don’t think your brother would take too kindly to that idea.”

“No, he likely would not.” He admitted simply, leaning against the wall beside you. “But it was worth a shot.” The boy winked and you shook your head.

You mimicked his stance, leaning against the doorframe. “Goodnight, Freddie.”

“Goodnight, darling.” He held your gaze for another moment and then continued down the hall. You felt like melting right into the door, following him with your eyes as he climbed the next flight of stairs and out of sight. A sudden longing filled your heart. You wouldn’t admit it to Fred, but part of you would want nothing more than to follow him.

Right then you came to terms with your situation. You would tell him your feelings. You didn’t know when or where, but you would. Otherwise, you’d be stuck with nothing more than quick touches and flirty questions forever.

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Morning came quickly, and you found yourself awake before everyone else. It was a tradition for you and Fred. Each year, on Christmas, the two of you would wake up several hours earlier than the others. And each year Fred would try and beat you downstairs. However, he was never fully committed to the task and always awoke much later.

This year was no different. While you sat on the couch with a book, the boy lumbered into the living room with a heavy yawn. Without even so much as a good morning, he collapsed onto the couch beside you and hurried his head into the cushion. You giggled and used a free hand to tail a strand of his hair.

“Every year it gets harder to wake up.” He complained, his voice muffled against the fabric. A sigh escaped his body at your touch.

“You poor thing,” was your response. You let him lay like that for a minute, without disturbing him, until he was a little more awake. Eventually, he sat up and slid across the couch closer to you, sitting beside you and reading over your shoulder. This didn’t keep Fred’s attention for very long and soon he turned his head to gaze out the window. It had snowed a little more last night, leaving everything covered in a thin blanket of white.

After a moment or so, he glanced back down at you to find your eyes still traveling across the pages of your book to soak up all the ink spoke about. The sight put a sense of relaxation into his body. He sunk back down into his seat, leaning an elbow against the back of the couch.

He admired you like this for as long as he could before you noticed. You lowered your book, and turned to meet his eyes. “What?” You questioned him. Instead of avoiding your eyes, Fred gazed back into them, not in the slightest attempting to avoid them.

“Just trying to figure out what’s so interesting about that book.” He teased, breaking out of the trance you had him in. You shook your head at the statement, setting it down beside you.

“I’m so sorry to have bored you.” You returned sarcastically, turning to face him in the couch. When you met his eyes again, it took all his willpower not to get stuck there.

“That’s alright, I forgive you.” Fred replied, smiling at the chuckle he earned from you. He glanced out the small window again, noticing the little white flurries that had begun to fall from the grey clouds in the sky above.

“Let’s go for a walk.” He suggested after a long moment. You followed his gaze out the window.

“Where?”

“Wherever you want, love.” He took your hands and lifted you to your feet, gathering your coat and his to bundle up for the cold. Fred kept ahold of your hand and led you out the door, the burst of cold air hitting your body immediately. It was a dreadful change from the warmth of the house.

Despite your complaints, you followed Fred out into the snow, watching the shape his footprints left behind. Blades of grass tried to poke through where you both walked, successful here and there since there hadn’t yet been enough snow to conceal it completely.

It didn’t take long for you to adjust to the cold, as much as one could be. The original shock of it was replaced with rosy cheeks and a pink nose. You drifted away from the house, arm in arm with Fred.

Crossing the pathway was a hazard. Instead of snow, a layer of ice coated the stone beneath. And without much thought, Fred stepped onto it, immediately sliding to the ground and dragging you down with him.

“Fred!” You exclaimed in surprise, hitting the ground hard. He unfortunately didn’t do much to break your fall.

“Sorry!” He apologized profusely, rubbing the back of his head where he made contact with the ice. He placed a hand on the ground beside you to try and steady himself enough to stand, but his feet slipped out from under him and he came back down to join you. You burst into laughter.

“Oh, you hush,” he remarked, not-so-gracefully pulling you with him to the edge of the path to gain traction in the snow. Finally, he managed to stand, lifting you with him by your hands. From then on you both avoided the path.

The two of you continued on, wandering around in the snow until your fingers started to freeze. Fred led you into his father’s shed, which was where he kept his collection of muggle artifacts.

He slid the door open enough for you to slip inside. There was no heat, but it was insulated enough to provide a significant relief from the weather outside. “God, it’s cold.” You complained, blowing into your cupped hands in an attempt to warm your frozen fingers.

Fred leaned against the counter on one wall of the little structure. He opened his arms as an invitation. “Well, you know body heat is the best way to warm up.” He stated confidently, sending you a smirk. You agreed a little too quickly and walked into his arms. Who were you to turn down such an offer? As much as you hated to admit it to him, he was absolutely correct. Warmth radiated from his body, relieving you from your cold temperature. You opened his coat and slid your arms around him inside it, making it even warmer.

“Better?” He asked, arms embracing you. You nodded, gazing up at him with frosty cheeks and a little smile. His expression softened at the sight, getting trapped by your eyes once more. Your face seemed to glow to him, despite how cold it was for you.

“Much,” You replied simply, breathing in the smell of his jacket. This particular one he wore often. He wore it the day of the quidditch game and it still smelled of gunpowder. You buried your face in it, shielding yourself from the cold air.

Fred scanned the shed casually, his eyes catching an old record player. He pulled away from you just a little to reach it, apologizing with a chuckle when you complained. You turned your head to follow his gaze, watching him put one of the records into it.

“Dad showed me how to use these,” he explained, smiling in triumph when the music started up. “It’s a little different than the ones we have.” A slow song played, one that you had never heard before. But it felt like silk in your ears.

Fred took your hand, pulling you to him as he did when you were dancing in the corridor mere days before. “You want to dance here?” You questioned with a raised brow. The tiny shed severely lacked the space. He set a gentle hand on your waist, which stole any remaining words from your mouth immediately.

“Yeah, why not? Just don’t break anything.” He teased, beginning to sway you to the music. “McGonagall did say to practice, didn’t she?”

With less space around you, you both had to take a little more care than before, but you managed. He spun with you, following the tune of the song. Right away, you could tell it wasn’t his first time hearing it.

A minute or so into it and you realized the meaning. It was a love song. And that made your heart absolutely sick. He twirled you and met you again, pulling you back to him so your body rested against his. The gentle vibration of his humming travelled from him to you, seeping directly into your heart. Fred’s hand slid from your waist up to your back, filling you with both nerves and excitement. The mixture of the two felt like electricity in your veins.

Throughout the entire song, he managed to keep his eyes on yours. He seemed so calm. As if none of this made him into a wreck like it did you. Maybe behind the composure, it did make him nervous. You wanted more than anything then to be able to read his thoughts and find out.

Fred gazed down at you with gentle eyes, containing enough warmth that you were sure you’d never again feel the cold of the morning. “Fred?” You started softly, barely managing to get above a whisper. You heart thumbed against your chest and you desperately hoped it wasn’t noticeable.

“Yes, darling?” He responded, his thumb brushing across the back of your hand. He wasn’t making this any easier for you. You thought about your words, trying with everything you had to make sure you put them together correctly. Your steps became smaller as he focused on you, unable to choose which of your eyes to lock on.

You opened your mouth a little but nothing came out at first. There was so much you wanted to say and so little words fit to say it. “I-I don’t know how to tell you this.” You stuttered, which was rather uncharacteristic for you. Nothing had ever made you feel so nervous before. But now, as you stared up at Fred Weasley, the man you had slowly fallen so in love with, you couldn’t breathe. It must have been showing on your face, because his softened.

Fred lifted a hand to the side of your face, brushing his thumb delicately across your cheek. “Then let me.” He responded in the same hushed voice as yours. His expression changed just slightly, finally letting you pick up a hint of nerves.

He made up his mind, picking his other hand up to your face and leaning in to press his lips to yours. This time you let him. Your entire body lit up, sending a feeling from head to toe that made you want to burst. You slid your hands up to his chest, meeting him with the same longing he kissed you with. It was so long overdue.

He sighed into your lips before pulling away. But before you could even open your eyes he kissed you all over your face. From your forehead, to your cheeks, to your nose. You couldn’t help but giggle, your heart, stomach, and lungs all doing flips. It was almost overwhelming.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” Fred admitted, pressing another kiss to your forehead. “I love you, y/n. I have ever since I met you.”

You wanted to melt right into the wood of the floor at those words. Never did you expect to actually hear them. “I love you too, Freddie.” You told him, having no better way to say it than that.

His smile grew into a wide grin, having longed to hear you say that just as much as you longed to hear it from him. “Well then, my love,” he started, twirling you once more and then abandoning the dance altogether. “I would be nothing short of thrilled if we could prove my entire family and everyone else correct about us.” You could tell he had also waited a long time for this. It suddenly seemed silly how long the two of you had avoided the subject.

“I’d like that,” You responded, mimicking his grin. Fred seemed more full of joy now than you’d ever seen him. He still held you there, savoring the feeling of your touch that meant something a little different than before. Now that he had you, he never wanted to let go.

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You walked back through the snow, wanting to get to the house before everyone started to wonder where you were. The entire way Fred’s mind was focused on you like a horse with blinders on. It was only the cold bite of the wintery morning that convinced him he wasn’t dreaming. His arm held yours with care, unwilling to part from you yet.

This time you avoided the path, climbing the slippery stairs of the porch cautiously to avoid another mishap. Fred stopped you at the door, sliding an arm around your waist. “I know you’ve known my siblings almost as long as I have, but I’m still going to apologize in advance. I think they’ve all been waiting for this for a long time.” You both fought a laugh at the statement. It was comical how involved everyone was in your relationship except for you and Fred— until now of course.

“Has it been as bad for you as it has me?” You questioned in a sarcastic tone.

He freed his hand to grab the door handle. “Maybe worse,” Fred snuck in another kiss before pushing the door open, not realizing it would not go unnoticed.

You stepped inside only to be met by George, who stood across the room with his jaw practically on the floor. “George?” You called.

“George before you go making a scene, let’s—” Fred started, knowing full well his brother would be more than happy to make a scene. He, of course, was interrupted by George yelling up the stairs.

“Charlie!” He shouted, climbing the stairs when he didn’t get a response. As expected, he completely ignored the protests behind him. You exchanged a look with Fred, who carried the same expression as you.

You came in and hung up your coats, just in time to see all the Weasleys piling in one at a time. Ginny was first, followed by Hermione. She looked at you two and then up the stairs. “I’ve never seen George look so happy in my life.” She said skeptically, hearing him bang on Charlie’s door from downstairs.

“He’s going to announce our relationship to the entire house.” Fred complained, earning an immediate series of excited gasps from the girls. They gathered around you, forgetting Fred’s existence entirely.

Bill had entered with perfect timing. “Relationship?” He inquired. “Did you—.”

“Yes, Bill.” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. So far none of this had gone to plan. “If you must know, it’s true. We’re together.” God, it was embarrassing to tell everyone like this. Even in knowing everyone here was family to you in every way but blood.

Ginny and Hermione both grinned, expecting a full explanation from you. “Really?” Bill questioned, clearly not quite believing what he was hearing. It had been several years in the making.

“Yeah well, we talked it out, weighed the pros and cons.” Fred remarked sarcastically, earning a poorly concealed laugh from you. He opening his mouth to speak again, but was once again interrupted by the appearance of another brother.

Charlie stepped off the bottom stair, followed by George. They both wore smug smiles. “Fred and I are never dating, Charlie! You’re crazy, Charlie! Give it a rest, Charlie!” The older boy mimicked what you had said to him just the night before, mocking your assurances. He walked over and ruffled your hair, sending his brother a wink. Fred rolled his eyes dramatically. “But was I really crazy?”

Bill crossed his arms, chiming in again. “You are crazy, yes.”

Charlie sent him a look and returned his attention to you two. “Except poor timing, you were one day late.” He frowned.

George stepped forward, holding a hand out to Charlie and Bill. Your eyes followed him with a puzzled expression. “I believe I’m owed something.” He said to the both of them. They sighed and handed over a few coins each.

You stared at them in shock. “You guys did not have a bet on us.”

“We did.” Charlie replied with no shame. “I told you right to your face we did.” He glared at George as he pocketed his money.

“I figured you were joking.” A sigh escaped you.

“Nope.” George stated simply. “Charlie thought it would be before Christmas, Bill thought after, and I knew it would be on Christmas.

“But this isn’t actually Christmas.” Hermione chimed in, questioning their logic. The three brothers exchanged a glance at her words.

Before any arguing started, Molly and Arthur arrived. “Morning everyone!” Molly greeted. “And congratulations!” She pulled you into a tight hug, heat rushing to your face. It was one thing when Fred’s siblings did it, but Molly and Arthur were a completely different story.

“Ok, mom. It’s Christmas, can we all avoid making this about us? You’re going to overwhelm my girlfriend.” Fred stated, earning gasps and looks from everyone in the room; including you. You knew Fred Weasley and you knew he did this on purpose. Your suspicions were confirmed upon seeing his subtle smirk.

Ron, Harry, and Percy arrived, completing the group. “Did we miss something?” Ron questioned, confused at why everyone was gathered around like this.

George elbowed his brother. “Didn’t you hear? Freddie’s got himself a girlfriend.” He said, sending you a wink. You hoped your cheeks were still red from the cold so it would cover your blush.

Ron started a reply but was stopped by Arthur swooping in to save you. “Alright Weasleys, let’s not forget it’s Christmas!” He exclaimed, gesturing to the heavily decorated tree and the pile of gifts surrounding its base. You sighed, thankful for the distraction. Fred squeezed your shoulder gently as a silent apology, but all you responded with was a silent giggle. The whole situation was ridiculous.

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It didn’t take long before the entire group was gathered around, each of you sorting the the gifts to find the ones with the correct name. Molly had knitted everyone a new version of her famous sweater, all with the initial of who it belonged to sewn into the front. Before you knew it, each and every one of you had found theirs and put it on.

You glanced at the girls in time to see them exchanging neatly decorated gift boxes, turning to you with yours. Across the room, Ron laughed at something Harry received loudly enough that it caught the attention of half the family. Beside you, Fred and George looked through the box of materials you gifted them; all things they could use in whatever experiments they pleased.

“Alright, I have a special one for you.” Fred told you, pulling your attention to him.

“Is that so?” Your eyes landed on a small box he pulled out. It was wrapped in an obvious failed attempt to be perfectly neat, but you loved it just the same.

As you reached out to take it from him, he held it playfully out of your reach. “Fred!” You exclaimed, severely exaggerating an annoyed expression. He laughed brightly, letting you struggle for another moment before handing it over. You snatched it right out of his hand, eyeing him.

“Oh just open, darling. The anticipation is killing me.” He told you, leaning a hand on the ground to sit over your shoulder. You shook your head and carefully tore open the packing, once again wondering if Fred fully knew the effect he so easily had on you. Beneath the paper and tucked inside a little box lay a bracelet. The sight made you practically melt. The piece of jewelry was the exact one you had pointed out that night at the quidditch game, so many months ago.

“It’s the one I told you about. You kept it for this long?” You smiled at the pride in his expression. Fred took the bracelet and your wrist, gently tying it on for you. He opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by his twin brother.

“It was almost longer too.” George cut in, still sifting through the box in front of him. “He would’ve left it at Hogwarts if I hadn’t seen it with his things and so heroically rescued it for him.”

Fred gave him a look, shoving his shoulder. “Well look, my intentions were good.” He swore, coaxing a giggle out of you.

“It’s perfect, Freddie. Thank you.” You replied, brushing your thumb over the surface of your bracelet. He smiled down at you with an expression somehow even happier than that of this morning.

“Merry Christmas, y/n.” He spoke softly, pressing a delicate kiss to your temple.

Merry Christmas,” You replied in the same manner, unable to keep a grin off your face. What a perfect Christmas it was turning out to be.

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