#george Weasley x reader

[missmochalover07]

george is the type of guy who will hold your hands between his and softly blow on them to keep you warm. and he'll kiss them at least once before letting them go <3

this photo is the best thing to ever happen to me

also i committed to college today

[bethsvrse]

what is with this new wave of short ass drabbles with porn and zero plot what happened to yearning?? what happened to build up?? what happened to the character being absolutely down bad for reader?? what happened to the 10k words fics?? screaming crying and throwing up i miss it

[enzosbabyangel]

Can you make a smut Weasley twins headcanons please and thanks

ཐི⋆♱⃓⋆ཋྀ George + Fred Weasley nsfw headcanons

a/n: I saw your other ask for Stepdad!Fred too luv !! I love it but i’m taking a short break from reqs to write some of my own stuff. I just gotta try and get some motivation for writing back !

— George

He’s not into degradation, both receiving and giving. He just doesn’t strike me as the type.

He is SO a secret lil pervert 🙈 Like i can imagine you guys just sitting together, maybe you’re studying and he’s just thinking some of the dirtiest shit. During ‘shower’s’ he actually just sits on the toilet jacking off to either porn magazines or photos of you.

He loves vintage porn.

I can see him being into subbing occasionally…

He’s a major tit guy + a sucker for boob and hand jobs.

Sometimes while he lays in beds he imagines fucking whoever he’s crushing on(or at the odd time subbing 😋)

Unlike Fred, who seems like he would be a kinky and adventurous ass bastard(which, he is), He is into some crazy shit. If he tells you about some of the shit he’s into you know he trusts you.

— Fred

He’s into crazy shit, but it’s still kind of tame compared to George, yknow?

He’s literally SO risky too. He loves to fuck in the most taboo places and sometimes forces you to be loud 🙈

He’s into making sex videos and photos. In his wallet he a has a couple photos of you that he keeps tucked away.

I don’t imagine him being into subbing… like at all 😭

Fred’s also more of an ass guy than George, but he loves all of your body(especially in lingerie).

He gets sooo turned on by mutual masturbation and cuckolding. He also really likes bath sex.

Asides from mutual masturbation he doesn’t actually jack off a lot, but he loves the thought of you getting off. He’s definitely watched or listened to you when you didn’t know at least twice.

He’s a sucker for the ‘step-’ trope 🤭

[agreeewrites]

part four is up!! ❤️‍🔥

A Madness Most Discreet

feat. George Weasley x Malfoy!reader

"Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs; being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes; being vexed, a sea nourished with lovers’ tears. What is it else? A madness most discreet, a choking gall, and a preserving sweet." - William Shakespeare, "Romeo and Juliet"

summary: You are the beloved and sheltered eldest daughter of the Malfoy family. You've spent your life tucked safely away in the walls of the Manor, but for your final year of schooling, your father decides to send you to the esteemed Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, under the protection of your younger brother, Draco.

Finally, you have a chance to be a normal girl.

But who else captures your attention the moment you arrive but George Weasley, the one person you have no business getting involved with. As tensions rise and war looms on the horizon, it's only a matter of time before these violent delights meet their violent ends.

cw: mdni 18+, smut, abuse, dark themes, angst, war, forbidden love

inspired by these requests: 1, 2, 3, and 4 | divider by @roseraris

part one

part two

masterlist

part three

part four

more to come...

[s4turns-st4rs]

you’ve been my favourite for a long time !

🎧 ﹐ ♡﹒george weasley headcannons﹒ ᶻ ᶻ

𝐚/𝐧: i made one of these a while back, but i had a few more ideas and the old one sucked. anyway, enjoy lovelies xxx

requests are always open <3

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: none!

𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠: favourite - fontaines dc

𖦹 goofiest socks ever. always mismatched with different prints - current favourite is one leopard print and one with avocados in christmas hats.

𖦹 LOVES muggle romcoms. will see any couple in a functioning relationship and poke you on the shoulder. “they’re so us.”

𖦹 collects EVERYTHING. he is the ultimate hoarder.

𖦹 reads aloud. no one knows why. he just feels the need to let everyone know about his astronomy homework i guess.

𖦹 his sleeves are always rolled up. you don’t mind (his forearms are so hot).

𖦹 is always biting his nails. if he’s nervous, bored or whatever. his nails are bitten right down to the skin. but he lovesss having you paint them.

𖦹 obviously we’ve established he’s a needy freak. constantly hands somewhere on you. not necessarily sexually, mind you, but still very contact heavy.

𖦹 ESPECIALLY. kissing you. anywhere he can manage. lips, cheeks, neck, hands, waist, jawline, hips, thighs, ANYWHERE.

𖦹 loves setting up dorky fun dates for the two of you. cooking, arcades, study dates, cinema, and ANY else you can think of. all of it seems straight out of some muggle rom-com— oh, okay. you know where he gets the ideas from now.

𖦹 obsessed with all the cute coupley stuff!! will call you any nickname under the sun. the more you blush, the better.

𖦹 loves giving GIFTS. has a list of emergency gifts for you just in case. brings flowers on every date!!

𖦹 most teachers love you (obviously excluding snape), but all of them have had to ask george to control himself in class, at least once. although mcgonagall is firmly betting on the two of you marrying the moment after you graduate.

𖦹 LOVES having you at the burrow. something about you being in his space, with his family … his possessive streak is kicking in again.

𖦹 but don’t worry, his family doesn’t miss out on the excessive pda either. he’s constantly squeezing your thigh under the table, dragging you to sit on his lap, playing with your jewellery.

𖦹 any way, any how and any place, george will make sure everyone knows you’re his.

[ravenclaws-stuff]

hiii I wanted to put in a request for Weasley Boys event you have! The prompt I landed on was “Date night”!! And I was wondering if you could do George X Ravenclaw Fem Reader if possible?

Thank you so much!! <3

Thank you so much. I love George so much. He's my favorite Weasley (don't tell the others). I really hope you like it.

Tags: date night, series of bad events but George makes it all better, fluff, brief self confidence issues

Tonight was supposed to be perfect.

After crushing on George Weasley for ages, your dream has finally come true. While working on your potions paper, he walked up to your table with a lopsided grin. Right there in the middle of the library, he asked you out in front of the bookstacks. The day you dreamed of ever since the first time you saw the Gryffindor play his first quidditch game. You could recall the cocky smile as he hit the Slytherin seeker right off their broom. So when he asked, you simply nodded.

Tonight was supposed to be perfect.

Your dress. Absolutely breathtaking on the hanger in Gladrags, now looks mediocre on your body. And to top it off, the bloody zipper broke. Bad Omen. I knew I should have read my tea leaves before saying yes to this bloody date. Quickly finally finding your wand, you fix the zipper. You look over the dress in the mirror, before shrugging. This will have to do for now.

Tonight was supposed to be perfect.

He was late. George Weasley was late to the date he asked you on. You stood in front of the Great Hall just like you agreed upon. Twenty seven minutes passed and there was still no sight of him. Three more minutes. Three more minutes and if he's not here, you’ll leave. You tell yourself, pushing down the fear that this was all an elaborate prank. The popular quidditch player from Gryffindor asking out the shy ravenclaw. Who wouldn’t get a kick out of it?

The thought gets cut off as footsteps thunder down down the hall. Your eyes stay glued to the floor, knowing you wouldn’t be able to handle the disappointment if it wasn’t him.

Purple converse stops in my line of sight. “I-i” George pants. “I am extremely sorry, dove. Fred and I were working on a thing, brilliant really but it trapped us in our dorm for almost three hours.” His hand cups your cheek, titling your head up. “I promise I would never stand you up.” George mumbles, as if he could see what you were thinking. Maybe you had it painted all over your face. “Its okay. Not like you knew that it would happen.” He shakes his head. “Suppose you could use it on the Slytherin common room. Or,” your face lights up. “Snape’s office.” George chuckles, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “I knew there was a reason I liked you, dove.���

Tonight was supposed to be perfect.

Three Broomsticks, a very popular pub in Hogsmeade. Rarely closed on weekends for students, but as if the universe had something against you, it was closed. You sigh, trying to not let this get you down. “Oh well.” George say, shrugging as if this wasn’t a big deal. You nod, letting your eyes fall down to the ground.

“Dove,” George says, not letting me succumb to my thoughts. “Don’t let this get to you. We can go to Honeydukes and buy all the candy we can stuff ourselves with.” You giggle, reaching out to push the hair out of his eyes. “Only if we can go to Tomes and Scrolls afterward.” George hums, acting like he was thinking about it. “I guess we could manage that. Maybe we could stop in Zonkos after that too.” You nod, pulling him by the arm to follow. “Alright let’s go. I need more acid pops anyway.”

Tonight was supposed to be perfect.

You and George managed to walk out of Honeydukes with more candy than you could eat in a month. George being the gentleman he was, offered to carry your bag for you. So as you were crossing the cobblestone road, you on one arm, the candy bags on the other, a droplet fell onto your nose. “What?” You whisper,causing George to look at you weirdly. “Talking to yourself, dove? Am I not good enough company?” You start to shake your head when a loud thunder freezes you in your spot. “No, no, no.” You chant as the rain starts to pour, ultimately ruining your outfit. “What’s wrong?” You squint, looking up at George.

You decide at that moment, you hate him. His copper hair plastered to his forehead. Raindrops collect on his eyelashes like fresh dew in the early morning. It is not fair he looks like a god from the stories your mum used to tell you when you were younger. “What is ruined?” You sigh, pushing the hair out of your face. “Our date.”

The frown on his face looks so out of place. “H-how?” You point to the sky as if that was enough explanation. George chuckles before putting both the bags onto the ground. “Come ‘ere dove.” He takes your hand, pulling you flush against his body. Then without a word, he sways us to a beat only he could hear. “George?” You ask breathlessly. George simply shakes his head. “Just trust me.” You nod, letting the tension fall from your shoulders. George twirls you, trapping you in his arms, back pressed against his chest. “Not going to let a little rain ruin my date with the prettiest girl in the castle.” George mumbles, resting his head in the crook of your shoulder.

Tonight was absolutely perfect, as long as he was beside you.

[tsukimirecs]

GRYFFINDOR BOYS

note: remember to read the tags! + i do not own any of these works

FRED WEASLEY

mad woman

cupid crystals

a special friend

recovering a life

deep breath

strawberry letters

date after date

SIRIUS BLACK

complimentary quills

just a natural fact

brighten your days

black dog neighbour

padfoot

HARRY POTTER

harry potter and the long-lost beach episode

harry potter and the late-night company

potter love

gifts

green-eyed idiot

romancing professor potter

CHARLIE WEASLEY

creative writing class

favourites

taming the dragon tamer

lucky charm

let's pretend

GEORGE WEASLEY

heart-to-heart chase

beating a weasley

well-meaning deceit

see you again

it's definitely you

coming home

[rottenherbs]

Ink-Stained Mischief

Pairings: G.W x Ravenclaw! Reader

Summary: You’re a Ravenclaw student who works in the library after hours, helping Madam Pince restore damaged books and organize restricted section materials. You’re known for your quiet nature, your sharp tongue when provoked, and your ink-stained fingertips. George Weasley is, predictably, a frequent library nuisance—sneaking in after hours for pranks, secret D.A. meetings, or to charm the books into doing anything but behave.

W/C: 3.7k

A/N: after writing this i prayed and tried so hard to lucid dream in Hogwarts lmaoooo. Didn’t work… only happens once in a blue moon.

[masterlist]

Much love, Saige

The library was silent, save for the soft, rhythmic scratch of your quill. It was late—long after most students had vanished back to their common rooms—but you liked it that way. No one to bump into the table, no one to smudge the carefully restored ink, no one to ask if you were still here like it was strange to enjoy solitude more than the common room’s chaos.

You dipped the quill again and continued tracing the damaged runes on the corner of a delicate, centuries-old manuscript. The parchment shimmered faintly, the ink repairing itself under your careful touch. Madam Pince had trusted you with this one—an honor, even if most students would rather scrub cauldrons than sit with dusty spellbooks.

The peace didn’t last.

A soft click echoed from the far side of the room. You froze. Not a clock. A door latch. Your brow furrowed as you set your quill down, the hairs on the back of your neck rising.

“Pince?” you called warily.

No answer.

You stood, cautiously peering around the corner toward the Restricted Section. A flicker of red—a Weasley red—ducked behind a shelf, followed by a muffled snort of laughter.

Your eye twitched. Of course.

You rounded the shelf with your arms crossed. “Weasley.”

George froze mid-step, a glowing Extendable Ear in one hand, the other clutching a small pouch that definitely wasn’t regulation. He looked up at you with mock innocence and a flash of that charming, roguish smile.

“Well, well. If it isn’t Ravenclaw’s resident library ghost,” he said cheerfully. “Do you ever leave this place?”

“Do you ever not break into it?”

“You wound me. I’m just here for academic enrichment.”

You glanced at the pouch. “That’s a Decoy Detonator.”

He tucked it behind his back. “It’s for… Divination.”

“Get out before I hex you.”

“I’d leave, love, I really would, but I might’ve… accidentally set off a Sticky Charm on the back exit.”

You groaned.

George smiled wider. “Which means, lucky you—we’re stuck here together. Just you, me, and about six dozen ways Madam Pince will murder us if we break so much as a spine.”

You resisted the urge to curse under your breath.

This was going to be a long night.

—-

You turned on your heel, stalking back to your table. “Fine. Do what you want, but if you break anything, I’m not cleaning it up.”

George followed like a stray Kneazle, entirely too pleased with himself. “Oh, come on, where’s your sense of adventure?”

“Left it somewhere between ‘don’t touch that’ and ‘please stop setting off smoke bombs in the Charms corridor.’”

He let out a bark of laughter. “That was Fred, actually. I only set the books on fire.”

You shot him a look over your shoulder. “Charming.”

“I try.”

You dropped into your seat with a sigh and pulled the manuscript back toward you. The runes were beginning to fade again—of course they were—because the spell only held if you stayed focused. You took a deep breath and recast the stasis charm, ignoring the redhead leaning far too close over your shoulder.

“You do realize that if Madam Pince catches you in here, she’ll ban you from even looking at books for the rest of the year.”

George let out a dramatic gasp. “That’s the harshest threat I’ve ever heard. You say that to all the boys?”

“Only the ones who mistake the library for their personal joke shop.”

He grinned, but you didn’t look up. He was clearly trying to rile you, and you had no intention of giving him the satisfaction. You dipped your quill again, carefully outlining a corner of the page that had nearly crumbled into dust.

Behind you, George wandered between the shelves, whistling a tune that sounded suspiciously like the Hogwarts school song—only off-key, and slightly mournful, like a funeral dirge for academic peace.

“Do you ever shut up?” you asked calmly, not bothering to look up.

“No, but I appreciate the optimism.”

A loud thump echoed behind you.

You jerked upright. “What was that?!”

George peeked his head around the shelf with the guiltiest expression you’d ever seen on a human face.

“I was testing gravity.”

You stood slowly. “Did you just knock over the stack of enchanted bestiaries?”

“They might have knocked me over, actually. Hard to say. Bit of a gray area.”

You pushed past him and crouched to examine the pile. “These are cursed to bite when disrespected.”

As if on cue, a massive leather-bound volume titled Predatory Plants and Where They Might Hide Your Bones snapped open and chomped at the air.

George yelped and jumped back. “Bloody—okay, okay, lesson learned.”

You scooped up the books—gently—and recast the soft-binding spell to keep their pages from twitching. When you looked up again, George was watching you with a curious tilt of his head, the usual mischief in his eyes slightly softened.

“What?” you asked warily.

He shrugged. “Nothing. Just… you really care about this stuff, don’t you?”

You hesitated. “Someone has to.”

The pause that followed was the quietest he’d been since entering the room.

Then: “Still doesn’t explain why you like parchment fumes and ancient curses more than people.”

You looked up at him. “Because parchment fumes don’t talk back.”

His grin returned in full force. “Ah. So you do like me.”

You stood and brushed your hands off. “I tolerate you.”

“That’s practically a declaration of love, coming from you.”

You rolled your eyes and turned back toward the table.

Behind you, George said, with exaggerated cheer: “I can’t wait for our next romantic rendezvous. Same time next week?”

You didn’t answer, but your lips twitched as you sat down.

George didn’t leave. Not right away.

——

George was balancing a quill behind his ear and pretending to read Magical Mishaps and Mayhem: A Guide to Catastrophic Casting upside-down when the door creaked open. You both froze.

There were very few sounds in the world as terrifying as the slow, sharp click of Madam Irma Pince’s boots echoing against the stone floor. They were the sound of judgment. Of doom. Of overdue book fines.

You didn’t look up. Maybe if you stayed perfectly still, she’d miss you.

No such luck.

Her voice sliced through the air like a Severing Charm.

“Weasley.”

George sat up straighter. “Madam Pince. Lovely night, isn’t it? You’ve done wonders with the—er—dust.”

You winced.

Her eyes narrowed, lips pressed into a line so thin you were sure it violated some magical law. “Explain. Yourself.”

You opened your mouth—surely it was better you explained—when George jumped in like a knight charging headfirst into dragon fire.

“Well, I was doing a bit of late-night studying. You know, as one does. Putting in the extra effort. N.E.W.T.s, and all that. Very stressful.”

Madam Pince’s eyebrow arched dangerously.

“Also, I may have set off a minor charm in the Transfiguration aisle. Nothing serious! Only one book bit me.”

You smacked your forehead with your palm.

She turned to you slowly. “And you allowed this?”

Your mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. “I didn’t allow anything, he just—he broke in!”

“Technically I just stuck around,” George added helpfully. “For the ambiance.”

Pince ignored him. “Miss [Last Name], I expect better judgment from you. This is not a playground. It is a temple of knowledge.”

George, ever the agent of chaos, whispered, “You hear that? You’re a temple nun now.”

You elbowed him.

Madam Pince was already walking away, muttering spells under her breath. Shelves creaked and quivered, some rearranging themselves in what looked like a defensive formation.

She turned back around. “Mr. Weasley, since you’ve made such a mess of my library, you’ll be reporting here every Tuesday and Thursday evening until further notice.”

George blinked. “Every—? Wait, what?”

“And you,” she said, pointing a long, ink-stained finger at you, “will be supervising him.”

“What?” you said at the exact same time as George, though yours was more horrified and his was more delighted.

“You were already working here. Consider this… an additional responsibility.” Her voice dropped ominously. “Or I can revoke your special access and let you explain to Professor Flitwick why one of his prized manuscripts now has bite marks.”

You went very still. “I’ll supervise him.”

Madam Pince smiled—a rare, grim thing—then disappeared back into her office, the door slamming shut behind her like the ending of a funeral march.

George turned to you, beaming.

“Well, this is romantic. It’s practically fate.”

You gave him the coldest glare you could muster.

“Touch anything, and I will personally let the books eat you.”

His grin only widened. “Now I have to come back.”

———

Tuesday evening arrived far too quickly for your liking.

The library was dim, the sun dipping low enough that the enchanted sconces flickered to life along the stone walls. You’d already set out the materials for the night’s task: a small stack of damaged Transfiguration texts charred around the edges, courtesy of a poorly cast combustion charm—not yours, for once.

You were halfway through a stasis spell when the door creaked open. You didn’t look up.

“You’re late.”

“Fashionably,” came the smug reply.

George Weasley strolled in like he owned the place. Shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows, a quill tucked behind one ear, and a smugness that could set off protective enchantments by sheer proximity.

“You brought snacks,” you noted flatly, eyeing the crumpled paper bag in his hand.

“Bribery,” he said with a wink. “Can’t supervise me on an empty stomach.”

You ignored the way your mouth betrayed you with the tiniest twitch. “Food isn’t allowed in the library.”

“Right, right—then I guess I’ll just have to hide it in the Restricted Section.”

“George.”

“Don’t worry, love, I’m here to work.”

He dropped into the chair across from you and promptly leaned back, feet propped on the edge of the table like it was the Gryffindor common room.

You didn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, you slid a burned copy of Intermediate Transfigurations across the table. “Start with this one. Try the cleansing charm first—slowly. If the ink fades, you’ve cast it too hard.”

He took the book gingerly, blinking at the crisp black scorch marks. “Merlin’s beard. Who lit this on fire?”

You looked up. “You did. Last month. You and Fred tried to see if a self-inking quill could write in midair.”

“…Oh yeah. That was a good day.”

You snorted before you could stop yourself.

He caught it instantly, eyes gleaming. “Did you just laugh?”

“I sneezed.”

“You absolutely did not—”

“I sneezed, George.”

He looked smug. “I knew I’d break you eventually.”

You shook your head, but your focus slipped for just long enough that the runes on your parchment sparked and fizzled. You cursed under your breath and reached for your wand, muttering a stabilizing incantation as the spellbook trembled in warning.

George watched, eyebrows raised.

“You know,” he said, more quietly, “you’re really good at this.”

You glanced up, startled by the sincerity. “It’s just magic repair.”

“Yeah, but you treat the books like they matter. Like you respect them. Most people don’t bother.”

Your fingers paused on the edge of the page.

“I like things that can be fixed,” you said softly. “Even if they’re a bit scorched.”

George didn’t say anything for a moment. He just looked at you with a strange, unreadable expression—one that didn’t suit his usual mischief.

Then he reached for his wand, gave it a little flourish, and attempted the cleansing charm. It sparked… sputtered… and promptly caused the page to curl inward with a horrible crinkling sound.

You winced.

George froze. “That… wasn’t supposed to happen, was it?”

You slowly slid the book away from him. “No.”

He scratched the back of his neck, sheepish. “I’ll do better Thursday?”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’ll do better in five minutes.”

He groaned. “You’re relentless.”

You smirked just enough to surprise him. “And you’re stubborn. Let’s see who wins.”

George leaned forward, rested his chin on his hand, and grinned like you’d just declared a duel.

“Oh, I’m counting on it.”

——-

Thursday night crept in quietly, blanketing the castle in its usual hush. By now, the routine should’ve felt familiar—parchment spread, runes gleaming faintly under your wandlight, dust motes dancing in the air like magic caught mid-breath.

But tonight, something felt different. He was late.

You told yourself you didn’t care. That it was better this way. You’d get more done without his incessant commentary or the way he leaned across the table like the rules of personal space didn’t apply to him. Without the too-easy grin that stayed with you long after he left.

You were halfway through restoring a page on transfigurative ethics when the door creaked open.

George stepped in quietly, his usual swagger softened at the edges. No paper bag. No dramatic entrance. Just… George. A little windblown, curls messy, and a smudge of ink already on his knuckle.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said, and it sounded genuine.

You blinked. “You’re never sorry.”

He dropped into the chair across from you, pulling the next damaged book toward him. “Maybe I’m evolving.”

You hummed in disbelief but didn’t argue. Instead, you pushed a small cloth toward him. “Ink.”

He looked down at his hand. “Ah. War wound.”

You rolled your eyes. “Try not to lose a limb tonight.”

“No promises.”

For a while, you worked in near-silence.

You guided him through the first two spells again—slower this time, correcting his wrist movement once with a surprisingly gentle touch. He didn’t flinch, didn’t joke. Just watched you with those warm, amber-brown eyes that never seemed to miss anything.

He tried again. Still not perfect, but better. The edge of the page uncurled without blackening. Progress.

You nodded once. “Not bad.”

George beamed like you’d handed him an award.

“Don’t get cocky,” you added.

“Oh, I live in cocky,” he said, but the bite was missing. He was watching you again, like he was cataloguing something quieter than usual. “You’re different when it’s quiet.”

You didn’t look up. “So are you.”

He leaned in slightly, his voice softer now. “You don’t really hate me, do you?”

You paused, quill hovering above the parchment. Slowly, you met his eyes.

“No,” you admitted, your voice low. “But you make it very easy to consider.”

He grinned, but it was more thoughtful than smug. “I’ll take that.”

A few more minutes passed. The silence between you wasn’t awkward—it was measured, heavy with something unsaid. George flipped through another page, carefully testing the cleansing charm again. This time, it worked.

You raised an eyebrow. “That was… correct.”

He feigned a dramatic gasp. “Praise? From you?”

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Oh, I already have it framed in my mind.”

You shook your head, hiding the smile that threatened to escape.

Then: “Why are you actually trying tonight?”

George didn’t answer right away. He toyed with the corner of the parchment, then looked up, all jokes stripped away.

“Because I figured… if I have to be here, I might as well earn it.”

You blinked. “Earn what?”

He didn’t smile this time.

“Your time.”

The air shifted.

Your heart stuttered—just once—and you looked back down at your notes too quickly.

“Well,” you said after a moment, voice quieter than you meant it to be, “you’ve still got a long way to go.”

George leaned back, arms folded behind his head, but his eyes never left yours.

“Good,” he said. “I’ve got time.”

——-

The corridors between classes were always chaos—fluttering robes, shouted goodbyes, hurried footsteps echoing off ancient stone. You moved through it all like a thread through a needle, slipping between groups with practiced ease, arms full of returned library books for Madam Pince.

You hadn’t seen George since Thursday night.

Not that you were looking for him, exactly. Just… aware. Hyper-aware, maybe, of the red hair that popped up in crowds, the easy laughter around corners, the faint smell of powdered sugar and mischief whenever he was near.

You turned a corner and—

Wham.

Books hit the floor. Your shoulder collided with something solid. You barely had time to yelp before warm hands caught your arms to steady you.

“Well, well,” said that unmistakable voice. “If I’d known you’d literally fall for me, I’d have planned this run-in sooner.”

You looked up, heartbeat doing a weird little flutter as you met George Weasley’s lopsided grin. He was flushed from walking fast—probably late for something, as usual—and his tie was askew like he’d only just remembered to wear it.

“Your ego is astounding,” you muttered, bending to gather your books.

George crouched down beside you. “And yet, you’re still not immune to it.”

You shot him a look, but your fingers brushed his as you both reached for the same book. Of Wands and Willpower. You pulled your hand back instinctively.

He didn’t say anything, just handed it to you with a faint smile. Less smirk, more soft.

“You weren’t in the library last night,” he said, almost too casually.

“I wasn’t scheduled,” you replied, straightening up. “And you were… what, disappointed?”

He tilted his head. “Maybe.”

Your heart did another one of those traitorous skips.

He stood, brushing dust off his trousers. “I had to repair a cursed poetry book without your terrifying supervision. Nearly got sonnets tattooed on my face.”

“Tragic,” you said, but your lips twitched.

He grinned wider, then took a small step closer. “So… will I see you tonight?”

You hesitated. You weren’t supposed to look forward to these nights. You weren’t supposed to notice the way he looked at you now—not like a prank waiting to happen, but like a secret worth keeping.

“If you don’t set anything on fire,” you said finally, “maybe.”

His eyes lit up.

Then, from behind him, someone called out—Angelina, you thought. George glanced over his shoulder, then back at you.

“Duty calls,” he said. “But I’ll try not to burn anything down.”

You lifted a brow. “Try harder.”

He laughed, already backing away. “You like me.”

You rolled your eyes and turned away before he could see the way your smile betrayed you.

——

It was supposed to be the last night. One final shift, one last round of “supervising” George Weasley before the punishment hours ran out and he could return to a life of setting things on fire without your interference.

You told yourself that was a good thing.

The library was nearly empty, the candles burning low, casting long shadows across the tables. You were already halfway through repairing the index of a torn spellbook when you heard the door creak open.

You didn’t look up.

“You’re on time,” you said instead.

George’s voice came quieter than usual. “Didn’t want to miss the finale.”

You glanced up then. He wasn’t smirking. No jokes, no paper bag of contraband snacks. Just George—serious, unreadable, eyes watching you like he was memorizing something he wasn’t sure he’d get to keep.

He moved to the table, dragging the chair out slower than usual. Sat across from you. Quietly. Carefully. Like he didn’t want to break the air between you.

You passed him the final book, the one with the ink-bleeding hex that had never been properly reversed. “Don’t overdo the charm. Less pressure than last time.”

He nodded.

For the first time, he didn’t speak unless he had to. You worked in tandem, silent except for the gentle flick of pages and the occasional hum of a spell settling over parchment. It should’ve been peaceful.

But the silence felt taut. Fragile. Electric.

You could feel him watching you when you weren’t looking. And when you were looking, his gaze never quite left your hands.

The last book closed with a soft thud.

“That’s it,” you said quietly. “We’re done.”

George looked at the book like it had personally offended him.

“Huh.”

You waited.

He didn’t move.

After a moment, he leaned back in his chair and said, “So this is where you say you’ll be relieved to never see me here again.”

You opened your mouth. Then closed it.

That wasn’t what you wanted to say at all.

Instead, you said, “I don’t think you’re as much of a menace as you pretend to be.”

George raised an eyebrow. “No? That’s a dangerous thought.”

You looked at him. Really looked at him. The soft curve of his smile, the shadows under his eyes from too many sleepless nights, the little freckle just beneath his jaw. He looked back like he was waiting for something.

You stood slowly and crossed to his side of the table, gathering the stack of restored books into your arms.

He didn’t move. Just watched you, brows lifted slightly in question. “You’re standing very close.”

“I’m stacking the books,” you said, but your voice was too soft. Too breathless.

He tilted his head. “You’re shaking.”

You looked down at your hands. You were.

The air between you was molten now, heavy with every almost and every silence that had hung too long. You didn’t even realize how close you’d gotten until your elbow brushed his, until your breath caught and he didn’t move away.

“You’ve been driving me mad,” you whispered.

George’s smile curled into something softer. “I was starting to think you’d never admit it.”

His hand found the edge of the table beside yours. He didn’t touch you, not quite—but his pinky was so close it made your skin burn. And then, finally, finally, he leaned forward just enough that your foreheads almost touched.

You weren’t sure who leaned in first.

The moment held—delicate and razor-sharp—just inches apart. His breath ghosted against your lips.

But the door creaked open.

You both froze. A soft cough echoed from behind a nearby shelf. A student. Late return.

George didn’t look away from you. Not yet.

But he smiled, low and knowing. “Saved by the bell, yeah?”

You swallowed. “Maybe next time.”

He leaned back, slow and reluctant. “You keep saying that.”

You stared after him as he left. His hand brushed yours—just once, deliberately—before he turned the corner and disappeared into the shadows of the corridor.

You were still standing there when the candle beside you finally flickered out.

[raven-dor]

george weasley gets caught dozing off - drabble #1

established relationship, fluff, heavy flirting, fluffy fluff word count: 561

You hadn't noticed at first how tired your boyfriend truly was. You believed him when he said he wanted to focus on his new product and that he needed to test it as soon as possible.

You'd asked him for the time, silence meeting you. You looked up from your book, preparing to tease him for ignoring you, when a light snore broke your silence. You smiled to yourself, finding it sweet the way his head was drooping over his chest, hair all disheveled from the hours of work prior.

You were going to let him sleep, to finally rest, but upon further inspection of his position, you were sure he wasn't comfortable. You put your book down on the coffee table, sat beside him, and whispered, "Georgie."

Nothing. You giggled, placing your hand on his cheek and caressing it gently. "Come on, love. Let's get you to bed, yeah?"

He groaned, shaking his head and leaning into your arms. You beamed, raking your fingers through his hair. "You'll hate yourself in the morning, you know. Your back will ache and-"

"Just-" He sighed, eyes peeling open. "One second, I'll be up in one second."

"Georgie, I think you've worked enough." You couldn't help but find this whole scene endearing; it was like a child trying to stay up all night to see Santa. "Come on."

He sat up, eyes wide as if trying to prove he could stay awake. "I'm awake. I'm awake."

"Alright." You raised your hands in surrender. "If you say so."

Grabbing your book off the table, you opened back to where you'd left off, deciding to stay beside him on the couch. George kept tinkering, kept working, your thighs side by side, until once again, he dozed off.

Enough was enough, you told yourself. Tucking your book in the crook of your arm, you stood up, holding his hand in yours. "Come to bed, Weasley. I won't ask again." He jolted awake, sleep still etched on his face. "Love-"

"George." Your voice was stern, uncompromising. "You work harder than anyone I know. Can you just-" You sighed. "Can you take a break? Can you come to bed?"

"You're worried about me." He wiggled his eyebrows. "You shouldn't be, you know." Standing up alongside you, he swung his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close.

"It's my job to worry about you." You murmured. "You always do this, George. It's not good for you to sleep on the couch. Beds were made for a reason."

"Take a breath, love." He laughed, opening the door to his dorm. "I want the shop to be-"

"Perfect." You raised an eyebrow. "Trust me, it will be. You two are geniuses; it'll all work out."

"You're just saying that." He teased, pulling you toward his bed. You allowed it, finding solace in his hold, cheeks burning from the way he stared at you. "When this shop's open, you'll be eating your words."

You scoffed. "What words? I just-"

"Shh." Placing a finger over your lips, he pulled you into his chest, sleep seizing him almost immediately. "I'm trying to sleep, love."

You laughed, nuzzling closer to him, as close as you could, your eyes drooping shut. "I love you."

"Love you too." His kiss was light, like air, your forehead warm from his touch, his leg draping over yours. "Goodnight."

[theyloveniahhhhh]

Right now i need a fat blunt in between my lips a twisted tea in my left hand and a hot 6'5 short tempered man in the right hand and then i just maybe i can go to sleep

[theshamelesssimp]

When the fanfic becomes too much so I have to pause and take a break before I continue

[mssorceressupreme]

Hate and Love | F.W

———

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

Summary: in the mission of transporting Harry safely to the Burrow, you and Fred get thrown off-track as his broom breaks, resulting in an overnight detour at a hotel.

Warnings/content: minors DNI 18+, halfblood!reader, One Bed Trope, enemies to lovers, boner!alert, oral!freceiving, p in v, grumpy x sunshine (if u squint), raw penetration (wrap it plz), cumming inside, orgasm denial, fluffy ending, fighting death eaters, dom!fred, sub!reader

Wordcount: 5.8k

———

You stood near the wall, arms crossed, in the house of number four Privet Drive, the place where it all began for one of your closest friends, Harry Potter. The group of you were gathered in the empty living room, discussing the highly dangerous plan of transporting Harry safely to the Burrow.

Beside you stood the twins, listening intently as Mad-Eye Moody instructed orders.

Seven of them had just taken polyjuice potion, resulting in seven 'Harry's', all in accordance with Moody's plan.

“Right then, we’ll be pairing off. Each ‘Potter’ will have a protector and to make it simpler for you, I'll choose the pairs.” His mismatched eyes scanned the group, assigning pairs, and an aggravating pit settled in your stomach once Moody called out your name, “Y/N, you're with Fred.”

Your head snapped toward Fred, who groaned audibly.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” He muttered, but George nudged him softly, urging him to be tolerable while they changed out of their regular clothes.

“Yeah yeah, happy to be paired up with you too.” you rolled your eyes, the sarcasm in your tone apparent.

Fred and you had never gotten along. Since your days at Hogwarts, the two of you had been like oil and water—always at odds. He thought you were too uptight, too rule-abiding, while you found him utterly insufferable, reckless, and far too smug for his own good.

But for Harry, you’d endure today. He'd done a great deal to help you throughout your years at Hogwarts, so it was only fair of you to return the favour.

“Head for the Burrows, we’ll rendezvous there!” Moody finished. The room stirred with movement as everyone prepared for what was to come.

Outside, the night air was cool as you mounted Fred’s broom behind him. The scent of his cologne, something warm and woodsy, hit your nose, and you hated that you thought it smelled decent, inhaling a bit more. You hesitated for a moment before wrapping your arms around his waist, well, 'Harry's' waist.

Fred stiffened slightly at your touch, “Don’t get too comfortable back there.”

“Oh, believe me, I won’t.”

Before you could snap back another remark, he kicked off into the sky, soaring above London, splitting up from the others.

Everything was eerily silent for a few moments. The flight seemed too smooth for your liking. You kept an alert eye, constantly scanning your surroundings.

You caught a shadow in the corner of your eye, and you whipped your head around, squinting your eyes at the figure in the dark.

"What the..." You muttered.

"Fred go faster...." You ordered, losing sight of the shadowy figure.

"Why don't you come fly the broom then." He retorted, clearly annoyed.

"Fred! I"m serious!" You yelled, gripping his waist tighter, as he exhaled before picking up the pace.

"In case you forgot, I need to be able to breathe to fly this thing properly." He grunted as you practically squeezed every breath out of him.

"Right, sorry," You loosened your grip ever so slightly, "...it's just, I swear I saw something."

You turned around again, catching a glimpse of a shadowy figure. The shadow was no longer a mystery figure but a person, or, three people rather.

Death Eaters.

"Oh shit! Fred! They're here!" You took your wand out and began fighting with them.

Spells shot through the night, streaks of green and blue illuminating the sky like a twisted fireworks display. The death eaters had appeared out of nowhere, zooming in, attacking viciously as they trailed behind you on their brooms.

“They’re following us!” you shouted over the wind, turning back around to gauge Fred.

“Oh, really? Thought we were just out for a lovely evening flight,” he shot back sarcastically, dodging a hex just in time.

You rolled your eyes but focused on firing spells behind you, hitting one death eater square in the chest and sending him spiralling downward.

"Stupefy!" You shouted, casting the second death eater off his broom. Two down, one to go.

Just as you felt a moment of victory, another spell whizzed past, striking the broom.

The wood splintered with a sickening crack. "Uhh, Fred?" You called out, glancing at the broom.

“Hold on—” Fred barely got the words out before the broom snapped completely, and the two of you plummeted toward the Thames River.

You hit the water hard, the impact knocking the wind out of you. You kicked frantically, breaking the surface and gasping for air. The coolness of the water had your body in shock, shivering as you forced yourself to stay afloat.

Fred emerged a second later, coughing.

Glancing above, you saw the third death eater laughing maliciously as he flew off, leaving you and Fred. He must've figured it wasn't the real Harry, given that you called him 'Fred'.

“Great! Look what you’ve done!” you accused, treading water furiously.

“What I’ve done?! That was you—you were supposed to be fighting them off!” he retorted, his wet hair plastered to his forehead. He had transformed back into his original self, the fiery redhead Fred you knew.

You groaned, swimming toward the embankment where a set of stone stairs led to dry land. Your fingers were frozen as you pulled yourself up, collapsing onto the pavement. Fred followed, shaking out his drenched hair like a dog.

“Brilliant. Just brilliant,” you muttered, clutching one-half of the broken broom while he had the other. “Now how are we supposed to get to the others?”

Fred sighed, pushing his hair back. “Let’s just go somewhere dry first.”

You nodded begrudgingly, too cold and exhausted to argue.

When you emerged from the river, it was given that pedestrians would stare at the two of you strangely. Swimming in the Thames River wasn't exactly the most normal thing to do, let alone at this hour.

Though, in this particular instance, more of them were starring at you, rather than Fred.

Fred cleared his throat, eyes darting down to your chest then back up before averting his eyes immediately.

You furrowed your brows, glancing down, only to remember that you were wearing a white shirt along with the worst possible undergarment to pair with it, a black bra.

You felt your cheeks heat up, as you covered your chest, "Let's just go..."

Fred shook his head, taking off the grey jacket he wore and putting it over you, "Here."

Though still wet, it offered the coverage you much needed and you were entirely grateful. "Thanks." You muttered softly, as you two began walking.

"Figured you wouldn't want to walk around flashing the whole of London."

The two of you walked in silence as you tried to figure out a way to get to the others. “We can apparate—” he started.

“Absolutely not. There are muggles everywhere,” you snapped, nodding to the late-night pedestrians strolling along the streets.

Fred scoffed, shooting you an eye-roll. “Alright, Professor McGonagall.”

You ignored him, scanning the area. A small, dingy-looking hotel caught your eye. Without another word, you trudged toward it, Fred trailing behind. The receptionist, a bored-looking woman in her mid 40s, barely glanced up as you approached the desk.

The hotel looked cheap enough for an overnight stay. All you needed to do was clear your mind and get a good night's rest before figuring things out in the morning; yes, that sounded ideal to you right this moment.

“Two rooms, please,” you said firmly.

She tapped at the keyboard, chewing on some gum as she did so. “We’re fully booked.”

Your heart sank. “What about one room? With two beds?”

"Sorry, we're full." She continued typing, then clicking on the mouse as she looked around the screen, "It's peak season honey, we're always maxed out."

"Please you've got to have at least one room, with two beds, anything?" You pleaded, desperate for whatever you could acquire.

"We'll take whatever we can get, you've got to have something." Fred added, backing you up as he stood closer to you.

She checked again, then looked at you, eyes lighting up. “Ah, it seems that we do have one left with two beds, but the heating is broken, that's why we didn't offer it to customers. Actually, I was supposed to call the maintenance guy, but he's my ex, you see, so it's a bit of a rough story. I always thought he loved me, you know, how could someone not, I mean look at me? I'm gorgeous. He was supposed to come by today but we—”

"We'll take it!" Fred interjected swiftly, clearly exhausted. "Thank you."

Relief flooded you as you he paid with muggle money. You were surprised he even had some on hand, but after all, he was a businessman.

"Interesting, all this muggle stuff eh?" Fred mused, as you both entered the lift, his eyes darting around as he observed his surroundings.

"I suppose so, yeah. I guess I was lucky enough to be born a half-blood, you get the best of both worlds." You shrugged, as though hotels and 'muggle elevators' were the most natural thing in the world.

"Alright then, you lead the way, Ms expert." He mocked, gesturing for you to lead the way once the doors opened.

You scoff softly, marching down the hallway before finding your room number. Fred reaches seconds after you, looping his arm around your body to swipe the keycard.

He placed an arm on the door to open it, letting you in first before closing it after he entered.

But the moment you entered the room, your jaw dropped.

One bed.

“What? She said there were two beds.” You blinked, looking around the room in confusion.

“She must’ve meant the couch,” Fred said, nodding toward the small, lumpy-looking couch a few inches beside the bed, by the window.

You swallowed, “Right, well, who's sleeping where?” Honestly, at this point, you didn't even mind taking the couch, as long as you could get some rest.

Fred's eyes darted from the bed to the couch, exhaling exasperatedly before finally looking at you, "I'll take the couch."

"I didn't know Fred Weasley had manners?" You gasped, faking your amusement.

He shot you a glare, grabbing a towel as he did so, "Could you be any more aggravating?"

You tried to think of a witty comeback, something, anything to get a reaction out of him. But alas, you were lost for words. He did have a point though.

Come to think about it, you realised that you might've only been behaving this way because you were not used to him being so much of a...gentleman. This was foreign to you.

"I'll have the first shower." He shifts past you, nudging your shoulder, which sends heat through your bodies temporarily.

“Be my guest.”

You hear the lock shut, and seconds later, the water starts running.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, you took in your surroundings. This was no five-star hotel, but it was presentable and decent enough for an overnight stay. The walls are dark grey, with ambient lighting all around the room. Navy blue sheets grace the double bed, with a soft brown leather footer in contrast. There is a tea tray and a kettle, on top of the dark brown desk that sat in the corner of the room.

Minutes later, the door clicks and unlocks.

Fred steps out, a white towel hanging around his waist. His hair is wet, and his body glistening with water droplets. Your eyes couldn't help but drift down, his body was incredible defined, a stark contrast to your school days when he was merely a boy, now, he was a man.

Oh, he definitely works out. You noticed his arms, much larger and buffer than they used to be.

"All yours." He jerked his chin to the bathroom.

You gulped, brushing past him before hurriedly entering the bathroom and locking the door.

Wow, since when did Fred Weasley get so, attractive?

The hot water was a blessing, washing away the cold. You stood under the steamy shower for a couple of minutes, taking in as much warmth as you could.

With no new clothes to change into, you wrapped yourself in the plush hotel bathrobe, sighing in frustration. It appears there was only a kids sized one left, and you had no choice but to wear it. Whatever, it’ll do the job for tonight.

You hung your wet clothes on one of the bathroom racks, and you saw that Fred did the same, you placed your clothes beside his.

You were humming to yourself when you stepped out, relieved to be in some dry clothes, dancing a little as you strolled to the bed.

When he heard you walking, Fred glanced up, something flickering in his expression, though you're not quite sure what.

“That bathrobe is way too small for you." He remarks, laying with his legs out on the couch, two arms behind his head as he rests.

"What was I supposed to do, wear my wet clothes to sleep?" You respond as you hop into bed, tugging the covers and snuggling in.

"It could be an enlightening experience." He hummed, as he shut his eyes, adjusting himself on the couch.

"You try it then." You counter, scoffing at his idiocy.

The curtains are drawn, and the lights are dim. Silence fills the room as you both unwind for the evening. Before you shut the lights from the switch beside your bed, you call out, "I'm going to off the lights now, need anything before I turn them off?"

"Yeah actually..." He perks his head up, turning to face you.

"What?" You ask, listening keenly.

"For you to be quiet." A small smile played on his lips as he laid back down.

You rolled your eyes, before hitting the lights.

"Good night." He cooed.

You lay there, tossing and turning, but you couldn't seem to fall asleep for the life of you. It didn't help that the room was so cold, due to the heater being unfixed.

Minutes passed in silence before you turned your head slightly. Fred was stretched out on the tiny couch, his long legs dangling uncomfortably over the armrest.

It was evident that he was way too tall to fit on all that, he did not look the slightest bit comfortable.

“See something you like?” Fred smirked, feeling your stare though his eyes were shut.

“What? No! I was just—”

“Just what? Admiring this handsome face?”

"Honestly Fred, how conceited are you?" You sat up now, shooting daggers at him. As much as you hated to admit it, he was, in fact, handsome. Annoyingly so.

Truth be told, had he not been so irritating, you might've actually considered dating him.

You loved the Weasleys, Ginny was like a sister to you, Ron, your close friend, George, always on the lookout for you. He even took you down to Hogsmeade for a meal and bought you treats when you cried over one of the Slytherin boys rejecting you back in your fourth year.

But Fred, oh Fred, you could never see eye to eye with him. You only ever tolerated him because his family was so warm and welcoming.

A tiny part of you felt guilty that he was forced onto the couch, despite being the one that paid for the room.

You wanted to offer the place beside you to him, seeing that the bed was larger than anticipated once you were actually tucked in.

"Well you are staring, something you need?" He countered, his eyes are still shut, arms still behind his head.

"Well, I was thinking...." You hesitated, "well, you could sleep on the bed. It's actually more spacious than I thought."

His brows shot up, and he opened his eyes, turning to face you. “In the bed? With you?”

“Don’t make it weird, Fred,” you huffed. “The couch looks uncomfortable.”

"Are you, being nice to me?" He teased, the urge to take back your offer growing stronger.

"Don't make me change my mind, Weasley."

After a beat, he groaned. “Fine. But don’t hog the covers.”

"Please I sleep like a log, it's not like I'm going to cuddle you or anything."

"Cuddle me eh?" He mused.

"Not bloody likely, besides you're too annoying to be my type." You retort.

Fred stood up, walking to the other side of the bed. He slid in beside you, and the bed suddenly felt too small. You kept your back to him, but quickly got up and put one of the spare pillows between you.

"See this line? Don't cross it and you're good." You commanded, and he chuckled lightly,

"Alright alright." He raised in hands.

You turned away from him, back to him as you attempted to fall asleep. You hadn't realised how far you were from him, you were practically tipping over the edge of the bed.

You scooted inside a little, bumping into the pillow wall you put.

After what seemed like hours of tossing and turning, you sighed in defeat. The room was cold, and the blankets were not much help.

You couldn't help but wonder if you were the only one awake. You extended your arm behind you, trying to find the pillow 'wall' you had put up. But with all the tossing and turning from the two of you, the pillow must've slipped out of place and down the lower half of the bed somewhere.

As you extended your arm behind you, you accidentally came into contact with Fred's back, and he shifted slightly before turning to face you instead.

It's dark, almost pitch black, but with the small glimmer of light, you can see that his eyes are shut. Curious you called out, "Fred?" you whispered. "Are you awake?"

"I am now, no thanks to you." He fluttered his eyes open, facing you.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, I just wanted to see if—"

"Don't be." He sighed, "Couldn't sleep a wink either. This room is bloody cold."

"The blankets aren't doing anything." You exhaled, agreeing, before an idea popped into you head.

"This might sound silly, but, if we revert back to old fashioned methods, we could, um—actually it's stupid, nevermind." You began, but quickly dismissed it.

"Go on, I'd like to hear what genius solution you've come up with."

"It's dumb, I don't think you'll like it."

"Try me." He replied.

You hesitated again before suggesting, “We could—uh—use body heat.”

He stared at you momentarily, it looked as though he thought about it, considering it before responding, “Absolutely not.”

"Okay, whatever, I just thought it was a feasible option. These robes aren't exactly pyjama material either." You say, trying to tighten your robes, with the hopes of warming up your body.

You both fell into silence again your back facing him once more, before Fred spoke up, "Come here."

"What?" You turned around.

"I suppose, we could try the body heat thing."

"Oh so now you want to try my idea?" You raise your brow, scoffing as you shift over slowly, and he extended his arm, pulling you in.

"Don't get any ideas, I just need to sleep and call it a day." You firmly spoke, pressing your back to him, as he faced you. You felt his heat, no doubt, it was working, and you were starting to warm up. In all the places apparently, your cheeks, and an area of yours down there. Your heart pounded as his hand rested against your back, his breath tickling your ear.

"Let's do shoulder-to-shoulder." You suggested, trying to hide your flustered-ness.

He didn't argue, respecting your decision. The two of you lay there, facing the ceiling as your shoulders touched. Though not as warm as before, it was still warmer at least.

You turned your head, Fred's face illuminated by the dim light coming through from the curtains, his jawline ever so chiselled. Merlin, he was undoubtedly a handsome chap. You shut your eyes, trying, yet again to enter a slumber.

As you laid there, eyes shut, Fred opened his, gauging you. He smiled softly as he took in your features, rolling his eyes fondly as he saw you breathing slowly.

You swore you were about to cast some sort of sleeping spell, because you still could not fall asleep for the life of you. You keep moving, accidentally brushing against Fred's body countless times but you couldn't help it, you needed to find a comfortable position.

You move your arm around the blanket, trying to find a comfortable position for yourself until you accidentally graze something, unexpected.

You freeze.

Did you actually just graze that?

Was he....?

You slowly turned to face him, your body merely an inch away from his. You see him shut his eyes, heavily breathing, his Adam's apple bopping up and down from swallowing hard.

"Would you quit moving so much?" He whispered, trying to contain himself.

"I....Fred, I didn't mean to." You pause. "You're still awake?"

"10 points to Y/H (your house), captain obvious."

You furrow your brows, turning on the bedside lamp which offered the tiniest bit of ambient light in the dark room.

Your gaze flickered down, and well, you saw, a little friend poking up from the sheets beneath him.

"Is that, because of m—" You swallowed not daring to finish the sentence, looking at his hard on. "I'm sorry shouldn't have moved so much."

"Alright, it's okay, it's not a big deal, so what it's normal right. I didn't mean to accidentally keep grazing or grinding on you, I was merely trying to find a comfortable position. Listen, I'm not weirded out or anything, you can go sort it out. Who am I to judge? This time tomorrow we'll all be at the burrow and I'll be sharing a room with Ginny and 'Mione, so it's fine, we can—" You began ranting out of nervousness, but Fred had enough, opening his eyes to sit up with you,

"Merlin, Y/N. Ranting like you're so innocent, moving around like that? On me?" He leans in closer, growling, "I bet you'd really want to know what got me provoked in the first place, yeah?"

You gulped, inspecting his features as he leaned in closer to you, now an inch apart, "You aggravate me, pushing my damn buttons all the bloody time. Maybe if you weren't such a whiny brat complaining about everything, I would've fucked you an hour ago till you were silenced.” He ranted before continuing,

“You want to know what got me so hard? You waltzing around in those darn bathrobes that are far too small, exposing every inch of your body, your cleavage is practically begging to be seen. I can't keep my fucking eyes off you. Ever since Hogwarts, it was always you, grating on my last nerves. I thought I hated you so, until I realised that there was a fine line between hate and attraction."

"Fred..." your eyelids flutter; how did his voice get so low and sensual? You could feel yourself throbbing, growing wetter by the minute, and you found yourself growing more needy for him.

"Bloody hell Y/N, you've got me wrapped around the irritating finger of yours."

"Just shut up and kiss me Fred." You breathlessly whisper, not realising that you'd been holding your breath the entire time.

After waiting for what seemed like forever, he wasted no time pouncing on you. His hand is behind your neck and he pushes you down onto the bed, hovering on top of you.

Fred's lips meet yours furiously, desperately, never in your life has someone kissed you this passionately before. You open your mouth, and he slides his tongue in, a desirous clash of tongues. He savours every inch of your mouth and it makes you wonder how long he's been wanting to do this for.

"May I?" He asks for permission as he tugs at the belt of your bathrobe.

You nod, too breathless to speak as you gaze up at him. Fred undoes your robes, leaving you clothe-less on the bed. He does the same, kneeling between your legs which are spread open and on either side of his waist. You subconsciously give him doe-eyes as he does so, merlin, he looked so deliciously attractive.

"So fucking beautiful, all this hidden from me all these years?" He leans down and gently kisses your neck while gripping your waist, sucking on a sensitive spot which earns a moan from you.

"Going to leave hickey's on you so everyone knows you're mine gorgeous."

"Who said I was yours?" Every so daring you retort, though you lacked conviction.

He chuckled lowly before sucking on another sensitive spot, leaving a reddish mark on you, "Fred..." you moan again. His kisses grow more wet and fervent as he plants kisses trailing down your body. His hands move from your waist to your breasts, massaging them gently as he continues further down your body.

You're barely able to control the obscene moans slipping from your mouth, any attempts at suppressing them growing more difficult by the second. You didn't even care that people around you might hear.

"You're soaking wet, and yet you say you're not mine." Fred cooed, his eyes glued to your heat, coated with glistening wetness.

You revel in the fact that he can barely take his eyes off you, you glance at him, eyes half-lidded, clouded with lust. Once he catches sight of your lustful eyes, desperate for him, he can't tear his gaze away from you. He slowly leans down, sensually licking your coated slick.

Your sensitive cunt throbs even harder upon the contact from his tongue, "Fred please..." You whine, throwing your head back onto the pillow.

He traces the shape of your vulva, pressing kitten licks on your needy clit, causing your legs to clamp around his head. He doesn't break eye-contact, as he continues to work his mouth around your core.

He continues sucking your clit, his tongue working his way on your swollen pearl.

You tangle your hands in his head, tugging lightly. Your body can't help but arch into his face due to the overwhelming pleasure, as he continues indulging in your cunt. "Merlin Fred!" You cry out as he suckles on a particularly sensitive spot.

"You taste so damn good love, so sweet unlike that bitter mouth, hm?"

"I'm yours Fred....all yours..." You whimper, succumbing to his words.

"Say that again." His voice low, commanding, you could feel the heat from his mouth near your throbbing cunt.

"I'm yours, Fred." You moan, as he continues straight into your core.

The feeling is heavenly, both hands tangled in his red locks as he gives you the most pleasant head you've ever felt in your life. Once he stops assaulting your clit, he lifts his head and faces you, his eyes smiling up at you, as though you are the most beautiful person he's ever seen.

Oh, you're so close, tilting over the edge of something mind-blowing. He leans down and gives your clit a few more kitten licks, planting soft kisses before pulling away, just as you were about to cum.

"Don't stop," you whimper, "I was so close...."

"Fred?" You plead, again, but he sits up and crawls to you, now hovering over you his hands on either side of your head. "Please let me cum...."

"You will, darling." He cooes, leaning down to your ear, "Around my cock."

You felt yourself throbbing yet again, upon his words. What the hell was he doing to you, causing you to feel this weak beneath him? This powerless? Your sharp, witty tongue, nowhere in sight.

"Please Fred, I need you." You whine, begging him for more.

"What ever happened to, 'I despise you'?" He hovered over you and you sat up, meeting his lips. Giving him a passionate, hungry kiss before pulling away,

"There is a fine line between hate and love, and I think today I've learnt that you've been sitting in the wrong category all along."

He smiled, brushing a hand on your cheek as he gazed down at you lovingly, "Took me so long to realise that you're the only person I've ever felt something with."

"Took us bloody ages." You roll your eyes fondly, before giggling as he pecked your forehead gently.

You gazed up at him with doe-eyes, and him down at you, to your lips then back up, his mouth parted slightly as he took in how breathtaking you looked beneath him. Shit, you were always beautiful to him, he'd only now realised.

"Need you inside me Fred." You plead softly, desperately, which only fuelled his desire for you even more.

"Anything for you, love."

You never thought you'd admit it, but he has a fucking incredible dick. You assumed he'd be packing because he was 6"3, but the sight of it made you drool. Bloody hell, he had every right to be so smug.

His slit was already leaking with precum, his eyes lock onto yours as he lowers himself. Your legs are still on each side of his waist, he grabs his dick and teases it along your wet entrance, sliding it a few times to coat it with your slickness.

You involuntarily buck your hips, desperate for penetration as you whimper. He slowly lowers himself down, and finally into you.

At first, you hiss at the pain upon being stretched out by his hugeness, you could feel him stretching your walls, registering that fact that he was fully inside you now.

"Fuck...." he moans, letting out a groan, "So tight for me hm?"

"Freddie...." You moan as he begins moving, rocking his hips slowly. You get used to the size of him, filling you to the brim, every slight bit of movement causing your walls to tense around his dick, rubbing within you sensually.

"I know baby, I know." He responds softly, continuing at this pace.

With every rock, his breathing increases, your soft pleas and his eager pants filling the room as he speeds up, going faster and harder.

Your moans start to get louder, getting more deafening by the minute. Fred leans down to plant kisses on your neck, and pecking your lips occasionally, you moan into him as he drives himself further into your core.

"You're doing so well baby." He coos into your ear, murmuring praises as he continues to thrust into you.

Fred doesn't stop pounding into you, you move your hands to his back, your nails practically digging into his skin from the pleasure.

Skin slapping against skin, you feel every jolt of his body into you. He's fucking you so gently but hard at the same time, treating you as though you were the most fragile thing on the planet.

"Baby..." You whimper, eyes fluttering shut, as he continues thrusting into you deeply, you are overwhelmed with so much pressure that you might cry, but it just felt so damn pleasurable.

"I'm getting close Fred." You pant, breathing heavily, as he picks up his pace.

"Look at me." He demands, and you open your eyes, gazing into his hazel ones. For once, they aren't filled with irritation, or the usual annoyance you were used to seeing, they were more gentle, admiring you, it was a look of love.

"Fred, I'm so close!" You cry out, feeling an orgasm coming closer, "I'm gonna—" you can barely finish your sentence, the pressure. on your g-spot and the intense penetration becoming too much for you to handle, along with the gaze of hazel eyes burning into you.

You let out an obscene moan as your walls clench around him, you jerk harshly, causing him to let out a guttural moan. It's a pleasurable ache, your entire body pulses beneath him.

"Gonna come inside you baby, that okay?" He asks, and you nod, to breathless to speak.

Seconds later, he comes undone, squirting his juices inside you. The world slows down as you enter your state of euphoria; you're entangled in pure bliss as you come down from your high. Your body is still electrified from the feeling before.

It takes a while for you to fully settle down. You slowly flutter your eyes open to find yourself engulfed in Fred's buff arms, your breathing in sync. The two of you lean against the wooden bed-frame, and you lean your head on his shoulder, while he cradles you.

You glance down at your body and notice that it's covered in marks, which looked bloody hot. Merlin, you really were Fred's now huh?

"So much for body heat." You chuckled softly, as he stroked your back gently.

He laughs, and you feel the vibrations of his chest, "The best kind of heat if you ask me." He says which earned an eyeroll from you.

Fred plants a soft kiss on your head, "Y'know I'm not one for apologies, but I was a bit of a jerk to you back in Hogwarts, and I want to apologise."

"It was a two-way thing, Freddie, suppose I should apologise for being one too. Merlin, you did grate on every last one of my nerves though." You tease.

"Always a pleasure." He grinned down at you, engulfed in his arms as you looked up at him, sharing a moment of sweet silence as you put the past behind you.

A ray of moonlight shone through the tiny gap in the curtain. You turned your head, glancing out the window as you pondered about the others back at the burrow.

"What're we going to tell the others when we find them tomorrow?" You giggled, taking in the state you were both in.

"I have a feeling they won't be surprised." Fred confessed.

"What do you mean?"

"Everyone in my family thinks we have a thing for each other, especially Ginny. Won't stop talking about us that sister of mine."

"Since when?!" You were amused, the two of you were the epitome of the word hate back in Hogwarts and to hear a statement like this shocked you.

"Since school apparently." He laughed, shaking his head, "I thought it was silly too, but look where we are now."

"Just wait one day, you'll eventually get married." He mocked Ginny's tone, mirroring her facial expressions too, and you couldn't help but laugh.

"Please, you and me?" You raised a brow, teasing him, though biting back a fond smile.

"Neverrrr." He scrunched up his nose, holding you closer as you both now laid down in bed, safely in each other's grasp.

Finally comfortable, you found yourself drifting off into a much-needed slumber. The same could be said for Fred, it was safe to say the body-heat idea turned out better than anticipated.

And with this newfound love, perhaps the broomstick breaking was a blessing in disguise.

[bethsvrse]

me staring at my ceiling after y/n does the most FLABBERGASTING thing ever

[shelbybyr]

When you run out of fics to read

[raekensluver]

ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟺 ˎˊ˗

hiii! since it's getting close to october- that means kinktober season! this is my first ever kinktober event, so don't be too mean to me...stay alert for updates! if you want to be apart of my taglist for this event- reply down below!

ᴏᴠᴇʀᴠɪᴇᴡ ˎˊ˗

- minors dni! for others- please read the warnings and tags before reading- don't like, don't read!

- all fics will be dom!male!character x sub!fem!reader.

- all characters i write for are 18+ and consenting adults!!!

- all posts relating to this years kinktober event will be tagged as 'mara's kinktober '24'

ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ ˎˊ˗

ᴡᴇᴇᴋ ᴏɴᴇ ˎˊ˗

- ᴏᴄᴛᴏʙᴇʀ 𝟶𝟶𝟷.

praise kink | spencer reid x fem!reader | contains: nsfw 18+, no use of y/n, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, creampie, praise kink, porn without plot.

- ᴏᴄᴛᴏʙᴇʀ 𝟶𝟶𝟹.

exhibitionism | theodore nott x fem!reader | contains: nsfw 18+, no use of y/n, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, vaginal sex, exhibitionism, degradation, name calling (whore/slut), porn without plot.

- ᴏᴄᴛᴏʙᴇʀ 𝟶𝟶𝟻.

period sex | rafe cameron x fem!reader | contains: nsfw 18+, no use of y/n, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, mentions of period blood, porn without plot.

ᴡᴇᴇᴋ ᴛᴡᴏ ˎˊ˗

- ᴏᴄᴛᴏʙᴇʀ 𝟶𝟶𝟽.

thigh riding | aaron hotchner x fem!reader | contains: nsfw 18+, no use of y/n, thigh riding, praising, porn without plot.

- ᴏᴄᴛᴏʙᴇʀ 𝟶𝟶𝟿.

piss kink | jj maybank x inexperienced!fem!reader | contains: nsfw 18+, no use of y/n, piss kink, holding/pee desperation, wetting, vaginal sex, teasing/light degradation.

- ᴏᴄᴛᴏʙᴇʀ 𝟶𝟷𝟷.

face sitting | james potter x fem!reader | contains: nsfw 18+, no use of y/n, face sitting, oral (f recieving), porn without plot.

ᴡᴇᴇᴋ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ ˎˊ˗

- ᴏᴄᴛᴏʙᴇʀ 𝟶𝟷𝟹.

squirting | patrick zwieg x fem!reader | contains: nsfw 18+, no use of y/n, female ejaculation (squirting), name calling (slut), fingering.

- ᴏᴄᴛᴏʙᴇʀ 𝟶𝟷𝟻.

mirror sex | spencer reid x fem!reader | contains: nsfw 18+, no use of y/n, mirror sex, vaginal sex, p in v from behind, choking.

- ᴏᴄᴛᴏʙᴇʀ 𝟶𝟷𝟽.

blindfold/sensory deprivation | theodore nott x fem!reader | contains: nsfw 18+, no use of y/n, unprotected sex, sensory depravation, blindfold use, spit play.

- ᴏᴄᴛᴏʙᴇʀ 𝟶𝟷𝟿.

dacryphilia | patrick zwieg x fem!reader | contains: nsfw 18+, no use of y/n, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, porn without plot.

ᴡᴇᴇᴋ ғᴏᴜʀ ˎˊ˗

- ᴏᴄᴛᴏʙᴇʀ 𝟶𝟸𝟷.

hand kink | george weasley x fem!reader | contains: nsfw 18+, no use of y/n, hand kink, mild exhibitionism, fingering, teasing, dirty talk.

- ᴏᴄᴛᴏʙᴇʀ 𝟶𝟸𝟹.

phone sex | art donaldson x fem!reader | contains: nsfw 18+, no use of y/n, phone sex, mutual masturbation, pet names (baby, pretty, good girl), porn without plot.

- ᴏᴄᴛᴏʙᴇʀ 𝟶𝟸𝟻.

body worship | spencer reid x fem!reader | contains: nsfw 18+, no use of y/n, body worship, oral (f recieving), porn without plot.

ᴡᴇᴇᴋ ғɪᴠᴇ ˎˊ˗

- ᴏᴄᴛᴏʙᴇʀ 𝟶𝟸𝟽.

desperation | fred weasley x fem!reader | contains: nsfw 18+, no use of y/n, handjob, blowjob, praise kink, porn without plot.

- ᴏᴄᴛᴏʙᴇʀ 𝟶𝟸𝟿.

[file not found]

- ᴏᴄᴛᴏʙᴇʀ 𝟶𝟹𝟷.

innocence/corruption kink | tashi duncan x art donaldson x fem!reader | contains: nsfw 18+, no use of y/n, unprotected sex, fmf threesome, corruption/innocence kink, vaginal sex, creampie, unprotected sex, praise kink, porn without plot.

layout inspo/creds to: gogogodzilla and sytoran

[jupitereleven]

my “twins weasley phase” wasn’t just a phase.